#sab ff

[mearcatsreturns]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov Characters: Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy), Fedyor Kaminsky, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Alina Starkov, Genya Safin, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Nadia Zhabin, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Babies, gay horror, Gay Judgment, Babysitting, Ivan is Overwrought, Author Using KonMari | Marie Kondo Method on Canon, Author does not vibe with canon deaths, Ivan's Suffering Sparks Joy (Unfortunately) Series: Part 4 of fools for love Summary:

Ivan's problems all boil down to the heterosexuals and how they just keep reproducing.

&&& 

Happy slightly belated birthday, @qqueenofhades!

[sabh0]

Hi, sorry to bother you, I'm new in this fandom and I feel like you're kind of a big figure in here, so I wanted to know if you read fanfics and, if so, if you had any rec for me? I can't say I like the usual take on Chuuya or Dazai or their relationship in most fanfictions, making of Dazai an emotionless bully and Chuuya an angry spazz with anger management issues and absolutely no brains.

Your takes on the character seems to me closer to actual canon, and so I figured you'd probably know of fics I would actually enjoy.

(If you do, then to be more specific, I'd rather avoid fics with no powers/modern aus and if explicit, then no bottom chuuya, please? For some reasons, bottom Chuuya writers always make him to be some dainty little princess and Dazai a daddy dom which is. Hilarious. Holy fuck.

Hi!! Damn i get ur problem 😭😭 I don't read fanfics regularly exactly because i cant find things that would be close to my perception of their relationship,, even if, i read mostly oneshots

Im picky af,,

Tbh i don't really remember many fics, but for some reason i have saved a bunch of them by halfbloom (diphylleias) so i would only guess my past (months ago) self thought the writer was good real good. I dont remember most of these, but i must say i regulary reread one of their fics, "Castles out of couches" (this is a oneshot consisting of??? A lot of very short stories about skk living together) (im a sucker for domestic skk that r still silly and bickering for fun) (and this fanfic is exactly that) (instead of suddenly very cutesy and petnames using couple that some ppl write) (castles out of couches makes me giggle like a teenage girl) (i drew some old arts based on this one, even)

So i would start from there and then check other halfbloom works with tags u r interested in! (I obv skipped what i didn't wanna read right) (tho i think they mostly write skk talking things thru, which is cool)) (there may be nsfw in some ig?? But it's bearable amounts + none of that annoying uwu chuuya daddy dazai)

[94erz]

I need more JK fans to stop treating him like a fucking child. He got signed to Calvin Klein as both a jeans AND underwear ambassador, meaning yeah, there’s a good chance he could model the underwear too. Yet for some reason I’m seeing a lot of his fans hate that idea? Some even going as far as to say it would damage his image? Fuck off. 

He’s already been sexualized to this point, what would it matter now if he modeled in some boxer briefs for a company that’s entirely known for its ad campaigns of people in the brands underwear? If JK didn’t wanna model being that exposed, he wouldn’t have signed with them under the label for jeans and underwear.

He was just on live folding a bunch CK gave him, hell don’t be shocked if that was his way of giving y’all a spoiler for what’s to come. Don’t drool over his abs and talk about how sexual he is and then get angry when it tips a point you now feel is ‘’too much’’. That’s HIS body, that’s HIS choice, either continue to drool over him or shut up.

[wordspin-shares]

Heads Up 7 Up

Thank you so much for thinking about me, @late-to-the-fandom!

From the draft of my book-verse Grishaverse WIP, Thread of Twilight:

Genya was crouched at the far side of the cabin, her arms resting on her knees, her gaze vacant. The once luminous face was unrecognizable. Covered in dark red welts and puncture marks, the flesh was raw, a mass of angry tissue that was beginning to pucker. She hadn’t heard Daria walking in, but when she became aware she was no longer alone, her head snapped up. She jerked back reflexively, her body stiffening against the wall.

Daria realized that one of Genya’s eyes was dark, sightless. The fear emanating from her was heart-wrenching.

“You poor girl.”

Tagging: @asirensrage @heirsoflilith @carmens-garden @bobfloydsbabe @joaquinwhorres @darknightfrombeyond @foxesandmagic @come-along-pond @waterloou @sunlitscribe @thecharmedburrowspn-files

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

hello!!! so — i must confess something. i have been thinking *very very verrrrry* much about taking mr. ln chaar to a desi wedding (like a cousin's wedding or something) and watching him get bombarded with rishtas when they find out he's british, the aunties and uncles not realising that he's actually *with* reader and not just some baraati/random tinku ke mausi ke bete ka dost.

Big, Fat Indian Wedding ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

i love writing typical indian ffs, cause we really are a bunch of crazies

⤑ ln x desi!reader ༉‧₊˚.

⤑ fluff + humour ༉‧₊˚.

masterlist ☾☼

"are you sure i look good?" lando had never worn a kurta before, but since y/n was attending someone's wedding, he had insisted on tagging along.

he turned to look at y/n, who stood beside the mirror, "babe, you look so good, i want to skip the wedding and spend the whole night here,"

lando giggled, turning red just slightly as he turned away from her, "y/n! stop!"

she laughed, throwing the dupatta at him.

lando held the dupatta in front of him, before putting it around his neck, and then looked at y/n for confirmation on whether it looked good or not. she nodded appreciatively.

y/n tucked her hand in lando's elbow, and the two exited the hotel room that the groom and bride had graciously offered them for the night, and walked to the venue.

lando, not being used to wearing a dhoti, fussed constantly about not accidentally stepping on it or getting it dirty. y/n could do nothing but watch her boyfriend take such good care and put in so much efforts to appreciate her culture.

when they stepped in, the two were immediately greeted with some of y/n's relatives at the gate.

"y/n! beta, how are you? we don't see you anymore!" an old man exclaimed.

y/n immediately untucked her hand and joined them together, "namaste, nanaji. i'm good, how have you been? your health?"

seeing the gesture that y/n had done, lando immediately copied, remembering when she had explained to him the basic courtesies of her culture.

"arre, beta, sab theek, sab theek," he continued talking, but lando, not understanding the language, walked ahead, getting lost in the bright flowery venue.

every surface had lights and flowers. there was a square stage in the middle of the area, which had it's own little roof made out of strings of flowers going from one side to the other. there were chairs facing the stage from all four directions. the bride and groom were standing, posing for pictures with a bunch of people, laughing and accepting gifts and envelopes.

lando's attention was focused on the stage, and without realising, he took a seat somewhere in the middle, eyes transfixed on the bride and groom. he watched as groups of people went up the stage, and the bride and the groom took turns explaining the relations, and then everyone turning to the camera for pictures.

he watched as the bride and groom smiled instantly when people arrived, and then softly spoke to each other when they found little moments in between. he watched as the groom wrapped an arm around his bride's waist and smiled so lovingly at her. lando wondered if this is what his marriage to y/n would look like. would she look as gorgeous as the bride? would he look as in love as the groom?

suddenly, a woman sat beside him. it wasn't y/n. definitely not. because this woman was almost double his age, and had a glint in her eye that he wasn't sure he liked.

"namaste, beta. kaha se ho tum?" the woman said, joining her hands in front of her like y/n had done before.

lando immediately copied, but continued to stare at her confusedly. "um, i don't really speak hindi. i'm so sorry,"

the woman's eyes lit up, "ohho! are you from america? where is that accent from?"

"i'm actually british. i'm not from america."

"british yani london?"

"yeah! yeah, london." lando said.

the woman immediately turned, calling out to her friends or relatives, lando didn't know, "arre, jaldi aao! london se munda hai! rishta nikaal lo!"

a group of ladies surrounded him now, and lando began to panic. he looked around for y/n, but failed to see her in the sea of people.

"you're from london, yes?" one of the women said.

"uh, yeah," lando began to stand, "actually, i'm looking for-"

the woman from before pulled at his arm, seating him again, "you were not looking for anyone. shut up and sit."

lando felt like a deer at the centre of a pride of lions. the women all stared at him, smiling and waiting, and he could not figure out just what they wanted from him.

suddenly, a woman shoved her phone in front of his face, her screen brightness so high, it made lando squint. "tell me, boy, do you like her?"

lando looked at the picture of her daughter, he assumed, "um, yeah, she's nice,"

"good, good. she's a doctor. she can move with you to london. doesn't have to work if you don't want her to,"

"what? no! why would she move to london with me? why would she leave her job?"

a different woman shoved her phone in his hand this time, "forget her. you look at her and tell me if you like her,"

"i'm sure all your daughters are really beautiful, but i'm here with-" lando tried to explain.

"tell me, what's your birthdate? kundli nikaal ke dekh lenge jiski jodi acchi banti hai,"

"13th november," lando responded, hoping that if he gave the women what they wanted, they would leave him alone.

"year?"

"1999,"

the women stared at their respective phones for a few minutes, and lando tried to use their distraction to escape. he was unsuccessful, as the previous woman who had tried to stop him before, stopped him again, this time keeping a firm grip on his arm.

"what do you do for a living?" the interrogation began again.

"uh, i'm a driver, a-"

the women all made disapproving sounds in unison, "matlab paisa kam hoga,"

"par, london mein gaadi chalayega toh paisa apne desh se toh zyaada hi hoga na,"

there were murmurs of agreement. lando looked for y/n again.

"how many properties you own?"

lando was confused by the line of questioning, but the firm hand on his arm stopped him from running away like he wanted to.

"one in monaco, and one in somerset, but that's my parents' place," he responded.

"yeh monaco kidhar aata?"

"arre, europe mein hi hoga kahi par. paisa hai iske paas, ladkiyaan khushi khushi reh sakti hai,"

"you have big family?" another question directed towards lando.

"i've got two sisters and a brother." he said.

"sasuraal mein rehna padega shaayad,"

"europe-sheurope mein sasuraal kuchh nahi hota hai. shaadi ke baad, sab alag alag rehne lagte hai,"

the women began discussing again. looking around for the millionth time, lando finally found his girlfriend.

y/n was standing a little far away, staring right at lando and his group of old women. she looked like she was trying not to laugh, as she conversed with another woman. lando sent her a pleading look, almost begging her to come save him.

y/n, seeing lando's look of fear, rolled her eyes, smiling, and began walking towards him. a hand cupped lando's cheeks, and pulled his attention back to the women surrounding him.

"how many kids you want? we want two, at least. we are okay for more also,"

lando blushed. why were strange women asking how many kids he wanted in his future? that was a conversation that he was only ever going to have with y/n, his girlfriend, the woman he was going to marry.

before he could respond, y/n's voice rang from behind him, "namaste, mamiji, chachiji, maasiji,"

the women lit up, talking over each other and greeting y/n. lando felt slightly calm now that his girlfriend was around, but he also knew that she was trouble. lando didn't know what to expect at this point.

"accha, y/n, batao, yeh ladke ko tum jaanti ho? london se hai," one of the women asked.

"haanji, jaanti hu na. mere saath aaya hai," she said.

"tumhare saath matlab?"

"arre, bhai hoga iska,"

"bhai-behen jaise lagte nahi hai, bhai kidhar se ho gaya?"

"duur ka rishtedaar ho sakta hai,"

"dost hoga varna,"

"dost ko kyu lekar aayegi voh,"

the women all spoke at once, arguing with each other. lando didn't know what he could do, and despite wanting to leave, the woman sitting beside him still had a firm grip on his arm.

"actually, humari sagaai hone vali hai. aaj bas puri family se milne aaya hai,"

whatever y/n had said, it had worked wonders, because the women immediately fell silent and stared at y/n. lando was just glad that the attention wasn't on him anymore.

"arranged hai ya love?"

"love marriage hai,"

"kitne saalo se jaante ho ek dusre ko?"

"6 years,"

"tumhare mummy papa ko pata hai?"

"haanji, unko sab pata hai,"

they all fell silent, looking at each other. it made lando think that maybe they were talking telepathically. it worried him. it scared him. more than crashing out on the track somehow.

"tumhare ladke ne bataya nahi. humari sabki ladkiyon ko dekh raha tha," one of them said, glaring at lando.

"itne saare nay log dekh kar darr gaya. aur aapne bolne bhi kaha diya usko?" y/n chuckled like she was making a joke, but no one else laughed. lando was so so confused.

slowly, the women stood up one by one, talking to y/n and bidding him goodbye. lando couldn't do much but just wave at them.

when the women were far far away from lando, he immediately got up and turned to his girlfriend, "who were they? why were they holding me captive? did i do something to offend them? why were they showing me pictures of their daughters?"

y/n laughed, grabbing his hands in hers and pulling him closer over the chair. she pecked his lips repeatedly, waiting for lando to calm down and kiss her properly. she knew people were watching, especially the old women who had just been sitting there, but she had told them that they were going to get married, so a little pda wouldn't matter that much.

his arms around her waist, lando pulled back, "baby, seriously,"

y/n laughed again, "those were relatives from all over. they thought that you were a single man, and they wanted to fix you up with one of their daughters for an arranged marriage,"

"what? why?"

"arranged marriages are very common in india, or southern asia in general. the arranged couple meet, talk a little, their horoscopes and stuff are matched, the parents talk about expectations from the in-laws, the dowry, all of that stuff," y/n explained.

"so, if you don't wanna get an arranged marriage, what do you do?"

"what we're doing. it's a love marriage. i fell in love with a man and i want to marry him, so i introduce him to my family, and the horoscopes, expectations, dowry all happens,"

lando was quiet for a second, his fingers tapping against her waist, his teeth biting his lip as he thought about something. "what if i don't want the dowry? like, i understand the horoscopes thing that its to see how compatible we are, right? but, is the dowry necessary?"

y/n kissed him again, "while it is the usual norm of the groom's family to take some kind of dowry, it's not necessary. it depends on the groom and his family,"

he wrapped his arms around her tighter, "okay, well, this groom and his family have decided to not take a dowry,"

y/n laughed, "i love you,"

lando smiled, "i love you too,"

the two turned to look at the bride and groom on stage. they watched as the groom kneeled on the floor and helped the bride with her shoes.

"is that going to be us one day?" lando softly asked.

"is that what you want? a big, fat indian wedding?" y/n countered.

"i want everything that's a part of you. if a big, fat indian wedding is a part of you, your dreams, i want it,"

"yeah, that's going to be us one day."

lando turned back towards the stage, a happiness spreading in his chest. he couldn't wait for his big, fat indian wedding.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i know a lot of people won't enjoy this, because a lot of the dialogues are in hindi, but i really hope all my desi girlies love this! i've also got a link for my taglist that you can find here!

[hostofhorus999]

Writing a SoC/SaB fanfic where Wylan is the sun summoner.

The first time the light is revealed (and nobody knows it's Wylan) he overhears his dad going basically "we will find the sun summoner and sell him to the highest bidder" n wylan goes "would he do that to *me*? Yes, duh, ofc he would."

Then somehow I gotta shoehorn in the obligatory wesper kidnapper/kidnappee to lovers plotline cuz yk "Jan van eck is paying v handsomely for ur return" "ffs just shoot me now dammit"

And bonus points, I get to make Wylan Van sunshine jokes as often as I want

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Annniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard: Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 06

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 6

The Rajputs had organized a puja for the betterment of their younger son's married life, one day before the wedding.

The Maliks were also present with the future bride. Aman and Anjali had known each other since childhood. When their friendship turned into love, they couldn't tell, but they were glad that it happened, and their elders had also blessed their union. Thinking about them, Khushi couldn't help but exhale a heavy sigh, wishing things would have turned out similarly for her too.

Her Amma's voice broke her distraction, "Titliya, ja sab ko bulake la. The puja is about to start and call Arnav too. Tell him I asked him to come downstairs and sit in the puja." knowing very well that Arnav wouldn't reject his Roma chachi.

Suvadra Malik snapped in response to the comment, "Why invite someone to a puja who doesn't believe in God? Main nahi chahti ke us nastik ke aulad ke bajayse yeh puja barbad ho jaye. I only want good things to come to my Anjali Bitiya's married life."

Khushi was about to protest when her amma caught her hand and quietened her with a shake of her head. When Khushi looked at Suvadra the next moment, she realized everybody was already there. The dark look that fell across Arnav's handsome features made her realize that his Nani's rebuke hadn't escaped him.

Arnav never cared much about religion, Seeing his mother on her knees, praying day and night for the betterment of his father, filled him with a mix of hope and desperation. Her whispered pleas, her tear-streaked face, and her unwavering faith became a haunting backdrop to his childhood. Yet, despite her devotion, his father betrayed her, shattering their family. That betrayal caused his mother to choose death over her children. The bitter irony of it all—the unanswered prayers, the blind faith met with infidelity—gnawed at him. He felt abandoned, not just by his parents but by the very idea of a benevolent higher power. In that crushing moment of disillusionment, he swore off religion, cursing the heavens that had turned a deaf ear to his mother’s relentless prayers.

But despite his disbelief in these "riti riwaj", he was determined to ensure his sister's wedding proceeded smoothly. He chose not to give his Nani any reason to cause a scene, prioritizing a seamless and joyful celebration for his sister.

Seeing no other vacant place, Arnav sat beside Khushi. As the puja concluded and the crowd dispersed, Khushi subtly shifted towards Arnav, her voice lowered to a whisper.

"I am sorry you have to hear that.''

''I won't have to tolerate her after tomorrow, now will I?'' he stated, rolling his eyes.

Khushi smiled at his somewhat optimistic yet sarcastic tone of voice. "For that, I am glad."

After sometimes she started again, "She is wrong you know" when she didn't elaborate, Arnav looked at her with questions in his eyes.

"You are not your father-" she stressed " You never will be"

"How do you know?"

She chuckled, "For a change, I know you better than her and - " she paused to gather herself.

''and I believe in you.''

She gazed at him as a soft, tender expression crossed his face, conveying a multitude of unspoken emotions. She yearned to convey to him the significance he held in her life. With wistful thoughts, she silently mused if only he could see himself through her eyes. She hoped for her unexpressed feelings to reach him, emanating from the depths of her heart.

She looked so pretty today, with a green-bordered yellow saree and a green bindi. Of course, Arnav noticed. She had flowers in her braid that day. Arnav's heart gave a twist as the reason drawn to him.

'Can you sit idly and watch while someone else takes her away?' the voice wondered.

'Shut up,' he said, closing his eyes momentarily. But he couldn't ignore the intoxicating aroma emanating from her. He realized it was partly her and partly the flowers, and decided that he liked her smell the most when it was purely hers, without mixing with anything else.

Buaji spent the entire morning urging her to get ready. She styled her hair and adorned it with flowers. Even though it was a simple piece, her Amma's gold necklace felt like a heavy burden around her neck. She didn't want to dress up for Mr. Ganguly. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the thought of establishing someone else's 'haq' over her. It felt like a part of her was being torn away. How could she make Buaji understand that she was no longer fit for anyone else in the world, no matter how many flowers she pinned in her hair? That He had ruined her for all other men.

One time when she was 14, a similar puja for the betterment of crops was ruined. That ceremony took place in a field slightly far from the village. All of them went there and Khushi was so excited to see all the jalebi and golgappa stalls. However, all the merriments were disrupted by a dacoit attack. People were panicking and running to and fro. When the dacoits attempted to grab Khushi and Manoroma, Akash Vai and Arnav intervened. This resulted in one of the dacoits hitting Arnav on the head, causing a lot of bleeding. Fortunately, the dacoit attack was brought under control by the timely arrival of the village people.

They rushed to the Rajput Haveli and a doctor was called. He examined Arnav's head and face and found out the source of the bleeding. It looked like except for the cut below his left eyebrow, his head and the rest of his face were unscratched. The doctor stitched the cut. The cut wasn't too deep, but he lost lots of blood as it was on the face and soon after developed a nasty infection. The whole household didn't sleep that night. Manoroma spent the night sitting beside him as he kept shivering due to a high fever. Khushi didn't know what to do but stared at him from the corner of the room. Buaji kept saying, it was difficult for him to survive the night. Khushi prayed to Devi Maiya repeatedly and even swore on her life to save him. When he opened his eyes the next day, she cried out of relief. Even though weak he asked her why she was crying.

"I don't want the dacoit to take you away too," she said. To this, he laughed meekly "Don't worry, Phati Sari, You aren't going to get rid of me anytime soon."

As Khushi was watching Arnav helping the workers set up the mandap, she silently wondered whether he would make such a promise to her if she asked again.

Arnav was always like that: always helping around the house. He assisted Babuji in the garden, did the grocery shopping, and took on big responsibilities in arranging every event. These were not his tasks, but he did them anyway. In doing so, he exuded a commanding and authoritative aura, as if everyone was supposed to bow to him and acknowledge the "laad governor" that he was. Khushi silently laughed at his demeanour. Laad Governor, Her Laad Governor. She mused fondly.

Arnav always demanded attention wherever he went, didn't he? She thought to herself, at least he had her full attention every single time. Whenever he walked into a room, the conversation stopped and a stunned silence filled the space. Only the 'dhak-dhak' of her heart remained. He made her feel exposed and safe at the same time.

She understood why he helped around the house so much. He wanted to show his gratitude for everything Babuji and Amma had done for him. It would be a shame as a best friend if she didn't understand that. And sometimes she wondered if this was the reason why he was not willing to consider them being together, or if he just couldn't see her as more than a friend. After all, falling in love with someone was not in one's hands. Maybe Arnav just couldn't love her as she loved him.

But one could never be certain about things like that, could they? Just like how wrong she was in her previous assessment of him not caring about whether she got married to another person or not. He clearly was affected; she just didn't know the extent of it or what to make of all this. For example, for the past half hour, he had been glaring at her and her companion, clenching his jaw, and grinding his teeth, making his jaw more prominent. Khushi couldn't help but speculate whether he was angry or jealous as she observed him closely. She didn't dare to hope for the latter reaction; she didn't want to build castles in the air.

With a heavy sigh, she shifted her focus to the man in front of her. Dhruv Ganguly was undeniably handsome; no one in a million years would deny that. Still, Khushi, sitting across from him, couldn't help but scrutinize him. Maybe Bua Ji was right; her 'sanak' had finally gotten to her head.

She couldn't help but notice how he had a round, clean-shaven face, unlike the angular one with stubble. He smiled too much, and his nose wasn't sharp enough. He didn't have a defined jawline, nor did he have piercing eyes that could hold her gaze and make her feel warm all over. His eyes didn't brighten with excitement when she spoke, or flash with rage when she contradicted him, or show amusement and curiosity when she spoke about her favourite book. His eyes didn't conceal any dark secrets either. Instead, he wore black-framed glasses and talked with a downcast gaze. He had a nervous tic of fixing his glasses with his index finger. And alas! His hands were all wrong too—too slender, too light-skinned, too soft-looking. Most importantly, this man couldn't raise his left eyebrow singly when he asked her something. Khushi chastised herself; she was nitpicking for the sake of nitpicking.

Dhruv Ganguly had no flaws. He was perfect: handsome, well-mannered, and well-educated, except for the absence of a scar right beneath his left eyebrow.

<previous> | <next>

@featheredclover @phuljari @arshifiesta @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @arshiradio @titaliya

[hopelessromanticme]

I'm totally fed up.... A Desi guy's guide to personality annihilation...

Yaar now im actually fkin confused bhayy... Like on one hand ik for sure that hell nah nobody can destroy Me, only Me can destroy Me but on the other hand bhayy when i go out and i see the world that shit is actually depressing and downright fked up... Like this Tumblr ki duniya is like a giant rabbit hole of all the good things and happiness aur humour aur love... Aur if you'll outside of it bahar ki duniya is full of misogyny, misandry, toxicity, patriarchy, matriarchy... And all those bullshitery likeee SHUTT UP PEOPLE FFS.

I WANNA SCREAM ON TOP OF MY LUNGS SOMEWHERE QUITE.... I'm done with this societal norms aur uski bakchodi bhai... People think that I'm going mad... Well ofcourse koi bhi sane person would be mad... Have you seen the hatred people hold against other religions and castes... Kyunn hai itni hatred saalo tumhare aander... Mat rakho naa itni buraai dusro ke liye... Shaanti se raho na bey pyaar se... I'm sorry for my language but yeh bkl ab meri sarr ke paar jaa rhe hai... Nobody gives a fuck about what's going on Manipur or the farmer's protest but Maxtern aur Elvish ki news aa rhi hai... Like have we gone completely mad... Pagal ho gaye hai kya sab... Dosto se baat karta hoon toh wahin Hindu-Muslim aur Women ko objectify karna.... Abe sab ke sab saale chutiye pagal ho gaye hai... Mere ko maa kasam bhagwaan ji kal ko utha le gaye naa toh main Khushi Khushi chale jaunga... Itni si bhi positivity nahi bachi hai yaar iss duniya mein... Aur yahan Tumblr pe alag he Utopian Society bana ke baithe hai sab... Abey pagal ho kya tum log... Where the fckk is BALANCE BHAYYY... Either I'm here toh I'm super happy and lovey-dovey aur either I'm bahar toh I'm super sad and depressed as fck...

Mujhe moksh chahiye yaar... Kyun na karun main suicide bata... Haan royenge sab 2 din 4 din 10 din... Fir... Fir kyaa... Fir toh society wahi rahegi naa...

I'm out here assassinating my persona because i wasn't able to find a perfect person to love... Like that how depressing this shit is...

And fckkk practicing Stoitism aur following Sigma Male and Andrew Tate... Fckk them all... Bish I grew up reading Srimad Bhagwat Geeta and Purans... We all are humans we all have flaws... Nahi bann sakte ho tum perfectooo... Nahi hote hai sab ladke 6'0 feet nahi hoti hai sab ladkiyo ki zero figure... Kyaa chal raha hai duniya mein kaunse idols hai bhai sabke...

Have they ever read any sane text either their holy books or anything related to wisdom... This new world I HATE IT... I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT... I HATE WOH PINTEREST KE CUTE COUPLES... YES I'M SALTY AUR HAAN PAGAL HO GAYE HAI HUM...

Yaar... All I'm saying is "Love Me". I need some kind of compassion and female touch... Yes im going insane and soo is this fucked up world... I'm sorry for everything... Sorry for wasting your time reading this note... But at the same time No I am not really sorry...

Either I'll die in this journey... Or will become a lifeless corpse... Shit im not a philosopher but istg if, i not become one in the future...

can't say she was wrong here...

Meri toh kitni kam expectations thi life se... Aur self love kitna he kar lunga... Main toh thak jaata hoon sometimes yk fake scenarios create karte karte... The manifestation of love is the sole reason of my depression...

But idk what should i do... i never loved myself... i always try to love people... maybe because of the lack of love i never got, i don't want to happen the same to them.... I once read on Tumblr on one girl's blog where she wrote "When you are not served love in silver spoons you learn to lick it off knives". Kinda says alot about today's society and people... Doesn't it ...

[postsofbabel]

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[batsplat]

your negative takes on recent tennis rivalries pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏

ps. you’re a treasure

okay so I'll do the copy paste thing from what I did just cut from the initial post, which was my polite 'I'm attempting to write a reasonably neutral post' approach

so, this may come as a shock, but obviously I'm a bit of a fan of rivalries. we do have some bangers in tennis history, rich narrative texts, but... well. the landscape out there hasn't been great for the past decade or so. sometimes you can get invested in match-ups between specific players that are fun to watch and interesting tennis-wise, but it's all very much about the sport rather than the personal relationships between the different players. I enjoy matches between all three or ryba, sabs and iga!! but also. they are coworkers. you do kindaaaa get the sense sabs and iga aren't particularly fond of each of other, but it's all perfectly cordial. again, the tennis is great, I support them in all their endeavours, but it's very much the tennis itself you need to look for for the drama (also they don't play each other as much as I'd like, but that's a conversation for a different day)

you do still sometimes get some fun beef but it's very much isolated dumb stuff like the fritz/rinderknech "have a nice flight home" thing. this isn't going anywhere story-wise but it's fun in the moment

speaking of men. obviously the most important rivalries for the last however many years have been between various big three/four members, and federer/nadal specifically is extremely popular. tennis-wise, I still think federer/djokovic was the most fun match-up, and at least there was a little tension there because federer used to hate djokovic. they've played a lot of matches that are worth watching!! also they've finally mostly retired so it's not super relevant any more, but well tennis fans as a collective are very big three-pilled so you'll hear a lot about these blokes

and now there's alcaraz/sinner. they've only really had one match that was good start to finish (uso 2022), but definitely some fun ones (miami 2023 and wimbledon 2022 are probably the other ones that stand out, their most recent match was very much in the 'long does not equal good' category). plus, they're quite good at producing highlight reel content, like this one point everyone remembers (shown here from every angle... tennistv produces longer videos for single points than the wta releases for most finals). it's an interpersonally warm rivalry between two young guys who are both very successful and will presumably win everything for the next decade. again, I'd suggest trying to become a fan of one of those two

this was the polite way of phrasing it!! everything below here is quite rude and negative, peace and love to all

okay, let's ditch the thin veneer of neutrality, here's what I actually think: it is completely baffling to me how popular quite a few of these rivalries are, I don't get it, I have never understood it, I will never understand it. tennis went 'what if we had rivalries without narrative tension' and everyone just kinda rolled with that? mind you federer/nadal early confrontations were happening at the same time as clijsters/henin, who were like?? dude it got so bad henin said she had never been friends with clijsters so nothing clijsters and her father said could hurt her ("nothing was broken between us because there was nothing to break" ???? ffs). which is obviously not true!! but it's so... she denied the friendship ever existed and called it all pr like that's so SAD! look, this is beside the point, I'm not talking about henin/clijsters here, I do understand why people aren't that into a rivalry that was at its peak like two decades ago and federer/nadal were still playing slam finals in 2k17 (a dark dark time for some fans, federer had already HAD his decline and then he was suddenly winning slams again like tf). and to some extent I go 'well clearly people will just be into anything if you have two successful blokes' but there's clearly quite a lot of genuine passion there? like I'm not denying the passion EXISTS, people do clearly care about these guys, it's not all a psyop by Big Fedal who have suckered people into caring for these two dudes. and I'm not denying the tennis is great! I still personally prefer the match-ups that involve djokovic, and also the match-ups that involve none of those three, but fundamentally I have been watching these matches for like!! so many years! it's part of my childhood, I have enjoyed plenty of these matches, the tennis is obviously otherworldly. I have hot takes on a bunch of their matches, I can have the goat debate with you, I can give you the rundown on surface-specific match-ups and how long since nadal won a set on hard court against djokovic and federer's peak year domination rate and what they all did at madrid and blue clay and yec and golden masters and all that shit, of course it's part of my dna as a tennis viewer too!! I did usually have a slight order of preference in my head when I was watching big three match ups to have someone to root for (it's different now but back when I was a kid it was djokovic > nadal > federer, these days federer's redeemed himself a little bit in my eyes by having the decency to retire and I was radicalised against nadal). but like!! what's the narrative hook! I need somebody to explain to me what the story here is. these guys are all very good at tennis and they are racking up their titles and it's so!! whatever!! no tension no arc no real interpersonal development once federer stopped being so bitchy about djokovic. twenty plus slams who CARES, what are they doing this for! it's all so?? ugh

anyway now that I've taken a potshot at the most popular rivalry in men's tennis, I should quickly back it up by saying I feel almost the exact same way about the second most popular one (at least on tumblr) and also feel nothing for alcaraz/sinner. that one was still like... vaguely palpable? when alcaraz was clearly a way better player but struggled in that match up and also was way more invested in the rivalry than sinner was. but well, sinner is world number one now so THAT'S been ruined. again, sit me down and explain to me what the narrative stakes here are. like, if sinner wins that roland garros match, he'll be fine? alcaraz will be fine? everyone will be fine? their relationship is basically 'friendly coworkers', zero chance of anything more substantial developing there. now, don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm massively into the current state of the women's game when it comes to rivalries either, but at least I have a base level of fondness there for the top players and am ideologically inclined to hype up any rivalries there whenever they come along. also, quite frankly, it DOES matter viscerally more to them!! iga spends a lot of her time kinda like,,, on the edge, the way she was in tears when getting physio after the naomi match, united cup last year, a bunch of her 2021 matches, like she's so intense and so tightly strung on the court that you do really get the sense that a loss could just cause her to have an existential crisis. there's so many unanswered questions about her ultimate potential off clay, I'm still proper curious about her story develops. and then with aryna, she's obviously ALSO so intense but in a different way, and she feels every single emotion so completely and entirely and iga has beaten her in one of those infamous semifinal chokes and it's kinda... you know, aryna also feels like she has something to prove, and you can tell they both really really want to beat each other. there's something there!! it's something real! I'm always seated whenever we actually get to see them play

that being said, yes, obviously I do think we're not exactly peak rivalry potential in either gender. the men's is more egregious because the way the game has shaken out since like,,,, 2004, is incredible top level domination by just a few guys. and now, yes, I'm aware I'm a fan of another sport where this was also incredibly true. but. the key difference is that the aliens had the decency to not be so fucking boring about it. sure on paper they were as a PACK winning everything, but good lord were they screaming crying throwing up whenever things went mildly wrong for them. like!! they despised each other and they needed to beat each other, which makes ME care!! I'm not saying I NEED rivals to hate each other, though it sure does help for my investment levels, but I need a narrative hook! borg/mcenroe had a narrative hook, evert/navratilova had a narrative hook (unfortunately that narrative hook these days is 'being united in transphobia'), agassi/sampras had one HELL of a narrative hook. noughties wta tennis about fifty million narrative hooks!! when I watch alcaraz/sinner, I just try and enjoy the tennis (though their roland garros match was mid as shit so what's that all about) but like... I don't care? or I care because one of them has pissed me off recently. I do fundamentally watch most of men's tennis as a hater, and admittedly this is accumulated bitterness over way too many years, but I do also think it's frustrating! tennis gets in its own way with this whole gentleman's sport business, the amount of wanking people do over federer/nadal in particular is truly insufferable... this is a sport filled with millionaire tax evaders and they'll have you believe that smashing a racquet is not only not fun (obviously it is) but also some kind of arbiter of morality. congrats to nadal for not smashing a racquet in his career!! could we please get his thoughts on gender equality in prize money? oh... okay. hm. this isn't supposed to be some gotcha, these guys all suck. but ultimately I would prefer not to engage with this sanitising and pearl clutching, given they do all suck, over shit that fundamentally does not matter while giving them a pass over all the stuff that DOES and instead maybe just have some fun. maybe you need to be single-minded and kind of dull to be good at men's tennis these days, maybe it's inevitable, doesn't mean I don't find them boring and pointless. there's some people who just enjoy like,,, watching greatness, endlessly racking up numbers and reaching the pinnacle of the sport or whatever, that's not me, I need there to be a story

thing is, right, obviously I'll still watch these matches (though I have massively turned it down this year, especially on the men's side - I did have a kind of breaking point this january where I was like 'wow I don't think I can ever care about anything any more?' and broadly speaking this has proved to be correct). I've tried hard to like a lot of these men because, god knows, it'd be a way more pleasant experience if I could trick my brain into it, but I can't! I think they're dull! fundamentally I'm too embedded in this world to ever be able to leave it. but I think it's funny when fans go 'oh people who are into drama don't appreciate the actual sport' like buddy I can basically guarantee I know more about the sport than you do. I Just Think that actually interpersonal relationships do also enhance the actual sports, like this shit is a conversation right,,, it has its history, it's a development over time in terms of your tactics and your knowledge of your opponent's tactics and so on, your expectations going into every match. when you have an interesting interpersonal dynamic, the sport also becomes more interesting... it's actually pretty straightforward lol. a lot of tennis is in the head, rivalries are also in the head, you're playing the other guy (gender neutral) as much as you are the actual ball. I get super annoyed by fans who are too busy being nostalgic to actually enjoy the players we have now, and I really don't like it when people call iga boring for instance, but I do also have a little bit of that. love the game, hate a lot of the players, simple as. bring back agassi calling his pet parrot more interesting than sampras in his autobiography, we used to be a proper sport

[russolover]

Unpopular opinion but I think Sabs should be played more because she does a lot better under pressure than zinsberger and in UWCL matches, Sabs is safer to go with.

I prefer sabs 100% over manu for obvious reasons and tbh I hope they put in another bid for Mary because that first goal was utter shit even the second ffs 😭

[merakistar]

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Cold and Hot Dip Galvanized

Anti-rust Paint

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Screwed

Forged

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Small Tongue

RTJ (Ring Type Joint)

FF (Flat Face)

LJF (Lap Joint Flange)

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Japan

India

USA

Korea

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API 605

ISO 70051

JIS B2220

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BS 10

EN 1092

DIN

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BS 1560-3.1

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EN 1092

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[universemetal123]

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Forged, Heat treated and machined

Connect Type/ Flange Face TypeRaised Face (RF), Ring Type Joint (RTJ), Flat Face (FF), Large Male-Female (LMF), Lap-Joint Face (LJF), Small Male-Female (SMF), Small Tongue, Large Tongue & Groove, GrooveSpecial designAs per your drawing AS, ANSI, BS, DIN and JIS 15 NB (1/2″) to 200 NB (8″) Equal and Reducing ConfigurationsTestDirect-reading Spectrograph, Hydrostatic testing machine, X-ray detector, UI trasonic flaw detector, Magnetic particle detectorEquipmentPress machine, Bending machine, Pushing Machine, electric bevelling machine, Sand-blasting machine etcOriginIndian / West Europe / Japan / USA / KoreanManufacturer of

ANSI DIN, GOST, JIS, UNI, BS, AS2129, AWWA, EN, SABS, NFE etc. Spectacle Flange: -BS Flange, EN Flange, API 6A Flange, ANSI Flange, ASME Flange, DIN Flange, EN1092-1 Flange, UNI Flange, JIS/ KS Flange, BS4504 Flange, GB Flange, AWWA C207 Flange, GOST Flange, PSI Flange

B.S: BS4504 , BS3293, BS1560, BS10

AS 2129: Table D; Table E; Table H

ANSI B16.5, ANSI B16.47 Series A & B, MSS SP44, ASA, API-605, AWWA, Custom Drawings

ANSI : ANSI B16.5, ANSI B16.47(API605), MSS SP44, ANSI B16.36, ANSI B16.48

ANSI B16.5, ANSI B16.47, MSS SP44, ANSI B16.36, ANSI B16.48

American standard (ANSI)

German (DIN)

British standard (BS)

DIN: DIN 2527, DIN 2566, DIN 2573, DIN 2576, DIN 2641, DIN 2642, DIN 2655, DIN 2656, DIN 2627, DIN 2628, DIN 2629, DIN 2631, DIN 2632, DIN 2633, DIN 2634, DIN 2635, DIN 2636, DIN 2637, DIN 2638 Forged grooved Orifice flange

The other standard: AWWA C207; EN1092-1, GOST12820, JIS B2220; KS B1503, SABS1123; NFE29203; UNI2276

grooved Orifice flange Uses & application

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Export toIreland, Singapore, Indonesia, Ukraine, Saudi Arabia, Spain, Canada, USA, Brazil, Thailand, Korea, Iran, India, Egypt, Oman, Dubai, Peru, etc

Material Test Certificates (MTC) as per EN 10204 3.1 and EN 10204 3.2, Test Certificates certifying NACE MR0103, NACE MR0175

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[hemo--havoc]

< ❣︎ feel very s❣︎m❣︎larly, s♡met❣︎mes unpleasant c❣︎rcumstances are unav♡❣︎dable and the best we can h♡pe t♡ d♡ ❣︎s pull what ꨄ︎♡♡d we can manage t♡ ❣︎n ❣︎t. 3

The star nods sagely in agreement. Though they didn't necessarily try and claim what good that entailed to be for the universe at large themselves. While at large she did try to be kind and do what she believed to be good, she could certainly be selfish or act hypocritically to what she advocated at times.

Pretending to be wholly selfless seemed trite and simply self aggrandizing in front of someone who can't even meet her gaze when saying such a thing.

< Def❣︎n❣︎tely n♡t ❣︎n s♡ b♡ld a manner as t♡ sab♡taꨄ︎e a br♡adcast, but when ❣︎ was in the earlier parts ♡f my ❣︎d♡l career bef♡re ❣︎ really t♡♡k ♡ff yet ❣︎ t♡tally tr❣︎pped and ate ❣︎t bad m❣︎d perf♡rmance ♡n stage, which led t♡ a wh♡le r❣︎d❣︎cul♡us cha❣︎n react❣︎♡n m♡re at place ❣︎n a cart♡♡n. ❣︎t was a d❣︎saster! 3

< s♡me♡ne ♡r an♡ther duꨄ︎ up the f♡♡taꨄ︎e ❣︎ ꨄ︎uess ♡nce ❣︎'d h❣︎t my str❣︎de and f♡und my p♡pular❣︎ty and bef♡re ❣︎ knew ❣︎t clips and p❣︎cs were all ♡ver the place w❣︎th s♡und effects and capt❣︎♡ns plastered ♡nt♡ them f♡r a b❣︎t there. ❣︎ was s♡♡ embarrassed! 3

They have to pat their own cheeks a couple of times with a bit of a pout, reminding herself to not go letting the recollection of such embarrassment fluster her.

< pe♡ple ꨄ︎et b♡red and ❣︎t d❣︎es d♡wn th♡uꨄ︎h, s♡ ❣︎t's all ab♡ut be❣︎ng p♡s❣︎t❣︎ve and n♡t letting ❣︎t ꨄ︎et y♡u d♡wn t❣︎ll ❣︎t d♡es! 3

Well. Lohkii knew there were trolls out there looking to drag him down, but they couldn't exactly say there wasn't good reason for it, and they knew that, too.

He lets out a small noise through his nose, briefly averting his gaze from theirs.

)=| that is all too true, daedre dear~ from one tyrian to another, sometimes all a troll can do is spin a bad situation into one that ultimately comes with a net good added to the universe~

The influencer is full of shit and he knows it.

)=| i can only hope u havent experienced anything similar to my unfortunate little technical hiccup earlier, that would be outright tragic, dear~ i also would fear for whatever poor fool sought to make one of u, considering how beloved u are~!

[mearcatsreturns]

Okay, so you KNOW I'm now inevitably forced to ask for the actual fic prompt of Ivan trying to give his boss romantic advice, casual-like. (No need to confine yourself to 100 words. I mean what.)

I thought I could just write a thousand words of jokes, but then all these fools came and had the audacity to put feelings up in here. *Ivan voice* Disgusting.

Initially I was going to have this all as one chapter, but it was getting crazy long and I wanted to publish it tonight, so you get chapter 1 of 2, with the rest to follow in the next day or two.

Without further ado, Ivan, Interrupted:

Looking back, he should have seen the signs. The Sun Summoner is trouble and has been from day one.

He called that one, at least.

It’s not his fault. How is he supposed to recognize the stupidity of heterosexuals? He and Fedyor fell in love as young teens and haven’t parted in anger since. They look out for each other and try to spoil each other in all the small ways the other enjoys.

The General and Alina Starkov are a different story.

&&&

Ivan is there when the oprichniki drag Alina into General Kirigan’s tent in Kribirsk. She looks all for the world like the otkazat’sya he’s fought near the border of Shu Han. He can’t hold it against her, though; he knows better than anyone that appearances can deceive.

What he can hold against her is her denial. Even after twice showing that she can indeed summon sunlight, the little fool somehow believes she’s not Grisha. General Kirigan, a human amplifier and probably the most powerful Grisha on the planet, touches her and confirms it, and she still clings to her past. Ivan can’t understand why someone would want to deny something so intrinsic.

More worryingly, he sees his commander’s face as he tries to figure out the Starkov girl. It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Kirigan’s face, and it fills him with dread. The bemusement at her reply to his questioning about what she is turns to something...joyous and darkly yearning, in the General’s understated way.

People consider Ivan stoic and difficult to read, but he learned from the best, and his boss is the best.

Ivan is very discomfited to see Kirigan showing signs of experiencing emotions.

&&&

His unease only grows when Kirigan commands him and Fedyor to escort the Sun Summoner to Os Alta.

“Ivan, I need you and Fedyor to accompany Miss Starkov to the Little Palace. Make haste, and use all your formidable talents to keep harm from coming to her.”

“But the mission to West Ravka—”

“Will have to wait. Everyone in a twenty-mile radius saw her light show, and that may well include some of Ravka’s enemies. She—this—is more important than anybody knows. Keep her safe, and I’ll keep you and Fedyor off the front lines for six months.”

Ivan clears his throat.

“Yes?” Kirigan asks with a lift of his brow.

“Will you be staying, or do you need me to send word ahead that you’ll be arriving as well, sir?”

The General’s face smooths into its usual mask of power and calm. “No, I imagine I may well arrive before you all, as you’ll be taking my carriage.”

“As you say, General.”

Kirigan dismisses him, and he stomps off to find Fedyor so they can leave posthaste.

Ivan’s exasperation only grows when the Starkov tries, of all things, to stay and find some tracker friend of hers, tries to deny who she is. She even questions the General’s judgment, something not even Ivan dares to do.

(Privately, he agrees that this whole endeavor is a mistake. Alina Starkov is trouble, and he has an uncomfortable feeling that all their lives are about to change in ways no one can predict).

He hauls her into the carriage, plopping her on the seat across from the one he shares with Fedyor. Perhaps one of them ought to sit next to her to make sure she doesn’t get into any further foolishness, but Ivan’s crabby enough he wants to sit next to his husband.

Once they get out of Kribirsk and on the Vy, she settles down a bit, but she radiates nervous energy and it puts him on edge.

Fedyor, bless him, does his best to put the Sun Summoner at ease. But she’s resentful and afraid, and it irritates Ivan. He knows he should try to be understanding, but with all the fear and resentment he’s put up with from the otkazat’sya—his own family, even—he struggles to find the patience to explain why she should trust in the General and the Grisha. Nonetheless, he tries to soothe her the only way he knows how: by reminding her of the power she now holds.

Ivan’s thoughts drift to what might await them all in Os Alta, but his ruminations are interrupted by the shouts of the oprichniki warning them of a blockage in the road.

The dread he was feeling dissipates in the face of the familiar. He’s ready to fight against an ambush by Ravka’s enemies. He’s not ready to confront the existential questions Alina Starkov brings.

And fighting side-by-side with Fedyor never grows old. His blood sings, his heart pounds with the fierce excitement of a fight with his beloved at his side.

The fucking Fjerdans. Ivan hates the drüskelle for their hatred of the Grisha, and that fire burns hotter when Fedyor is hit in the leg. Fear twists in his belly as he examines Fedyor’s wound, though he claims it’s fine. Ivan, the most feared heartrender in Ravka, can’t concentrate enough to tell how many their enemies number, so he delegates it to Katya. He remembers the Summoner in the carriage, and issues a command for one of the other Grisha to protect her, but the screams fade into the background of his mind as he does his best to heal Fedyor.

Then he senses the shadows that accompany Kirigan—the reason the people mutter in fear, call him the Darkling—and the Fjerdans melt back into the wood. Shame mixes with his fear for Fedyor, and Ivan swears to himself when, after a few moments he hears the General speak to one of the Etherealki who’ve made it back to the carriage.

“Tend to the wounded. Then tell Ivan to make sure everyone gets back to Little Palace as quickly as possible and report to me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shit. He had one job, and she’s now riding off in the General’s arms.

Alina Starkov is definitely trouble.

&&&

They finally arrive back at the Little Palace late that night. Once everyone, the Grisha and the horses, are all seen to, Ivan makes his way to General Kirigan’s rooms. The oprichniki guarding the door nod at him and make way for him to knock. The General calls out in that even tone of his for Ivan to enter. He does so, anxiety and defiance mixing in his chest.

Nonetheless, Ivan is deferential. “Sir.”

Those dark eyes sweep over him from head to toe, and where there’s normally amusement or quiet affability, he’s unreadable as he is when meeting with the tsar and tsaritsa. “I see you’ve made it back. Are you well?”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan begins to sweat under the woollen collar of his kefta.

“And Fedyor?”

“Much better. He’s recovering.”

“Good,” the General says, pausing for a long, uncomfortable moment before continuing, “now, perhaps you could explain why you disregarded my clear, express orders to guard Alina.”

Alina, he notes. Not “Miss Starkov” or “the Sun Summoner.”

Ivan’s jaw tenses. “My apologies, moi soverennyi. Fedyor was shot while we were attempting to protect the carriage. I thought we’d be better able to protect her with both our powers.”

The Darkling—for that’s who he is at this moment—turns to face the windows. It’s black as pitch outside, but it wouldn’t surprise Ivan if Kirigan could see through the shadows of the night. “I don’t want excuses, Ivan. Had I not been nearby, Alina would have been lost, and Ravka would have lost its greatest hope in centuries.”

Ivan waits, knowing there’s little he can say.

Kirigan turns back. “See that it doesn’t happen again, or I will see to it that you and Fedyor are put on different assignments for the foreseeable future.”

Anger rises in his throat, but Ivan stomps it down. It will do him no favors to argue. The only thing he can do is go to bed, hold Fedyor close, and hope things settle soon. “Yes, General.”

&&&

The next day, a contingent of the Grisha accompany General Kirigan and Alina to the Big Palace. Ivan is used to walking by the General’s side, but Alina is there instead. With Fedyor still recovering in their rooms under the care of the healers, Ivan is alone, distant from the group. He feels a pang of melancholy so fierce it threatens to overwhelm him.

The Sun Summoner looks much better today than she had when he last saw her, and it seems Kirigan thinks so too. After he greets the King and Queen, he can hardly take his eyes off the girl, that same awed, wondering look in his eyes again.

Through the shadows his boss conjures, Ivan sees the way he looks at her, the way he leans over to whisper in his ear, the gesture nearly a caress. The Summoner lights up the darkness, and Ivan can’t take his eyes off the two of them. Alina Starkov smiles at Kirigan, and instead of the polite, unknowable smile he’d normally return to a courtier or even one of his rare mistresses, Kirigan looks back at her like she’s his every dream come true.

After the display is over, the King tries to bumble his way through negotiating over Alina’s training. And in front of the entire court and a good number of the Grisha,the General claims Alina. She will stay in the Little Palace with him, Kirigan states, his tone brooking no argument, not even from the sovereign ruler of Ravka.

Kirigan takes Alina’s hand and leads her away from the throne, and the two pause to speak in quiet tones. Ivan can’t hear them, but Alina’s eyes glow with admiration and the General is looking back at her with...warmth.

It’s not right, Ivan thinks, even as the General departs and the Grisha welcome Alina. This situation is getting more and more troublesome.

&&&

When Ivan arrives back in their room, he’s relieved to see Fedyor awake, though he’s lying in bed with a book. Fedyor sets the book on the bedside table and smiles at him, and Ivan feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

“Why so grumpy, my love?”

“Not grumpy, Fedya. Worried.” He takes off his boots, middle of the day be damned, and climbs into the bed next to his husband.

Fedyor opens his arms, and Ivan goes to him, snuggling in and leaning his head against his shoulder. “About what, Vanya?”

He shrugs as best as he can while in his favorite person’s embrace. “The Sun Summoner is dangerous.”

“So are all of us Grisha, and even the otkazat’sya with training.”

“Not like that. I mean...I-I think General Kirigan has feelings.”

Fedyor had been running his hand through Ivan’s hair, but he pauses. “In general? Or for Alina?”

“For Alina. Fedyor, it was very strange. He looked warm and like he wanted to kiss her, in front of all those people. And then he held her hand.” The Darkling has had lovers, and Ivan is very aware of this, but he’s never seen him act this way around any of them.

With a huff that might be a laugh, Fedyor says, “He deserves a chance at love, too, especially after he’s been so good to us. He tried to help us when we were younger and more foolish.”

That’s true; Kirigan has been nothing but supportive of them when not everyone else has. He even tried to advise Ivan when he was sorting out his feelings for Fedya more than a decade ago. It hadn’t been good advice, but an attempt had been made, at least.

“He seems...lonely,” Fedyor continues.

Ivan nods. “There is no one like him, no one at his level, so who could stand beside him?”

“Maybe Alina.”

Fedyor seems to like the girl, but Ivan isn’t convinced. Is she strong enough to stand next to their leader who has done so much for not just the Grisha, but for Ivan and his beloved?

&&&

The next day, Ivan joins the rest of the Grisha for dinner. Kirigan is off doing something statecrafty and Ivan has the place of honor at his boss’ right hand, so he is ostensibly in charge of the gathering in the General’s absence.

Except he knows Alina was given the choice to sit in Kirigan’s seat in his absence, or to sit at his side were he here. Instead, the girl chose to sit with the other Etherealki. She’s there laughing with Marie and Nadia, indulging in this opulent meal provided for the Sun Summoner, because apparently their usual hearty peasant fare wasn’t good enough.

Resentment curdles in his stomach as he reads out the casualty list, staring down Alina the entire time. She looks stricken, but her concern seems to be more for the otkazat’sya than her fellow Grisha.

Something in him snaps. “Why are you here eating figs? Hmm? You should be training every waking moment to tear down the Fold.”

But when he sees her face, hurt and downcast, he feels a pang of regret for how he handled this.

Kirigan will not be pleased.

&&&

It turns out that Fedyor isn’t pleased either. He had accompanied the General to the dinner he’d gone to, as Fedyor is far more diplomatic than most of the senior Grisha. It’s because of that diplomacy and open friendliness that it takes him less than three hours to hear about Ivan’s outburst.

Ivan is sitting in his chair in front of the fire, doing his best to wind down after the day. Fedyor enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“How was dinner and politics?”

Fedyor scowls at him, and his heart sinks. “Don’t try to be cute and solicitous. I heard about what you did to that poor girl. Badly done, Vanya, badly done.”

“Can we go back to the part about me being cute, please?” Ivan rubs his hands over his face. He and Fedyor rarely disagree, so when they do…

“No. Alina Starkov just found out days ago she’s Grisha, and she’s been pulled away from the only life she’s known, from her friends and comrades. She’s fended off the volcra, almost been murdered by the drüskelle, and has had to get used to a new training regimen for skills she barely knew she had, to say nothing of the high stakes of her every move now.”

“She’s an orphan of Keramzin. How is this not better than anything she’s ever known?”

Fedyor stops pacing for a moment. “Ivan, that’s why we should be kind. She’s never known the love of a family beyond that of the First Army. And you know what they whisper about the Grisha. We were children when we got here, and our families sent us here out of love. It was easier for us to adjust. She’s grown up her whole life hearing the lies most of the otkazat’sya believe about us. She needs time and understanding.”

“But we don’t have that much time. Zlatan is agitating in West Ravka, Fjerda is worse than ever, and Shu Han is causing as many problems as ever. Why can’t she see that unless she is at her best and soon, Ravka is in danger? The Grisha are in danger?” Ivan is furious, but more than that, he’s exhausted.

At that, Fedyor softens. “Ah, my love. You carry a heavy burden. But she’ll have to bear an even heavier one soon,” he says, coming over and placing a warm hand on Ivan’s shoulder.

Ivan reaches up, placing his hand over Fedyor’s. “I just want her to be ready.”

“She will be.”

With a sigh, Ivan pulls Fedyor into his lap, nuzzling his neck. He’s ready to make up.

“Ivan?”

“Hmm?”

“You do realize that people also have to eat in order to be able to train, don’t you?”

&&&

He knows he should, but Ivan can’t bring himself to apologize to Alina. He does try, however, to be more understanding of the enormity of what she faces, the pressure on her to succeed. He tries to be kinder, less abrupt. But he can’t change who he is.

Fortunately, General Kirigan seems more amused than anything else at Ivan’s dinner outburst. It’s a week or so later, and Kirigan is ready to dismiss Ivan for his next couple of days off. “I would tell you to enjoy your time with Fedyor, but maybe you’ll be training instead, since that’s apparently what we all must be doing every waking moment.”

Ivan shoots him a panicked look, but calms down when he catches the amusement in the General’s eyes.

“Indeed. We will train ceaselessly and closely, moi soverennyi.” Somehow, he manages to keep a straight face.

Kirigan just snorts, and Ivan is extremely disgruntled when he mutters under his breath about needing some of that kind of training of his own.

[jeanmoreaux]

uhhh okay just so i got this right. they did not just cut the apparat stuff but also the nikolai being infected with merzost and transforming into a winged monster thing?