#but then why would they send me. a random nobody. a sign. makes no sense

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

gods if you are indeed out there i did see the corvid feather you sent me, however i still very much have beef with all yall over how shit's going so. keep it.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Want to decorate Christmas tree together?

Word 6: waffles

This idea came from the most random conversation so here we are.

As soon as the bell rang, Draco hurriedly answered the door although he was pretty sure it was too early for anything and he didn't have anything to be delivered at the place but he went anyway.

He opened the door to a man holding a sheet of paper, "Yes?"

"Delivery for Draco Malfoy?"

"That's me but I didn't order anything." Draco frowned.

"It's a parcel." The man said and handed Draco the sheet of paper to sign it.

"What is it?" Draco asked as he stepped more outside the door to notice almost a 5 feet tall Christmas tree standing erect.

"Do you know who might've sent it?" Draco asked but the man shook his head.

Draco signed the paper and the man's co-workers took the tree inside and placed it where Draco asked them to.

"This came with it." One of the co-worker said as he handed him a small piece of card.

As all of them left, Draco finally opened the small card and immediately recognised the handwriting and smiled.

He took out his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.

"Morning." Draco immediately greeted as he picked up the call on the other end.

"You sound too chirpy for me in the morning." Harry said but Draco could still recognise the smile behind the call.

"It's 9 am, why are you still sleeping?" Draco asked as he looked at the tree endearingly.

"Because it's a Saturday, Draco. But I'm up now." Harry said as Draco heard some shuffling on the other end.

"I got your parcel today. When were you planning on telling me that you bought me a 5 feet tall Christmas tree?" Draco asked.

Harry sighed on the other end, "You said you didn't have time to buy the Christmas tree with everything going around and how the shops are too far away. I just wanted you to be able to decorate the tree on Christmas and since we can't be together, it's hard enough."

"Yes but it's only one Christmas. I could've bought a small one for me."

“Yes but I bought it for you now.” Harry said. 

Draco smiled, “You’re a menace, Harry Potter.” 

“Yes, I know but now tell me do you want to decorate it together?” Harry asked.

“We’re in different places, Harry. How are we ever supposed to do it together?” Draco asked confused. 

“We have internet, Draco, we can always do video call.” 

“You know I suck at muggle technology.” Draco remarked. 

“Well, we can do a call and stay on it while we decorate it together and then send each other pictures.” Harry suggested. 

Draco thought about it for a moment, it didn’t actually make sense to do it together, the process of decorating it while on the call seemed like a time consuming idea even. 

“What would we get out of decorating it together?” Draco frowned.

“That we get to decorate it together? Come on, do you want to or not?” Harry asked. 

Draco was still confused but then there was something in Harry’s offer that made him want to do it together, so he agreed. 

They both agreed to call in the evening after they had done all their work, chores and when nobody would disturb them so they would just be with each other. So, when the evening came they did just that, they started decorating the tree together on a call with wired earphones plugged in to their phones. 

Draco had thought it would be almost odd but they slipped briskly into conversations. Harry kept asking random questions like if the cat ornament would look better next to the dog ornament or licorice ornament which made Draco wonder what the hell Harry was doing but at the same time it was all very amusing. He told Harry about his family traditions and how they used to celebrate christmas together and about how every year he would bake cake with his mum as a Christmas ritual but can't this year because his parents' are arriving late this year while Harry told him about his Christmases especially the ones he spent at the burrow. They also got around talking about how things are going and somehow some old school talks and they both realised how funny it was when Draco used to try to get Harry’s attention. They laughed off most of the call but it was just a beautiful bubble moment Draco never wanted to get out of. Towards the end of decorating, Harry started complaining about how Marco, his dog was eating the Christmas balls which had Draco laughing all the more and then making fun of Marco. 

When it was finally done, Draco clicked the picture of his Christmas tree and sent it to Harry and Harry in return sent two pictures, one of his Christmas tree and the other one of Marco chewing off the Christmas ball which made him smile. 

Draco was looking at both the Christmas trees and then he realised, 

“I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree with anyone before.” 

“Really? What about your Mum and Dad at the Manor?” 

“Nope. They were mostly busy with Christmas invites or holding a Christmas ball and I didn’t even use to decorate the main hall tree even, just the small one in my bedroom hallway.” 

“Well.. now you’ve decorated it with someone, how does it feel?”

Draco thought about it for a moment, then looked at his tree and finally said it, 

“Like I want to celebrate the rest of them with you,”  

There was a pause after that. Harry didn’t say anything so Draco went on, 

“I didn’t think about it before but I want to and I know we haven’t been dating all that long but you know the moment when you just know-”

“Draco, I love you.” 

There was a pause again and Draco continued again,

“I-I never knew I wanted to decorate it with you. I didn’t even know it was a romantic gesture till now but Harry- nobody would ever do this for me, send me a Christmas tree, ask me to decorate it with him- I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you, too, Harry. Merlin, it feels so good to finally say it out loud.” Draco and Harry both chuckled at their ends. 

“I want to decorate all of my mine with you too, Draco.” Harry finally said and Draco smiled. 

“Do you want to bake cake together as well?” Harry asked after a while.

Draco grinned on his side, "Absolutely. Tomorrow at 5?"

"Done."

In that moment, he realised he's found it, he's found the one man he had been looking his whole life for and he’s never finding anyone better. Ever. He didn't need to find anymore, it was him. It was Harry. All along.

Tagging some of y'all for a boost, don't hesitate if you're uncomfortable with the tag <3

@phoebe-delia ​ @chinike @elenaxoxo22 ​ @thecornerofbelu @nv-md ​ @cissa-bee @missdrarrydawn @littlebodybigheartttt @harryandginnydeservesbetter @draco-lucious-malfoy @textrovert-01 @inflation-of-mind @dearly-devoted-dawdler @drarrywords @loves-to-read-fanfic

[kameonerd566]

The Resurrectionist Pub

I have a lots of thoughts and observations about the resurrectionist pub lol

okay so first off, I think its going to play a pretty big role in s3; I mean, its called the resurrectionist, and like the second coming is Jesus coming back yeah? Its also got a ton of easter eggs and tie-ins with a lot of what happens in the background of the season.

To start, in an interview with David Tennant, apparently an idea for the sequel title Terry and Neil had tossed around was "668: The Neighbor of the Beast" (hilarious tbh) and the address of the pub is 66 Goat Gate!! I mean, it could just be a little easter egg, but either way i am now INTRIGUED

[Image of the record with "The Resurrectionist/66, Goat Gate/Edinburgh" written on a small piece of paper and taped to it]

I'll add more under the cut

okay so next, when we see the pub, the sign flips and its the Doctor from the grave robbing flashback. Later in he episode, Aziraphale tells Crowley (and us) that this is because that dude killed himself and so they named the pub after him (i guess as a way for his ideas to 'resurrect'?). Why would this information be relevant to us? It seems pretty clear that there is something closely tied to heaven and hell with this pub. I think it is also worth mentioning that in response to this ask, Neil says that they were always going to use the song Everyday for this, because that was the song he and Terry had decided would be best (and funniest) to signify that the end times were near.

To tie this into the actual s1 and s2 lore, I think maybe it was part of the Ineffable Plan that Gabe and Beez would meet here, like this song, fall in love, and tamper with the jukebox as an accidental way of sending a warning. I wish we knew more about the plan that Gabe refused, but alas, I think maybe this meeting place wasn't so random. Also worth noting that the matchbox Gabe used for the fly is from the Resurrectionist pub, and we get this in episode 1:

[Image of the matchbox with: "Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out." Job 41:19]

It seems that they really wanted the audience to read that, but I can't figure out why- even with the job flashback we get later I'm pretty sure nobody was breathing fire. Is it just a funny pun because its matches? why is it pulled from Job (I'm sure there are plenty of other witty bible verses about fire)? Its interesting to me that so many different aspects of s2 are all pointing to this pub. Not to mention that later when Gabe quotes the thing about the stars singing we can literally hear God's voice in unison with his. ((tangential other theory I have- was God trying to speak through him? is the Metatron lying about how close he is to God?))

so, a quick recap, we know that an idea for the sequel novel that was never written was 668: Neighbor of the Beast, and we know that Terry picked out the song Everyday to be the one to signify the end times getting closer. We know that the matches are from this pub and that they reference Job. We know that throughout the season, Gabe is spitting bible verses with God herself in the background. We also know that both the grave robbing flashback doctor guy has ties to the pub. I don't really know where to go from here theory wise, but yeah, there's definitely some juicy stuff coming and I can't wait to make sense of it all next season!! Pls let me know your thoughts as well!!

[madisonshoneybun]

Crush Crush Crush

Warning - None

Pairing - Newt Scamander x Reader

Summary - You seem to have a crush on someone else. Newt gets tired of hearing you talk about this new guy and the letters you’ve been sending each other so he goes to ask his brother for advice on what to do.

A/N - I posted a couple days ago that I was annoyed that I felt like I read every Newt Scamander fic on Tumblr so I decided to write my own. If this is bad, then just ignore it, but if you like the way I write I’m always down to take requests. I’m awful at coming up with my own original ideas so if you had something in mind that you couldn’t find, I’d be more than happy to write it for you.

Words - 2581

________________________________________________________

Newt couldn’t understand why someone like you would date... someone like him. After you accompanied Newt to America, you’d gained a crush on a wizard working for the MACUSA. It kind of made him sick to his stomach. How you’d talk about this wizard he didn’t even remember meeting, let alone who you had somehow met during the trip. The trip was pure chaos, him and Tina almost getting killed and you somehow found time to meet some random guy? It truly didn’t make any sense. Theseus was getting tired of hearing Newt talk on and on about it. Though he was happy Newt was talking to him, he wished it was more brotherly or about anything else besides you and your stupid crush. What a stupid crush.

Theseus sighed loudly, stopping Newts talking immediately.

“Sorry...” he mumbled to himself. Theseus put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, causing Newt to lightly flinch. Even though they were quite literally brothers, and Newt has technically known Theseus HIS whole life, he still couldn’t get used to the touching or hugging. He didn’t think he ever would.

“Relax. It’s not like your talking to me just to talk about her.” He smirked and tried to meet Newt’s eyes. But his head was hung low as he played with his fingers. He would glance at his brother only for a moment, before going straight back to looking down at his lap.

“I just wished SHE’D stop talking about it too... it’s driving me insane...” He spoke so quietly at the end that Theseus hadn’t heard it, but he continued to talk like he had. 

“Maybe hmmm, I don’t know, tell her how you feel? She talks about you all the time too, maybe she’s just trying to make you jealous, so she doesn’t have to make the first move.” Again Newt shook his head.

“I could never do that and if she didn’t like me it would just make her uncomfortable. I don’t want that. She’s like my best friend..” Theseus sighed again and stood from his office couch, glancing at his watch. Anyone could tell by the stack of papers on his desk, and the ‘do not disturb’ sign on his door that Newt ignored, that he a lot to do. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got things to do.” He helped Newt to his feet and began walking him to the door. Opening it and gently guiding Newt out, letting out a final bit of advice.

“It’ll only hurt you more to hear her talk about it. Maybe telling her your feelings will ATLEAST get her to stop bringing it up. Your technically her boss, so it’d make sense.” Newt really didn’t like that idea and had already decided the second those words left his brother’s mouth that he was NOT going to be taking his advice. Theseus pulled him in for one last hug and closed the door. Now all Newt could do was go home and see how you were doing with the creatures while he was away on an ‘important meeting’ as he told you. He decided he’d walk, hoping it would help clear his mind.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At home, the place Newt and I shared, I was downstairs with the animals. Tending to them and making sure nobody was hurt and everyone was staying out of trouble. I was kind of happy that Newt wasn’t home. It gave me some time to wait for a letter from Benjamin. He hadn’t written in a while, but I sent him a letter a couple days ago asking if he was alright. I knew today was an off day for him, so he’d at the very least write and send a letter today. I hoped it would make it before Newt got home from his meeting.

Newt...

He had been acting really strange lately. He’d been distant and cold since coming back from American. I tried to lighten his mood by telling him stories, or just chatting about whatever came to mind, but he never seemed to be paying attention as of late. It was bothering me. It must have been too good to be true that I could have moved on from him, met someone new and still tried to stay friends. It was like the universe was punishing me or like it was trying to make me choose between Newt and Ben... I wanted to choose Newt, but he never showed any interest in me. Ben was giving me attention... or at least he was before recently. Now it was like I was losing both of them and it hurt beyond belief. I sat down under Dougal’s tree as he climbed down to sit in my lap. He cuddled close and allowed me to snuggle him. Ever since I met Newt, he seemed to take a real liking to me. Anytime I was down here he always wanted to be held or he’d just follow me around. Once an Occamy nipped my finger, and he almost lost his mind. Newt had to come in and take him away from the poor little thing, as to not hurt it. It was my fault really; I shouldn’t have tried to pet him the way I had. This was long before I learned all the different creatures and what they did and didn’t like. Dougal still hasn’t looked at the Occamy’s the same.

I was so lost in thought; I hadn’t noticed an envelope slowly gliding towards us. One thing I loved about magic was how lazy it could be. I didn’t need to get up and check the mail because the mail always seemed to come to me, or Newt would get it for us. He was sweet like that. 

I reached out for it, gently taking it into my hands and bringing it closer to us. Dougal adjusted in my lap to be facing the letter too, almost like I was gonna read him a story. I tore the letter open, seeing Benjamin’s name and feeling excitement grow inside my chest. That didn’t last long though.

To y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. We have been sending each other letters for a while now but I haven’t been responding. I had hope that you’d see this and understand that I didn’t want to have any sort of relationship with you anymore. I thought if I kept ignoring your letters, you’d eventually just stop sending them. I was wrong. In your most recent letter, you told me you have feelings for me, it was honestly a shock to say the least. Stop worrying about me, I’m fine and please don’t sending me letters. I didn’t think our talking would get this out of hand and I really didn’t think anything I said or did would give you any sort of impression that I had feelings for you. I think you might fall in love to easily. I really didn’t think I’d have to be this forward but here I go.

I don’t have feelings for you, I never have, and I want you to stop sending me letters. At first, it was sort of nice to keep in touch and chat but it’s getting too much. I couldn’t really say we were ever really friends. People at work have also figured out we were talking. Did you tell Tina about our letters? Why would you tell my boss something like that? Don’t send anymore letters, don’t even respond to this.

- Benjamin P. Clark

I felt my eyes water. Was I really annoying him that much? I broke down sobbing once he said he didn’t like me. The more I read the more hurt I felt. How could I be so stupid? How could I go for someone like him and then get my heart completely shattered? It wasn’t fair. I just wanted to have someone love me and it just... it felt like he at the very least liked me. I thought I might be happy and then when I told Newt he started ignoring me and it made me feel even more alone. Why couldn’t Newt just love me? Why did I have to be heartbroken twice in the same year? 

I couldn’t stop the sobs from coming out of my throat. I couldn’t tell how loud I was or even hear what was going on around me, I was just crying. Curling into myself and pulling Dougal into my chest. He didn’t let go and gently scratched at me; I think in an attempt to just pet me like I do with him. If I weren’t so distraught, it might’ve genuinely made me feel better.

“Y/n?” I didn’t hear who was calling my name. I didn’t even really hear my name at all, I was still just crying. I also didn’t hear the quick footsteps coming down the stairs and heading my direction. I didn’t hear them continue calling my name as they grew closer. I didn’t hear a thing until I felt, whoever it was, gently put their hand on my knee. I froze, beginning to just sniffle softly, to afraid to look up at the person in front of me. I knew now who it was. I could hear it wasn’t Bunty so the only other person it could be was Newt. Though I loved him, I still didn’t want to see him or have him even see ME like this. I never wanted to show this sort of thing to him. He’d never seen me cry before and now he had just walked in on me bawling my eyes out like a little baby.

“Are you hurt? Dougal?” I shook my head and moved my arms, allowing Dougal to free from my grasp and climb back into his tree. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay and comfort me, it was just that he knew Newt would be better at it and he felt he was leaving me in good hands. I pulled my legs back to my chest and tried to hide myself completely. Newt hadn’t said anything else, but I could feel him shift to sit next to me. There was a space between us, a line that he was refusing to cross, and for some reason that only made me want to cry more. I heard the sound of paper in his hands and knew he was looking over my letter. I wanted to grab it, tell him to mind his own business and run and hide somewhere in the basement but I couldn’t move. My body felt frozen in place. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together. I heard him let out a gentle sigh.

“You deserve someone who values you.” I laughed quietly, finally lifting my head. It was a pained laugh, one he had never heard before. “That’s rich...” I rubbed the tears from my eyes though some continued to fall. “From my perspective it looks like I’m just bad at love...” He shook his head and inched himself closer. Still, there was this invisible line that stopped him. “I’m positive that someone out there sees you for who you truly are and loves you unconditionally. You just have to look in the right place.” I rolled my eyes, allowing them to land on his green ones. God I could stare at them everyday, for the rest of my life if he’d allow it. “Where’s the right place Newt? I’ve been single since the beginning of time.” I laid my feet out in front of me and moved my gaze to my shoes. “Even when I went to Hogwarts no one showed any interest... I went to the Yule Ball alone...”

He wasn’t saying anything to my question. I knew he didn’t mean an actual place, but I was angry and his words weren’t helping to ease the pain I was feeling. I could almost feel him hesitating to say something. I didn’t want to push him anymore than I already had. Newt never seemed like the type of person who was good at comforting people who were crying so I bet my presence was causing him discomfort. I started to make a move to get up and leave but he grabbed my wrist. I spun my head towards him, locking eyes immediately. He’d never grabbed me, or anyone for that matter, before. “Right here.” 

“What?”

“This is the right place. I’m right here and I love you.”

I shook my head and pulled my arm away, raising to my feet. He followed.

“Don’t say that just because your trying to make me feel better! That will only hurt me more if you lie like that!” I took a step back, new, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. My eyes were beginning to burn from all the crying and I felt a headache coming soon.

“I’m not lying! I do love you; I’ve always loved you.”

“You’ve been avoiding me!” I yelled, pressing my finger to his chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me and not listening to me for almost a week! Why would you do that to someone you love!”

He grabbed my wrist. “I thought you were in love with someone else. I didn’t want my feelings to ruin any relationship you might have. But hearing you talk about that fool hurt me and I couldn’t take listening to it anymore.” He took in a deep breath, moving his hand from my wrist to gently hold my hand. “I didn’t have a meeting today... I went to ask Theseus for advice and he said I should confess my feelings for you. I wasn’t going to tell you but...” I saw his jaw clench in anger and he looked around the room for a moment before his eyes met mine again. “Walking through that door and hearing you crying,,, broke me more than hearing you were in love with someone else. I realized I could deal with you falling for someone else as long as you were happy. I thought you were hurt but then I saw you holding Dougal and I thought he was hurt and I just-”

I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close. He froze, not exactly knowing what to do. But he soon snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me as close to his body as he possibly could. He nuzzled his face into my neck and took in a deep breath. “I love you.” He mumbled into my skin. “I love you too.”

After a few moments we pulled away. He asked me to explain to him how I loved him while also liking someone else. I explained that I was trying to move on from him but I’ve been in love with him since our first year together at Hogwarts. He pulled me in for another hug, now deciding to rest his chin on my head. “You know, Theseus is usually terrible at advice.” I giggled and gently hit his back. “Be nice to your brother. We wouldn’t be like this if he hadn’t told you what to do.” I felt him grip me tighter. “I guess your right.”

_________________________________________________________

Masterlist - here is my masterlist if you want to read more :)

[amysteryspot]

I’ll always choose you - Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: After his partner broke up with him, Spencer finds a letter adressed to him on their favorite book that leaves him rather confused.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Prompts: exes to lovers + written confessions from this list

Warnings: little bit of angst; self-doubt; exes to lovers; English is not my first language; let me know if I forgot anything.

Word count: 1098

A/N: First time writing for Spencer. Couldn’t help myself because pretty boy has been living in my head 24/7, rent free. Hope he’s not too OOC and that you all like it.

It gets him off guard. He spots the book on his shelf and immediately gets up. One of yours. You must have forgotten it.

For Spencer, it still felt strange to separate your books from his, your life from his. He was used to seeing his life tangled in yours—your books in between his, your clothes hanging beside his in the wardrobe, the mess you two made and for some reason he didn’t mind.

The breakup caught him by surprise, things had been going well between the two of you. Or so he thought. Apparently, it wasn’t enough for you.

Despite his better judgment, Spencer opened the book, fingers tracing the notes you’ve made in the margins, post-its, loose pieces of paper, any space available. He smiles at it, knowing that this little fact was his fault. When you two started seeing each other you hated writing in books. All your copies were neat and untouched aside from the signs of time.

Spencer remembers saying to you that there was no reason not to write in books, it would only give you the insight into what you were thinking the first time you’ve read it if you ever decided to do it again. You joked that he had an eidetic memory and would probably never need to read a book twice. Spencer reassured you he used to read his favorite books more than once, explaining to you that it would be nice to read what the previous owner of a book thought about it if you ever decided to give it up.

It took you a while, but suddenly Spencer noticed how every time you picked a book to read you always made sure to have a pen or pencil with you. Sometimes you would go a little bit far, taking post-its and random papers with you.

Looking at your calligraphy spread all over the book in his hands, SPencer was glad that you decided to take his advice. At least now he could memorize a part of your thoughts about your favorite book and carry it with him.

For a moment, he thought about not returning the book. You had so many copies of it that maybe you wouldn’t notice one of them was missing. Then he decided against it, closing the book and turning to pick up his cellphone to send you a text. It was then that he noticed the paper laying on the floor.

He bent down to pick it up, unfolding it to see what it was. Surprise washed over him when he saw his name on it.

It was a letter. A letter you wrote to him.

Spencer headed to his couch, sitting down and placing the book by his side before he started to read the letter.

It didn’t surprise him in the slightest how eloquent your words sounded, you had always been good with words. “It’s my job”, you used to say, but Spencer knew that it was more than that, it was talent. What took the air from his lungs was your last sentences.

Life made you believe that nobody ever chose you, that nobody would ever choose you, well I will choose you. I’ll always choose you. In any version of reality, in whatever universe we may meet in. I’ll always choose you.

He fell back against the couch. The latter was dated just days before your break-up. If you loved him so much, why would you break up with him? Spencer couldn’t make sense of that and he planned on learning why you thought leaving him was an option after writing such heartfelt words that poured your love for him in ink and paper.

You looked as if you had seen a ghost when your eyes met his from across the room. What took you out of your daze was your coworker nudging your arm and telling you something, probably that they would cover for you so you could talk to him.

“Hi,” you greeted him confused. “What are you doing here?”

Spencer didn’t answer your question, he just handed you the letter he had just found, making you gasp as you reached for it, your fingers brushing against each other which ended up making you take it back quickly as if his touch burned you.

Sighing, you asked, “where did you find it?”

“It fell out of your favorite book,” he answered, “one of the copies, I mean. You forgot it at my apartment.”

“Didn’t even realize it.”

“Thought so, you have so many,” he smirked.

“Don’t call me out like that,” you smiled.

Spencer knew what you were doing—trying to redirect—and he was having none of it.

“You meant it,” he asks. “What you wrote here,” Spencer asked again, raising the letter he was still holding for emphasis.

“Spence…” you start, fidgeting.

“Why break up with me when it’s clear that you still love me? That we love each other?” He looks at her, emotion pouring out of every word. He wanted to understand, he needed to understand.

“Because I’m not good enough,” you exclaim, sounding surprised to give it up so easily. “What can I give you, Spencer? I’m just an ordinary person, I can’t challenge you, in the blink of an eye you will get tired of me, so it’s better if we break up right now than wait to suffer later.”

“That’s what you think? That I’ll get tired of you because you don’t challenge me?” he asks, incredulous. You blink a couple of times, looking away from him and biting your lips, one of your tells, meaning that you were nervous. “Do you have any idea how much you challenge me every day? You made me confront my feelings, my traumas, you were the one that convinced me to seek professional help after you noticed how I bottle everything up. You made me open myself to you when I never did it with anyone else, not even my closest friends!”

“Spencer…”

“That’s why you broke up with me? Because you said that you would always choose me and to you leaving me was giving me a better option at being happy?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“You,” he starts, taking a step closer, taking your hands in his and pulling you close enough that his forehead was resting in his, “You are my best option at being happy. If you will always choose me as you said here, then choose to stay with me. Choose to stay by my side because that’s all I ever wanted.”

“Why?”

“Because I will always choose you.”

[olderthannetfic]

I wasn’t baiting I was being serious. I had a CC scream at me because I sent them an ask that made them uncomfortable. instead of telling me it made them uncomfortable they ignored me so I spammed them asking what was wrong with my ask and that’s when they started screaming at me to leave them alone and that I wasn’t entitled to their attention and I should take a hint. This triggered my RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) and I lashed out at them and now they did a callout on me my life is ruined. This is why I hate boundaries.

--

Ouch, nonnie. That whole situation sounds super unhealthy and awful!

I don't think boundaries are the issue here, however.

They and you would both have had feelings regardless of their stated boundaries. It is inevitable that we sometimes get rejected, and being rejected hurts.

From just this brief description I, of course, cannot understand all the nuances of the situation, but even just from this, I'm seeing some bad signs:

You "spammed" them instead of waiting for them to answer an ask? Most people don't like being bugged about their unanswered asks because it tends to trigger feelings of guilt and anxiety and/or they just hate the topic in the ask. You can check in once to make sure it's not Tumblr eating messages; after that, you should assume they saw it but prefer not to answer (which is their right). Even if this doesn't seem intuitive to you, you can memorize this rule. You've learned a painful lesson and that sucks.

(And no "I get anxious when I'm ignored" is not an excuse. If you're so anxious you can't function, that's a job for your therapist, not the CC who is ignoring you.)

--

But also, they screamed at you right away? This could just be a you problem. It's hard to tell from your description. But if this is also a them problem, it sounds like they may not know what their boundaries are until someone trips over one. They may be vulnerable and not someone who can easily tolerate the internet limelight.

A hair trigger for posting callouts tends to point to someone having untreated PTSD and other shit they need support for. It's not your job to support them, of course. You don't need to be happy about being yelled at. Nobody likes being yelled at.

But let's keep a sense of perspective: maybe there are things wrong with them that they also can't help and that make them lash out too. It might not just be about you.

--

Your life is ruined? No. Your life is not ruined. You are hurt, but this isn't The End.

That's just your brain lying to you.

You feel like crap, and that sucks, but you can still feel better in the future. You can still make new friends. You can still be in fandom or follow CCs or whatever else.

I was canceled, and it was traumatic. I still have some PTSD from it that turns up occasionally. I am still always finding random friends-of-friends who act like joining in on a years-old cancellation will protect them and wash them clean of sin. (Spoiler: if you hang out with people who need someone on the chopping block to feel good, eventually, that person will be you. Just saying.)

But I also have 10x the fandom friends I did prior to it. I've ditched a whole set of people who are stuck in feelings of being left behind and defensive. I've met a ton of new people I never would have in the past, so I both know a lot more about parts of fandom I never saw before and am able to tell a lot more people about fandom history and how I see fannish norms.

--

My personal boundary is that if you come up to my face, I can and I will respond... if I feel like it. Or not, if I don't.

I'm not going to let "boundaries are the problem" fly on my blog even if it's something your traumatized brain wants to be true and insists on. Maybe it makes you feel bad to hear that this is a symptom of your current trauma and not reality.

Too bad.

Hearing my opinion is the price you pay for sending me asks.

Go practice some self-soothing, anon. Watch a comfort show. Hang out on some other part of the internet that isn't where this CC is. Play a mindless phone game to anesthetize your brain when it wants to obsess. Go to bed at a consistent time and wake up at a consistent time. Get 8 hours of sleep. Eat healthily. (No, I am so not kidding. Food and sleep have a profound effect on emotional shit.)

You're here on my blog, an adult space, so whomever you are, you're old enough to set some mental health-improving boundaries for yourself. One could be not trying to interact with this type of CC so that you can avoid this type of situation. Or one could be sending one ask and then immediately going jogging or to a movie or to class so that you can't sit there fussing about why it hasn't been answered yet.

The CC doesn't owe you anything, but you owe some things to yourself. RSD is genuinely hard to handle. Be kind to yourself. There are ways to cope, at least to a degree.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

wooohooo MCU gremlins drabble

Thor and Bruce examined the burn patters swirling on the remains of a wall, as Tony and Steve chatted to themselves.

“It’s been a month since these so-called Four Warriors were summoned, and we still haven’t found them. And now we know they have energy-based weapons.”

“But don’t you think that’s strange? These Warriors have been in New York for a month, and this is the first we’ve seen of any sort of attack.”

“Ahem.” Thor stood up. “I’m afraid that you are incorrect, Man of Iron.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Bruce stepped in, data pad in hand, which he passed to Tony. “The burn patterns here are too sporadic to be man-made. They look like natural lightning- or the kind of stuff Thor can summon. If I didn’t know this came from the middle of the city, I’d say the wall was just struck in a storm.”

Tony hummed. “So, what are you saying? Instead of the Warriors running around my city with weapons, they’re running around with superpowers? That’s worse!”

“Tony, you have to calm down.”

The Thunder God shook his head. “Actually, I have seen this kind of lightning before. It was made by a child of the stars- your people do not have a name for their race.”

Steve blinked. “An alien?”

“Yes, but one forged in the heart of a star. That is not the concerning thing about these markings, however.”

“What is it?”

“They are powerful, but wildly inaccurate. Whoever shot these blasts was not trained to use them effectively.”

“Meaning?”

“They are either a non-combatant... or a juvenile. I would tend towards the latter, as a fully grown star child would have more power in their blasts.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “It’s a kid? You’re sure?” He stopped. “Fuck.”

“Language.”

“Shut it, Rodgers. I just remembered something.” He tapped the data pad. “When we fought that weirdo with the staff, we saw a bunch of teenagers.”

Steve made a noise of realisation, and his heart sank. “Four teenagers. I thought they’d been caught up in the blast, so I made sure they got out safely. I only saw two of their faces- but they were definitely just freaked-out kids in over their heads.”

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Are you saying he summoned teenagers to do his dirty work? Are you saying the dangerous Warriors SHIELD has been tracking are kids?”

“Most likely stranded kids, if they’re still in the city.”

“Fuck.”

Steve didn’t admonish him this time.

——————————————————————————

A good thing about a city that’s constantly under attack is that nobody looks at a beat-up teenager twice, except with pity. Tommy knew that from back in L’Manberg, and it still rang true in... wherever the fuck they were. New York? He kicked a rock. “Fuckin’ stupid name. I would have come up with a much cooler one.”

Purpled scoffed, but there was no malice in it. “Uh huh.” The Starborne kept an eye on the entrance to the alley, fingers flexing around a hidden knife. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again. “You’d have named it L’Yorkberg or something.”

“Like I said, a much cooler name.” Tommy shot his friend a grin, and the wall behind them promptly disappeared. A tall figure with a hood over his face beckoned them through, the wall clicking seamlessly back into place behind them.

Finally, safety. The house they’d found was abandoned, and if anyone had come across it they’d be... confused. Random chunks of soil, sand and marble in perfect cubes were scattered around the room, and every surface was covered with random bits and pieces of machinery.

Purpled swept some scrap metal off of a cube of granite, and emptied out the bag of food he’d snagged on top of it. “I got enough to last us the week. I don’t think they saw me, but we should go to a different store next time to be safe.” Tommy passed the hooded figure a handful of first-aid kits. “Did Tubbo get that fridge working?”

The hooded figure- Ranboo- nodded. “Yeah, put the meat and stuff in it so it doesn’t go bad.” That had been a shock- food in this world spoiling over time. They couldn’t get ill from it, just Hunger, but it was still unpleasant to eat. The worst part of it was that they couldn’t just stock up on bread and wait for someone to find them, they had to constantly go out to get food. At least the first-aid kits were just a precaution.

The ram hybrid in question leaned into the room. “Hey, guys! Did you run into any trouble?” Tommy shook his head emphatically, while Purpled looked sheepish. “No...”

Tubbo put his hands on his hips. “What happened?”

Purpled coughed, embarrassed. “We kind of got mugged. They wanted this green paper stuff we found.” Tommy puffed out his chest proudly, wings flicking mischievously under his hoodie. ��Purpled kicked the shit out of them, you should have seen him! Zapped them right through a wall.”

The ram’s eyes lit up, radiation symbols dancing in his pupils. “Sick!”

Ranboo, on the other hand, looked slightly panicked. “Uhm, aren’t we trying to keep a low profile?”

Tommy shrugged. “Eh, we had our hoods up, plus there’s a fuckin’ million people in this city. It’ll be fine.”

Tubbo clapped his hands together twice, banishing the nervous air that had grown in the room. “Right. Ranboo, you’re still banned from the kitchen after the Spaghetti Incident, so Tommy, it’s your turn to cook.”

——————————————————————————

Tony Stark was not good at waiting. It took approximately seven seconds for JARVIS to illegally download the CCTV footage of the attack, and about sixty for everyone watching to see what had really happened. It was still too long for him.

Two teenagers were walking down an alleyway, one in a red hoodie and one in a purple one. They were talking together and laughing about something.

“Red has blond hair, blue eyes, about 6’3. I think he’s got a dyed white streak in his hair.” He’d roped Natasha in for this, her spy training making her excellent at spotting details others would miss. “Purple has lighter blond hair and... purple eyes? Huh. They could be blue too, just a trick of the light. He’s shorter than Red, maybe 5’11?”

One of the teenagers swung his bag at the other with a grin on his face. The other yelled at him. Two older men appeared at the other end of the alley.

The spy’s eyes narrowed. “Two adults, 20-25, Caucasian, wearing beanies and dark clothing. They’re armed, one of them is nervous but the other has done this before.”

One of the men pulled a gun, and the other cracked his knuckles. The teenagers scowled.

“Huh. Interesting. Red and Purple aren’t afraid of them. They look... annoyed, but not scared.”

The man with the gun lunged forward, and was promptly knocked through a wall with a blast of electricity. The other man froze, and the teenager in red hit him over the head with a bag, before bursting into nervous laughter.

Nat’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Okay, now I get why you wanted me to see this.” She looked at Tony. “Mutants? Have you contacted Xavier yet?”

Tony shook his head. “Not just mutants. Thor thinks Purple is an alien. Called him ‘a child of the stars’ or something.”

Shadows appeared at the end of the alleyway. The teenager in red swore, the words clearly visible despite the silent recording. He tore off his hoodie to reveal a large pair of wings, and grabbed his purple-clad friend. The pair flew out of sight of the camera.

“Red might be a mutant, we don’t know. Neither of them are showing up on any databases. No birth records, schooling, missing persons reports, anything.”

Nat sat back in her chair. “Right. You got any idea where they went after this?”

He shook his head. “Not one. We can assume Red landed in a remote area and hid his wings, before meeting up with the other two.”

She rose an eyebrow. “Other two?”

“There were four teenagers at that battle, remember? Just after four great Warriors were supposedly summoned.”

Recognition flashed in the spy’s eyes. “You think they’re the Warriors? They’re a little young.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Steve was pissed when we put two and two together and Bruce nearly Hulked out. Kids don’t belong on a battlefield.”

“What do we do now?”

“Look for patterns. Where we see them, and when. JARVIS is looking through all public cameras right now, and he’s already found Red and Purple stealing food from a nearby store a couple of times.”

“No sign of the other two?”

“Not yet. Although, they could just be better at hiding. Hell, one of ‘em could have invisibility powers or something. Hard to tell.”

She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

Tony recognised that calculating look in her eyes. “You’ve figured something out. Alright. What’ve you got for me?”

She steepled her fingers together. “Put it this way. You’re a kid, and let’s for argument’s sake say you’ve been summoned to an unknown city, possibly even an unknown planet. You’re lost, and you’re evidently not able to get money or food, if you’re stealing from stores regularly.”

“Right.”

“If one of you has invisibility, why risk the visible ones getting caught? Why not just send them instead? No, my money is on Red and Purple being the most inconspicuous.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the easiest to blend in- the most baseline human-looking. And considering one’s an alien and one has wings, that’s saying a lot. The other two might not be able to go out in public without causing a scene.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. But it makes sense.”

She shrugged. “Or the other two could be injured. Red was holding a bag full of medical supplies.”

“Shit. We need to find them, and fast.”

!!!!!

:D

[swbumblebee]

“Stop it.”

Mace Windu was a Jedi Master, and as such had years of training resulting in near limitless patience.

A limit, however, that his closest companion and partner in time-travel was testing with his constant pacing. And huffing.

Plo Koon ignored his request. Mace sighed.

“Would you just sit down? You’re not going to bring them home any quicker and you’re wearing down my rug” he warned.  

Plo looked at him, looked down at the rug, and continued pacing.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about” Mace continued, happily ignoring the sulky silence. “We know their mission goes well, we’ve done this before!” he exclaimed. “It’s a resounding success and half a planet ends up with a crush on Obi-Wan.” He said matter-of-fact.

He felt a reluctant pulse of amusement from Plo in the Force, as much as the man tried to keep it off his face. Mace could always tell.

He stood up, joining him in front of the sofa.

“Nobody gets blown up, nobody gets injured.” He reminded gently. “The Tume agreement is signed, as it is every year, and they both live to worry us another day” he said kindly.

Plo shook his head.

“I know how it went last time. I remember the debate” he corrected. “But things could be different my friend, we have changed the timeline. The smallest difference could be vital, and we have made a very large difference.” Plo explained, in his usual measured voice. “We have altered young Anakin’s temperament; Force only knows that he’ll do. And Obi-Wan has much less to prove.”

Mace frowned. His friend was making some irritatingly good points, but he remembered the two boys standing in the council room not one week ago; a familiar determined glint in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye that, in the coming years, would move planets, and Skywalker looking up at all the Masters as if they hung the stars.

“They will not disappoint us” Mace said surely.

Plo stopped.

“I know” he sighed. “I just…worry. It is most unbecoming of a Jedi” the Kel Door admitted.

Mace smiled.

“We are no longer typical Jedi my friend, and you are not the only one.”

It was true. Despite his words of reassurance, waving the two off in the hanger had brought a distinct clench in his stomach, and the training droids in the dojo had had a very long week.

Both froze, two very familiar force presences making themselves known, and not a moment later Mace’s commlink chirped shrilly.

They grinned at each other.

“Windu”

“Master, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have just requested permission to land” the unidentified voice on the other end of the call informed them professionally.

“Thank you, Windu out.” He closed the link without a second thought, already grabbing his cloak and joining Plo, standing impatiently, by the door.

“Wait – we can’t both go!” Mace exclaimed, the thought suddenly occurring to him as Plo reached for the door control.  

The other Jedi looked at him, clearly irritated.

“Why not?”

Mace rolled his eyes. One of them had to be sensible.

“Plo, how’s that going to look? Two senior council members waiting for a new Knight and a Junior Padawan? People already think we’re too close” he exclaimed, frustrated with his friend.

Whilst they both had a wildly different attitude towards the A Word (developed over the course of the war and in their new situation) appearances were something they had to be mindful of.

Whilst his expression did not change, the Force around Plo expressed just how much of a toss he gave about appearances.

His friend folded his arms.

“Alright, we can re-convene at the flat later. I will meet them in the hanger.” He said calmly, as if it was some kind of compromise.  

Mace raised one eyebrow.

“Any why do you get to welcome them home?” he asked archly.

“You waved them off” Plo said simply. “It is my turn.”

“Ah that’s not how-Plo!” he cried out, outraged as Plo quickly opened the door and strode out into the corridor, pushing Mace gently back with the Force whilst he made his escape.

Leaving the Master of the Order spluttering at the injustice of it all, in his wake.

---

Plo was working hard to keep his happiness behind his shields as he strode into the hanger just in time to see the temple shuttle land. He ran a critical eye over it, having a sudden vision of Skywalker’s battered old ship in that first timeline. As liable to explode as it was to put the wipers on.

Thank goodness that was a bridge to be crossed in the future. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for Anakin adopting ships.

Obi-Wan ruffled young Anakin’s hair, laughing as the boy tried to squirm away, as they descended the ramp. The playful scowl on Anakin’s face transformed into excitement as he sensed Plo and turned to him, held back from running over for his usual hug by his Master’s lightning quick reflexes, grabbing a wrist and holding him back.

Plo sent a wave of welcome over to them both in the Force as they came closer, a genuine smile on Obi-Wan’s face and Anakin practically buzzing with excitement.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply in respect, clearly nudging Anakin through their training bond to do the same, and the boy hastily followed suit.

Plo held a hand up and nodded at them both as they rose smiling. Both looked absolutely fine, perhaps Obi-Wan a little tired, but Plo had a feeling that was more to do with the energetic ten-year -old he’d just spent a week with, than the challenge of the mission.

“Welcome back” Plo once again pushed his pleasure at them in the Force. Predictably, Obi-Wan’s eyes slid away from looking him in the face, but he smiled gratefully all the same as Plo plucked the bulky pack out of his hands and shouldered it. Anakin nearly skipped as they all headed towards the exit and made for the Kenobi/Skywalker residence.

“Thank you Master, it’s good to see you-“

“Master Plo, it was so wizard we went in a hyperlane and the pilot let me sit up front and Chose was awesome Master it was hailing when we got there, like really hard rain! And they had massive beds and loads of puddings and me and Master Obi-Wan went to a play with singing-“

As the child rambled excitedly on, Plo shared a bemused look with a resigned Obi-Wan, sending him a wave of amused sympathy at him in the Force. Received with a dry raise of the young man’s eyebrows.

It must have been a long week for the twenty-three-year-old.

Content to let the child’s happiness wash over him, and Obi-Wan appearing to enjoy the lack of expected contribution for once, the journey to the flat was mostly uneventful, only a few Jedi casting them amused looks at Anakin’s wild gesticulating.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan!”

They were stopped from keying in the door code by Mace’s cry of greeting as he rounded the corner towards the little group. Ignoring Plo he went straight up to the boys, Anakin beaming at him and Obi-Wan bowing once again.

“Master”

“Hi Master Mace! Guess what? We saw hail on Chose and-

“Anakin” Obi-Wan blissfully interrupted before the whole recount could begin again. “Why don’t we get inside and get the tea on and then you can tell Master Mace and Master Plo all about our mission” he suggested firmly, in a way that was definitely not a suggestion.

“Yes Master”

Obi-Wan keyed in their code and stepped inside, Anakin following happily kicking off his boots by the door.

Mace, still giving Plo the cold shoulder, stepped inside first. And made a distinct noise of surprise. Plo followed curiously looking over his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan – what happened?” he asked, aghast.

Plo held back an unseemly laugh.

The flat was a tip.

There were robes on the floor, he spotted two pairs of boots sticking out from under the sofa and a discarded pack under the table. What looked like the entire Temple’s supply of mugs were scattered on almost every surface, alongside precariously stacked datapads and flimsy piles on the tables and on the floor, some of which had fallen over.

As he picked his way across the room, avoiding random bits of droid and one or two power tools, Plo could spy a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter when he peered inside, and about three days worth of washing up. A laundry basket was sitting next to the washing machine, overflowing with brown and beige.

The two young Jedi stood awkwardly in the middle of the flat.

Obi-Wan flushed a little.

“Ah, we left on quite short notice” he offered.

“I don’t think it’s that bad really” Anakin offered with an awkward shrug, slyly kicking something further under the sofa.

“This is….” Mace was lost for words. Whilst Plo hadn’t spent much time in Master Kenobi’s home the first time around, he had always thought the man to be fastidiously clean, and what he had seen had been very tidy.

Anakin however, was no surprise.

Plo could sense Mace doing the same thing he was, adding “domestic help” to the Obi-Wan Support List. They’d been so focussed on studies and their boy’s personal development they completely forgot that the Knight had never lived by himself before, never mind taken care of a youngling!

Obi-Wan apologetically shoved some pads and an old robe off the sofa to make space and disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The two Masters sat down gingerly. Anakin on the floor opposite.

“Your mission was a success?” Plo asked conversationally as Obi-Wan reappeared with the mugs of tea. Plo caught Mace peering at the rim for signs of prior use, and gave him a look.  

“Yeah” Anakin answered before Obi-Wan could get a word in “the Chosians didn’t like me at first but they really liked Master Obi-Wan and they spent ages talking. And people kept giving him stuff.” The boy explained with a disgusted expression. “Flowers and cakes and-“

“Yes thank you Padawan” Obi-Wan interrupted loudly, his ears turning a rather bright shade of pink. Mace smirked at him and Plo sent his partner a mental swat.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“The mission was a success and the Tume Agreement has been updated and signed.” The Knight took a sip of his tea. “We will not need to go back for a while, it should be valid for another ten years” he finished casually as if accomplishing something no Jedi had managed before, on his first mission, was an afterthought.

Mace and Plo shared a look.

Just like last time.

It was a huge relief that their presence had had no adverse effects on the Negotiator’s skills. As Plo sat and listened to Mace congratulate the blushing young man he had a thought.

What could these two, The Team; the best Jedi of his generation and the most powerful force user ever, accomplish with the support of Mace and Plo this time around?

The Sith had better pack their bags. He thought smugly.

---

To get a feel for the whole set up of Obi-Wan Anakin’s first mission when they were assigned it “the first time around” read this��Snippet Of Nothing, which is the mission being discussed, and is from the councils point of view. 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

~

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

~

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

[starryeyedweeb]

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots 

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still  oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

[bigskydreaming]

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go. 

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you. 

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her  themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome. 

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily. 

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did. 

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking  his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame. 

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later. 

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

[jonahlovescoffee]

“look at me” | J.M.

a/n: ok guys i wrote smut in honor of the release of wdw’s new album that includes a smutty song D: so first i would like to clarify that i’m still a 15-year-old virgin so i have absolutely no idea in how sex goes and i don’t read a lot of smut in general so i apologize if any mistakes are made in my writing :) anyways happy reading!!!

summary: you and your boyfriend sneak off to have some fun. (this is probably the worst summary i’ve ever written)

warnings: oral, blood kink, dirty talk, making out, unprotected sex (but on a serious note, wrap it before u tap it guys!) so read at your own risk luvs <3

word count: 5022

“do what you want to me nobody gotta know”

You felt Jonah’s lingering stare on you all the way through dinner at his house. His alert eyes followed your every move and he didn’t even bother to be more discreet about it. He and his band had just returned from tour and usually, you both would spend the first few weeks constantly exploring each other’s bodies as you released all the lust that was bottled up inside you for far too long but this time was different. After your recent promotion in your department at work, your workload had gotten twice as heavier and you soon found yourself being too busy to indulge in any form of entertainment, including spending time with him in the bedroom as he desired. As expected, he was now extremely close to his breaking point and was perfectly capable of ruining you once both of you were alone.

Yet being the mischievous person you were, you decided to tease him a little and test his limits. With an innocent smile plastered on your face the whole time, you let out an exaggerated moan of pleasure when you tasted Christina’s cooking and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth on purpose for more times than you could count, not forgetting to make sure that he was at the perfect angle to see what you were doing.

He had his meal silently, not speaking unless he was spoken to and when he did, the evident strain in his voice did not go unnoticed by you, so did his clenched jaw and his knuckles that had gone slightly white from clutching onto the cutlery a little too hard. No one else noticed the sexual tension between you both despite it being so thick that one could cut it with a knife, which made this silent exchange between you and your boyfriend many times more exciting.

Once dinner was over and all the dirty dishes were taken to the kitchen, Jonah caught your wrist in a tight hold when you were about to enter the living room. “You’d better stop what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he warned once the others were out of earshot, already in front of the TV having an argument about which movie they should watch. “It isn’t funny at all.”

“I never said it was,” you gave him a toothy grin which agitated him more. You used your free hand to cup his cheek, tracing it softly with your thumb as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, exhaling a shallow breath. You stood up on your tiptoes and leaned your face closer to his, your lips barely inches apart. “You’re always so needy for me, love, I’m terribly flattered,” you said, your lips brushing his with every word. “And I want nothing more than for you to take me now,” you continued and you felt his entire body stiffen.

“However,” you let your hand trail down from his face, over his muscled torso, then allowed your fingers to play with the waistband of his black ripped jeans. His eyelids fluttered open as his breathing turned ragged for your fingers were so close—so dangerously close to his member that was growing harder and harder by the second. And you weren’t even doing anything. “I don’t want to do that with your friends around,” you gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away and wiggling your wrist out of his grasp, leaving him wanting for more.

“You’re gonna be the death of me y/n,” he growled furiously at you, earning an extremely sweet smile from you.

“I know,” you chirped happily and proceeded to skip to the living room. “Oh and Jonah? Try to hide your excited buddy would ya’? He’s being too obvious,” you tisked with displeasure, gesturing to his southern region.

“I wonder why,” he muttered sarcastically to himself as he adjusted his pants to make the bulge in them less obvious as best as he could.

“Come on guys, the movie’s starting!” Corbyn hollered from where he sat on the couch with his girlfriend by his side, to which you replied with a simple “coming” before grabbing the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table and plopping down onto the other end of the couch.

“I’m here, I’m here, jeez,” Jonah hopped over the back of the couch and landed beside you shortly afterwards, the impact sending few popcorns flying out of the bowl. You shot a death glare at him as he rested his arms over your shoulders and opened his mouth, a silent request for you to pop a popcorn into his mouth (which you obliged), his eyes fixed on the wide tv screen, acting like you both didn’t have the conversation just seconds ago.

Because of how sexually frustrated you were, it was impossible for you to concentrate on the movie when his finger was idly tracing random patterns on your upper arm from where his hand rested, turning your mind into a fuzzy mess and blurring all your senses together until all you could focus on was his touch that had somehow travelled to your neck, stopping at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Wanna suck this part so bad,” His whispered into your ear, his warm breath making your skin tingle with pleasure as his finger circled the spot with his finger several times, causing your breathing to hitch, momentarily stunned by his words. Before you could say anything though, he pulled away completely with a chuckle, choosing to place his hand on your thigh instead.

This bastard. He knew the effect his simple gesture had on you and he was shamelessly wielding it to his power.

Without a word, you placed your left hand lightly on the front his black ripped jeans as you planted a kiss on his collarbone, frowning when he didn’t offer you any reaction at all, pretending to be too fixated with the movie to even notice what you were doing. Fine. Two can play this game.

You glided your hand ever so lightly like the soft caress of the cool night’s breeze over his crotch at first, subsequently picking up the pace and pressure as you went, palming him discreetly with your clueless friends sitting merely several feet away from you. Beneath your palm, you could feel his member pushing against the material of his jeans almost immediately as he emitted a soft groan from his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed, tightening his grip on the back of the couch as he bit back another groan when your lips came into contact with his jaw and slowly made their way down his neck, leaving faint red marks on certain spots where you had nipped softly along the trail of kisses. “What are you doing?” He seethed through his gritted teeth, a sign that he was annoyed at you for driving him to the brink of losing every last bit of his self control but he made no move to stop your actions.

“What’s wrong with expressing my love for my boyfriend?” You teased which made his frown deepen, grabbing your moving hand in his, abruptly stopping your movements.

“Expressing your love, huh?” He grabbed your chin and forcefully tilted your face so you were looking at him straight in the eyes. Even through the darkness of the dimly lit living room, you could make out every defined details of his attractive face—his chiseled jawline, the perfect arc of his slightly furrowed brows, his elegantly straight nose and most importantly the flame of lust that was burning like wildfire in his eyes. “Why don’t we take this elsewhere if you really wanna do so, sweetheart?” He asked but his dark tone made it sound more like an order instead of a question, your previous playfulness dissipating instantly.

You wanted to retort, reminding him that you had told him that you weren’t inclined of doing that in the presence of his friends but you weren’t stupid. You knew very well that if you continued to push anymore buttons, he would not let you get away with it easily.

“Good,” he said and let his hand drop from your chin. “Let’s go then.”

Without a word, Jonah dragged you off by the hand towards his room, brushing off the prying questions from your friends with a simple “she’s not feeling well”. You didn’t say anything as you followed after his fast-paced footsteps, almost tripping over your own feet because of the giddy excitement that you felt at the moment.

He kicked the door shut behind him once both of you entered his room, his hands already all over you and your lips connected with each other’s in a heated kiss with his tongue in your mouth, exploring every corner of it, asserting utter dominance before you had a chance to react, making you gasp and habitually let your hands drift to the front of his lavender hoodie to pull him closer as you tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. He blindly spun you both around so your back collided against the door and pinned you against it before breaking the kiss, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pulled away to your dismay. You wanted to taste more of him so you tried to tug him down once more to collide his lips with yours but he stopped your actions with a low growl.

“What do you want from me, sweetheart? Teasing me all day like that,” he asked sternly, staring down at your petite figure that was trapped between his arms. Under his intense gaze of his once vibrant hazel eyes that were now nearly consumed by the black of his dilated pupils, your brain shut down all of a sudden, subsequently taking away your ability to form words in your head, let alone speak. He inched closer until your breath mingled with each other’s. “Fine, since you’re not going to speak, we’ll do this my way then,” he finally said when you remained speechless. You felt a tingling feeling between your thighs at the anticipation of what he had in store for you.

“Get on your knees, now,” he ordered and you obliged right away without a second thought. You didn’t need any further instructions to know what he wanted you to do next for his intentions were already clearly written on his face. In a blink of an eye, you already had his belt undone and his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, shuffling them down his legs along with his boxers, just low enough to reveal his considerable length standing proud and tall in its full glory. The sight of it never failed to make your eyes go wide in amazement and your mouth go dry no matter how many times you had seen it. “You want to express your love, babygirl, now’s your time to do it. Go on,” he urged, making you groan softly at his forwardness. “Show me how much you fucking love me.”

You did not wait another second to wrap your hands snugly around his member to give him several good long strokes before taking it in your awaiting opened mouth, flicking your tongue just over his sensitive head and sucking it a little to taste some of the salty precum. He let out a soft groan, one hand still keeping a firm grip on the counter as the other pulled your long hair back to give you more room. You proceeded to leave open-mouthed kisses down his length, your warm exhales across his aching dick teasingly torturous, not forgetting to lower your head to lick his balls before moving your mouth back up his length again. You felt his hand on your hair tighten as you purposely took your sweet time of savouring every inch of him ever so slowly instead of going hard and fast just like he wanted.

“Tease me more, baby, and you will regret it later,” he said with all seriousness and you knew that he wasn’t joking. You spit on the tip a little before fitting him into your mouth once again, then sliding down while your hands were kept snug around the base of him to help jerk off the rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth. You gradually picked up speed, your hands meeting your lips in steady movements as you started to bob your head quicker up and down his shaft, his breathing turning rhythmic and heavy, small moans let out with every exhale as you worked him.

Jonah was in pure ecstasy as he watched you take his dick so well on your knees, saliva dribbling down your chin as you licked and swirled your tongue over all the right spots, earning involuntary groans after groans of pleasure and making him instinctively push his hips forward into your mouth, consequently making you gag lightly as you neared your limit.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, you’re doing so good,” he managed to say between ragged breaths, “but is that all you’ve got?” His grip tightened on your hair immediately and before you knew it he was pushing you back down quickly and then tugging at your hair to pull you off over and over again just as you were about to pull back to breathe. Your hand fell from the base to the back of his thigh to keep yourself steady as he thrusted into your mouth nonstop, focussing on keeping your jaw lax despite the protests of your gagging reflexes.

“Deeper,” he instructed strongly as you gagged, your tongue pulling back last. Tears stared to prickle at the edges of your eyes and you glanced up at him, subtly shaking your head to tell him that you couldn’t go any further but he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. He had spent more than enough time in the bedroom with you to know your body better than you do and he was sure that you hadn’t reached your limit yet despite your denial to his request.

“Come on, I know you can do this, sweetheart,” he drawled, your hesitation had his hand pushing your mouth down his length by your hair until it reached the very back of your throat as your nose touched his stomach, making you wince at the discomfort. Yet you continued to bob your head, taking almost his entire length in your mouth. You pulled back a little and brought your hand back to the base to give him quick hard tugs as your tongue glided across his tip until he was biting down on his bottom lip with his eyes close as you felt him twitch inside your mouth, almost reaching his high. His erotic groan that followed sent heat pooling at your core and was starting to ache for touch.

So you silently slid a hand into your panties, your dress making it terribly easy to access the sensitive part between your thighs and you soon enough found yourself touching yourself while your other hand continued to jerk him off in your fist. You fully removed your mouth from around his tip to give him kitten licks, also partly because you found it incredibly hard for your moans to escape with his member in your mouth without gagging.

Your discreet movements did not go unnoticed by him and he pulled you up by the collar of your button-up dress all of a sudden, taking you by surprise. His other hand moved to pull up his jeans and boxers. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I?” Jonah growled in your face when you reached his eye level. “Such a desperate little whore,” he tisked disapprovingly while shaking his head at you. His tone was condescending, as you were some sort of trash that was greatly frowned upon by everyone. “Fucking answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“I just want to relief the ache,” you whined as he dragged you towards the bed forcefully, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own two feet and crash into him when he suddenly stopped walking and turned around to face you. “I want you to make me feel good, please,” you begged him with pleading eyes but it was no use.

“Naughty little girls like you don’t deserve to get want they want, do they?” He asked and you nodded in response, earning a warning snarl from him. “Don’t you understand what I say, slut? I said open your filthy mouth and use your fucking words.”

“Yes, Jonah.”

“So prove to me why I should forgive you.”

“Gladly,” sike.

You placed your hands on his chest and leaned your entire weight onto him, making both of you fall backwards against the floor, before you were taking off his hoodie. Your hands were already roaming his muscled torso while your lips connected to his neck, giving him sloppy kisses all over his neck, sucking and nipping just enough to leave faint marks that were barely considered as hickeys at all the wrong places, having engraved the exact places of all his sweet spots in your mind but avoiding them all on purpose just to spite him and forcing him to give you what you wanted.

You knew that if you had complied to his wishes, it would do you no good at all. It would’ve taken you longer to get what you wanted and you didn’t have the patience to wait. Just like how he knew dirty talk was capable of driving you insane, you also knew that your disobedience would make his mind go completely haywire, especially when you were doing everything wrongly.

That’s why you were honestly surprised when he actually waited a full moment until you started kissing down his chest before grabbing your shoulders to flip you over so he was hovering over you.

“You just can’t stop being a shitty brat, can you?” He licked his lips quickly before attaching them to your neck, right at the spot where he traced with his fingers earlier, and sucked hard, making you moan and cling onto him tightly with your hands tugging on his soft brown hair, keeping him close as he repeated the same actions on different spots, turning you into a moaning mess. “This is how you pleasure someone,” he demonstrated by ripping your dress apart and unhooking your bra in one swift motion before he started to massage your breast as his lips worked wonders on your neck, fully hoisting himself up with only one hand. You instinctively grinded against him, the soaked thin fabric of your panties and his jeans being the only barriers separating his length from your entrance.

“But this is how you mark someone up,” without a warning, he sank his teeth deep into the flesh near your collarbone, hard enough to draw blood, forcing a gasp out of you due to the pleasurable pain that shot through your entire body at the mere action. He wasn’t even nipping anymore — he was biting you, exactly like how a vampire would bite its prey before sucking the life out of it. He sank his teeth deeper causing more blood to ooze out of your body, which he, in turn, sucked and swallowed every single drop of it. With a final swirl of his tongue around the prominent bite mark, he pulled away far enough for his entire face to be in your field of vision, his teasing grin showing off all his teeth that was stained in red with some of your blood.

You pressed your thighs against each other in hopes of generate some kind, any kind of friction to soothe your aching core that was pulsing so furiously as soon as you beheld his sharp canines that was stained the reddest.

And he slowly let his tongue glide over all his teeth, wiping them clean as you watched intently, mumbling a soft “fuck” while staring wide-eyed at him in disbelief.

He moved the hand from your breast to the sensitive area between your legs and dragged his fingers over your entrance, to find you completely drenched with arousal.

“Never expected you to have a blood kink,” he smirked with satisfaction at his discovery, “but I guess you do now, huh?” He ripped your panties off without a second thought like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“Jonah, what—”

“Your flimsy little underthings always get in the way of things,” he cut you off mid-sentence before you could protest further.

“But—Fuck,” words failed you when he started to rub painfully slow circles around your fluttering core with his thumb while he dragged his middle finger up and down your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You rock against his hand to get that friction you craved yet he kept the moving pace of his hand so damn slowly that whimpers fell from your lips, much to his delight.

“For someone who was reluctant to fuck with my friends around, you sure are goddamn needy for me right now,” He attached his lips to yours once again to drown out your noise, your lips moving in perfect sync with each other’s as he licked his way into your mouth. A wave of warmth washed over you as your tongues entwined, making your toes curl, unfurling all your senses as the taste of his lips and his touch silenced all thoughts.

Except one.

“It’s no fair that you still get to keep your pants on when I’m already naked,” you said, breathless once you detached your lips from his after the heated kiss, placing your hands on his toned chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, his hot exhales fanning your face. He let out a light laugh but it sounded far from amused.

“When can you learn how to fucking behave, baby?” He lowered onto you, his lips falling to meet the bite mark he left on your skin, kissing it softly once. Then twice. “Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to?”

You didn’t expect him to choose that moment to slip a finger inside you without any warning, pumping it in and out of you as his thumb continued to rub your bundle of nerves. You slid your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible to you. Pitchy moans escaped you, ringing across the room as he gradually picked up speed.

“I said we’re doing this my way, understood?” He asked sternly, which you replied with a breathy “yes”.

“And I can do whatever the fuck I want, no questions asked,” he added another finger into you, making you arch your back towards him, your mouth hanging open in bliss as your moaning continued. He drank in the wonderful sight of your body reacting so beautifully to his actions. “Got it?”

“Yes...yes, Jonah,” you could barely get the words out of your mouth when his fingers sped up and you habitually spread your legs open wider, your eyes shut as his fingers worked their magic. Your eyes were screwed shut as your brows furrowed, concentrating on the immense pleasure that consumed you at that moment, your mind barely able to function at all. Sooner than you expected, your legs started to tremble with desire for release. “Jonah, I’m close, I’m really really close,” you whispered shakily and he exerted more pleasure on your clit.

But just as you were about to finally reach your high, he pulled his fingers out of you rapidly, leaving you empty and begging desperately for him to put them back inside you.

“Should’ve thought about this when you disobeyed me so many times today, sweetheart,” he said with an evil grin, “and bad girls don’t get to cum.”

“Nor do they get to pick the positions too but,” he sat back and looped one arm around your knees and another around your shoulders to pick you off the ground before laying you on his plush, comfortable white bed that felt like heaven in contrast to the cold hard ground you were laying on just now. “I’m going to let the latter slide this once.”

“So tell me what you want to do, baby, the choice is all yours,” he nibbled your earlobe from where he laid beside you, his arms tucked securely around your waist, keeping your body pressed flush against him. You could feel the tent in his pants that was pressing against your backside and the words left your mouth before you yourself could even process them properly.

“I want to ride you.”

He untangled his arms from around your waist and sat up so he was leaning against the headboard. “Show me what you’ve got, love,” he said, nodding his head at you, urging you to do whatever you wanted.

You quickly slid down his jeans and boxers to let his now completely hard and throbbing cock free, already. With his hands tucked behind his head, he licked his lips as he watched you pumped his member a few times before positioning yourself over him and lining yourself up. You gripped his shoulders again, looking back up into to meet his lust-ridden gaze before leaning in to give him a light kiss, which he instantly responded back with more passion. You pulled back to make sure you were lined up before you slowly sank down on to him, making both of you let out a few curses when you were fully down to his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” He groaned as you waited until you adjusted to his size, leaning your head against his shoulder for comfort.

You slowly lifted yourself up, almost pulling away from his dick completely before you let yourself sink back down, clenching around him again as his fingernails dug into the side of your hips. You started to pick up pace, switching between grinding and moving up and down on him, his grunts encouraging you even more. “Jonah....fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you shrieked, a string of obscene profanities that you never knew that you knew proceeded to escape your mouth as you bottomed out each and every time, slamming yourself right down onto the hilt.

“You like my dick buried in your tight little hole huh? My dirty fucking girl,” He asked, watching intently as your breasts bounced with each movement, your head thrown back in pleasure as you let soft moans escape, a sight he thought was both hot and beautiful at the same time. He moved his hands back up to your waist, keeping you steady as you continued to grind and moan against him.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, Jonah, I love it so damn much,” you managed to reply before your lips were captured in a passionate kiss with his once again, one of his hands cradling your face as you continued to ride him quicker, shifting your position a little to find a better angle so that he could hit deeper. When you finally succeeded in finding it, you held on tighter onto him, clinging to whatever that could keep you grounded to this world as you felt like you were falling off the edge of it when he sped up some more. You soon felt your insides clench around him. “Jonah I think—” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his other hand collided with your butt, the sharp sound echoing throughout the room.

“No,” he said through the kiss without any hesitation. “You can only cum when I say so, dear,” he bit your bottom lip tauntingly and you heard the silent challenge for you to fight back against his orders as clear as day.

So you slowed down your pace, trying your very best to restrict yourself from cumming all over his dick. And he didn’t like what you were doing. “Did i say you could slow down?”

“No, but at this rate I—”

“You shitty brat never run out of excuses,” he growled before gripping your shoulders to flip you over so you were laying on your back on the bed.

“Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” he said as he pounded mercilessly into you, your eyes screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on holding your cum in. The bliss you felt at the moment was so immense that you couldn’t help but shriek his name over and over again although the effort of not approaching your high was painful at the same time.

By the time you had become aware of your hands, they were already dragging down his back, your nails piercing his skin, drawing pretty red lines along his back. “Tell me whose cunt is this, baby,” he was hitting your g-spot now and your hand moved to grip the sheets.

Prick.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking,” he ordered sternly and of course, your eyelids flew open immediately at his words.

“Yours, all fucking yours, Jonah.”

“Good. Now, do you wanna cum now, babygirl?” He asked, picking up his pace as he chased after his own high as well.

“Yes, please please please,” you whimpered, tears already welling up in your eyes.

“Yeah, cum all over me now, baby,” he pressed a soft kiss on your lips as white ribbons of pleasure poured out of you almost immediately, just as his warm liquid was released inside you and you moaned as it filled up your insides.

“I love you,” he said when he pulled out of you and laid down beside you, leaving you empty and sore as heck.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “But you were too harsh on me just now,” you pouted and he smiled.

“I thought you love me putting you in your place,” he teased and you hit his arm playfully. “You gotta admit, you were turned on by my actions.”

“Shut up,” you said and he leaned in once more to kiss your pout away.

[vodkassassin]

LiuShangMo and LQG seeing MBJ being handsy with SQH and throws hands. That's *his* squirrelly fellow Peak Lord! SQH is scared and horny, while MBJ is dazed and like "Oh no I want both" while getting thrown through walls.

Wow Cher, go take a drink of water, you sound a little thirsty there 👀

I think I gave Shang Qinghua too much power in this... eh. When you snap, you snap! He deserves it. @cherfleur

—

Shang Qinghua drops the scrolls onto the large, ornate desk with a heavy sigh, wiping one hand across his brow. He looks down at them and contemplates just leaving them there for future-Qinghua to deal with, but the voice of reason at the back of his head makes a sarcastic quip about how well that always works out for him, and how he’s always so exhausted whenever he finally does return from a long day only to find unfinished work that he’d procrastinated, and so he resigns himself to sorting through them now.

Each scroll gets slotted neatly into its respective shelf above the desk, a miniature library of diamond-shaped holes that expand just above the area of the workspace. There’s another shelf to the left of the desk that rises up from the floor and reaches halfway up the wall toward the vaulted ceiling, veritably filled with even more scrolls and work that honestly Shang Qinghua would love to never have to ever think about again, but….

Even if he never actually signed up for this, it still is technically his job. So.

He slides scroll after scroll into the loose system of organization he has going on here, far less complicated than the one he’d had to design for the actual, legitimate library of the Eternal Winter Palace. Shang Qinghua can still remember the soul-consuming, absolute horror he’d experienced the very first time he’d walked into that place, when Mobei Jun had been showing him around, years ago. If he hadn’t remembered the details of the demonic history he had plotted for this part of the Realms in his first life before, then he certainly knew all of it and then some after he’d been forced to, for the safety of his own mind, reorganize the entire, expansive ancestral libraries of the ice demons. An endeavor which had taken him just under a decade to complete.

The demons, it seems, had little to no sense of organization in their lives. They just wrote down what needed to be written and then stashed said document or scroll into the dark library to never be seen again. Heavens forbid if anything needed to be dug up for later referencing. No fucking wonder the political atmosphere of the demon realms were so stagnant and slow.

Anyway. They weren’t like that anymore! Shang Qinghua has since taught them all better. Every single demon in the palace, from Mobei Jun to the youngest kitchen maid, knows the system of organization that Shang Qinghua has worked so hard to put into place, as well as what would happen if any of them were to ever attempt to somehow mess it up.

“Hey,” a bored and impatient voice sounds from behind him. “Are you done?”

At the demand, Shang Qinghua turns away from his desk and gives his companion a narrow glare.

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” he shoots back, annoyed.

Liu Qingge’s arms are crossed over his chest, and he glares right back at him from where he’s leaning against the door of Shang Qinghua’s palace suite.

He mutters something, and Shang Qinghua raises an eyebrow, planting one hand on his hip. “What was that?”

“I don’t trust these demons. Had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Shang Qinghua asks, exasperated. “That they’re not planning to attack the sect? That I’m not giving them inside information?”

Liu Qingge scowls. He’s such a scowly man. Shang Qinghua doesn’t remember writing him like this. “No,” the swordmaster says shortly. “I— We know you’re not. Nobody thinks that, not anymore.”

“Then what are you here to ensure? That I’m safe? Because I am safe, Liu-shidi. I’m safer here than I could be anywhere else.” Thanks to his king, there hasn’t been a single attempt on Shang Qinghua’s life in two years! It’s honestly a new record. It just proves how much of a valued and efficient worker Shang Qinghua is considered in the palace. Makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

For some reason, however, his words only make Liu Qingge even grumpier. The man’s hand clenches around the hilt of his sword and he makes a very angry face. Thankfully, it’s aimed at the ground and not at Shang Qinghua, so he knows that Liu Qingge isn’t exactly enraged with him. The fact that he’s enraged at all, though, is still a little nerve wracking.

Shang Qinghua takes a tiny step back. This makes Liu Qingge glare even more fiercely, and the An Ding peak lord does his best not to tear up out of frustration. What the hell is wrong, Liu-shidi? Please tell him, so Shang Qinghua can find some way to fix it so that you’ll stop looking so scary!

Liu Qingge huffs, turning away from him to stare out of the open door instead of at him, like he’s some sort of guard.

“Shidi…” Shang Qinghua hedges, fidgeting with the tail end of his hair ribbon and biting his lip in thought. Is the man even going to answer him?

“There are many powerful demons in this palace,” Liu Qingge finally says, shortly.

Shang Qinghua can feel his soul already exiting his body. “Liu-shidi! Please don’t challenge anyone here to a fight! They take it very seriously in the demon realm! There’s no such thing as sparring. It’s all just fights to the death. If you challenge one of them, they’ll definitely take you up on it!”

Ah! That was absolutely the wrong thing to say! Liu Qingge glances over his shoulder, face thoughtful and considering, and Shang Qinghua can see the glint that enters his eye at his words.

“Shit, no, I meant — Liu-shidi! Liu-shidi, come back here!”

Too late, Shang Qinghua! He’s already out the door, stalking down the hallway like a tiger on the prowl. Fuck Shang Qinghua’s life, honestly. The An Ding peak lord’s shoulders slump, and he hangs glumly from where he’s grabbed onto the door frame, staring down the now-empty corridor with dead eyes.

“Please behave, Liu-shidi,” he whispers. It’s a prayer that he already knows isn’t going to be answered. “... Goddammit.”

Since it’s highly unlikely that Shang Qinghua would catch up to his fellow peak lord before Liu Qingge could make good on his desires and goad a fight out of someone, he decides to leave this, at least, as a problem that is definitely for future-Shang Qinghua to worry about. He closes the door and walks mulishly back over to the desk, grabbing a scroll off the shelf and sitting down to get to work on calculating the tax deficiencies for this month's collection from the merchants in the capital.

Because there is always deficiencies, and the treasury staff of the palace are…. They’re just not really mathematicians. They’re just highly susceptible toward making too many mistakes in the overall count, and mistakes only exist to make Shang Qinghua’s job more difficult. So, he’d long ago told them to just worry about the count of their own departments, and leave the final calculations to him.

It’s a good hour later that the door opens again, and Shang Qinghua is so deep in the slog of long multiplication that he doesn’t even notice someone else is in the room until a large hand settles roughly over his head.

He sits up with a startled sound, lifting his hands to right his hairpiece that’s been knocked askew, even as his face is forcibly turned around and he gets a big eye full of bare chest and black furs.

He blinks, and then jolts out of his chair to stand at his feet and give the scowling Mobei Jun a bow. “M-My king! Forgive me, I didn’t see you come in.”

Shang Qinghua cringes at his own words, glancing fleetingly up from beneath his eyelashes at the demon, who only continues to stare down at him in a glower. Why is his king so goddamn scary all the time? Doesn’t he have any other expression? Why is he so much like Liu Qingge?

And why, oh heavens why, is it so attractive?

You useless fucking gay, Shang Qinghua berates himself from the safety of his own mind. Focus! Let’s do our best not to get beat up today! We’ve been doing so well!

“U-Um, my king…” he tries, hands desperately trying to both keep his hair in order but also not rudely knock the king a hand away. “M-My hairpiece….?”

Mobei Jun’s icy cold stare moves from Shang Qinghua’s face up to his previously neat half-bun, and he finally removes his hand. The peak lord breathes a sigh of relief, fixing his hair while the king takes half a step back and instead looks over his desk, where there are half open scrolls and an ink stone that has been brought nearly to the end of its usefulness.

“You’re working?” Mobei Jun asks, reaching out to touch a finger to the edge of one of the scrolls.

Delicate, tiny vines of frost swirl out from beneath his fingertips and into the paper, and Shang Qinghua makes a noise of panic as he reaches forward to snatch the scroll out from under his King’s hand before the ice can ruin the paperwork.

Mobei Jun retracts his hand, expression dark.

“M-My king…” Shang Qinghua quails, stuffing the scroll into a random empty space on the shelves, disregarding the organization system entirely. He takes the smallest, tiniest step backwards, but the desk hits the back of his legs.

“Shang Qinghua.” Mobei Jun says, simply. It’s enough to send the alarm bells ringing in the peak lord’s head.

The king reaches out the same hand, Frost still costing his long, pale fingers, and Shang Qinghua uselessly ducks his head as if there is any way he could possibly dodge the touch.

He expects his king to grab him by the ear, or the hair, or even the chin like he so often does, but instead the wall next to Shang Qinghua’s desk explodes.

Hm.

That…. What?

Shang Qinghua opens eyes he doesn’t recall ever closing, to stare incredulously at the spot where Mobei Jun had previously been standing. The king is no longer there, the room entirely empty except for Shang Qinghua himself, and here is a large, gaping hole torn in the wall to his left.

It takes a few seconds for Shang Qinghua to reboot from his shock, but once he does he slowly walks over to the hole and climbs over the rubble and debris that decorates the floor and peers out of it into the outer hall that it now connects his suite to.

Ah, there his king is, several yards away, brows pulled down in a deep scowl and blade crossed with a rather vicious and antagonistic looking Liu Qingge.

Shang Qinghua figures that he should have probably guessed.

He watches the two in silence as they go at one another as if they’re trying to kill each other, as they most probably are. Liu Qingge makes to go for his king’s throat, but Mobei Jun summons a jagged spear of ice to redirect his blade and bring his own blade, shimmering and blue just like the outer walls of the palace, around toward Liu Qingge’s unprotected side.

Liu-shidi isn’t the peak lord of Bai Zhan for nothing though, and quickly reveals the weakness as only a bluff, taking advantage of the placement of Mobei Jun’s blade to strike out with his leg and disarm the demon of his sword. The weapon shatters against the ground, and Mobei Jun summons a spear to replace it.

Shang Qinghua steps away from the hole in his wall, gazing wordlessly at where there had once been a shelf. Of scrolls. Neatly organized scrolls. Scrolls which had been filled with data and information that Shang Qinghua still had need of. Paperwork that was either already completely or still awaited completion. He can spot some of those scrolls littering the ground, many of them partially or entirely destroyed by the rubble.

Shang Qinghua brings up a hand to press his forefinger and his thumb down against the sides of his nose. He runs at the bridge, attempting to preemptively lessen the impending migraine, already knowing it would be futile. The clanging and clashing of swords in the hall over isn’t helping.

He steps back toward the hole. His foot catches on a discarded scroll and sends it skittering across the floor. Shang Qinghua feels like crying, a little. He takes in a deep breath.

He watches silently as the scroll hits the frame of the door and rolls to a stop at a pair of boots. Shang Qinghua follows the legs attached to said boots and up until he sees the face of a servant demon standing in the doorway, staring at him in stunned surprise. He watches as the demon glances over at the hole in the wall with wide eyes, as he takes in the mess of rubble on the floor and, finally, Shang Qinghua sees the exact moment the demon spots the buried scrolls.

The blood drains out of the servant’s face, and his eyes flit over to stare at Shang Qinghua. The peak lord isn’t sure what expression he’s wearing, since he’s been doing his best to keep it as blank as possible, but whatever is in his eyes makes the demon take a step back.

The servant sketches a hasty bow, turns tail and runs.

Huh.

Shang Qinghua steps back over the rubble to stand on the hole in his wall. His shidi and his king are still at one another’s throats, snarling insults and causing damage in the interior structure of the corridor. There looks to be another hole in the wall, in the very near future, and —wow! Shang Qinghua clenches his trembling hands in the sleeves of his robes, and jumps down from the hole and into the corridor.

He’s had enough! Did anyone up there hear that? System? God? Shang Qinghua has had enough for today!

The An Ding peak lord stalks over to the two opponents currently fighting to the death in the hallway beside his room. They’re so absorbed with one another and the next possible move they could make against each other than they don’t notice Shang Qinghua approach until he’s already got his hands fisted in their collars.

Shang Qinghua floods the musculator of his upper body with his own qi and gives a sharp, vicious tug with both arms. There are twin noises of surprise as both his king and his shidi go tumbling to the ground.

They whip around to stare incredulously at him, both of them offended and incredibly pissed, teeth bared. They look so much alike in this moment that if Shang Qinghua wasn’t just as pissed himself, he might have laughed.

“Shang Qinghua—!”

“What the hell do you think your d—?!”

“Shidi,” Shang Qinghua hisses, and Liu Qingge abruptly rears back, words cutting off.

Mobei Jun falls equally as silent, sitting up to regard the two of them silently, his analytic and battle-oriented mind likely trying to puzzle out what has the fierce warrior that he’d just been fighting on equal footing so hesitant to interrupt the weak and pathetic scribe that Mobei Jun has before used as his own punching bag. His king is so incredibly observant! It sucks that Shang Qinghua is way too mad right now to appreciate it like he normally would.

Liu Qingge shifts onto his knees, sword held over his legs in one tight fist, and he glares up at Shang Qinghua with a clenched jaw.

The An Ding peak lord isn’t having it, though. He’s way past the point of having it. He can already feel the migraine coming on.

“What the fuck,” he demands, “do you think you’re doing?”

Liu Qingge only continues to glare at him without reply.

Shang Qinghua reaches down and unsheathes his blade. Mobei Jun’s eyebrows rise up in obvious surprise at the move, but the king remains silent.

“What,” Shang Qinghua says, “were either of you thinking?!”

Mobei Jun frowns. “Shang Qinghua, you speak like that to this king?” He finally demands, eyebrows scrunched in anger.

“No, my king. No. Forgive this one his impudence, but,” Shang Qinghua holds up a finger, “shut up. Shut up, or I’m going to shred your body through a woodchipper and serve the remains as a shaved ice dessert to your court of bureaucratic idiots at the next feast. Shut up.”

Mobei Jun blinks in outrage, but doesn’t appear as if he knows how to respond to that. He glances between Shang Qinghua, who continues to stare down at his shidi, and Liu Qingge, who glares back.

“Shidi.”

Liu Qingge hunches his shoulders. “He was going to grab you. He should not have tried.”

“You tore a hole in my wall, Liu-shidi! You destroyed my shelf, and half my paperwork and scrolls! You put me back months in terms of work! Months! Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge gruffly turns his head away, belligerent scowl on his face. He clutches his sword in his lap like he wants to use it again, but isn’t yet sure on what.

Mobei Jun leans over into Liu Qingge’s space.

Liu Qingge narrows his eyes at him.

“What’s a woodchipper.”

The Bai Zhan peak lord glares. “I. Don’t. Know.”

“Both of you, look at me!”

Mobei Jun stares back at the swordmaster, eyes growing more and more intense, and Shang Qinghua grows more and more furious the longer these two toddlers ignore him.

“... What is shaved ice?”

“Isn’t it self-descriptive?! Shut up!”

Shang Qinghua drops his sword carelessly back into its sheathe, having not drawn it completely free to begin with, and slaps both his hands to his cheeks in frustration. He lets out a growl, glare fixated at the ceiling, before reaching forward to grab his martial brother by the collar.

“My king, Fix the wall with your ice for now.” He says, not even considering the fact that he’s ordering around Mobei Jun, something he’d normally never dare to do. He turns on his heel and begins to drag a sullen and red-faced Liu Qingfe behind him as he goes.

“Liu-shidi, come with me. You’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made, and then you're going to redo any paperwork you’ve lost me. Do you have any idea how many months worth of work you just destroyed? I am going to fucking flay you alive with nothing but a pair of chopsticks, Liu-shidi!”

Liu Qingge slumps in his hold. The man doesn’t even get to his feet. He remains seated stubbornly on the ground and mullishly allows the still-ranting Shang Qinghua to drag him across the floor and away from the silent Mobei Jun, who stares after them in confusion. The Bai Zhan peak lord crosses his arms and scowls, not meeting the king’s eyes.

After they leave, Mobei Jun regards the hole in the wall of the corridor and how, beyond it, Shang Qinghua’s workspace is completely demolished. He wonders why the man hadn’t just gone back through the hole, instead of walking the long way around.

Then, he spots the half destroyed scrolls that clutter up the floor, and winces. Ah.

[onebizarrekai]

I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

[okay-victoria]

What do people think of Tanya? AKA: Actually, a lot of people agree with Lehrgen

Summary: WHOOOOO BOY. You know it’s going to be fun when my subsections have to have their own subsections. Briefly, there is the Good [people who like Tanya both personally and professionally], the Bad [people who like/love Tanya professionally but not personally], and the Ugly [people who ideally, Tanya will never speak to, look at, send mail to, or be in the general vicinity of ever again]. 

I would say most people fall into the “Bad” category - they recognize her value as an officer, sometimes to a worshipful degree, but on a personal level range anywhere from thinking she’s a creepy child to actively disliking her. Unfortunately for Tanya, the people that fall into the Ugly category are as a rule higher-ranking than the ones in the Good category, and most people in the Bad category seem to like her specifically in her military role, and it is questionable they’d want her as even a coworker outside of that, let alone as a friend.

The Good

People who’re in here: People who have only ever heard of Tanya in the context of the Silver Wings award, people she interacts with in the Imperial Navy; rando soldiers; someone kinda high up in the later-war Eastern Army command; Ugar

People who only know her from Silver Wings:

V1/C1

Describes the nice aura people would see in someone who wins the Silver Wings.

The Navy

V3/C2

A naval officer does assess Tanya as having a predatory look, but doesn’t seem to think particularly badly of it, he just notes it, and then says “Degurechaff was a fellow soldier he could be proud of, which was why he extended his hand in utmost seriousness to wish her well.”

Rando Soldiers

There’s no real good single quote on this, but over time Tanya comes in to reinforce various units and leaves behind various impressions, ranging through Good, Bad, and Ugly, but anyway, there almost have to be low & middle ranking officers and soldiers who are presumably nothing but grateful to Tanya for rescuing them, even though we never get much of anything from their perspective.

Others

A superior officer of Tanya’s in Eastern Army command, in V5/C1, gets a transfer request for Tanya’s unit and reflects he is sad to be losing her.

Ugar - I don’t have down any specific pieces, but IMO it comes across in the LNs that Ugar is generally well-disposed to Tanya and doesn’t have the positive professional/negative personal thoughts that most other people close to her do.

The Bad

People who’re in here: Tanya’s academy/war college instructors, the 203rd battalion & later Kampfgruppe, Zettour, Rudersdorf, Generic Superior Officers, Romel, Lehrgen’s professional opinion

Tanya’s Academy & War College Instructors:

V1/C1

Tanya’s zeal during academy scares her instructors.

V1/C4

The instructors scrawled “abnormal” across the top of Tanya’s file.

“In the academy, we were told over and over – and, for some reason, over again – to love our troops. Weirdly, now that I think about it, I feel like they emphasized this the most when talking to me.” <= Tanya...you’re...you’re so close.

V1/C5

Mentioned that some teachers in the academy are on Lehrgen’s side of the What The Fuck Do We Do With Tanya debate.

V3/C5

Romel’s summation of her personnel assessment notes that at least on paper, the academy and the war college gave good overall evaluations of her.

203rd Battalion:

V1/C3

[Visha] “The moment she turned her icy cold eyes on us like we were objects to be appraised, I shrank from her in spite of myself. People might laugh at me for being afraid of such a little kid, but those eyes reminded me of the way a cat looks when it’s playing with a mouse, which creeped me out”

[Visha] “I was different from Lieutenant Degurechaff, who could calmly nail fleeing soldiers in the back with optical sniping or explosion formulas. I was relieved because I wouldn’t have to shoot.”

V1/C5

[Visha] “Was she an agent of the devil or of God? It had to be one or the other. Ahh, I can’t believe I have an ally more horrible than the enemy. She’s not human. I would bet my life on it. Me and a few others saw it once. During training, one of our teammates dropped like he was dead. The captain gave him a good kick, and before we knew it, she was back on his feet. I had been staring into the abyss of death myself…the captain heaped abuse on me. But I know, I saw it: she charged into the avalanche to save me. Even after my friends told me that she tossed my busted body aside like a used rag, I believe. She is definitely a good commander, even if I’m not sure about her as a human being. Of course, we all laugh and bad-mouth her…if the captain is an apostle of God, then only the devil can possibly exist.” <= in good news, Tanya, you are currently winning on your quest against Being X and mostly making people believe that he’s the Devil for allowing you to exist!

V2/C1

[Weiss] also refers to Tanya as a vampire

[Weiss] thinks Tanya is arrogant

[Visha] “her thought is That’s so low, Major.” <= this is in response to Tanya pulling out her child voice to announce they were going to bomb Dacia’s factory.

[Weiss] “Weiss has only known her for a short time, but even he can pick up the displeasure his superior doesn’t bother hiding. Her mood is as dangerous as nitroglycerin. When Weiss quietly takes a step back, everyone discreetly follows suit. Nobody wants to be so close to Major von Degurechaff when she’s irritated.”

V2/C5

[Grantz] “If the devil exists, it has to be our instructor, the commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Assault Battalion, the legendary Major von Degurechaff. The way she smiled. The way she looked at us like we were maggots. The way she seemed thirsty for blood. I’d believe she had tried to kill a rebellious underclassman or crack his skull open. If I screw up on the battlefield, she’ll definitely kill me. That’s how threatened I felt by the instructor who just had to also be my advisor…I wanna cry.”

[Grantz] “This was the major who had once said during a speech at the academy that deadweight should be killed…This is crazy. No one said it aloud, but it was the look on everyone’s faces. This was a nighttime mission to abduct enemy soldiers…Magic Second Lieutenant Warren Grantz realized he was shaking. My survival instinct was screaming. I wanted to avoid the war, the combat, the killing. I was hesitating. But one glance from Major von Degurechaff was enough to subjugate that instinct. She was far more terrifying…I was so terrified I hardly felt like myself anymore…How could the major just calmly sing a hymn?”

[203rd banter] Visha asks if anyone wants to trade places with her so she doesn’t have to be with Tanya all the time, and Weiss and Grantz are not itching to take her up on the offer.

V2/C6

[Grantz] Is really, really bothered by how chill Tanya seems to be about Arene.

V2/C7

[Weiss] Reflects on all the horrible things Tanya has put him through, but ends his reflection on the note that he understands why it was necessary to prepare them for war.

V3/C5

“Apparently, the troops serving directly under her thought she was a great field officer” <= Romel re: Tanya’s personnel file

V4/C5

“‘Please have the 203rd be part of your Kampfgruppe. All of us in the battalion wish to continue serving under you.’”

Tanya doesn’t get what she wants, is then pissed, and it gives off weird abusive-parent vibes where all her children try to flee and not be present, and for the ones who have to be (Weiss & Visha), they take it by flinching, cowering, praying to God for Tanya not to explode, etc.

V5/C4

[Visha] “Reality is far too unreal. She’s crazy. There’s something strange about her...The colonel cackled – no, she giggled, smiling like a child. It was positively surreal to see her eyeing the enemy with her tender gaze and licking her lips. She snickered, but what was so funny? She was terrifying...Dripping red liquid. Pink things that used to be humans, flying everywhere. And opposite that scene was a beaming little girl. It was so surreal, it made more sense for me to suppose I had gone insane. No, maybe I really did go insane. The sight of my superior officer nodding with satisfaction and beginning a confession of her faith was horrific. I didn’t get even a glimmer of madness from her beautiful, innocent eyes. They were the eyes of a stubborn servant of logic, full of pure reason. But that’s what was horrific: those eyes stuck on that doll-like face.”

V5/C5

Tanya has some good banter with her Kampfgruppe soldiers and it seems like everyone’s getting along.

V8/C4

T: ‘Are you saying you throw yourself into the slaughter purely, justly – sane and sober? Don’t make me laugh. That’s a broken man talking. Going to war after downing some liquid courage with a grimace is much more human.’ He frowns for a moment, perhaps thinking to argue back, and then whines, ‘So are you drunk, then, Colonel?’ <= yes, a random officer from Tanya’s Kampfgruppe just asked if she was drunk and that’s why she’s always throwing herself into battle so excitedly.

V8/C5

T: ‘Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant.’ V: ‘Thank you, ma’am. That said, I would have rather you spared me from getting caught up in that attack.’ T: ‘What choice did I have?’ V: ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Serebryakov puffs her cheeks out in a pout, which is surely a sign that she’s feeling better. <= Tanya, Visha wanted you to apologize, not excuse yourself, damn!

Zettour

V1/C5

“He doesn’t know whether they should praise her original ideas or call her insane.”

“Apparently, she hasn’t forgotten that she once said she wanted a battalion. She, a first lieutenant, to a brigadier general…something liable to provoke antipathy? She’s already done that.”

“The smirk on Tanya’s face reminds Zettour of some unpleasant rumors he’s heard about her.”

V2/C5

Zettour both remains horrified that Tanya was able to speak so frankly about a world war, yet he is sympathetic to the fact that she could do it because she understood what would happen.

V4/C3

Tells Rudersdorf that he “unwaveringly trusts” her military decisions.

V4/C5

Tanya comes to Zettour to request better units than he’s given her. He finds the request beyond arrogant, seeing as how pressed they are for men, especially for the fact that this is shortly after the Moscow situation and her battalion has “gone too far and been a handful”.

“Somehow, he didn’t think there could be that many damaged kids in the Empire like this young teen back from the battlefield. And actually, regardless of how he felt about it as a soldier, personally, the idea of interacting with them was terrifying.”

“But Degurechaff was unfazed and inquired about their experience with killing people. She saw people as products, and she was asking if they had been tested – that was the nuance. Could such a completely utilitarian view of people even be taught? Certainly, the army is an organization that pays attention to individual functions. Substitutability and cost consciousness are two factors hounding everyone. But can you really judge a human being by those criteria alone?...That innocent face and her straight back made her look something like a surreal doll. Doesn’t…Doesn’t anyone think this is strange?”

Zettour is mentioned to have originally had the same doubts about Tanya as Lehrgen, but after her performance he claims he is ready to “swallow any pill, no matter how bitter” (I think working with Tanya being the bitter pill) to win the war.

Zettour gives Tanya a little discretion to commandeer some equipment, she takes a lot of discretion. Zettour sort of laughs at off saying “this was Degurechaff” but does also mention that Tanya’s actions “amounted to a borderline interference in Supreme Command.”

V8/C4

Zettour is impressed with how Tanya has trained Grantz and thinks that if she wasn’t so good in the field, he’d put her in education.

“Sure, Degurechaff may have been broken, but not as an officer.”

Rudersdorf

V2/C1

Rudersdorf says that Tanya has a “distinct” [read: probably means difficult] personality, but if he just divided people into useful and not useful, she was useful.

V4/C3

Zettour and Rudersdorf debate Tanya, and he mentions that he only thinks she is talented in the military realm.

Generic Superior Officers

V2/C5

Tanya has a misunderstanding with her CO on the Rhine front. He wants her to train some new recruits normally, she mistakes it as saying “well, kill as few of them as possible, but do what you gotta do,” she gets kind of reprimanded over it.

V3/Intro

“Performance Evaluation: Major Tanya von Degurechaff:

Counselor’s Notes on character and conduct [this is printed normally]: Abundant loyalty and excellent fighting spirit. Follow regulations to the letter. Devoutly religious.

[this part is handwritten] Has a bad tendency to take matters into her own hands. Competent but as difficult to handle as a mad dog.”

V3/C1

“Some of the officers even added another thought in the back of their minds: Major von Degurechaff might actually be able to wring out even better results.”

V3/C3

Tanya goes wild on her base commander when he won’t let her sortie to Brest to prevent the French army from evacuating. <= Oddly, IIRC, no one ever like, apologizes to Tanya for not believing her, which is kinda rude, so mostly the incident reflects negatively on her instead of being a balanced: ok she did violate some rules, but...maybe if we’d listened to her we’d have avoided the rest of the fucking war, so seems like it might have been called for?

V3/C5

“The most important evaluations during a war are the ones from the battlefield, and those were all over the place.” <= Romel, re: Tanya’s personnel file

“The second was that although the evaluations were contradictory, she had achieved enough that she was considered an outstanding soldier. Awkwardly, regardless of how she was as an officer, as an individual mage, she was thought very highly of. Her number of kills was among the highest on the Rhine front.” 

“In any case, strictly as a mage, she was unrivaled. As an officer, too, she was by no means incompetent. So they must have been giving her to him as reinforcements and as an excuse to get her out of their hair. Honestly, he felt like they were foisting off their problem on him. ‘They’re telling me to take a mad dog out on a walk with no leash?’ He let slip a complaint. Maybe it was just prejudice, but that wasn’t what it felt like to General von Romel. After all, he was basically being asked to bet on a bad hand.”

V4/C2

Everyone on the General Staff realizes the huge amount of fallout from Tanya attacking Moscow. The backstory of this is that when Tanya asked for permission, the General Staff thought she was just going to do a fly-by and freak them out, not attack the city. It pretty much kills any opportunity they had to negotiate a quick settlement with Russia in the cradle.

Romel

V3/C5

Romel’s first meeting with Tanya pretty much goes: “so arrogant it’s invigorating...unbelievably insolent...in addition to her self-important attitude, it exuded heavy sarcasm...not only was she arrogant, she was clearly horribly warped.”

“Any commissioned officer would understand just from hearing her make that one comment why the Northern and Western Groups couldn’t control her. Having a mage battalion drop out of the command structure was almost like losing a whole division” <= ie, Tanya’s previous superiors must have really disliked her to give her up.

“She simply decided she would be a patriot if it was good for the nation. In short, she’s a capable lunatic, but the bad part is she doesn’t realize she’s twisted…She’s crazy. And competent. And more sincere than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“Without a doubt, she’s going to end up being the most horrible person I know. And she’ll probably also be one of my most reliable friends on the battlefield.”

V3/C6

Romel reflects that she is a mad dog, and that she is an ego-crushing entity for the average officer. <= while Romel never brings this up, this has a *ton* of important real-world implications for Tanya, especially assuming men still have more than a little trouble listening to women outside the military. Even if you believe the best rumors about Tanya, you still might not want to hire her because she’s going to be better than you, and most people hate that feeling.

V4/C1

Tanya goes to the Eastern Front, and Romel reflects that he is sad to lose her and that once you got used to her, he found her easy to work with.

The Ugly

People who’re in here: Lehrgen’s personal opinion, Some wartime randos, OG Eastern Army Command, OG Northern Army Command, Imperial Government, people who mostly know Tanya from her Arene reputation, Western Army Command; Implied Future View of Tanya

Wartime Randos

V1/C5

“Some of those who had been on the front lines had a strange reaction to the name [the 11th Goddess] we picked. They claimed it was the worst joke they’d ever heard.” <= ie, Tanya was the Devil, not a goddess

V2/C1

Tanya is happy that Dacia has zero airpower. She displays her happiness by smiling maniacally and skipping around her tent. Everyone thinks Tanya is happy that they just got invaded again and the war is growing and she can go kill people. 

V2/C5

A kinda random infantry guy is still having nightmares about Tanya in like, 1960, and reflects back on how he felt when he heard Tanya casually call for friendly fire to go right through where her men are flying. He questions why anyone listens to her.

“But when I replay the memories in my mind, I can’t help but shout, You monster! A hero, a star, and outstanding magic officer. You, ma’am, were a great officer. To all of us imperial soldiers serving on the Rhine lines, you were a god...Yeah, she’s a god – an immensely powerful one who presides over life and death. Her words, brimming with a spine-chilling anger, swept over the area as if she was planning to attract all the enemy hostility like moths to a flame. Major von Degurechaff had bared her fangs. It invited a violent reaction. The Republic wanted to hunt the devil. In other words, they devoted all humanity’s wisdom to killing the god of death. Gods don’t die, but those of us next to them? …They were right to call her a god of death. She killed the enemy, and the enemy killed our men. Then the noble major, with a glance at all the dead in the mud, took her leave. Fucking hell.” <= and you thought Lehrgen hated her. But, again, real-world implications of this could very well be that post-war, Tanya is a total persona-non-grata as someone that had a high degree of influence on how rabidly everyone fought against the Empire, and how the Empire was treated in the aftermath. I don’t make it out quite that bad, but it could be really rough if someone wanted to make it that way.

V4/C5

“The Guard Division had been on many assignments dealing with formal events, so we had experience…But what is that? That absurd, expressionless, doll-like creature was giving orders to people who appeared to be bloodthirsty mages just back from the war zone.” 

“Could it really…could it really be possible for a child to wear such a smile?...Her hands were soft and would have looked more natural holding a doll, but instead, this odd, human-shaped creature spread her arms as she delivered a welcoming address. No one. None of the high-ranking officers present could raise an objection to this thing. The veteran mages all obeyed this inhuman being in the form of a person.”

OG Eastern Army Command

V1/C5

“The members of the eastern army had been openly angered by her annoyed look until days before, but now their faces were pale. She said exactly what she thought: ‘Incompetent, pitiful, lazy, arrogant, unprepared, mentally disabled, inattentive, no powers of observation’ and her conclusion was that ‘all mages of the Eastern Army group require reeducation’”

“The ranking officers from the regional field armies who had come to protest ended up bearing the brunt of the General Staff members’ critical glares.”

OG Northern Army Command

V2/C3

“With no idea when Colonel General von Wragell might explode in his seat at the head of the table, Lieutenant General and Chief of Staff von Schreise was inwardly annoyed, but at the same time, the atmosphere was so tense he wanted to bury his head in his hands.”

“Schreise couldn’t be the only one thinking that he would have thrown her out immediately if she weren’t a representative of the Central Army’s view.”

“‘You’re very humble, aren’t you?’ one of the staff officers murmured, curling the corners of his mouth into a smile that was more of a sneer.”

“Schreise had never seen a major with such a big head without making light of him…without hesitating even a little, she – a mere battalion commander – matter-of-factly gave her opinion to the staff and even had the audacity to disagree with them. Even with the sacred, inviolable General Staff’s power behind her, she was nearing an inexcusable challenge to authority. A head could be allowed to swell only so far. There’s a limit to what can be tolerated, even for recipients of the Silver Wings Assault Badge!...the major, though still rather new, was readily crossing a line of which all graduates from the war college should have been aware.”

V3/C5

“There was a pile of especially severe criticism from the Northern Army Group. They said she was transferred after voicing a clear objection to those in authority.”

Imperial Government

V2/C5

Tanya sinks a Commonwealth vessel, she is court-martialed, the military says she did nothing wrong [which I agree with], but the diplomats want to punish her to appease the Commonwealth. After the not-guilty verdict, Tanya’s smug-ass smile makes everyone go: umm...should we really have let her get away with this??

V4/C2

She then further makes the diplomats hate her over her Moscow raid.

V4/C3

Rudersdorf warns Zettour that Tanya going overboard is earning Zettour criticism from the government.

V4/C4

During her second court-martial, Tanya doing the most in Moscow manages to fracture the relationship between the government/supreme army command & the guys more in charge of the day-to-day war, like Zettour & Rudersdorf.

International Post-Hoc View on Arene

V2/C6

“They gunned people down like they were so many targets in a firing exercise. They got ‘points’ for shooting people. People had blocked themselves in, so they used heavy-explosion formulas to bombard whole districts. Those are all painful memories of the tragedy being shared today. Even counting only the confirmed deaths, the city of Arene lost half its population that day. In order to avoid the heavy responsibility for each soldier that would result if they went into the city and had to visually confirm their targets, they aimed to cause widespread fires via artillery bombardment from positions surrounding the city. A portion of the documents shows that they had chosen targets that were likely to spread the flames as proof-of-concept for firestorm.” <= the reporter doesn’t know this, but Tanya is the person that comes up with that proof-of-concept for creating a firestorm, as well as the person that creates the case to make it legal to repress a civilian revolt with a military. To me it seems like Arene is presented as the Tanyaverse Bombing of Dresden, except how it would be viewed if Germany had won WWII.

Tanya thinks about how if the Empire loses, her reputation is in the toilet if it becomes known that she did this.

Western Army Command

V2/C6

[The Lt. General or above that is in command of the Western Front] “A terrifying report or a proposal from hell. The one who thought of this was either a lawyer so cunning the devil would invite them to join forces or a criminal. This way of thinking is practically inhuman. Only a devil who forgot their reason and conscience in their mother’s womb could come up with such a tactic. That someone would equate having the technical capabilities for an operation with actually doing it…Are they deranged?”

“Luckily, an army corps commander summoning a mere major is extremely rare. Exceptional though it was, it meant there was a chance he might have to summon this monster again someday…Doing his best not to look directly at the monster straightening her posture in front of him, the army corps commander accepted that it was for work and met her.”

“The principles behind the actions of this major in front of him were impossible to understand using anyone’s logic or emotions. Her inorganic eyes compelled you to conclude that her thoughts, her frameworks, her way of being were all warped.”

This guy keeps going on and on more than I have here, tbh he’s one of Tanya’s main haters. It’s fine Tanya, it’s only the guy in charge of Western Army Command, who listens to him?

“I hope no one noticed that I just flinched, thought the army corps commander, sensing that he was distinctly afraid of her…No worries about what? He deeply wanted to ask what she was planning to do, but he held back. He told himself it was surely better not to know…But there is probably no one more suited to being a soldier than you. Perhaps you feel at home in hell on the Rhine front.”

V3/C5

“The Western Army Group declined to evaluate her, saying her good and bad points neutralized each other, so it was difficult to rate her. Furthermore, she had attempted to resist orders.”

Implied Future View of Tanya/The Parable of the Salamander

V4/C5

“From what I heard, the Salamander is adorable and very clever. If you show it affection, it’ll get attached to you. Like a German shepherd, it can become a trustworthy member of the family. Sometimes it begs or plays tricks, but apparently, everyone ends up overlooking these things. Of course, Mrs. Legen grew angry and screamed that it went too far, but…Well, in the end, everyone doted on the Salamander. Because when it’s even more reliable than a German shepherd, how could you not? At some point, though, the Salamander’s requests and pranks grew to be too much. But what do you think happened when no one was sympathetic to dependable Mrs. Legen, who had continued to angrily scold it the whole time? That’s right. No one was able to stop the Salamander! Of course, the Salamander loved and cherished everyone. But sadly, there was no one to teach it right from wrong. So the Salamander never realized that everyone disliked it. Soon it had exhausted everyone’s patience.” <= for reference, Tanya commands the Salamander Kampfgruppe; this is told as a cautionary tale that Andrew says circulates throughout the future Empire.

Your Author’s Take on Tanya’s Reputation vs Reality

The above should have real-world implications for Tanya’s personal life as far as friends, and for her career both within and beyond the military once the war is over, because, you know, people talk. Anyone who phones up an old pal because said old pal had some quality time with Tanya and they’re curious what she’s like is probably not going to receive a glowing personal recommendation, and the higher up those people are in society, the worse it is likely to be. 

Even for people who think she has a genius applicable beyond the military sphere, outside of extreme circumstances people generally don’t want to employ anyone, no matter how smart, who is known for being unpredictable, uncontrollable, arrogant in the extreme, abusive towards coworkers, manipulative, possibly just straight up evil, etc etc. Within the military, after the war I would expect her to be hampered by the fact that a lot of people won’t want to work with her unless there’s a really pressing reason they need her skillset.

I can’t believe I’m bringing this show up from years past, but she’s sort of in the same position as Dr. House from the TV show - famously talented; famously toxic in the workplace; only one place will employ him, and at a much lower salary than his reputation should command, and even so, thinking that he could get away with that in real life is pushing the suspension of disbelief for the show. The same goes with friendships - very few well-adjusted adults are willing to befriend The Cool Asshole in real life.

When it does happen IRL, those relationships usually aren’t healthy & happy, and can easily end up with borderline-emotionally-abusive undertones because the follower is afraid of losing the leader, and molds themselves to fit what the other person wants so as to be an unchallenging, uncritical presence in the life of their idol.

For a story about an adult man reincarnated as a young girl fighting in magical WW1.5, YS manages to put a surprisingly interesting twist on the Main Character is a Cool Asshole Without Consequences model, with Tanya getting away with it in the present due to extreme circumstances, not realizing that the war is the only reason she’s getting away with it, and facing many implied future consequences for it.

While it’s entirely possible and often completely necessary to handwave Tanya overcoming this for storytelling purposes, as you can’t go many places story-wise if Tanya is as screwed as it sounds like she’s going to be, standard reality is that she’s gonna need to do some serious legwork to dig herself out of the hole she’s in, both personally and professionally. 

I appreciate that the crux of a good Tanya story is often Tanya thinking normal reality will apply to her but then bypassing normal reality to end up somewhere she never intended on being, much to her chagrin, and readers therefore may feel adhering to realism violates the reality of Tanyaverse. 

For the purposes of this story, I have chosen to stick with where the preponderance of evidence leads and apply a good amount of normal reality to Tanya, because that is exactly what allows me to proceed along a different avenue of Tanya misunderstanding things and ending up somewhere she never intended on being, keeping to the spirit of Tanya stories. Plus, Tanya doesn’t seem very intent on growing as a person in the absence of consequences and I need my character growth drivers.

...and I can’t avoid admitting I still end up handwaving some portion of those consequences for Tanya, since, as stated above, it’s...hard to go anywhere with a story if you don’t.

[captain-danwilds]

One Step Forward

Hi @avengerpercy! I realize I didn’t take Brazil’s timezone into account when posting this so I’m sorry this is technically late, but here’s your @aftgexchange gift.  I hope this is good enough for you Cristal.  This is my first time playing in the AFTG sandbox, so I wanted to live up to your expectations.  I ended up using your prompt “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems”  for a little outsider POV Andreil fluff with a large helping of twinyards.   

A few quick notes. Betsy and the joint sessions set the backdrop for this fic even though I am not a therapist and also not trying to make some statement about therapy in general (Personally I’m a big fan, but also recognize that Aaron really doesn’t seem to be in we’re in his POV.) I’m not trying to demonize Aaron or Andrew here.  Aaron just fundamentally misunderstands Andrew.  Also Raven King/Drake Incident references.  

Ever since Aaron had found out Andrew existed, he’d felt unsteady.   It wasn't just the sudden knowledge of how different his life could have been if Tilda hadn't decided to come back to get him or even if she'd just taken the other baby.   It was the fact his brother was a mass of contradictions piled on top of each other and every aspect of their relationship was built on the idea of one step forward and two steps back.

Aaron wasn't an idiot.  When the officer at the stupid game had mentioned Andrew, Aaron didn't expect his long-lost brother to immediately love him.  This wasn't a television show.   He knew by now that blood only went so far, that it hadn't stopped his mother from raising her hand to him or Uncle Luthor from sending Nicky away only for his cousin to come back a shell of himself.  But he couldn't deny he wanted it to work desperately, for there to be another little boy out there whose life might be made better by having a brother in it.  

His first step forward a letter that had to be rewritten at least twice because everything sounded wrong.  His bedroom trash can overflowed with pieces of notebook paper crumpled in frustration or with ink smeared from tears he'd never admit to anyone he'd actually shed.  Aaron must have spent hours writing the letter, typing it up in stolen time at the school library and sneaking to the post office while Mom had been out of it.  

Hours completely wasted when the only reply was two words:  "Fuck Off."

That should have been the sign to leave things well enough alone.  

But instead, he'd taken the return address and written a second letter to "the guardians of Andrew Doe."  

And instead of an answer from his brother, Aaron had gotten a voicemail saying Andrew had gone to Juvie.  

Even the slightest hint of progress was met with resistance.    

Gaining a brother meant losing his mom and never being in control of his decisions anymore.  

Andrew lived by his own rules, an unspoken tally system of betrayals where Aaron would never be the one who measured up.  Andrew wouldn't say it, because Andrew didn't say anything now that he was off the drugs.  Aaron knew his brother only cared about him in context of proving that he'd never broken their deal.  Until he called the whole thing off for Josten.  

Josten, the idiot that would say things like "Andrew doesn't lie"  as if he actually believed him.  As if there truly was some magical code his brother followed that made sense.    

"If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session.

Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

"I understand that therapy isn't for everyone,"  She'd said smiling gently during their first mandatory meeting freshman year.  "More than that, therapy with me might not be your answer,  so don't let today stop you from seeking help in the future if that's what you decide you want.  I can direct you to one of my colleagues who you might feel more comfortable with."  

They'd been meeting for almost a year now and Aaron still wasn't comfortable with her, no matter how many cups of hot chocolate she offered or how many smiles she gave.   They'd come a long way from the complete silence and blank expression of his first individual session or even the harsh words the first time he'd shown up to Andrew's session, but it wasn't comfortable by any means.  

The point was he wasn't about to pour his heart out to her even if Andrew wasn't in the room.  With Andrew there, Aaron had no good way to answer the question without giving too much of himself away again, of being hurt when everything went to hell. Still, Aaron couldn't help but let the multitude of answers flow over him.  

Because Josten waltzes in, every ounce of him screaming lie and danger, and this team bends over backwards for him. Because Aaron's seen enough to know Josten is dangerous.  Because he will kill him if Josten doesn't keep his big mouth from bring the mafia down on them again before Aaron graduates and he can't handle another murder trial.  Because Josten makes it so easy, throwing as many insults back as he gives.   Those are the easy answers, because Aaron's life doesn't revolve around Andrew. He can hate Josten because Josten is a piece of shit who makes every aspect of his life harder.  

But that's also not the whole truth.  Because he saw the way Andrew looked at him in Baltimore, the tender movements in his hands completely at odds with the angry spark in his eyes.  Because Andrew hates people touching him and yet he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around the back of Josten's neck.  Because there's something aggravating in the way that Andrew can look at Josten and see something precious when he never looks at Aaron like that.  

Aaron doesn't want to think his life revolves around Andrew, but his hatred of Josten certainly does.  It’s partially jealousy.  Why does this nobody get easy answers from Andrew?  What makes him so special?  

But the larger issue is that Aaron has seen Andrew broken.  As much as Aaron wants to wish Drake away, he can’t.  He’ll never be able to get Andrew’s face out of his head or the manic laugh left by the drugs. There are nights where he wakes up feeling like he still has the blood on his hands, that he’ll never be free of the feeling of Andrew knotting his fingers through his hair in worry when Andrew’s the one covered in bruises.  Seeing his brother like that once was enough to break him.  He doesn’t understand how Andrew can let Josten so close when Josten is a walking danger magnet.  He doesn’t know what he would do when Josten inevitably hurts Andrew, because that’s the type of danger Andrew can’t just stab with a knife.    

Betsy gave a small cough and Aaron knew he'd been quiet too long.  He avoided Betsy's gaze to look at the clock.  They were already a few minutes over their time.   He wouldn’t have answered at all, just turned back to glare at Betsy until she dismisses them both for the day except he saw Andrew.  

Andrew was still angled away from him on the opposite end of the couch.  His mouth was still turned in a slight frown, but Andrew’s gaze had sharpened.  Even months ago, Aaron might have missed it.  It was a sign of amusement, slight exasperation maybe, but also one of want.  Aaron had never seen that expression for any reason other than Josten, and now it’s directed at him.

“Josten isn’t safe.”  

Andrew gave a huff that might even be considered laughter.

“I’m serious. You’re giving him the power to hurt you.  Just because you don’t care about your own wellbeing, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let him get away with it.”  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”  Andrew waved his hand dismissively.  “Which is good because you’re shit at picking the right battles.”  

Aaron groaned.  “And what do you mean by that?”  

“Neil won’t hurt me.”  He said it like it should be obvious, like he can’t believe Aaron missed something so fundamental.  

“But how can you know that?”  

“How do you know Kaitlyn won’t hurt you?”  The words were thrown like a weapon to end this conversation.  

But Aaron isn’t about to rise to the bait.  Andrew seemed to think that every girl was just going to be another Tilda, that Aaron would let them hurt him for the scraps of affection.  He knew Andrew didn’t decide Kaitlyn was safe out of the goodness of his heart, so his answer made no sense.  

“Why shouldn’t I be worried about Neil hurting you?”  Aaron repeated himself more directly, even calling the idiot by his first name as a sign of good will.  

Andrew looked down at his hands, his right-hand tracing seemingly random places around each of the knuckles on his left.  The gesture seemed both familiar and wrong.   Finally Andrew took a deep breath and looked directly at Aaron.  

“He listens when I say no.”

The words are simple, but Aaron can hear the depth of meaning there.  He gave a slight nod.

Andrew must still see that he doesn’t fully understand, because he continued softly, “He promised he’d stay” before nodding at Betsy and leaving the two of them alone in the room.  

Aaron doesn’t hear Betsy’s chipper goodbye or even comprehend most of practice afterwards. His mind is reeling and even though Andrew only gave him ten words, it feels like one hell of a step forward.  

It’s only later at one of the Fox movie nights that Aaron realized why Andrew’s fidgeting looked wrong.  He’d seen that gesture before.  Andrew’s right hand gently tracing the scars on Neil’s as they sit side by side in silence, barely acknowledging each other but still taking pleasure in each other’s presence.   It’s easy to miss the moment when Neil leans easily back into Andrew and Andrew only tugs their scarred hand closer.  

Aaron hated that it’s this little action is what finally makes him understand. Andrew’s words about Kaitlyn no longer felt like a dig.   It was his brother’s roundabout way of trying to phrase his relationship with Neil in a way Aaron would understand. When you love someone, the world seems safer with them in it.  Andrew might not have said the word love, but he didn’t have to.