#yes my school had a trade wing why do you ask

[wizardofpalmsprings]

Do you think they have like…regular ass chemistry classes at Aguefort? Like the wizards are over there mixing together the most magical concoctions meanwhile there’s a fighter and a Druid over with the chemistry fume hood mixing the regular ass elements together. Bets are placed each year to see who has to use the eye wash station first

[willowser]

okay but. easily nerd bakugou could be so angsty. because he really doesn't think you see him like that !! why would you !!

okay, yes. he's had you in his room and shown you all his hand-painted warhammer miniatures and you kissed him stupid after that and you both may have gotten a little handsy in the historical non-fiction section of the library and that's why the arm of his glasses is bent, just a little out of whack.

but.

"it ain't like that." is what he tells mina, begrudgingly, when she won't stop asking.

"well," she drawls, eyebrows raised as she leans in too close, as if she could squish the answer she wants out of him. "what is it like then?"

and bakugou just shrugs, digging his fingers into his eyes under his lenses. it's hard to know what you even want out of this, why you're doing any of it with him. doesn't make much sense, 'cause you could have anyone on campus you wanted and for some reason you're toying with him, of all people.

"it's—" he shrugs again, pressing his thumbs into the ends of his pencil until the tension threatens to snap it. "nothin', i guess."

and that is so not the right thing to say.

you find him on the second floor of the library, looking through different lectures on physics for his thermodynamics presentation that's coming up, and he does see you first. between the shelves, standing at the end of the aisle with your arms crossed—but the conversation with mina has been heavy on his mind lately; where is this going, anyway?

it's surprising, and bothersome, to think nowhere is the answer. so he pretends he doesn't see you, because he's not ready to face this.

but you are.

"bakugou."

he peeks around a shelf, just enough to show off his eyes, and—you're fucking pissed. and it doesn't help that you look so cute in your summery shirt and the way you've done your hair today and—

"nothing?" you're not being quiet, at all. whole library is watching already. "this is nothing to you?"

and bakugou doesn't really like having his shit aired out, so he fully comes out to face you, walking forward so you'll maybe lower your voice, but you're only stepping back, further and further from him.

"you're such an ass."

"what?" now his face goes red, temper flaring at the challenge in your tone—though as much as he wants to let you have it, too, it's you. and he doesn't want that. not really.

you, who has snuck into his classes just to watch his presentations and has sat idly by until he was done studying, patient as ever. you, who asked to learn how to build a model x-wing and wants to borrow his worn out copy of the last wish, simply because it's his. who wants to be invited to his next dnd game at the apartment and doesn't seem to mind—just watching, even—when he schools denki's ass in battlefield 3, match after match after match.

you, who is obviously hurt and frustrated and fucking pissed. you, with your bitten lips and watery eyes and clenched fists.

"you think you're so much better than everyone else," your words bite, even if they're weak. "but you're just like every guy ever. you and shindo can trade fucking stories, i'm sure."

ouch. "hey, how the fuck was i s'pposed to know this meant—fucking anything?"

"oh, i don't know, maybe when i was topless in your room! maybe that should have been some indication that this was serious!"

and he really, really hates having his shit aired out like this; the flush on his cheeks spreads to his chest, has him shifting uncomfortably under his sweater—both at the memory and your broadcast of it all.

there's really—nothing he wants to say, because he doesn't want to do this here. so he doesn't. just shrugs, pushing his frames back up his nose when they start to slip.

all you give him is one bitter laugh, a cold nod before you're tossing something onto a nearby table: a figure from his room, a piece from his set of battle sisters that you thought was cute. "kiss my ass, bakugou."

and then you're gone. and then it really is nothing.

[riallasheng]

Hello!!! Thank you for answering my ask about the boys' achievements, it's so cool to see how much info about them!! It's amazing! And I'd love love love to know about TinTin, Brains, and the rest too if you dont mind ^⁠_⁠^

Hello again my lovely returning anon! ^^

I'm quite glad to have answered your question, and I'm so happy that you enjoyed my answer! ^^

I'll answer these as best I'm able, although in warning there simply is not as much information on these characters as there is on the Tracy brothers, and it tends to be a bit more contradictory (esp with Brains. Oh my heavens Brains' stuff tends to be ALL OVER the place)

Despite there not being as much, it is still several people, so readmore deployed yet again!!

I also added in Grant Tracy (Grandma Tracy's husband) and Valentina Tracy (my name for Jeff's wife... I know Fleetway and now TaG have adopted the fanon name of Lucille for her, but I don't use it for my TOS fanworks)

Going from oldest to youngest again, which - given I'm a fan of the 'Brains is only Alan's age' - means Brains is last. Brains has like... four... official / canon age brackets. He bounces between 'roughly Jeff's age', to 'roughly Scott's age', to 'roughly the age of the 'middle' sibling (John or Virgil as ye please), to 'roughly Alan's age'. To me, his puppet LOOKS young, as does most of his art in the multiple canon comics, and he is referred to as a 'young man' and Scott thinks of him as 'the younger man' a few times in the novels and comics (plus Scott overall treats him like he is both younger than Scott himself AND much as he does his brothers - and his brothers treat Brains as if he were their age / one of the brothers in the novels and Brains treats THEM as if they're off the same age with Scott as the 'older sibling' in the novels too. Seriously there is SO MUCH SIBLING-LIKE BANTER AND TEASING it's wonderful XD ) So if nothing else in the NOVELS and pretty much all the comics I'd say Brains must be either in the 'middle sibling' or 'Alan' age bracket. (In a few comic stories, but most notably Atlantic Tunnel, Alan treats Brains as if THEY are roughly the same age, which is why I default to Brains being about Alan's age for my fanworks. Most official bios put Brains at ~25 though and thus 'middle sibling' age)

A quick note unrelated to this but in relation your other ask that is just a 'I forgot to add this': Gordon apparently does not have his astronaut wings, and seemingly doesn't have a astropilot license, not even a provisional / limited one. We actually only ever see him in space / on TB3 a very small handful of times and most of them are in Fleetway or Countdown.

Grant Tracy:

We somehow know both even less and even more about Grant than we do about Grandma Tracy. XD

We actually know his canon given name, and we know his profession (farmer) where we don't know what Grandma's profession was, and we know he was killed in the same avalanche that Jeff's wife was killed in

We know basically NOTHING ELSE about the man XD

I made him 3-4 years older than Grandma Tracy, and being VERY similar to Gordon in personality, to give someone for Gordon to have been really close to when the poor lad didn't quite fit in with the rest of the family. (which funnily enough gives him my baby brother's birth year)

I also had it where Grant graduated high school, but did not go for college as he wouldn't need it for his career (plus there honestly is nothing wrong with NOT going to college). I could absolutely see him going for a Trade school though

Given he seemingly was driving the car that he and the Tracys' mom was in when it was hit by the avalanche (Fleetway puts it as the house was hit so there's that too), he obviously would have had a Class-D (standard driver's) license. We know there was a lot of heavy farming equipment on the farm as Virgil's bios state he loved tinkering on and working with it, so he absolutely would have had a Class-B (farming vehicle) license. Outside of that, we don't really know what he might have had license wise

Grandma Tracy:

Not a part of her canon education or accomplishments, but my name for her in my fanworks is: Ruth Rosemary Joan Tracy (with a maiden name of Hughes). While the name of Ruth was popularized in the TOS fandom by the amazing Boomercat, I actually had come up with the name separately, naming her in honor of a VERY dear friend and 'great aunt' of mine who was VERY similar to Grandma Tracy in personality -especially the calm, down to earth, grounding and driving force that she is in the novels - and cooking skills (and in size. oh my lord my great aunt Ruth wasn't even 5 feet tall, which was always a bit amusing when she and I got to talk in person -she lived in Cairo, Egypt and I am American - as I'm 6 foot even) Her middle name of Rosemary actually was originally Eowyn, but I changed it in 2017 as my way of tributing Boomercat (Rosemary "Rosie" Alcott) when she passed away Her confirmation name (as I have her as Catholic, again in honor of the real-life Ruth for whom I named her) is Joan in tribute to Joan Hughes - an amazing woman in her own right who was actually the pilot of the real-life Tigermoth in Thunderbird 6!! Her maiden name of Hughes is a double duty tribute: both to Joan Hughes and to Howard Hughes!

There really is not much known about Grandma in canon. We aren't certain of her education. In the 2060s timeline, she would have been born in the late 80s (1987) and thus would be a millennial. Some of her bios imply that she would have been born in western Colorado (as that is where the Tracys were when the tragic avalanche happens and she and her husband Grant had moved to Aspen, Colorado after giving the TRACY family farm to Jeff and his new wife). So her education would be that of an early millennial / late gen Xer.

We don't know if she had any college education in canon. As I decided to make use of her apparently highly skilled cooking, I had her go to trade school / vocational school as cooking / baking is considered a trade

She refers to her cooking (and her cooking is referred TO) as famous, so I like to give her the accomplishment of running a bakery that won her awards and was well known but it isn't a canon accomplishment

Similarly, while it IS canon that Grandma traveled the world and is very worldly / knowledgeable about many places... we don't know anything more than that. I went with giving her Joan Hughes general backstory: A stunt pilot since the age of 15, one of the first people accepted into the newly formed World Air Force in the 2010s (one of the first women accepted into the britsh air force for Joan Hughes), served as a ferry pilot and ferried / flew aircraft all over the world - fighter craft, scout craft, bombers, you name it., then went on to be a stunt pilot after the war for a while. This means that in my fanworks, the Tiger Moth is RUTH's and used to be her stunt plane and she gave it to Jeff, and then Alan when she got too old to safely fly it. As a further result of this, Ruth was given the World Government equivalents of Joan's awards / medals in my ficverse (That would be the MBE and Pike Trophy- the pike being for outstanding contribution to civil flying instruction)

Grandma is strongly implied to have been a pretty good marksman in her past, so I gave her that skillset as well in my fanworks. Granted a LOT of farmers / people in rural areas in the US tend to be decent marksman as it's actually a fairly required / necessary skill set, esp on farms.

We never see Grandma driving in canon, BUT as someone with many kith and kin in rural areas in the USA... let's just say she would ***100%*** have a Class-D (standard driver's) license. Like seriously, public transportation is NOT an option outside of urban / suburban areas. I'd assume she also would have a Class-B (farmer's) license. My version of the character has a pilot's license as I used Joan Hughes' backstory to explain Grandma Tracys' 'world travelling' and 'exciting' past. She might have a helicopter license, though I strongly doubt she'd have a helijet license. She might have a CBL (or class A, B, and C commerical vehicles) license if we go with her having a Bakery that was big enough and /or to transport planes around via transport trucks. She seemingly has a commercial boating license, and the show kinda implies that she knows HOW to scuba, so we'll assume she has a diving license. Grandma is old enough (78 in 2065) that she likely has not renewed some - if not all - of these licenses. It depends on her health and opinions and needs

Parker:

Yes, yes, I know that in canon Parker is ~5 years Jeff's junior, but gosh darn it that always felt WRONG to me, Parker consistently looks and ACTS older than Jeff so I decided to age him up so that he was 5 or so years Jeff's SENIOR (Basically, it's the same age gap we see in the 04 film. Bill Paxton was born in 1955, Ron Cook was born in 1948)

I pull MUCH more heavily off the novels and comics for Parker and Penny than I do the TV series (esp the Lady Penelope novels) as Parker is MUCH less of a comedic and bumbling figure there, portrayed as far more competent and capable, and there is legit respect and friendship (if not a family-like bond) between Parker and Penelope in the novels and comics. Oddly enough, the 04 film really captured novel/comics Parker in a way the TV show never really did for me.

Parker hails from a long line of retainers for the English aristocracy 'for centuries', going back to at least the time of Queen Victoria and most likely longer than that. Parker was actually born into a decently well to do family, as his father was head butler, and his mother head housekeeper to an Earl.

Parker went to school and excelled at thermo-technical dynamics and engineering - at 13 years of age he converted an ex-army hovercraft into an all-terrian car/library for the Earl (from what I can figure, he basically gutted the hovercraft and installed shelving and a desk in the now empty interior, removed the partition wall between the cabin and main body of the hovercraft, and likely added a ramp of some kind to the rear for access. The hovercraft seems to have been about the size of a short-bus from context clues. So impressive, but not impossible for a 13 year old.

It's heavily implied that Parker continued to go to school and into higher education, still with a focus on thermo-technical dynamics and engineering, and continued to excel at it

The Earl died with Parker was 20. The Earl's family cut off Parker's allowance, his parents paychecks, kicked the Parker family out of the house / off the grounds, gave them no recommendations and from the sounds of it 'took back' a LOT of the money they'd been saving / left the family basically penniless.

The Parkers moved to London. It's HEAVILY implied that his parents died very shortly after this, and Parker fell in with bad company, quickly using his education to become the finest / best safe-cracker in the world, and an equally skilled cat-burglar. No violent crime at all, in fact it seems the only violence he has was self defense or while resisting arrest / escaping custody, and even that seems limited to 'only what is needed to get away and won't do any lasting harm'. At the very least, Parker seems to have no counts of murder, manslaughter, battery, or assault. He indeed was only at Parkwood due to his reputation for being to escape 'any nick'

He was eventually caught and ended up in Parkwood Scrubs Prison and spent some time there, where he shared a cell with light-fingered Fred and the two became great friends.

Parker was released from Prison and given passing refences to his having served in 'the war' I tend to think that he might have had something similar to his Real-Life INSPIRATION occur: Johnny Ramensky was a career burglar and safe-cracker. During WWII he was released after agreeing to enlist in the military and put his skills to 'good use'. Parker having this past explains why he was released after only one to three years, the mentions of him having served / having military contacts and friends, and is a nice tie-in to his primary inspiration! There's at least one mention in the comics and I thiiiiiink one of the bios that he has a decorated service record.

Parker, like Jeff, is old enough that he likely was involved in SEVERAL of the 'world conflicts' that happen in TOS comic and show canon -The Global Conflict of the 2010s: In canon Parker wouldn't have been born yet, and in my aged up fanon he, like Jeff, would have only been a preteen. So not involved. -The Global Atomic War of the 2030s: Parker would have been in his early 30s for this, too young for what we see in the 'time in Parkwood' flashback, and likely joined this war of his own free will and likely is when he was a 'radio-man' and could even be where he got a lot of his driving training / skills as the way it is described in the novels is VERY 'military' in style. (Jeff was in this war too btw, as a pilot although it is heavily implied he was flying medical aid and not a combat pilot). Great Britian, Russia, Turkey, and I think Brazil become Military Dictatorships during this war and remain so until the 2040s. -In the 2040s, the World Goverment uses the Universal Secret Service (basically WIN from Joe 90, but the Agent 21 stories predate Joe 90 and the 'name' WIN by over 5ish years) to kill the Dictators in command of the various dictatorships, toppling said goverments and bringing them into the world goverment. These events were referred to as Civil Wars . We see Agent 21 being sent to the British Dictatorship to do this / take part in the British Civil War in his comic strips, set in 2046. Parker likely would have been living in England, likely even in London, during this time frame as he mentions he's only ever lived in England. Parker could have been a Loyalist, part of the rebellion, or even just 'I don't care', we really have no way of knowing. All factors considered, I lean towards Parker simply didn't care all that much and was still engaging in burglary and the like during this time frame. He would have been in his mid 40s. -Some time in the 2050s (I lean towards late 2050s given the ages of various characters involved) there SEEMS to have been another War. This is the one that Scott, Gordon, Troy, Phones, Scarlet, and many others MUST have been involved in. Parker would have been in his early 50s and THAT matches up with the age we see in the Parkwood flashbacks. Thus Parker likely was captured and held at Parkwood sometime in the late 2040s to early 2050s, and when the War started, was offered freedom in exchange for his skills.

After the war, Parker's bio says that he tried to go straight and narrow, taking odd jobs, but nothing worked out and by the time late 2063 / earl 2064 rolled around, he was back to burglary and safe-cracking... which is when / how Lady Penelope ended up meeting and hiring him. It's a FUN story, btw, and the first comic of Lady Penelope's comic strip stories. Parker goes to break into the safe of an American Oil Tycoon... only to find Lady Penelope already in the room, chilling. She basically half forces / half tricks Parker into agreeing to work for her.

Parker is an AMAZING driver, an excellent mechanic, and there's ONE comic (in Fleetway, which came out in the 90s) where we see him flying a plane so he at some point got his pilots license, but that MIGHT actually be a trainers / limited pilots license. Penny does canonically have a pilots license and thus so long as she is in the craft, Parker could fly with a limited license, and that might be only for jet craft, not propeller craft - ABSOLUTELY not for bi-planes XD. He absolutely does not have a helicopter or helijet license. He seems to have a civilian AND Commerical boating license, and might have a civilian submarine craft license. We see him diving, so he has a diving license. The man suffers from vertigo and shows no control over his parachute(s) when he uses them, so he doesn't have a skydiving or paragliding license. He might have a CBL (Class A, B, and C commerical vehicle) license, in fact I'd lean heavily towards it.

Jeff's Wife / Tracy Brothers' Mom:

She might be British? I think one of the bios says something along those lines, but all other canon material implies she was, like Jeff, American so it's sort of a *shrug emoji*. I like the idea of her being British myself, but it's a VERY grey area so choose as ye please

Yes, I made Jeff's wife older than him (only a year or so though XD ) I actually did it so that Alan and TinTin mirror the relationship, as Alan actually mirrors Jeff in a LOT of ways

I also go with a non-canon name. Valentina Lucille Tracey (maiden name Baumgartner) In my defense, Lucille was just a very popular fanon name starting in the mid 80s and then in the 90s, Fleetway comics made it canon, THAT happened only because the creative team at Fleetway mistakenly thought Lucille WAS canon / were persuaded to use it because of how popular it was. Both Gerry and Sylvia said they 'never would have named' the character Lucille so by the time Fleetway made it canon in the 90s, and then when TaG made it canon in the Teens... I already had a name for the character. I used the name of the first female Astronaught for her given name, and I gave her the surname of the first female test pilot. Then as a tip of the hat to fanon (and now canon) her middle name is Lucille.

Rather like Grant, we really don't know much about this woman, we don't even TECHNICALLY know her canon name in TOS, as Fleetway didn't come out till the 90s... although it is considered 'part', or at least one of, the canon continuities that make up TOS

We do know from bios that Virgil is the one that took the most after her - in appearance, in personality, and in his artistic and musical talents. Virgil's bio also flat-out states that she was musically focused, rather than Virgil's heavier art focus. She had a promising career as a concert pianist. She either retired from it to be a full time mom or 'retired' when she passed away. That means that the White Baby Grand is almost certainly HER piano.

Small fun fact, the 'died giving birth to Alan' might actually be ascended-fanon as well. Gerry and Sylvia never said or implied it themselves, and the sources that use it generally didn't get the info from them. officially, she died in a tragic accident when Alan was 'quite young' and Alan was then raised by his father and eldest brother and was as a result 'rather spoilt'. The avalanche I think first shows up in Fleetway, but I'm not sure.

Jeff Tracy

Canonically one of the first men on the moon... which... really, REALLY, REALLY doesn't work. Even with the 2020s timeline, Jeff was born in the 1970s which is AFTER the Space Race, and even Fleetway has it where there is the beginnings of a Lunar Colony in 2000 / 2001 when Jeff goes to the Moon. That's likely why so many fans make it where Jeff was the first man on MARS. Even with the 2060s timeline, that would have taken place in the 2020s to 2030s and thus predates pretty much any instance of humans on Mars... eeeeexcept in TV21 - which had Mars colonized sometime in that 2010s time frame. =_= ...honestly, there's a reason in my fanworks I moved the Martian Capital City of Kahra from Mars and the Martian Colony to Venus / have it where Agent 21 operates from / was born on Venus and Mars is NOT yet colonized but instead Venus was XD

We know he graduated High School in the top of his class (don't know if he skipped grades) and had a higher education at an Ivy League school... likely Yale or Harvard, BUT if he went to school at Oxford, that could be how he met his wife, as she apparently was British!! He easily could have had something similar to Scott where he got his Masters at Yale, then 'finished' his schooling at Oxford to get a PhD or a second Masters.

He served in the Air Force (World or US) and served 'in a war' which almost certainly would have been the Global Atomic Conflict of the 2030s when he was in his mid to late 20s. He met and befriended Casey at this time. Both he and Casey achieved the rank of Colonel during their time in the war. There's a refence in the comics (and I think bios) that Jeff was the youngest colonel on record 'until Scott claimed that record' which is likely where the reference to Scott being a Colonel comes from.

Jeff was a pilot, but it seems like he avoided direct combat / was not a FIGHTER pilot and certainly there are no mentions of him being an Ace. He might have been flying aid missions and the like. There's a passing mention of his being involved in a mutiny, but it's in the sense that HE wasn't part of the mutiny OR the target of it, but more he had the bad luck of being on a ship when the mutiny occurred.

In what would have to be before the War (so in the 2020s) Jeff received training to become an Astronaut. He also seemingly started founding his company around this time / in his early 20s. (Seriously, that company has SO MANY DIFFERNT NAMES IN CANON.) By his mid-20s Jeff's company had gotten started and was already bringing in millions, and Jeff was running it alongside his astronaut / pilot duties and seemingly was managing to keep it going (likely by hiring skilled CEOs) even during the was in the 2030s. The company is BIG. Big enough that funding IR can be hidden in the shuffle big. That means forget millionaire. possibly forget billionaire. Jeff might be a trillionaire. and he is 100% a self-made man, as both of his parents (and their parents and going back generations) were middle-class - at best - generational farmers.

oh also, in TV21, at some point in the 2030s, there was a rebellion at the Jupiter Colony and the leader of said rebellion went to Earth to try and claim control of the moon / lunar colony. He is stopped and captured by Jeff and the jovian invasion force surrenders and returns to Jupiter. the leader, Kranol will be held in a high security prison until sometime in the late 2060s.

Has a Class-D (standard driver's) license. ABSOLUTELY has a pilot's and astropilot's license / has his astronaut wings. Pretty much certainly has a Class-B (farmer's) license. Likely has a CBL (Commercial Class A, B, and C) license. Has a civilian boating license and likely has a commercial boating license. I can't think of any time we see him diving, so might not have that.

Kyrano

There isn't really much known about Kyrano's education. He must have HAD it, because he is listed as working at both Kew and Kennedy Space Center as... well, quite a few things. one mention is that he was a professional cook, but ALL other mentions put him as a botanist. Either Expert Botanist in general and was in charge of many plants and layouts and landscaping... or plants to recycle air for space travel/stations... etc. Botany is the career things keep returning to, so that like is what he majored in and to get a job at the places he did, he must have a degree and most likely a Masters or the equivalent there of.

The Hood is his younger half-brother and somehow stole Kyrano's inheritance from him, leaving Kyrano penniless. Kyrano's family owned a massive jungle 'estates' with a variety of things reported and having rubber plantations and mines of some kind.

Kyrano and TinTin and how they met Jeff / came to live with the Tracys is... really a hodge podge, although the only MAJOR outlier is Fleetway. All the other canon continuities have it where Jeff and Kyrano have been friends for YEARS, meeting before his wife died. TinTin to all appearances came to live with the Tracys while she was fairly young AND seemingly before her father came to live with the Tracys (possibly Kyrano trying to get TinTin away from the Hood and the danger he presented?) as TinTin seemingly finished up her High School in America and ABSOLUTELY was living with the Tracys for her entire higher education period, as Jeff paid for it. Kyrano has been living with the Tracys and acting as the housekeeper / butler for a few years to several years by the time of the pilot. Fleetway has it where Jeff doesn't meet Kyrano and TinTin until two or three years prior to the pilot episode which... doesn't fit with anything we see / are told in teh show, novels, or any other comics.

He has a Class-D (standard driver's) license. Has a pilot's license. Seems to have a helijet but not a helicopter license. Doesn't seem to have any other licenses that we're aware of

Lady Penelope

Penny started her schooling at Hightower School, starting when she was 11 and graduating somewhere around 12-13 years of age. She was top of her class, Head Girl, and top athlete. (so it'd be Lower School, if I recall correctly, and seemingly skipped a grade or two)

After Hightower, she went to Rowden Boarding School - a highly exclusive and well respected school. We don't know what she majored in, only that she was again top of her class, Head Girl, and top athlete and graduated at 14-15. (Upper School if I, again, am recalling correctly. She seemingly doesn't skip grades here, but she is a year or two younger than everyone else due to graduating early from Hightower)

In quick explanation we find out in the 'Penny as a Young Girl / Penny as a Teen' comics that Penny's father is actually a retired spy, and Penny decides right around as she is set to graduate from Rowden that she wants to be a spy as well. UNFORTUNATLY the comics don't follow up on this. Instead the 'Penelope as a Young Woman' comics are set in the mid 1960s instead of 2045 -2050s, Penny wasn't going to school but instead going to live in the city, there was no indication she was rich, they never went into her spy career... she just... suddenly was a middle class girl trying to get by in the big city. Which probably wouldn't have bugged me if it hadn't been PENELOPE right when she was supposed to be starting her spy training!! To make it even worse, Penny's bios and bits and bobs we get from her comics, novels, etc all tell us that she DIDN'T have these adventures, but instead went to a Swiss 'Finishing School' that was actually a cover for a SPY SCHOOL and became an independent Secret Agent by 19 years of age!! (It actually matches up almost perfectly with what we see in Class 6 Sternoff', a subline comic in the Lady Penelope Comic Magazine, and one of the leads is VERY similar to Penny in personality... which makes me think that Class 6 was originally the 'Penny as a Young Adult' and the stories set in the 1960s were supposed to be the subline with an original character.) As a result of all this, I freely admit that I generally ignore the 'Young Adult' comics and treat Class 6 as the 'official' Young Adult Penelope comics.

Upon graduating, Penny became an independent spy / free agent. She has been indicated to have worked for the USS (Universal Secret Service - the TV21 equivalent of WIN), to have worked for WIN (World Intelligence Network, introduced in Joe 90), to have either worked FOR or FOUNDED or became the leader of FAB (Federal Agents Bureau)... the problem with all of those is that the TV show, comics and novels all make it VERY clear that Penny doesn't work for anyone. She's an independent agent that a few other spies / higher ups in agencies know (and many of them have no idea who she REALLY is, only knowing her as Agent L). Rhapsody's bio claims that Lady Penelope was the founder and leader of FAB and that Penelope trained Rhapsody... but the thing is EVERYTHING but Fleetway's Complete TB Story puts Lady Penelope very VERY solidly in the 2060s - like flat out stated multiple times solidly... and that means Penny and Rhapsody are the same age, only a year or two of difference.

There is a VERY weird refence that Jeff met Penny / she was an old friend from his 'Agency Days' and that becasue of the 'delicate nature of some of his missions, he met Lady Penelope' which... this is literally the only time it's implied that Jeff was a secret Agent (something DIRECTLY contradicted by everything else we know of his history) and it also directly contradicts every other instance we have of how the two met... which is always something along the lines of 'close to the time IR gets started, Jeff is informed by SOMEONE of Penny's status as a super spy, meets and usually tests her in some way, and then has her become the first IR agent / head of the IR agents.

Penny is involved in a lot of charities, and has a cover of a 'aspiring journalist' that she maintains to explain her travels and questioning of people in her line of work when 'I am rich and was bored' will not work. She is famously as generous as she is polite.

Lady Penelope has gotten up to QUITE a few adventures as a spy, many of which have had World Politics level impact (the woman has dealt with Generals, Heads of Secret Police, ARMYS, and more)

She speaks several languages with native level fluency; known examples include Italian, French, German, Spanish and Berezniki

There is a passing reference that Scott and Penny met 'while in school / met a few years ago' that is just... what. WHEN. But not in the 'this directly contradicts EVERYTHING we're told way' that the 'during Jeff's Agency days' bit does Of all the characters they are the ones MOST LIKELY to have met prior to the mid 2060s, since the rest of the Tracys (including Jeff) basically stayed in America (and/or outer space) with Jeff's time outside of America mostly being in the 2030s... which would have been before Penny was born in late december 2039. Scott was in England for Oxford in ~2055 which would be around the time Penny was in Rowden Boarding School. He also was in / around Europe during 'the War' when Penny would have been finishing up her Spy Schooling / just starting her spy career. TinTin went to school (multiple) SOMEWHERE(s) in Europe as she finished up her education, but those are canonically all engineering and technical universities and I don't think the timelines match up as well. Brains MIGHT have gone to school in Paris, but so far as we know Penny did not spend much time in Paris and wouldn't have been going to an engineering school there... also Brain's time in Paris is VERY QUESTIONABLE as far as canon goes If the two did meet - esp during the time that Penny was preparing to be a spy (last year of Rowden), training to be a spy (the swiss school) or starting her spy career (late 2050s-early 2060s), that actually does answer the old fandom question of "who told Jeff about Penny and how she was a spy when even the commanders of MI5, WIN, the USS and every other spy organization (except FAB, which Jeff wouldn't have a connection to) doesn't know?" Scott, possibly.

one point of note here... Penny likely doesn't have many (if any) of these licenses as 'Lady Penelope', but instead has gotten the training and has fake licenses / licenses under false IDs Lady Penelope has a Class-D (standard driver's) license... yes, really. There is only one instance where Penny apparently 'doesn't know how to drive' and it's when she's playing the 'socialite' AND trying to delay returning to London. There's another episode where we see Penny driving in the show and she has NO issue with it. She has multiple instances of driving herself around in the comics and novels. She is the only character stated FLAT OUT to be able to drive a motorcycle (and a rocket motorcycle at that!), so she absolutely has a motorcyle license. While it's said (I think in the show? but it's absolutely said in TB6) that Penny doesn't have a pilot's license, she is actually seen / mentioned flying a plane in the comics and novels, so I'm going to go with 'Penny not having a pilot license is a lie', most likely said because Penny felt someone she didn't want to know the truth was in ear shot / she was worried there might be a recording device nearby. She has flown a helijet and a helicopter, so likely has a license for both. She seems to have a civilian submarine craft license. She has both a civilian and commercial boating license (although she goes through the Seabird Yachts like CRAZY. Seriously she starts her comics with Seabird I and was on Seabird VI by the time her comics ended). She has a diving license. She has a paragliding and skydiving license. She doesn't have a astopilot license or astronaut wings and canonically she doesn't know how to drive commercial vehicles or construction vehicles.

TinTin

What's in a name? ...a lot of confusion apparently XD Multiple canon sources say that TinTin's name means 'sweet', but there is no Malaysian word that is similar to TinTin that means such... buuuuuuut there is a MANDARIN word that means Sweet Tián If you go with a non-canon surname (Tin - catonese spelling of the mandarin surname Tian - meaning field) you end up with the name Tián Tin which to many people would sound like 'Tin Tin' ...the fact that this is the name of one my RL friends is just coincidence and maybe kinda sorta inspiration for this XD the fact that said friend is a HUGE Adventures of Tin-Tin fan and gleefully claimed 'Tin-Tin' as a nickname that she STILL uses to this day... well... XD As for why she uses 'Kyrano' as a surname once or twice in the show... it could just be an false surname for security purposes, or even just a mix-up in paperwork (I did get called 'Ms J Leonard' at a job once, as a mix-up had them thinking my dad's given name was my surname somehow, so it CAN be a thing that happens)

TinTin apparently comes to America to live with the Tracys while fairly young (and before her father does) as she at minimum finishes her high school (equivalent) education in America before moving onto a higher education. She also apparently skips grades as she SEEMS to graduate at ~16.

She goes to college in America for a period of time, and then goes to Europe to finish her higher education. What these schools are is unknown / never said unfortunately. A bunch of countries are mentioned / considered canon by the fandom, but nothing is said or even really hinted at in canon. I honestly have her following in Scott's 'footsteps', going first to Yale for ~2 years (in 2060 & 2061) and getting a Masters in Electrical/Mechanical Engineering and possibly Higher Mathematics. I have her take a 2 year gap to get job experience - working at Tracy Industries, also in part because this falls during the apparent 'War' that happened. After the war, TinTin went to Oxford for ~2 years (in 2063 & 2064) and gets a Masters in Advanced Technical Theory and if she didn't get the Higher Mathematics before, she got it here. She graduates in June of 2064.

She is canonically an electronics expert, a mathematical mind, and engineer. (Fun fact, she is the only character we see doing maintenance in the TV show when she's shown doing maintenance on TB1 in Martian Invasion.) She is also said to be an engineer / head engineer in the Lady Penelope audio adventure 'Introducing Thunderbirds' which for some reason was cut from the Anniversary Episode

She acts as Jeff's secretary as a 'cover', but seemingly actually HAS had secretary training and sometimes does secretary / dictation work to help Jeff out when not helping Brains in the Lab / doing engineering work

TinTin has a Class-D (standard driver's) license, and might have a motorcycle license. She's apparently an expert level diver, almost as good - if not as good - as Gordon is and thus would have a divers license. She has a civilian boating license and apparently is very skilled. She has a civilian submarine craft license. She has a pilots license for both jet and propeller craft and apparently can pilot a biplane and stunt plane. She has her astronaut wings and an astropilot license (although it MIGHT be a provisional / limited license as we never see her pilot solo). Likely has a paraglider and sky diving license. Has a CBL (Commercial Class A, B, and C) license.

Brains

hooo boy here we go

What's in a name? Well to start, it IS NOT Hiram K Hackenbacker. Even if you totally ignore the fact that the episode where the name is introduced flat out states it's an alias that Brains fails to react to... there are other instances where it's stated to be an alias in the audio for this ep. It also isn't Horatio Hackenbacker, despite what the 1966 Spring Extra says ^^;; Whatever his name is, it's not this ^^

Born in Michigan (some things say 'Chicago, Michigan' which... well Chicago is NEAR Michigan, but the Windy City is actually in Illinois) and while preteen his parents were killed when a.... hurricane... struck... their... Michigan home I i literally do not have enough words to explain why that is impossible in this... maybe in a separate post like the 'Y'all don't get America dudes' one or something

After the death of his parents, Brains was adopted by a retired Camridge professor who had been a friend of his parents. Said adoptive father apparently passes away before Brains is a mid-teen / early teen btw. Poor kid.

Brains skips LOTS OF GRADES. I personally headcanon that he was homeschooled by his adoptive father as Brains likely would have been bored by normal schools and likely heavily bullied. He starts college as a young teen, and must have been taking tests (like CLEP or DANTES) to get as many classes out of the way as possible while he was 'still in high school' since he's got his first Doctorate as a mid teen.

What school(s) he went to is uncertain. There's a single reference to him going to university in Paris, where he gave a lecture that Jeff heard and made Jeff realize the young man was the perfect person to make IR a reality... the issue with that is that Jeff unlikely would have been in Paris sitting in on a random lecture. All other schools Brains could have gone to were in America, so I tend to assume that Brains had an American education. He's had MIT, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, University of Chicago, Caltech and... Fleetway puts him at Tracy University - which while it was a space focused school, it was also one of the best tech universities in the world. As a result, I tend to have it where Brains went to Tracy U. That means he would have ABSOLUTELY run into at least one of the Tracy brothers, who then could have easily brought Brains to Jeff's attention.

While still a teenager (probably in 2061 or 2062), Jeff listened to a lecture Brains gave at his college, approached Brains and Brains was soon part of IR.

Brains has SEVERAL Doctorates by the time of the pilot episode. I remember at least one refence to him having ~12, and I know he's got at least 5 mentioned a few times

Brains was involved in the designing of all the Thunderbirds and pod vehicles. Jeff, Scott, John, Virgil, and Gordon seemingly were also involved to various degrees in the craft (Alan seemingly was not, and TinTin is debatable - though she WAS involved in the construction)

What his many doctorates are in, we do not know, though we can assume it's various tech, math, engineering and so on

His 'hobbies' include trigonometry, thermodynamics, and advanced robotics / programming, and seemingly is trying to create an AI / android as shown in Braman.

[sugar--bee]

The Dragon in the Mountain

CHAPTER FOUR

Malleus x GN! Reader [Warnings: Drinking]

~AO3 Link~

Working for Night Raven College, MC made several trips through the mountains to deliver letters and packages for the school. Finding themself alone, caught in a blizzard with hardly any strength left, they were certain it was the end. That is until…  

(Chapter One)

Malleus settled himself in the mountains, looking down at the traveling path. From his vantage point he could see a long stretch of the winding road. Travelers had become more common with the shift in weather, though they were still somewhat few and far between. Large black clouds dotted the sky not far from the mountains, drawing closer by the hour. 

No one had come down the path for a few hours, the drawing rain was enough of a deterrent. Stretching his wings and legs he was ready to return to his bed when someone rounded the bend of the path. Malleus watched as they grew closer and recognized their form. He huffed, a turning mix of excitement and frustration stirring in his chest. They diverted from the path, climbing instead to the hidden hall where he met them. 

“Oh hey Hor—”

“What are you doing here?” He puffed, standing tall, looking down at them. 

They looked surprised, “Uhh… I was saying hi? I’m sorry… is now a bad time?”

Malleus felt frustration writhe in his stomach, “Yes it is. It is going to rain.”

For some reason that didn’t clear their confusion. They stared at him, “Do you… not like the rain?” They asked. 

He huffed again, snapping his teeth and shaking his head. He would think they were trying to tease him if they weren’t so sincere. 

“You will be in the rain.” He pointed out, resigning to spelling it out for them, “You… your kind are weak to the elements. You will become sick.”

They blinked, “Oh.” It seemed he’d finally gotten through to them, “I'll be down the mountain before that hits. I’ll be fine.” They smiled. 

He hadn’t gotten through to them. 

Malleus walked further into the hall, MC following behind as he climbed the rise. Curling in his bed, he stared at them. They settled in between the fire and himself, looking up to him.

“Why are you traveling now?” Malleus asked, his tone curt.

MC sighed. They looked tired. “My deadline is tonight. Really I should have left yesterday but about a hundred things went wrong and… well it’s just an annoying story really.” They shrugged, “I don’t love the idea of doing the last leg back in the rain either.”

Malleus huffed, “Then why?”

“The deadline.” They reminded as if he’d already forgotten. Malleus shook his head, biting back his frustration.

“Is a deadline worth your health?” He asked, his tone low. 

MC took a deep breath and exhaled, “It’s not that simple, you know.” They brought their knees to their chest, crossing their arms and resting their chin on them, “I’m not employed, I’m indentured. If I mess up this sort of thing, Crowley adds a year to my contract.” They confessed.

Malleus grimaced. He was familiar with that sort of arrangement. Indentured service was just a fancy way to own a person in his opinion. It was a cruel sort of deal made only when one party is desperate enough to trade years of their life away with very little given in return. From the sound of it, they had a particularly dishonest sort of deal if the contract owner could keep them longer for a minor offense. 

“A curse of your own then.” He sympathized.

MC chuckled dryly, “I guess so… but hey, misery loves company, right?”

Malleus huffed his amusement. Humans always had strange phrases and sayings like that. Some he thought were laughable, but this one he liked. 

“I suppose so.” He agreed, about to lay his head down, when he felt something shift in the air. His head immediately shot up, his eyes wide.

MC stared up at the dragon, a spike of anxiousness coursing through them as the dragon’s demeanor suddenly shifted. A strange sort of feeling filled the room. The air suddenly felt as though a storm were coming, the air thick and heavy with the scent of ozone. MC turned their head to look, and for a moment saw green dots of light before the dragon swept them behind him with his tail. They fell into his nest as his expanded wings blocked their view. There was a crackle and suddenly a second voice.

“Oh, wow, you’ve really redecorated!”

It was a deep voice. They didn’t recognize it. MC wanted to try and peek through, though sat stock still behind his wing.

They heard heels clicking against the smooth stone, the sound sharp, “This is great, Malleus! Oh— and the gargoyles? How wonderful!”

The man paused his musings. MC could see his shoes just under the dragon’s wing. He had stopped just in front of them. They held their breath, though their heart beat into their ears. 

“What’s that smell?” The man asked, sniffing the air. 

“I do not know what you mean.” The dragon— Malleus?— huffed, “Leave. Now.”

 “A human?” He asked, his voice low. MC couldn’t read the man’s voice, couldn’t tell how he felt, but if the dragon was upset they couldn’t imagine it was good. They could feel themself shaking despite the effort not to. 

The dragon huffed, “Get out.”

The heels drew closer, their sound more pronounced with each step. MC pushed themself further back as if that would stop the man. Finally a head peeked around the wing. The dragon dropped it after that and MC could see the figure plainly— he was not at all what they imagined with a voice so deep. The two stared at each other, both unblinking, a mutual look of surprise shared, though MC looked a bit more frightened than the man. 

The man blinked first, a grin spreading across his face as he launched towards them, “You made a friend!”

MC jerked back, but the man was already close enough to grab them, pinching their cheeks and holding their face. 

The dragon huffed, “Lilia, stop this at once.”

“Ohhhh! They’re so cute! How did you find them?” He asked, “Is this,” the man squeezed their face, “why you made the place so nice?”

“Unhand them at once.” The dragon growled, huffing and batting his wings.

Lilia listened this time, and removed himself from them. He offered his hand to them, “Ah, forgive me, I got excited. I haven’t seen Malleus talk to someone in years!”

“Lilia!” The dragon growled. 

“What’s your name?” 

MC paused, completely shocked at the turn of events. They looked between the man and Malleus. Malleus was huffing and puffing at the man, in an almost childish manner. They furrowed their brow, completely taken aback by it all. They looked back at the man and apprehensively took his hand, “MC.”

Lilia pulled them up with a force unbefitting of someone so small. 

“I’m sorry…” MC began, their mind reeling, “Who are you?” They asked the man.

Malleus, still grumbling, spoke up, “This is Lilia. He is my retainer.”

“And your name is Malleus then?” They pointed out.

The dragon huffed, but nodded.

MC furrowed their brow, “You know… when you said ‘my name is beyond you’ I thought you meant it was hard to pronounce… Malleus has three syllables. It’s not beyond me.” They pointed out, a bit annoyed to have been given the run around about something like a name. 

Lilia laughed— hard. The man was using his knees to keep himself upright as he cackled. The dragon on the other hand was huffing and puffing, unhappy to have been called out but clearly too embarrassed to string an excuse together.

After a minute, Lilia regained his composure, placing his hand on their shoulder, “Ah… you are truly something. You mustn’t be too upset though. I’m certain he meant no harm with his tricks.” Lilia explained, though continued with a lower tone despite the dragon clearly being in earshot, “He’s always been a bit cagey about sharing his identity if he has the chance.”

Malleus growled at Lilia, who grinned innocently back. MC furrowed their brow, “What does that matter though? I don’t know any Malleus’s. It’s not exactly a common name.”

Both men paused, looking over to MC. It was their turn to look confused.

“You don’t know… a Malleus… who is a dragon?” Lilia asked, as if he were stringing together the two most obvious traits in the world.

MC huffed, “No?” They looked to the dragon, who was staring right back at them, his eyes wide.

“I see.” Lilia offered, taking his hand from their shoulder and pressing his knuckle to his chin. MC was about to ask a question, however before they could, Lilia perked up, “Well! I’ve said enough I think. How about I come back in a little bit so you two can go back to your afternoon?”

“Afternoon?” MC asked.

“Yes.” Malleus huffed, glaring at the smiling man. “Leave.”

Lilia bowed slightly, and once more patted MC’s shoulder. He gave them a look they couldn’t quite place, but it was fond… hopefully maybe… and he was gone. Green specks of light lingered for a moment before dying out and the hall was quiet.

MC looked over to Malleus, still a bit shaken by everything. They were waiting for him to speak.

Malleus took a deep breath and sighed, “I… had not meant to mislead you. I only mean to keep my existence here private. I had some… concerns you would know of me.”

MC paused, looking down at the stone for a moment. They weren’t mad, so to say. They could understand wanting privacy but were still frustrated by it all. That and the creeping feeling of insecurity that they were well acquainted with.

“Should… I know you?” They asked. It wasn’t the first time there was an embarrassing gap in their knowledge. Both the dragon and the man spoke as if the name were the most obvious thing, and despite wracking their brain they couldn’t come up with anything. 

The dragon seemed to sense their lack of confidence in the question. He settled back down, his head to their height, “I suppose it’s not impossible you would not know me.”

Though it was said as if he was trying to be reassuring, MC huffed, frustrated now with themself more than anything. Malleus looked slightly taken aback, “May I ask why this is upsetting you?”

MC crossed their arms tight along their chest, “I just…” they huffed, “It feels like I don’t know anything.” They bit. Malleus paused, waiting for them to continue. He would not expect such an adverse reaction to not knowing one thing, therefore expected there to be more— and there was. 

They ran their hand along their face, pacing a bit as they sighed, “I lost everything about a year ago.” They admitted, “I remember my name and how to function and that was it. Now I’m just— constantly playing catch up with the world.” They finished, their voice wry and torn by the end. 

Malleus paused, clicking the pieces together in his mind, “Is this memory loss why you are indentured?”

MC didn’t respond, just sighed, looking out at the mountain. The silence served as enough confirmation as was needed for Malleus to return to his disgust towards their curse.

“It is afternoon isn’t it?” They asked, though it was rhetorical. They picked up their bag and slung it over their shoulder, then turned to look at Malleus, “I need to get going, but it was nice talking.” They offered and smiled. It was a tired sort of smile, and it only made the growing anger in his chest boil over.

He stood, “You should stay.” He huffed, his voice tight as he spoke.

MC’s smile faded, shaking their head lightly, “Come on, we’ve already been through this.” They pleaded, “Look, I have to go.” They ended, more sure of themself as they began down the steps. Malleus followed, jumping from the rise and blocking the bottom of the steps.

“Really?” MC bit, stopping near the bottom. They glared at him.

Malleus huffed, “I will not let you hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself?” They parroted, “I can handle myself! I’m not an infant.”

Malleus snarled, “Like you could handle yourself in the blizzard?”

MC inhaled sharply, their face contorted into a seething glare, “What do you want me to do?!” They shouted, gesturing their frustration, “This isn’t a blizzard and I’m not going to add another year to my contract because I could get a cold in the rain.”

Malleus snapped his jaw, glaring up to them, “You almost died,” he roared, his wings tensing behind him. MC crossed their arms, their fingers pinching the bridge of their nose. He continued, “I watched over you, thinking you were going to die at any moment. I could fix your wounds— your frostbite, but you were dying and there was nothing else I could do but watch. I could not bear to be in that position again.” He finished, looking up to them, pleading with them to stay.

MC stood, their face a mix of emotions as they began again down the steps. They came to him, met his gaze and sighed.

“Malleus,” they began, their hand resting on his snout. He leaned into their touch, closed his eyes as their fingers trailed the smaller scales of his forehead. Green reflected against his crown, the fire still dancing behind them. 

“Let me leave.” They whispered, their hand under his jaw as his eyes opened. “I promise I’ll be okay.” They hummed. Malleus fell into their gaze, their eyes. They looked at him so softly, without fear. It had been so long since he’d felt kindness. It was a rarity worth more than any rock or metal in his collection. He wanted nothing more than to keep it, cherish it, and with that thought came a somber realization. 

Malleus stepped aside, defeated. If he wished to be treated with genuine care, he knew he could not cage it. 

MC came down the last few steps, and paused, looking up at him.

“I’ll be back.” They whispered, taking his snout in their hands once more and guiding him down to where they could reach. He followed, and looked at them, their gaze now equal. They leaned towards him, and gingerly pressed their lips to his forehead, their eyes shut. 

It was chaste and quick but still, he felt his chest flutter, his heart quicken and his body warm at the touch. Then, he froze, his eyes wide, pupils as thin as a line as something else— something strange took over him. 

A strong green light emanated from him, bathing the entire hall in its color. MC stepped back, covering their eyes as the light became stronger. A different form stood in the dragon’s sted. MC’s stared openly at the man in front of them as the light faded, their eyes wide. 

He was tall, pale with long dark hair that cascaded down his back and over his shoulders. He was staring down at his own hands, gloved in a dark fabric. He was dressed elegantly, his clothes fit to him with ornate designs and jewels gracefully sewn onto the cloth. The only things MC could recognize were a similar set of horns and as he looked to them, the same piercing green eyes.

“You…” Malleus began, quickly drawing towards them and in an instant they were off their feet, his arms tight around their legs, “You did it!” He grinned, laughter rolling from him. He looked up to them, his eyes glistening with welling tears.

MC caught themself on his shoulders, their eyes wide as they looked down to him, “I— what?” They asked, their face rushing red.

“You broke the curse—” he breathed, “MC, my dear, you’ve freed me.” He lowered them enough they were level, one hand beneath them, the other on the small of their back. Holding them close he rested his forehead on theirs. 

Wrapping their arms around his neck, they leaned against him, their mind racing. “The curse?” They asked, finding it extremely difficult to follow along. “How did I…?”

Malleus chuckled, his breath warm on them as he spoke, “it was broken by your kiss. True love’s kiss.”

“Oh—” MC blanched, chuckling awkwardly, “Any time, y’know?” They joked.

“Is that so?” Malleus grinned, his voice low and warm. Turning his head he drew closer, then paused seconds away, waiting. MC quickly closed the gap, pressing their lips to his. His kiss was slow and sweet but there was a hunger behind it. MC linked their legs around his waist, their fingers coiling in his hair. 

Breaking apart, saliva still linked between the two, MC panted, fighting to catch their breath. MC stared at him, gently tracing their fingers along his cheekbone. He closed his eyes, leaning into their touch. MC chuckled, it was only moments ago they’d seen him do the same thing, though it was a bit different with a person instead of a dragon. They held his cheek gently.

“I can see the resemblance, I think.” They hummed.

“Resemblance?” He asked, blinking slowly, his pupils wide. He turned his head, pressing his lips to their palm.

They felt their face warm, “Between this and the dragon.” 

Malleus laughed, his grin under their palm, “I… haven’t heard that before.” 

Reluctantly, Malleus set them down. MC found their footing, a bit off balance as they did. He took their hand in his and bowed to them, bringing their knuckles to his lips. 

MC felt their face flush hot at the gesture, never having been bowed to before. They bit back the urge to stop him, instead frozen in place as he stood once more, “MC, I owe you more than I could possibly repay.”

MC waved their free hand, “Oh– no you don’t owe me anything, please– you don’t need to bow either.” They rambled.

“I would like to come with you down the mountain.”

[Next Chapter]    

[hong-kong-art-man]

The Most Promising ACGN Artist In Hong Kong—Pen So(蘇頌文): “Why Do I Like Black-and-white Comic Drawings? Why Do I Like Nature Disaster As My Theme?”

It was said, “You may be the only person left who believes in you, but it is enough. It takes just one star to pierce a universe of darkness.” My friend, my young friend, never give up when you are tired, uncertain or frustrated! Try to believe! The ordinary people are usually happy because they lack ambition. They have no mountain to climb or assume that they are already on the top of the world. We, the ambitious ones who never settle for less, are unlucky, as we always find a reason to struggle, strive and do better until what is the ideally best, or until we fully utilize the talent that God has given.

For an inborn gifted artist, the moon danced with the stars on the night when he was birthed. The young comic artist in Hong Kong Pen So(蘇頌文) laughed, “I believe that every person is born with a particular kind of talent. The question is whether you have explored it and are insistent that your career battle must be won!” Pen always talked calmly, persuasively and systematically.

Do you know the trend of ‘ACGN’(animation, comics, game, novel) as a pop art? It is now a common way to combine the 4 elements into an artist’s work.

Pen was recently waxed and shining. He was victorious in acquiring the Silver Medal of Japan International MANGA Award in 2022 out of 77 country contestants. Pen liked to make black and white drawings out of what he feared most: natural catastrophes.

This young artist is always confident, positive and well-organised with his thoughts. Pen said with a smile, “I was just an ordinary guy with unimpressive school examination results—except the subject of art. My parents love beautiful things as they are in the fashion business. My elder brother is a web designer. My whole family cannot run away from creativity. Comics are the power and desire for me to feel and imagine. Unfortunately, I, by mistake, thought when I was a teenager that the subject of product design would be the nice compromise through which I could make a good living and yet satisfy a yearning for my artistic pursuit. I went to Hong Kong Design Institute, Kwon Tong to study commercial design and finally graduated in 2008. I got immediately a job offer from a company which made licensed Japanese character products. Yes, I dealt with commercial cartoons and figures every day but it was not what I enjoyed!”

I asked, “Why?” Pen chewed on his lip and answered, “Hmm, commercial stuff can be repetitive and boring. I created but only subject to the approval of my clients. I earned some money but felt an emptiness in my soul. I indulged in playing video games every night after work. I finally told myself, ‘Hey, you should accomplish for greater things in life!’ Accidentally, I discovered a comic course by the great master Ma Wing Shing(馬榮成). The course aimed at incubating young comic illustrators in Hong Kong. I applied for it in post-haste.”

He happily remembered, “In union, there is strength, Master Ma led his pupils very well. My classmates and I organized exhibitions, publications, talks and even sales relating to comics. True change is the rebirth of the way that I really like. In 2016, I finally decided to change. I almost used up all my savings and published a very exquisite but ‘strong-flavour’ book of drawings titled Hong Kong Disaster. The book received great responses and I got numerous awards. I told myself that I should have the courage to cease my commercial practice. So, I closed down my design firm and set up a small studio in Kowloon Bay concentrating the artistic creation of my comics on Hong Kong streets, old buildings which had vanished and people’s livelihood activities—all in black and white.”

I asked, “Now, game recognises game. You are regarded by the trade as the most promising alternative comic artist in Hong Kong. How would you feel?” Pen was sealed up in thought, “The key to making things happen in life is just one word: persistence. Persistence has a high mortality rate but you still have to try if you do not wish to end up in being wiped out. I once gave up comic art by accepting myself as a mere commercial designer. I got good money. But, I hated to see my soul turning its back on me by accusing me as a coward! I will not make mistake again. Comics have a strange but important place in my life and I do let it be my spiritual guidance. The persistent desire for comic achievements is capable of giving me the encompassing power not to fear. I will regret by the time when die if I simply mess around with my talent now. Although I become cynical about what I am doing: black-and-white comic art is becoming more and more the interest of cultural minority and the market shrinks every day. Since comics are my destiny and I will not go against it, I will only win the match by working harder and harder in future. This is what I mean by ‘persistence’.”

I am interested, “Do you set a goal for yourself?” He paused, “I want to make an animated feature film one day as me passing another milestone on the road to success. Of course, it is a very impossible dream but I hope with the combined forces of luck and persistence, I may cause it to happen.”    

Well written, well drawn and well printed, the black-and-white comic books of Pen So have been an antidote for his fans and myself, when we are terribly paralysed by stress. At the sight of good comics and animations, I feel reborn, from the childish inner to the senile outer again…

Maurice Lee

Chinese Version 中文版: https://www.patreon.com/posts/xiang-gang-liu-81450653?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link

Local Comic Artist Pen So Interview  https://youtu.be/ZGEw0tKKqok  Acknowledgement-ArtmanHK蟻文

Shinkai Makoto’ s  movie “Suzume” trailer  https://youtu.be/hRDN2pnCIxo  Acknowledgement-International Film

Pen So Drawing  https://youtu.be/X4MhSrh2A-w  Acknowledgement-Pen So

Yaumatai, Tsim Sha Tsui and Mongkok: Inspirations for Pen So   https://youtu.be/9dqWh-ovSnU  Acknowledgement-小旺士多 siuwong

[stolen-pen-name23]

how about #12 “it reminded me of you” with obi wan and satine ✨

Hey girlie!!! Thanks so much for the prompt, you know I have fun with these two! From these prompts/prompts now closed

Read on Ao3

Here ya go!

---

In every way, the forest felt enchanted, like the ones from the stories Obi-Wan was told as a youngling.

The sun’s stubborn beams broke their way through the dense forest canopy, allowing their light to shine on Satine every once in a while. For a brief, glimmering moment, the sunbeams turned blonde hair golden and Obi-Wan could not help but let his eyes be drawn to it.

For a moment he could forget that he was not here for some retreat or vacation, but rather, a mission.

Yes, a mission. He glanced over at Satine who walked in front of him like it was her mission and not his. Obi-Wan swallowed his pride and allowed himself this brief moment of peace.

For now, they were unaccompanied — left alone together to fend for themselves in the woods while Qui-Gon went the long way around to meet them at the rendezvous.

Obi-Wan was grateful to his Master for taking the bounty hunters on a wild goose chase far away from them. It meant that for now, the young Jedi and Duchess were safe — or as safe as anyone could be while they were on the run.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and sank back into the Force. It was so alive here. Obi-Wan was never and would never be as in-tune with the Living Force as his Master, but right now, in the middle of this lush and thriving forest, Obi-Wan could feel it pulse around and through him, harmonizing with his beating heart.

Satine seemed to sense his lighthearted mood.

“What has you so lively this morning?” she asked turning around to face him. The sunlight danced on her curls when she turned her head like that and Obi-Wan tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Must I have cause to be cheerful?”

“Seeing as you so rarely are, yes, you do. Now, what is it?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “This place… it’s nice.”

Satine frowned. “This forest? This hot, muggy forest? That’s what it takes to make you smile? A miserable environment?”

“It is not miserable,” he said defensively. “You wouldn’t understand it.”

“Try me.”

“I can… I can feel the life flowing through everything around us and it… I don’t know,” Obi-Wan was starting to feel rather stupid in his explanation. His cheeks flushed at the rare outpouring of emotion.

Satine, however, seemed unphased.

“Believe me, Jedi, I do not wish to be one of your kind,” she started, “but sometimes I wish I could see the world the way you saw it. Feel it the way you feel it. Just for a day.”

“I think that would be rather cruel,” Obi-Wan said.

“To be a Jedi for a day?”

“To have the Force for a day, only to have it ripped from you. It would be like someone gouging out your eyes and cutting off your ears all at once. I would not wish it upon my enemies.”

“Very well then, I take it back. I’ll continue on in my ignorance,” Satine smirked at him.

Obi-Wan shook off her remarks and they continued on their path, Satine still in the lead.

The forest was hot and muggy, Obi-Wan realized and he silently cursed Satine for pointing it out. Sweat coated his skin and his clothing stuck to him uncomfortably, but even that could hardly dampen his spirits.

Lost in his thoughts and in the swells of the Force, Obi-Wan startled when Satine stopped and let out a soft gasp.

Obi-Wan snapped to attention and looked to her. “What is it, Duchess?” His fingers grazed his lightsaber.

“Look!” she said, excitement of her own now lilting her voice upwards.

Obi-Wan stepped beside her and laid eyes on what caused her to gasp. The forest before them was blanketed it bright blue butterflies. Every trunk, every branch, every fallen log. The ground, the leaves, the mushrooms that plumed like clouds from the earth, all of it was covered by the winged insects.

Perhaps this is what was causing his lighthearted mood. Hundreds, thousands, of pure Force signatures pulsing and existing so close to him. “They must be migrating,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Wings opened and closed, some slow, some fast, some not at all. Some of the butterflies took flight, only to settle in with a different horde of its brethren. Obi-Wan turned to Satine and realized her eyes matched the color of the butterfly wings.

As though she could feel him staring at her, she turned to him. “What is it?”

“Do you wish to know how I see them?” he asked shyly.

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier you asked me why I was so happy. It was because of this. Because of all the life in the Force. Every living thing has its own Force signature that is uniquely theirs. I see them differently from you.”

“How do you see them then?”

“Well, as all living things are, they are unique from one another, and yet, there is a uniformity between them. They migrate together and I can see the connections between them,” Obi-Wan began. Satine was staring at the butterflies, but she was nodding her head along with him. He took it as permission to continue.

“It’s almost as if the air between them ripples with their shared connection, but not in a way that distorts my vision. And it is only if I’m actually looking for it, if I were not allowing myself to sink deeper into the Force, then I would not see it exactly this way.

“Their signatures pulse at their own unique pace, some faster, some slower. Some of them have their own color. It varies from butterfly to butterfly, but it’s… well it’s beautiful.”

“And every living thing has one? A Force signature you called it?” Satine asked.

“Yes, everything.”

“And you see everything like that?”

“If I choose to. I can filter it out if it’s overwhelming.”

“How do you see me?”

Obi-Wan paused and he faltered. How could he describe how he saw her? No poet nor scribe could assign words to it, and Obi-Wan could hardly call himself either one of those.

“I don’t know… you’re, well,” Obi-Wan stuttered.

Satine put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, taking his hesitance for some sort of insult.

“How do you see me, Padawan Kenobi?” she said again.

“You’re golden,” he finally spluttered out. “You… you glow. Not like a Force-sensitive does, it’s different from that, but you glow brighter than most sentient life forms and it’s… enchanting.”

He flushed and looked away from her.

Enchanting? Did I really just use the word enchanting to describe her? Come on, Kenobi, what are you thinking?

Hardly a poet indeed.

“Enchanting?”

“Yes,” he cringed. “I… couldn’t think of a better word.”

Satine laughed, but there was no cruelty in it. “It is a fine enough word, though it is quite cliché,” she said. “I wish I could see you in the way you see me.”

“But you do see me,” he said. “Not like a Jedi, no. Maybe because you aren’t a Jedi. I don’t know, but you make me feel seen.”

Oh, he really was dipping into clichés now, wasn’t he?

This time Satine blushed. She turned her face further away from him and stared at the butterflies.

All at once, the butterflies took off — a curtain of blue interrupting the greens and browns of the forest. To Obi-Wan, the air shimmered with their individual signatures. It was as mesmerizing as it was dizzying, and Obi-Wan had to take a brief moment to look away.

“Are you all right?” Satine asked.

“Yes, Duchess,” Obi-Wan said, though he found looking at her to be even more dizzying. “I’m quite all right.”

Together, they stood and watched the butterflies flutter away until not even one remained.

The butterflies were gone and Obi-Wan and Satine kept moving forward.

***

10 Years Later

Obi-Wan strode down the ramp of his ship with a confidence he did not truly feel. Obi-Wan had always been good at faking it until he made it and now was no exception.

The corners of the rectangular box he held in his robe poked at him, but he ignored it.

“Master Kenobi,” Satine’s musical voice rang out. “A pleasure it is to see you on Mandalore once again.”

“A pleasure it is to visit, Duchess.”

“Come, I have much to show you before we head to the senatorial dinner.”

As promised, Satine showed him the new school she had built for the children of refugees. She showed him the new fine arts center and the library in all of its glory.

At the dinner, they sat beside one another, trading glances only they would understand the meaning of. Satine and Obi-Wan managed to get through it without offending any of the off-world politicians — a new record for them.

They allowed themselves a night together. Just one night. A moment of indulgence for two people who sacrificed everything for duty.

But morning came as it always did and the new day signaled the end of their short-lived escape.

Once again, they found themselves standing in front of the ramp of his ship, exchanging barbs and banter that would have been insulting to anyone else. But this was him and this was her and they had their own way of communicating.

Obi-Wan was about to offer his goodbyes before he remembered the rectangular box inside his robes.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I saw this on Pantora and… well… it reminded me of you.”

Obi-Wan handed her the box and she opened it gently. Inside, a delicate chain held the silver figure of a butterfly.

“Like all those years ago,” Satine said softly.

“Exactly.”

“It’s beautiful, Obi-Wan,” Satine said, looking at the necklace reverently.

“You like it?”

“Yes,” she said. She locked eyes with him and gave him a grin. “It’s… enchanting.”

Obi-Wan groaned. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you, Duchess?”

“Not in this lifetime, my dear Jedi,” she smiled mischievously. Gently she pulled the silver chain out of the box and began opening the clasp.

“Let me,” Obi-Wan said, and to his surprise, she did. He stood behind her and worked the clasp. He tried not to get caught up in the curve of her neck or the smell of her hair and focused on the task at hand.

“Can you not stay for just one more day?” Satine asked softly, just as the clasp snapped shut.

Obi-Wan sighed. If she had asked him before he would have said yes. But now…

“I must return to my Padawan, he is not pleased that I left him alone to his studies while I am off traipsing from planet to planet, surely having a better time than he,” Obi-Wan said rueful smile. He wanted to stay, but they both had their responsibilities. She knew that as well as he did.

“Right. I do not wish to keep you from him,” Satine said. Obi-Wan knew she understood, but he felt the melancholy of his departure as much as she did. “Until next time, Master Kenobi.”

“Until next time, Duchess Kryze.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself one last look at her before he turned around to leave.

The necklace glinted in the sunlight, but Obi-Wan paid it no mind. Its metallic glow was a shadow in comparison to hers, and her glow was all he cared to see.

[creacherkeeper]

for the prompts: ayda teaching adaine or riz how to organize her library 💜💜

Intense scrutiny was never a thing Ayda had been good with. She knew she was skilled in many areas, and wouldn’t hesitate to inform others of that if they asked, because purposefully underselling yourself to make others like you always seemed like a double-edged sword (this Ayda had learned the metaphor of double-edged sword very young, because there were, in Leviathan, many actual double-edged swords around at all times). So, she knew she was smart, and was fine with others knowing she was smart, as well as very dedicated and practical and ambitious. She was, also, as a related point, impervious to heat as a half-phoenix. None of these things, however, stopped her from sweating under her armpits.

“How long until we get to work with the actual books?” Adaine asked, glasses being polished by her cleaning rag as Riz held both their notepads. “If I don’t get to breathe in old book smell in the next hour I might die.”

“I’m sure Ayda has a training process and we’ll follow it and be patient because that’s the best way to learn,” Riz said. He grinned at her encouragingly, all sharp pointed teeth. He didn’t look like he’d slept.

“Yes,” Ayda replied. “I do. I do have a process. And we’ll be following it. It’s- well, usually, it’s being followed by retired pirates who’ve had a few too many limbs blown off, and not high school interns, so- it’s- we’ll have to modify it a little, but that’s fine, and this is going to go fine.”

“It’s totally gonna be fine,” Riz agreed, handing Adaine back her notepad. “We’re going to be great interns and you’re not going to regret this at all.”

“Right.” Ayda blinked. “That’s correct. I won’t.”

Riz had a habit of saying technically encouraging things in a way that most people would find highly disconcerting, but Ayda reminded herself that he truly did mean it well and tried not to read the comment badly. Some people were thrown off by him ping-ponging back and forth between completely literal and menacingly sarcastic, and while Ayda at first found herself to be one of them, after spending more time with him (and explicitly asking Adaine through message cantrips) she was getting better at reading his intent.

“I’m so excited I could eat a book,” Adaine said, bouncing on her toes. She quickly continued, “That was not literal. I respect books too much to eat them and it would also likely kill me. I’m just very eager to be working here for the whole summer. Couldn’t possibly think of a better way to spend it. What are we learning first?”

Ayda tried to force her wings to smooth from their bristled state. Eating books was explicitly banned in the Compass Points.

“We’re going to be learning about the library’s organization system,” she said, slipping into her more rigid and formal vocal affect without really meaning to. “It’s unique to the Compass Points and will require dutiful study to master.”

Riz beamed. Adaine’s face skewed in confusion.

“You don’t use the Dewdrop Decimal system?”

Don’t bristle, don’t bristle. The quills of her feathers itched against her skin.

“No. My system was developed decades and decades before Dewdrop and is superior in every way. Dewdrop Decimal was basically a scam artist and is no academic in my eyes. If his organizational system were ever to touch the Compass Points, I’d rather burn the whole thing to the ground and start over.”

Tension crackled between the two girls. Riz grinned again, this time more of a face-wrinkling grimace. He held out his hands.

“Well, how about while we’re here, we just focus on learning Ayda’s system, since that’s what this library uses, and you can continue organizing all the shelves at Mordred by Dewdrop, and not try to reorganize anything here because Ayda might literally kill you?”

There was a loud pop. They turned. Aelwyn stood with a large, dusty tome in her hands, chewing slowly. She popped her gum again, then spoke.

“Is she being a nerd again?”

Ayda stared. “There’s no bubblegum allowed in the library.”

A pause.

“Rawlins gave it to me.”

“Well, Rawlins is expected to know all the rules here, so if that’s true, he’ll be punished swiftly and harshly.”

A few blinks. “I … I traded Rawlins some gum so I could look at this book.”

Riz stood on his tiptoes, neck craning. “Is that the book he keeps with him at all times because if he doesn’t have it, he turns into a pile of bones?”

Aelwyn shifted defensively. “I don’t see why I’m under interrogation here, I just came to say hi.”

Hands rising to cover her face, Ayda tried to breathe.

“Aelwyn, give Rawlins his book back,” Adaine said, short. “And stop stealing my gum, you know I need it for when I study.”

“None of you are any fun at all, but fine.”

The gum popped again as Aelwyn walked away.

Little flickers of flame heated Ayda’s palms as she breathed—deep, calming breaths in and out. Usually, if a new recruit didn’t work out, she could just drop them out the window and let them swim back to some other part of Leviathan while she put a new sign up on the banned patrons wall. But these were her friends. That made it more stressful, somehow.

“I’m really excited to learn about this organizational system, Ayda,” Riz said pointedly. There was a small thump, then a sound like a whap.

“Yes, I am too,” Adaine said.

Ayda dropped her hands. She stared at the floorboards in the space between them.

“Yes. Okay.” She cleared her throat, trying to speak more confidently. “The Ayda Aguefort Library Informational System was developed to revolve around the domains—both divine and scholarly. Some topics are obvious to sort. A book about frogs would fall under the Animal Domain. A book about the legal system would fall under Law. But all books are sorted by their primary domain and then within that, a secondary. So, a book about Leviathan, for example, would fall under the primary domain Civilization and then secondary Watery Death. It’s most important to know a book’s primary domain, and is usually easy to find the secondary following that, as long as you have adequate knowledge of what you’re searching for.”

“Watery death?” Riz whispered.

“Where’s the friendship section?” Adaine said curiously.

Ayda shifted. She blinked a few times, still not looking at them. “Primary, Community. Secondary, Joy.”

She risked a glance up. There was a broad, warm smile on Adaine’s face, eyes squinted happily behind her glasses.

“I take it back. I like this system much better than Dewdrop.”

Ayda’s chest flushed with pride. “Thanks. I do too.”

Footsteps. They glanced up as Aelwyn approached again, one hand on her hip and the other swirling the heavy tome in the air. “Yeah, I don’t know how to put Rawlins back together.”

Tension lessening, Ayda let herself chuckle. “Okay, we’ll take care of that, and then we go back to learning about the library.”

Adaine bounced up to her and linked their arms. The contact was warm and comforting.

“Lead the way, captain.”

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Chapter Three

A/N : Chapter three is here. Survival of the fittest this is how life evolved on earth. And to survive you have to learn to adapt even if you have to make truce with people you hate. Hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think.

A Happy New year to all of you lovely peeps! 💖💖

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mature content, a little PMS drama, language, flashbacks in italics, slight nudity, suggestive themes.

Mini Playlist : Bad Things by Meiko

SERIES MASTERLIST

Complying to the note you take a quick scan of the room ensuring that you’re not being followed by anyone before making your way to the restrooms but instead of going inside you sidetracked to your left and stride your way to the staff exit door across the hall and sneaked outside continuing to walk down the dark alley. You stop when you see a large figure standing in the dark a few feet away from you.

"Y/N" the man speaks with a deep voice.

"Who are you?" You demand. The man walks out of the shadow and your face lit up as you saw his face illuminated by the street light. 

"William? Oh my god!" You rush to embrace him. William Marshal, your father's most trusted wing man and your mentor. All the knowledge you have raptured be it hand to hand to combat or gun fight he taught you all. 

"How are you my little tigress?" 

"Surviving" You say with a small smile. "But what are you doing here?" You were so surprised as well as happy to see him.

"Your father sent me here."

Your brows draw into a frown ''Daddy sent you?...But why?"

"You are alone and boss thinks it's a little dangerous to leave you in the enemy territory on your own" 

You scoff. "Huh, since when did he start worrying about my safety?" 

"He wants me to help you with your task, so how much progress have you made?" He asks.

"Actually William there has been some changes in the plan” You say. “I’m no more playing daddy’s little killing puppet" 

William gives you shocked look. "What, are you planning to backstab your father?" 

''Not literally stab him though I wish I could heh. But I'm gonna make him pay for his crimes by turning him in and then let the law decide his punishment."

"You want to go on a legal battle with the king of illegal trades?” He chuckles lightly at your childish idea. “You're bluffing right?"

"I'm not bluffing Will. I just want to deliver justice to all the people who have suffered for him without anymore bloodshed. And I’m not ruthless like him and at the end of the day he's still my daddy so even if I want I will never be able to kill him" You sigh with remorse. 

"It's a suicide mission Y/N, you can't win against him, not alone"

"Well Rome wasn't built in one day, Will. Plus I have you."

His face went stoic. "I can't betray your father Y/N." 

"Will, how could you forget that this man killed your whole family? He didn't even spare your five year old daughter. Don't you want revenge?" You tried your best to persuade him. 

"That man died when he accepted his allegiance."

"Then here's your another chance to avenge your family. Are you going to help me or not?" You ask him firmly.

"You know I have always seen you no less than my daughter" He reaches out a hand cupping the side of your face "so what does my daughter want me to do?" 

The corner of lips turn up into a smile. "Nothing much for now I just want you to pose as a double agent, provide me all the information and report back to daddy whatever I exactly say to you" You explained. 

William nods in agreement to your plan. "So have the Holland's agreed to this?"

"Holland's?" You frown. "Why on earth would I involve them? They are no less evil."

"You are plotting against your dad the mafia kingpin and you need allies Y/N."

"I don't need any allies…" You pause mid sentence as it finally hits you what Will was actually trying to imply. You narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk "Unless I rat them out against each other and they end up destroying each other in the process without anyone suspecting it was me behind all this. Like this I can hit two birds with one stone"

"Well now you're getting it." William says proudly. 

"By the way boss told me to give you this." He holds out a revolver, you stiffen at it’s sight.

"That's my gun" You swallow hard.

"Yes indeed it is." 

"I can't take it Will and you know why" You say anxiously.

"I know that the past haunts you Y/N but that phase is over. You have to let go" He takes your hand and places the gun. "Keep it, you'll need it" Your palms were sweaty as you gripped on to the gun and looked at it intently. 

"I think you should go back now before your husband gets suspicious and remember.." 

You cut him off before he could finish. 

"To be nice and call in a truce. Trust me I got this." You winked with a sly grin and rushed back to the hall through the backdoor but you are met with an obstacle. Tom was standing right in front of the restrooms, you quickly retreated behind the wall.

"Shit! Why are men so clingy?!" You groan with slight irritation when your phone lights up

T : Hey you okay? You're in for too long. 

T : Y/N???!! 

You roll your eyes as you text him back. 

Y : No I'm not okay!!! 

Concern clouded his features whilst he texted you back.

T : Hey what's wrong? 

T : Darling, you alright? 

You couldn't think of any valid reason to get past him so you had to swallow your pride and texted back with the most safest and believable excuse for a woman. 

Y : I'm PMSing!!!  T : ….OK. 

You peered to see his reaction and you swear you would have burst out laughing if you weren’t in such a sophisticated place, the look on his face clearly showed how weirded out he was. 

Tom on the other hand was clueless about what to reply next, since a young age he has been dealing with the most dangerous people from the underworld but never in his life he had to deal with someone pmsing specifically he never had to deal with you. Though he had a little knowledge about these things thanks to sex ed at high school. You saw him take a deep breath before typing. 

T: You need something? 

Y: Yeah, will a tampon be too much to ask? 

Y: It's kind of urgent. 

T: Right on it. Just stay there. It will be fine, love. 

T: Do you need a change of dress? 

To be honest you were quite taken aback seeing this concerned and understanding side of his. 

Y: No, I'm fine. And please don't come barging in the ladies room. 

T: Yeah I know that. 

As soon as Tom moves away you quickly slip inside the restroom and heaved a sigh of relief. After a few minutes a middle aged woman walks in the restroom.

"You must be Y/N?" She asks with a smile.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Here you go, love." She hands you a tampon. You take it and go inside a stall. You wait for a few minutes before throwing the tampon in the dustbin and emerging out of the stall with a smile.

"Thank you so much." You say smoothening the slight creases on your dress.

"Oh don't be but I must say your husband really loves you. You should have looked at his face how freaked out he was."

"I really doubt the love part.'' You snicker, turning on the faucet in the basin to wash your hands.

"Well darling, here’s an advice from a lady to a lady keep your man happy and satisfied and then not only will he be showering you with all his love as well as—"  She coils her thick glimmering diamond necklace around her slim finger "might get these too."

"Well thank you for your advice but not a fan of leashes you see." You quip drying your hands with the paper towels.

"Trust me sweetie one day you will just want to wear these leashes only for your man." She steps closer putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Will see." You give a tight lipped smile.

After sometime you step out and find Tom patiently waiting for you.

"All good?" He asks, you nod in affirmation.

"It was lovely talking to you sweetheart. See you again." The woman chirps, you smiled waving at her.

Bad Things starts playing……. I know what I want And I'll get what I need I'll come over and I'll show you how Don't you wish that you can have me now?

"Shall we have this dance?" Tom held out his hand. You take it with a smile as he leads you to the center of the room. Your hands go to his shoulders while his hands rest on your hips. You slowly begin to sway your bodies to the music going back and forth, your eyes looking around to the other couples dancing. 

You say that you want all of my love But let's be honest we don't need all that I like it better with no strings attached

"You're welcome." Tom says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Uhh..." You look at him in confusion.

"I guess the words that you are looking for are thank you."

"To be fair it was kind of your duty to help your wife from an embarrassing situation." You quip.

"Oh now I'm your husband, huh?" He raises his eyebrows amused.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

"Well you have been rubbing the fact on my face since day one so—" You half shrug. 

"So what was Mrs. Sinclaire saying?" He asks looking around the room.

"Nothing of my interest just how I should get one of those shining collars around my neck." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Those are gifts from their husbands who love them dearly, love" He corrects you, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

How much more can you take if I give you a taste I've been waiting for you all night long I come around and then I'm gone

"But for me those are glittering leashes" You retort.

"Darling, how much ever you pretend but under this tough shell you're just a hopeless romantic, you crave love and I can give you all of it only if you allow me." Tom laces his hand with yours another hand stays at the small of your back, waltzing to the music. 

You'll get yours, I'll get mine Then we run out of time You're the only one that I desire 'Cause I love to play with fire

"Maybe I'm that's why I still dream of a beautiful life away from all this from you" you say looking deep into his brown orbs.

He leans down to your ear and whispers. "I can assure you one thing princess the farther you want to go away from me the more I will pull you back towards me"

A shiver runs down your spine as his smile turns into a wide grin.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

His hand moved from your back to your lower waist and he dipped you low, taking you by surprise. You bent on your back as he pulled you back up with a force, throwing you against his body sending your body right into his broad frame.

Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you know (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you go (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

You stayed like that for a while, inhaling deeply but the only thing you could smell was him, his expensive cologne intoxicating your senses and then he pushed you back again, spinning you around twice and settling back for the previous slow pace. 

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

The night ends and you are now back at home sitting on your bed busy with your night routine rubbing on some body lotion on your hands as Tom walks in.

"What are you doing in my room?" You frown.

"Technically this is my room" He reminds you rummaging through his closet.

"Not anymore." You state haughtily. He plainly ignores you and goes inside the bathroom. 

After a while he comes out with a towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled upper body, muscles rippling and glistening in the soft golden light of the room.

"You’re staring" He sing-songs, smirking cockily.

"No-no, I'm not'' You fumble. 

"It's ok, darling I'm all yours to look at" You roll your eyes meanwhile he takes off his towel and throws it in the hamper before getting on the empty side of the bed just in his black calvin klein boxers.

"Whoa, you are gonna just wear that?" You ask in surprise. 

"Why you gotta problem?" He smirks while getting inside the covers. 

"No seriously, you’re either fully covered or almost naked. Nothing in between." You remark giving him an annoyed look.

"Why does it turn you on babygirl?" He says with a sultry voice. 

"Shut up and stop with these weirdass names, will ya" You grimace as he chuckles.

"And what about you? You are going to sleep in that?" He points out looking at your sleep shorts and a loose shirt. 

"Well you may think of yourself as a calvin klein's model but I ain't a Victoria’s secret angel. So yes I’m gonna sleep in these" 

"But your Instagram says something else" He quips, making you smile mischievously.

"Aww did someone get all riled up at work?” You click your tongue pouting “so sad." 

Tom all of a sudden grabs your arm pulling you down to him as you jolt down surprised.

"And for that you deserve a nice spanking" His voice low, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"If you touch me I'll chop off your hands." You threaten with a cold stare and pull out your arm from his grip. You lay down turning to your side and snatched away the covers from him.

"Oi! blanket hogger!" He protests, pulling the blanket back.

"Get out of here!" You kicked his leg playfully snatching the cover again.

"Y/N I swear to God I’ll push you off the bed!" He says laughing.

"Shut up you whiny baby." You retort laughing as well.

He moves closer to you bringing his hands to tickle you on the side of your hips. You squealed trying to push him away but he tightened his hold around you both laughing like kids when suddenly you realized how close you were the heat from his bare body felt like burning against your skin. 

What are you doing? You hate this guy, he is the reason Ethan is dead. You remind yourself gaining back your composure and stopped laughing. You went silent closing your eyes as Tom got the hint and backed off.

You soon fell asleep breathing softly but Tom was still awake staring at the ceiling thinking about all the meetings and deals he has to make tomorrow when you shifted on the bed and turned to Tom’s side in your sleep. You subconsciously hiked a leg above his placing your hand over his chest snuggling close to him. 

Tom found it really amusing chuckling softly as he took his time to admire how beautiful and innocent you looked. He went to wrap his arm around you just then he heard you mumbling in your sleep. 

"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry Ethan." His expression goes hard. He retracts his hand away placing it under his head and lets out an exasperated sigh before closing his eyes to sleep.

Next morning you squint your eyes open to find yourself practically laying over Tom's chest, you sit up hastily waking him up in the process. 

"Good morning, princess." He says with a groggy voice. You look at him timidly. 

"By the drool I’m assuming you slept well." You frown rubbing the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

"So much for chopping my hands eh?" He snickers. "But what about you taking advantage of me while sleeping." you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Sorry I used to have a side pillow when I slept."

"Oh it's ok, love. I'm honored to be your human side pillow.'' he says cockily before getting off the bed to get ready for the day. 

"Dickhead" You mutter under your breath.

****

 You went to punch his chest, but William blocked it

"As a devout feminist, I refuse to say that you hit like a girl." William quipped letting go of you, and you spin around in frustration

"Let's try this again, shall we?" 

"Tell me again why I have to learn self defense this early in the morning." 

William began to roll up his sleeves to better move around "You are my  responsibility." 

You smiled "...says the feminist." William chuckled. 

"Fighting is rhythm. There is a music, there is a meter, there is a pattern. Let that rhythm beat within you." He stood defensively and nods at you. 

"Again." you put up your fists and start to fight him, but he easily blocks your blows. You two spin and continued practicing. You struck him again but he blocks it. 

"Legato" You strike again with increased force,

"Ostinato" You strike back with all your force. 

"Crescendo" You managed to hit him, but he blocked the majority of it and held you by your neck. 

"And then, once you've established your cadence--" You spun out of his grip, kicking him, and pressed him against the wall while he's distracted. 

" --You change the key." you said smiling proudly. 

 "Very nice." He said a little out of breath. "But none of this matters if you cannot make the kill." 

"But I don't want to kill anyone." 

"You will. To survive" He said.

You stepped back to catch your breath from the intense workout.

"Now c’mon we will learn something new today." He brought two wooden staff and throws one at you out of the blue which you barely catch.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" You protested. 

"First lesson-- always be on your guard." He instructed. You took note of the weight of the staff in your hands for a moment.

"It's heavy." 

"I was half your age the first time my father gave me the staff. I would have torn every muscle rather than let him see me strain. And, had I--" He attacked you, you barely blocked his blow "-- he would have corrected me." 

"No offense, but your dad sounds like a jerkwad" You panted. 

"Mothers love their children. Fathers make them strong" He attacked you again, and though you struggle to keep up, you manage to continue blocking him.

"Well in my case my daddy doesn't care 'cause he already kind of bidded me off in a stupid deal--" You started to fight back  "-- and my mother is quite ardent to make me strong enough to face anything what is to come my way" You grunt while attacking but William easily dodges your strikes.

"You're anticipating. Do not let me see your move before you make it." He strikes at your staff, knocking you off-balance and causing you to twist your ankle as you fall and whimper in pain

"Get up." He commanded.

"I can't, my ankle hurts." You groaned.

"The ability to end your pain is a warrior's true weapon. Master that, and nothing holds power over you." You glared at him. 

"Now, on your feet." You winced. 

"I said, On. Your. Feet." He barked.

You continued to glare at him, but do grab your staff to use it to help you to pull yourself up on your feet. You leaned against the staff for support. William looked mildly impressed.

"Good. Perhaps you've actually learned something today." 

It’s been almost two weeks since the gala night William has been in contact with you providing you with valuable information. You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed and you were broken out of your daze. It was William, you received the call. 

"Hey Will!" 

"Got some news." 

"Seems like Victor has grabbed quite a hold in the European drug cartel. He has been making quite some big deals." 

"Daddy is making deals with the European drug mafias?" You were surprised at this news. "But how is that possible? As much I know he planned to oust the Hollands off their turf first before taking over their business." 

"Working with your dad I have learnt one thing about him, ‘compartmentalization’ nobody gets to know about his real plans. And that is the reason behind his success." 

"I think I know someone who might give me more info on that. But the most important question is who is doing all the dirty work for him while he is sitting in NY." 

"A new gang has emerged in the city ‘the vipers’ but I’m surprised that the Holland’s didn’t happen to come across them yet." He says before ending the call.

Meanwhile Tom was at the docks of the London port accompanied by his brother Harry for a meeting with an old time ally.

"Gomez, after a long time mate." 

"Yeah Holland business has been a little rough these days"

"So my brother tells me that you wanted some negotiations to be done with the current revenue arrangement of the port area"

"Yes Holland about that you see you're charging an outrageously high protection money and for that I am having very little profit from my drug trafficking business" 

"Well mate protecting you from the cops and allowing you to smuggle through my port comes with a high price I told you at the beginning only." Tom says.

"Then I might have to rethink our alliance, Holland."

"You mean you want to call off the deal?" Tom raises his eyebrows.

"Yes you guessed it right" 

"That's really brave of you given that the narcotics are already suspicious about your activities" Tom mocks with a sinister look in his eyes.

"I'll take my chances and there's this new gang who are ready to provide protection at a much cheaper rate plus they are going to help me expand my trade to the States. And profit has always been my first priority mate." Gomez states.

"Well whatever suits you mate but the port is still under my control if I may remind you so perhaps you should start watching your back" Tom advises, malice in his voice and then he storms out of the place.

****

You have finally decided to have a night out and blow off some steam. You dressed up in a slip dress and put on your matching stilettos. Booking yourself an uber you were just about to go down the stairs when you heard some heated argument coming from the office though it was mostly Tom’s voice you heard and by the tone you deduced he was very angry. 

You slowly made your way towards the room to see Tom standing in the middle of the room with Harrison and Harry beside him, his men surrounding him as he yells at them. They were so engrossed into the meeting that nobody bothered to notice you standing so you quietly lean against the doorframe and listened to their conversation.

"I'm paying a bunch of assholes for nothing!" Tom barks. 

"Tom, calm down." Harry goes to tone down his brother.

"How can I calm down?! Some bloody newbie gang has been operating right under my nose! on my turf! and I have no news about that." He snaps.

You couldn’t help but the whole conversation made you chuckle a little too loudly drawing everyone’s attention present in the room. Tom was already seeing red with his business going into jeopardy and seeing you laugh like that he went ballistic. 

"Does something here appear funny to you?" He glares at you.

"Well funny things do." You retort.

"And may I have the pleasure of knowing what you found so funny?"

"Well seeing you guys all worked up about this whole new emerging gang snatching away your territory. I really feel pity for you."

"Thank you for your pity now you may leave, anyways women are not allowed here. I should not see you snooping around in the future near this room." He orders.

"Your loss I might know something that could have helped you in solving your little problem." You shrug and turn to leave. 

"Wait! What do you mean?" 

"Well I guess women don’t do business here so I better keep my mouth shut." You taunt agitating him even more.

"Stop fucking with me Y/N! If you know something then tell me." You pucker your face pretending to think. 

"Please" he adds softening down a bit, you sigh audibly.

"Ok then let me give you a heads up. The viper gang which is hampering your business deals is owned by none other than Victor Martinez aka my daddy dearest." Tom's eyes went wide as well as Harrison's and Harry's. 

"What! You’re kidding right?" You scrunch your nose shaking your head sideways dismissively.

"But-but we had a deal!" He was still in disbelief.

"Honey you made a deal with the devil. What did you expect?" Tom crosses the room in three strides and grabs hold your arm with a death grip anger raging in his eyes.

"Leave my hand, Tom! You’re hurting me!" You struggle twisting your arm. He slightly loosens his grip but still holds on to you. 

"What more do you know? What have you father-daughter planned behind this whole wedding facade?!" He spat gritting through his teeth.

"Hey don't go all out on me! I myself didn't know about this until today. He never told me about this secret gang." 

He scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "And you want me to believe that?" 

"It’s up to you if you want to believe or not but if I would be plotting against you why would I even care to tell you all this?" You pull your hand away "--and this growing hatred inside you I have thousands of times more of that hatred inside me for him" you seethe.

"Then what was the meaning of the whole deal?" 

"Well he wanted me to lure you and trick you into writing everything you own including your business to my name and then kill you." Tom is left speechless with your revelation.

"What? Feel the bitter taste of betrayal?" You smirk. "Now you’ll understand what I felt." 

"Okay then you guys have fun working out your plan on going against your new enemy while I enjoy my night with some music and drinks." You chirp enthusiastically.

"Now where are you going so late?" Tom sounded tired.

"None of your business" 

"Anthony, Michael go with her" He orders two of his men.

"No need, my uber is already waiting outside" saying so you left.

Reaching the club you order some drinks for yourself. You sit on the seat near the counter enjoying the ambience as the bartender hands you a martini. Though it wasn’t like the rave parties you had in NY but you really felt relaxed finally out by yourself after being trapped in that house for two weeks after your wedding which felt like ages. 

"You're Y/N right?" You look up to your side to find the red head girl from yesterday.

"And you're the hooker" You quip and she chuckles.

"Yeah I am, it's Sandy by the way." She takes seat beside you. "So where’s your husband?" 

"Probably still shouting at his men." You shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

"Not to be prying but what's the deal between you two? It looks like you hate each other's guts"

"Don’t know about him but I definitely do, perhaps after tonight he might start hating me too." 

"Then why the hell did you get married?" 

"Well honey things don't work like that in the mob. A wedding is just a strategic alliance between two families for their own mutual benefits. We just serve as scapegoats, our fates were sealed together the day we were born" You explain. 

"Well that’s some really messed up shit" She sympathizes. 

"I know." 

"But you can still work it out. You know he isn’t that bad, at least not in bed" She grins cheekily. 

"Okay I didn’t need to know that" You chuckle sarcastically. 

"You’re really missing a good dick girl, that you can have any time you want and all your life." 

"Do I look like a nymphomaniac?’’ You laugh ‘‘-and no doubt he is a dick. He is the reason my innocent boyfriend is dead, I’m stuck here in this stupid marriage and instead of apologizing what does he do? He brings in girls, acting like a slut" You rant.

"You're bothered aren't you?" 

"No, why would I be bothered with whom he sleeps?" You stand up from your seat stumbling a little already feeling tipsy.

"-- you know what I'm gonna enjoy today, get drunk and dance my sorrows away." "Everyone in the house tonight’s drinks are on me! Enjoy the free booze!" You screamed. The whole crowd whooped and whistled.

"To my fucked up life!" You shouted, downing a shot. 

You made your way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing without any worry about tomorrow. Within seconds you felt two hands around your hips, you turn your head to find a cute boy probably of your age as you continued to dance and grind against him. After a couple of songs you went back to the counter and had some more drinks. You were totally wasted as your vision went blurry and pretty soon everything blacked out.

It feels like a struggle for you to open your eyes as you stir inside the covers. Huh? You squint your eyes open and realize you were actually lying in a bed. You slowly sat up, your head was pounding with last night’s hangover as you groaned holding your head. Your eyes slowly adjusts to your surroundings and you realize that you were indeed back home and in your bedroom. You look down at your body and were shocked to find yourself in just your black strapless bra and underwear.

"You’re up at last." You hurriedly pull the covers up to your chest hearing Tom’s voice. 

He walks in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tightly fitted black t-shirt, his biceps bulging out of it. It was really odd to see him in such an informal attire but he looks good, you slapped yourself internally for the last thought.

"What happened last night? How did I get here? And where are my clothes?!" You badgered him with questions.

"Woah slow down, that's a lot of questions at one go and you should be the first one explaining about your reckless behavior last night."

"Why, what did I do?" You frown.

"Oh you really went wild last night. For starters you danced with random blokes and then you drank more and got wasted. And then you took off your dress whilst those drunk bastards did body shots." Your mouth falls agape in shock.

"Wait what? I took off my dress in public?!" You were still in disbelief.

"Yeah and that’s not all” He says with a scoff “You let those twats lick salt and lemon off your body while they did shots. Thanks to Sandy who informed me on time." You rolled your eyes looking away. 

"After seeing you being used for body shots things got a little nasty out there and they had to close early."

"What did you do?" You ask anxiously. 

"That any man would do seeing his wife being touched by other men." He growls the last bit.

"What do you mean?" 

"I made sure they will be in the hospital for a good couple of months." He states rather proudly. 

You slap your forehead shaking your head in annoyance. You didn't realize that you had let go off the sheets covering your body giving Tom quite a view which he had missed the other day. 

He slowly leans forward, eyeing you up and down lustfully prompting you to back off until your back touched the head board. He crawls towards you further hovering over you reaching his hand out to cup your face.

"You really upset me yesterday Y/N." His voice low as his hand brushes your hair from your shoulder and travels downs to your chest fingertips gently brushing over your rib cage down to the valley of your breasts slightly tugging to the soft material of your bra. You caught hold of his hand to stop him from going down further, he smirks. 

"Funny how you allow strangers to touch you, but not me, your husband who has the only right to do it." You kicked his crotch but not too hard. 

"Bloody hell!!" He groaned as you tackled him down bringing yourself on top straddling him. You were far gone from feeling self conscious, sitting on top of him in just your undergarments. 

"Well the thing is I don't take you as my husband." You sneer narrowing your eyes. "And the last time I checked, you don't trust me." 

"Well I never trusted you on the first place and you proved it last night quite nicely for the reason why” He says. “but honey I'm not letting you go so easily."

"After a lot of thought I actually think you could be a perfect leverage for me" He then goes to press his hand to your lower stomach "Moreover if you were with my child I guess grandpa Victor will certainly agree to some negotiations" He ticked his jaw with a devilish grin. You flare your nostrils fuming at his audacity. 

"I would rather be barren than let you father my child and give him/her this cursed life." You seeth. Tom seemed a little hurt by your words of how you think he's going to be a terrible father but he masked it with his usual cocky self. 

"Truth be told princess I love to be on top and in control but for a change you really look so pretty on top, can't imagine how beautiful you'll look while you ride my dick" He says tracing your jawline with his fingers. You swat his hand away. 

"You're such a piece of shit!" You snap getting off him. He gets up chuckling and leaves the room as you quickly get off the bed and run to the bathroom. 

Undressing yourself from the leftover clothes you ran a warm shower, the warm water quickly relaxing your muscles. You smelt of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes which made you feel dirty. You squirted some body wash and lathered your body with it before washing it off. Then you washed your hair with shampoo. 

You take your time before drying yourself off and walk out of the bathroom busy fixing your towel and bumped into Tom. His large hands held your arms steadying you meanwhile your towel loosens and falls off your body. You both looked at each other in shock. 

Tom stands there like a statue gaping at you, eyes lingering from top to bottom of your exposed body; ‘man you have a goddess like body’ he thought as beads of water trickled down your wet hair. You finally come back to your senses then it suddenly hit you that you were standing completely naked. 

"What the fuck!! Tom close your eyes!!!" You shriek out quickly bending down to grab the towel and cover yourself. Hearing you scream Harrison came barging in your room. 

"What happened mate?" Out of instinct Tom lunges forward and embraces you tightly blocking you from anyone's view.

"Harrison! Get the fuck out of here!" 

"Oh I'm sorry bruh. Didn't know you were busy." He cackles turning around. Some of his other men also came rushing in thinking something happened, leading to a total chaotic situation in the room. 

"Yes, who else is left to join the party you are cordially invited!" You yell frustrated. 

Tom is still guarding you as he yells sharply. "Get out of here you bloody morons!" 

When everyone is finally out of the room Tom steps back as you stand at your place clutching on to your towel, both of you looking away from each other. After a few awkward moments of silence Tom finally speaks up. 

"That was quite a spectacular view, you have kept things quite perked up I see." He says playfully. And that was enough to get on your nerves. 

"You!!!" You glower taking the vase you found near you in your hand to hurl it at him. He steps back a little, raising his hands defensively. 

"Careful love! That cost me thousands of dollars, though I don't have any shortage of money but still don't want a lovely art to go to waste just to appease your anger on your piece of shit husband" He snickers breaking into a laugh and runs out of the room leaving you fuming. 

"Son of a bitch! Uggh!!" You stomp your feet keeping back the vase at its place. Your phone dinged and you went to check, it was a message from William. 

W : Good news

..................................................................

Taglist in bio or send an ask/dm I’ll add you

[dykeotomy]

I really like your post on collectivism it is so true. I'm very involved in trade union work in my western country (ireland) and the amount of people who are like: "workers are paid so bad conditions are so bad" and I'm like you should get involved with your local trade union and fight on that you sound real passionate!!! And they're like I dont want to pay union subs?? Which is like... so you want change, you wont personally do anything, you wont pay 5 euro a week to support a trade union to actually fight for all those things but it's okay cos you INDENTIFY as someone who cares about worker's rights and tell people that? So what if you do zero about it?

The worst who are like the unions are left wing enough so I wont join one... even the least radical trade unions can win workplace battles... I'm out there in a highly unionised working environment and I still have to fight all the time. It's like collectivism involves actually doing something. Arghhh!!! The cure is to actually see people who have dedicated their time fighting for change.

thank you!!

the thing you said about identifying as someone who cares is so real. before uni i had several meetings with my high school’s administration to talk about things that the student body wanted (and got in trouble for the walk-outs i organized when the meetings fell through lol) and people were always asking me why i cared so much and how i got the courage to do these things—but it comes so naturally to me. i don’t understand people who want things to happen but never do anything other than think about it—it would drive me insane to just sit and think. i grew up around family that had the most wild, interesting life stories because they are proactive, and seeing my western-raised peers wait for things to simply happen is just incredibly unappealing

and yes the politics are so infuriating! my friend’s dad was in a union for his construction work but he left AND quit his job because he didn’t like how left-wing it was. i remember him telling me once that if he wasn’t poor, he’d always vote republican. the cognitive dissonance…insane

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 18th

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories! 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

Trapped in shadows by geekymoviemom (No Powers AU/97K) 

All Steve Rogers wanted after a lifetime of war was to immerse himself in quiet, and solitude. Opening a bookstore seemed like the perfect answer. He could escape to any world that he desired, all while keeping his past firmly behind him, where it belonged.

Until the day Peter Stark walked in.

***Rookie & Jailbait Take on the World by orphan_account (Cop AU/7k) 

“You really should be in school, you know.”

“Why would I be there when I could be here, solving crimes with my favourite rookie?” Tony flashes a grin, and Steve’s stomach twists like it did on the first day.

Teenager, Steve’s mind supplies. Definitely not legal, stop doing fluttery things, stomach.

look at your life, look at your choices by nightwalker (No Powers AU/1.6K) 

Steve was aware that his tone was rapidly leaving “hushed whisper” in the dust and careening straight into the territory of “frantic wail” but it was either shatter Bucky’s eardrums or die right there in his cubicle of a heart attack.

resurrection, reconstruction, & redemption by Elspethdixon, Seanchai (Civil War Fixit/90k)

Doom brings Steve back from the dead. Hijinks ensue, some of which might vaugely be considered plot.

***Who Wouldn't Go? by isozyme (Fake Dating 3.9k) 

“But it’ll help you?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” Tony replies, even as he knows this is going to break his fragile, smitten heart. Steve, on his arm, coming up with some sweet story of how they met, having to pretend to Steve afterwards that it had all been an act on Tony’s part as well, cock-blocked Tantalus hoist on his own petard.

“Then I’ll do it,” Steve says. “Anything for -- for a friend.”

Diastolic pressure (in between heartbeats) by firebrands (Fake dating/8k) 

For flame, who gave the prompt "Steve and Tony have been fake dating for a while, but everyone else thinks they're *really* in love. When a mission goes terribly and Tony is presumed dead, Steve realizes he's in love with Tony and Dramatic Shenanigans Ensue."

The heat of this flower imagines by firebrands (Fake dating/4k) 

Steve isn’t really paying attention to anything when something red catches his eye: a petal. He looks down at his lap and picks it up.

He’s contemplating the petal, glancing around to see where it could’ve come from, when an unfamiliar feeling wells up inside him and he coughs. He hasn’t coughed in years, not after the serum.

He looks down. On his lap: more petals.

*

For Cap-Ironman Holiday Exchange, with the prompts:

It wasn't Tony's fault, okay?

Being soulmates shouldn't be this hard.

Steve can absolutely fix this.

***Ready, fire, aim by gyzym (Getting Together/21k) 

There's no "I" in "Avenger."

While We Pretend to Sleep by Typo66 (A/B/O/52K)

Tony pretends to be an alpha. Then he forgets he had been pretending. One thing he remembers is Steve. Steve tries to help out in his old fashioned, ethically strict way. Tony likes making big gestures. He has never been subtle.

i want to hurt you by festiveferret (PWP/6K) 

How could Steve ever look Tony in the eye again? He loved Tony, so desperately, but he didn't know how to come back from this. He didn't know how many apologies would be enough to make up for what he'd done.

He could still feel Tony's soft skin giving to dark bruises under his fingers.

flyboy by autoschediastic (Established relationship/5k) 

"With wild and crazy abandon," Tony said, and grabbed him around the waist to yank him close like a black and white picture hero. "Hold on tight."

i am the night by gottalovev (Vampire AU/6K) 

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

Braid by AvengersNewB (Viking AU/2K) 

Viking Arranged Marriage AU - Young omega Tony is traded to the Vikings by Stane, for safe passage and gets married to alpha Steve Rogers the captain of the chiefly vessel.

Your face smiling up at me by mireille (Fake dating/24k) 

The picture going around is totally misleading. Tony was checking out Steve's earpiece, not whispering sweet nothings into his ear. But Steve sees an opportunity to distance himself from bigots who keep trying to use his image to support their causes, and besides, it's only a little lie. Steve's really bisexual. Steve's really in love with Tony.

The only part that isn't true is that Tony feels the same.

He's willing to go along with the plan, though, and they can just "break up" later, right? It's going to be fine.

Love was made for me and you by RossKL (Fake dating/11k) 

“Since when does Steve Rogers drink?” Tony teases. He watches Steve getting closer, stopping only when his body is pressed up to Tony’s side.

“It’s iced tea, Tony.” Steve smiles. His hand wanders down Tony’s spine. “You know I don’t drink on the job,” he finishes, hand resting on Tony’s hip. Holy shit.

Love drunk by fayara (Getting Together/6k) 

Tony gets hit with a magical spell that makes him act drunk. What follows is not quite what Steve imagined.

*

“This is ridiculous,” Steve said, hand coming up to tug at his collar before thinking better of it, and letting it fall by his side again.

Tony looks at Steve from his side, tilts his head in Steve’s direction. “Oh come on,” Tony says, tone amused but eyes tight. “You should be enjoying this. After all, it’s a party for your relationship.”

From you i cannot hide by SailorChibi (BDSM AU/66K) 

Being a sub isn’t the worst thing in the world. Being a sub who doesn’t like pain, well. That’s just weird. A sub’s sole responsibility in life is to be anything and everything a dom wants, an open canvas for a dom’s brush, malleable and sweet. Obie taught him that, and that fear ultimately tears him and Pepper apart. So Tony hides his dirty secret and doesn’t sub for anyone now. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting.

***bust a deal, face the wheel by Annie D (scaramouche) (post-apocalyptic AU/17K)

For the first time in years, Tony leaves the relative safety of his hill in order to follow Steve to Carbon Town. He doesn’t know if it’d be worth it, but he’s willing to give it a shot. 

Love of inconvenience by AvengersNewB (A/B/O/5K) 

Tony had a plan; bond with Steve to keep him from deportation until he could find Steve's childhood friend Mr. Barnes.

Temporary.

For convenience.

The plan did not entail falling for this perfect beautiful omega.

***Saffron by FestiveFerret (Stripper AU/10K) 

The club is called Saffron, but there's no sign outside to let you know that.

I know there is comfort where we overlap by jellybeanforest (Fake Dating/10K) 

As a relic of a bygone era, Steve struggles with feelings of isolation and severe depression made worse by his recent breakup with Jan Pym. He secretly hooks up with random strangers chasing a sense of connection with someone, anyone. Things are going (not) well when he and fellow Ultimate, Iron Man, are tasked with infiltrating a Thai resort serving as a front for illegal arms dealing. Only catch: They must go undercover as a married couple on their honeymoon.

For Stony Loves Steve 2021. Based on a prompt by ghosthan.

Birthdays are important by Samptra (Steve Rogers Winter Soldier/7k) 

The Winter Soldier looked taken aback, “My birthday?”

Tony nodded, “Yes your birthday, it was in your file.”

Steve’s forehead wrinkled in thought, “I don’t remember,” he confessed.

“Yeah March 10, 1920,” Tony offered voice soft, as the jazz swirled around them. Tony leaned over the table, kissing him sweetly on the lips, “I’m sorry we missed it this year love, we’ll do something extravagant next year.”

Steve smiled at him, well his snarl, but Tony thought maybe it was softening a bit looking more like a smile and less like a baring of teeth.

“As long as I get to spend it with you,” he rasped and Tony melted.

Good old fashioned apple pie by bardingbeedle (Getting together/2.8k) 

Five times Steve tries to date Tony, and one time Tony gets with the program.

Or, five times Steve uses food to try and capture Tony’s heart, and one time it finally works.

Tell me that it’s not too late by complicationstoo (Canon divergent/1.5k) 

In that cave in Afghanistan, Tony keeps seeing flashes of things. He sees Steve more than anything. Sees blue eyes and a bright smile and if he tries hard enough he can almost hear the laugh that comes with it. Sometimes it’s that first day again, with roaming hands and a rush to get off in the bathroom of some party he didn’t want to be at, followed by an easy grin and the promise to do that again sometime.

It’s that last night he remembers the most. He can almost hear the words whispered in the dead of night and remembers the ones he held back, because Tony has never known how to be completely honest. He didn’t know how to say that this casual friends with benefits things was starting to feel less like friends and more like love, but when he lays down with his aching chest and bleeding fingers on the poor excuse for a cot at night, he wishes more than anything that he could have found the words before.

Didn’t see a thing by complicationstoo (High school AU/667) 

Steve taps the eraser end of his pencil against the open page of his biology textbook as he rereads a sentence about the function of the mitochondria again. No matter how many times he goes over the page, he still doesn't know the rough endoplasmic reticulum from the golgi apparatus, and the diagram is starting to appear blurry in his vision. He's about ten seconds away from throwing the book against the wall in frustration when the door to his study room abruptly opens, then closes again.

He looks up to see a boy about his own age with wide eyes and dark, tousled hair breathing heavily against the door. The boy briefly meets his eyes, flashes him a smile, then turns to look out the small window between the door and the wall. He must not like what he sees, because he mutters a curse and bolts to duck behind Steve's chair.

Steve twists around to ask what the hell is happening, but the boy puts a finger to his grinning lips and whispers, “If anyone asks, you didn't see anything.”

Calm before the storm by desitonystark (Established relationship/1.3k)

Steve shifts so that he can run his fingers through Tony’s hair and dimly thinks that while he loves getting lost in a good book, his favourite thing about the 21st century is getting lost in Tony.

Or: Steve likes to wind down by reading a book. Tony likes to wind down by finding Steve.

Adjustment period by mistymountainking (Established relationship/2.2k)

Tony and Steve have been together for a while now. They love each other a truly sickening amount. Unfortunately, Tony's issues have issues. 

[confused-as-all-hell]

Nina Zenik's trade was love.

Her lips were the colour of teenage breakups, her eyelids dusted dreamy gold. Her kisses tasted like melting chocolate, and the touch of her bare hands was wildfire, burning, destruction. Within a cage of ribbon and bone, her heart wept for quiet.

Her smile could have set the world aflame.

Nina had ridden desire until her body gave out, had slept with infatuation in her bed, had risen to the prying hands of lust. She had never known gentle touches or warm butterfly lips; men and women both saw her body, saw an opportunity, a conquest.

She loved, my god, she loved.

But nobody had ever loved her.

Some tried; they took her to quaint little cafes and pretty sparkling monuments, but her laugh was too bright, her grin too wide, she was too much to be managed.

Her friends did their best to cheer her, and their kindness was often her lifeline, but Inej’s comforting hand never struck out, and Kaz’s vicious mind never bent towards anything but his studies, and Jesper was too busy with his boyfriend for more than a friendly hello.

Nina had never expected them to wage her wars, but some little, nagging part of her mind longed to be fought for.

So when she met Matthias Helvar, she hated him.

He was gentle, kind, waited on her opinion, halted before kissing her fingertips. His warmth, she thought with breathtaking terror, was just a ruse.

No person on the entire fucking Earth could romantically love her.

She knew that her giggles were just too raucous, and her body too curved, and her wit could have cleaved the moon. She knew she was too much, and she knew she wasn't enough.

When she was studying, when she was jesting, when she was laying on top of Matthias' broad frame, the vines crept in.

When she heard him sneer at a young woman, when she heard him degrade her, their, rights, those tangling vines nearly fucking strangled her.

For the first time in her life, Nina fell silent. The stars spun before her eyes. The ocean was in her ears. The hatred and bewilderment clouded her lungs.

When she mentioned it to Kaz, he only frowned. "Helvar isn't known for his humanity," he said fairly.

Nina didn’t shake. She didn’t sob. She didn’t bury her face in her hands and weep.

She was still Nina Zenik, and she would not lose her heart over a hateful boy.

She only turned to Kaz, seated at her desk, and Inej, cross-legged on the bed, and Jesper, sprawled on the floor.

And Nina did what she had forsworn eight years ago.

She begged.

They were good to her, her friends.

They worked quietly and quickly, abandoning their piles of homework to soothe her furious heart, ditching their responsibilities for her anger.

It was their love she clung to when red flashed before her eyes.

Yes, she cared for Matthias, more than she ever wanted to admit.

But she was proud to be a female, and prouder still to be a feminist. She refused to dissolve her values for a few hours of sex.

They worked through the dregs of night, and when the first wisps of sunlight spun around the stars, Nina at last sat back.

Later that day, Matthias Helvar was expelled.

She had been staring at his back during one of their lectures, silent silent silent, as Inej squeezed her hand tight.

When the announcement came, all she felt was a bitter surge of terror.

The look on his face, the misery and humiliation and awful bewilderment, it would fucking haunt Nina forever.

He turned to her, eyes full of hope. "I was with you that day," he said softly. "You know I didn't."

Matthias, bold and kind and gentle, the god of burnished gold, a saviour like none she had ever known. His kisses tasted of salvation, his laugh sounded of redemption.

And fuck if the pain on his face didn't break her damn heart.

I'm wrong I'm wrong I'm wrong.

For just a second, Nina wondered if she had acted too harshly. But the image of the girl, sobbing into into her hands, screaming she was worthless and awful and didn’t deserve to be called human….

“I am so sorry, Matthias,” Nina said softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Months later, Nina still dreamt about the hopeless look in his eyes, the way he would pick her up and kiss her neck, how his kindness was her tether.

Did she love him?

Yes.

She loved him, simply, bitterly, indomitably.

It felt like dying.

It felt like waking up in the middle of the night, heart hammering, and trying to shift the veil of sleep from your gaze because something's wrong, something's out of place, and fuck if it isn't a boy with pretty blue eyes.

It felt like searching for your oblivion in someone else's body, and their hands are too wide, and their breath too rough, and the fury that lights your bones aflame is too fucking much.

Nina was no stranger to heartbreak. Many, many boys had shattered her courage, her wit, her pride; she had built it up again, a fortress of red silk and crimson anger.

But to break someone else's heart, to dream of a guileless laugh like rumbling thunder, to think of his coffee order whenever Inej asked her what she wanted for breakfast, it was nearly too much to bear.

She tried to heal herself.

She tried changing her perfume and restyling her hair, tried shedding the skin of a rash, reckless woman, and dressed in the suitable tones of a graceful lady.

But a quiet life did not suit Nina Zenik.

The roar in her head could have broken queens. The hum of adventure in her veins moaned for one more taste. The tide of kindly words and gentle smiles were unfamiliar in her mouth.

Her friends always did their best to extend a hand, and it was due to Kaz's ability to hack the school website that her grades remained polished. It was thanks to Inej's quiet that Nina could breathe for just a bare second. It was put down to Jesper's raucous laugh that she clung to life.

How stupid, she told herself, to cry over a boy.

But she knew there was no shame in crying over a boy. It was natural to mourn a relationship, a missed opportunity, and it didn't make her less.

What she really meant was: How stupid, to cry over an awful person.

Was Matthias awful?

That remark, that stupidly bitter remark, was terrible, yes. But she in her indomitable fury had reacted so harshly.

Worse men than twenty-three-year-old Matthias Helvar had learned better. Couldn't he?

For a second, hope lifted her heart on the wind.

The very next morning, she hurried out to the center where Matthias was doing his penance, and she begged to speak with him.

When he stalked out, tall and breathtakingly handsome, aurete hair brushed back and glacier eyes gentle... fuck if she didn't lose her damned mind.

"Nina," he whispered, so softly, as if her name was his salvation.  As if they were back in the safety of her bedroom, bare among the silk sheets, limbs intertwined as he gasped for her to keep going, not to stop.

"Hello," she said shakily.

"Nina, my love," he said again, his words heavy with sorrow. “My sweet garden flower.”

Her joy rose like a crashing wave, and for just one second, it felt like she might conquer the entire fucking world.

"Matthias," she said, her voice strangely airless.

He rushed towards her, fingers reaching, and she dared to close her eyes. His calloused palms brushed against her bare throat.

"My darling," he murmured into the hollow of her ear. "Oh, Nina, why would you come here tonight?"

"Am I unwelcome?"

He laughed, but it was injected with something akin to misery. "You were always welcome, Nina. I never turned you away from my door. My bed was yours. My hands, yours. The key to my dorms hung around this pretty neck. When have I ever denied you houseroom?"

"I thought you might hate me," she admitted, still trembling. The idea seemed ridiculous now.

"Hate you?" Matthias echoed, thumb grazing her pulse point, pressing down gently. "My fucking god, Nina, I have detested you since the very moment you said my name in that damned lecture hall."

Her heart stuttered.

"Every aspect of your pretty fucking face," he whispered, still soft as if he was kneeling for his confessional, "reviles me. Your laugh, your grin, those little melodies even the birds cannot mirror. The way you write your birthday cards. The way you sat by while I was convicted for a crime I did not commit."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, light as a butterfly's wings. "Oh, my darling, but you knew. Was I so terrible to you? Did I not sing you to sleep and hold your hand and bring your spring blossoms?"

She tried to croak his name, but he ghosted a finger across her lips.

"I loved you, Nina Zenik," he said. "I love you still. But send me to fucking hell if I wouldn't drive a blade through your heart." He pressed his mouth to her own again, so delicate, so careful. "I thought you cared for me."

But Nina was beyond responses. She was dashed on the rocks, laying on the stretcher, amid the ashes of her ancestors.

"No?" said Matthias gently. "Very well, my sweet love. Go to your grave in my arms, as I went to heaven in yours."

His fingers brushed her lips, grazed the swell of her breasts, closed around her throat.

When Nina woke the next morning, it was to her own unmade bed. Her neck was so swollen, peppered in bruises and markings in the shape of broad fingertips. She could barely speak.

She didn't know if she would have, even if given the choice.

The words within her, the lovely ebb and flow of their comfort, had washed away with the tide at last.

Within a few days, the markings on her skin had nearly been scrubbed away, and the gasping pressure of her larynx had eased up enough for her to cry.

She felt like an untethered ship, bound for no shore, alone on the ocean with no hope of salvation. No matter how loud her desperate screams, there was no lighthouse beacon shining through the storm, no gentle arms to welcome her home.

Her tears fell like raindrops, pattering into her morning tea and onto the silk of her pillows, rolling down her face and staining her clothes with salt.

Inej tried to soothe the grief, and her grace was often enough to hold the hurricane at bay. She slept in Nina's bed, hands outstretched as if beseeching forgotten gods, the set of her delicate face troubled.

Kaz worked hard to keep her grades high, and he seemed to take her desk as his own, working there until the latest hours of night whenever Inej ran late. He was always there, irate and dry perhaps, but there.

Jesper, newly engaged to bright-as-the-stars Wylan Van Eck, could be counted on for mindless chatter and familiar jests.

It helped, of course it did.

But nothing filled the hole in her armor, the pride Matthias had so aptly destroyed.

Some people had thought of Nina's rage as a monster, a beast slithering through the night, a serpent prone to striking first and thinking later.

But she had loved that fury, loved her pride. It gifted her a defense against sneers and remarks and hatred. It had given a little girl with happy eyes a purpose, eighteen years ago.

Nina blazed like fire, lovely and breathtaking, but so many forgot that her flames were not just pretty. They were scalding, awful, burning hot to the touch.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

It was ten months before she saw him again.

Nina was leaning over the counter at a little cafe, doing her best to remember her friends' orders, touching her fingers one by one.

A laugh, like the demanding rumble of a hurricane, crested over the cafe.

Her heart fucking stopped.

Matthias was seated at a rickety table, arms tucked behind his head. He was grinning at a boy seated across from him, one of the number who had snickered at his remark over that weeping girl, all that time ago.

He glanced to the side, laughter on his soft rosy lips, and caught glimpse of her.

It was too late to smooth her straight dark hair, or wish she had worn a ball gown instead of ripped jeans and one of Jesper's T-shirts.

It was far too late to do anything but stroll up to his table and lean across the wood.

"Aerts," she said with a click of her tongue, indicating the other boy. "Darling, and I thought your sad little gang provided good company?"

"No complaints," Aerts said with a roguish smile. "You look pretty enough to whine in my ear, though, Zenik. You fancy a tumble?"

There was a shuffle, and a loud thud, as if Matthias had swung his foot into Aerts' shin.

"Fuck off," Matthias said jerkily to her.

"I'd much rather get off," Nina said dispassionately.

His ears turned red. "You've grown more petulant than ever."

"You didn't mind my whining," she said airily.

A hand flashed in the air; Kaz, waving her over impatiently.

Nina waved to signal her understanding before turning back to the boys. "How about it, Helvar? For the sake of nostalgia. I'm going home with somebody tonight, might as well be you."

Aerts didn't seem offended she'd turned him down. On the contrary, he grinned shiftily at his friend. "Go on. It'll be fun."

They barely made it to an alleyway before Matthias was kissing her.

The sex was quick and rough and furious, bruised lips and roaming hands, gasping moans and clever fingers. It was Nina with her head thrown back against the wall, eyes fluttering like the wings of a dove. It was Matthias bent down over her, whispering I hate you I hate you I hate you as though the words were his litany.

When he knelt before her, the sun was in his skin, his hair, the brush of his tongue.

And suddenly they were in their first year again, learning to love and lose and grieve and gift.

He bought earrings shaped like little stars for her because he had seen the way her eyes lit up.

She left a bouquet of white lilies on his bed because he had once mentioned they were his favourite.

He kissed the curves of her body because he had seen the disgust which others regarded them with.

She let him cry on her shoulder the anniversary of his sister's death because it hurt it hurt it hurt.

But just like in their first year, they parted.

He would always be the boy with some semblance of poison in his heart.

She would always be the girl who was simply too much for anyone to love.

And if they met, again and again, in thrift shops and opulent restaurants and beaches and nightclubs, they could pretend it away. They could smile, wave, sleep at night with the memory of a sweet laugh ringing in their ears.

Maybe one day, another day, a kinder day, they met again.

Maybe this time, Nina would ask him to heal the hatred in his blood.

Maybe this time, Matthias would tell her why he had hurt that girl.

Maybe they would love each other anew, a spring blossom eager to flower again, an old oak tree strong enough to outwait the storm.

But for now, the blossom will wither and die every winter, and the tree will go gently to the hurricane.

For now, it is Matthias, the king of ice, Nina, the queen of fire.

For now, love is simply not enough.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Around the Carousel

Catch me joining Damian Wayne Week after it started with some impulse fics. This is for day 2 (I almost made it to actually posting on the 14th my time). I selected the: Undercover prompt.

Summary: Bruce and Damian go undercover at a school fair. They're supposed to be investigating, instead they stop to enjoy themselves.

AO3 Link

~

Bruce tucked his hands into his pockets and smiled down at Damian as the boy adjusted his hat. It was the third time he’d done it in ten minutes as the wind kept pulling at it, trying to tease it off his head.

It was a windy night for them to be out. A steady breeze blew through fair stalls, kicking up banners and tablecloths, and threatening to blow papers and smaller items off of tables. It cut the late Spring heat in a nice way, making the night mild and perfect for a school fair. Which, was exactly where they were at.

“If you’d like, I can carry that for you.” Bruce said.

Damian dropped his hands and looked up at Bruce, “I am fine, Fa--Uncle Matches. It is not bothering me.”

“Alright, whatever you say, kiddo.” Bruce smiled, “You wanna adjust those glasses while you’re at it?”

His son frowned, his nose wrinkling, and sending the glasses sliding a little further down it. It was unreasonably cute. Bruce held up his phone and snapped a photo of his son. The flash went off and when Bruce dropped his phone Damian was looking surprised.

“For posterity's sake.” Bruce explained, examining the picture, it had caught Damian’s expression perfectly.

He attached it to a text and sent it to Dick, anticipating a response of jealousy from his eldest. Dick was in Bludhaven, working his own case, and had to bow out of joining the Matches boys as they went undercover.

“Uncle Matches, are you planning to spend all night looking at your phone or are we to explore the fair? You promised to examine my entry for the art exhibit.”

How Damian had managed to get a piece in an art exhibit at a school he didn’t even attend Bruce was still figuring out. Apparently he’d had Oracle hack into the system and create a profile and enrollment information for one Matthew “Matches” Malone. Damian’s art was set up under the moniker Lil’ Matches, and even thinking about it made Bruce smile.

“Of course, lead the way.”

Damian nodded, the action shaking his glasses loose again. Bruce bit back a smile. It was Damian who’d insisted on going the Clark Kent route with glasses and selecting clear ones to help obscure their identities, instead of the normal shades that paired with the Matches persona. It would be hard to defend sunglasses at a fair that took place mostly after dark.

It had been a good call, so far no one had recognized them in their suits and glasses, and they’d been able to enter the fair and purchase game tickets with ease.

His kid adjusted the glasses again, turned on his heel and began to lead Bruce. He followed at a leisurely pace, enjoying the lights strung across stalls, the smell of food frying, and the calls of students manning games and trying to get them to use their tickets to purchase sketches or experiences.

“I believe our target is one of the art students. Most have been asked to spend time by their pieces at the exhibit.” Damian explained as he walked.

“What time is their slot?” Bruce asked, eyes catching on a bottle toss game.

“He should arrive in approximately an hour.”

“An hour you say?” Bruce hooked an arm around Damian’s shoulders and spun him back towards the bottle toss, “Then why don’t we spend some time enjoying the fair, my dear nephew?”

Damian stopped and looked up at him with open surprise, “But we are on a case?”

“At a school fair. The likes of which I don’t think you’ve ever properly attended. Didn’t the one at your school get interrupted?”

“No.”

Bruce frowned, “You didn’t go, I remember that. What happened?”

His son looked down at the ground, fascinated by the way dust coated his shoe, “There was a Scarecrow attack the night prior. I--was incapacitated by it.”

He remembered now. Damian had taken a dose of toxin for Tim when his brother’s mask had cracked. Both of them had been down for a while, but Damian had been exposed longer than Tim by the time Batman and Spoiler had arrived. He’d been shaky and sick for days after.

Bruce squeezed Damian’s shoulder, “All the more reason to enjoy this one.”

He tried not to think about how Dick would have remembered right away and not pushed the subject, or how even if he had fallen in this pit he’d have figured out how to cheer Damian right away, “We can afford some distraction, you don’t want to be bored for an hour do you?”

Damian hummed, and glanced up, “I would not be opposed to trying a game or two.”

“Perfect, let’s start with the ring toss.” Bruce smiled.

They traded in some tickets for both of them to get a chance at the ring toss. The operator pointed at some green rimmed bottles, “Get at least three rings on the green and you’ll win a prize. If both of you get three onto green you can get one of the big ones or two smaller prizes.”

They had four chances each. Bruce glanced at Damian. He was focused, feeling the weight of the rings in his hands, and eyeing the bottles like he was doing the math in his head calculating what it would take to get them perfectly in place.

After a moment Damian tossed the first ring, it caught at the edge of one of the green bottles and slipped off. He frowned at it, nodded, and then tossed his remaining three in quick succession. All three landed around bottles.

Bruce grinned, and looked up to see the surprise on the operator's face. His son was extraordinary, and Bruce loved seeing him show off.

He took his own time tossing his rings, landing three as well, and missing his last. He shrugged, not minding missing one. They still met the requirements for the big prize.

“Well, kiddo, what do you want?” He asked.

Damian looked up at the racks of plushes hanging from the top of the booth, considering. He pointed at two of the smaller ones. One was a dog dressed as Batman, with a little cowl and cape, and the other was a duck wearing a green deerstalker cap, with a small magnifying glass attached to one of its wings.

The operator handed Damian both animals with a smile, “Good choices, looks like you’re a fan of detectives.”

“Yes.” Damian said, “I am, as is my brother. He will enjoy the duck. Thank you for the diverting game, and best of luck with others.”

As they walked away, Damian handed Bruce the duck, “I trust you to keep an eye on this.” he said, “If you lose it Timothy will be terribly disappointed. I cannot miss bringing him a souvenir twice in a row.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, “It’s not for Dick?”

“Tt, I would have selected a different animal for him, perhaps an elephant or bird.” Damian fiddled with one of the ears of the cowl on his dog, “I promised Timothy a prize if I won one last time, it was supposed to be in exchange for driving Jon and I. Even though the event did not happen, he might still enjoy one from here.”

“I’m sure he will.” Bruce said, resisting the urge to tug Damian into a tight hug, “What would you like to do next? That didn’t take us very long.”

His son looked around the fair, “Perhaps we could try one of the rides? Is there one you particularly enjoy?”

Bruce looked up around them, the fair had a variety of rides. The school had managed to hire a good selection, including a carousel. Bruce pointed at it, they could just see the pointed top from where they were.

“The carousel, you’ll love it.”

This time Bruce led, with Damian close by his side, as they walked, Bruce gave into the desire to reach down and take Damian’s hand in his own. When the boy looked up at him Bruce smiled, “It’s normal for families to do, especially in a busy place like this.”

The crowd wasn’t so thick Bruce was worried about losing Damian, but the move felt natural. He’d held his other children’s hands at events like this before, even Tim’s, though they’d gone well after the boy was the usual age for hand holding when wandering around an event. Damian didn’t seem too upset, in fact he gave Bruce’s hand a squeeze.

“That makes sense. As my Uncle you would be concerned for my safety and wish me to stay close.”

“Of course.” Bruce nodded.

Soon they reached the carousel. Bruce watched Damian with a close eye as they approached. Damian’s face went from cautious and curious, to delighted. There was something about being at the fair and undercover that seemed to let his son react a little more openly than he might if they were somewhere else. Bruce contributed it to the magic of the night.

“It has animals?” he asked, looking up at Bruce.

“Yep, different types. Carousel horses and animals are actually a really unique type of art. There are some horses that have sold for tens of thousands of dollars.” He explained, “And some artists who spend their whole lives making just horses for them.”

Damian’s eyes had gone very wide now, his face open with childlike delight, “And we are allowed to ride them?”

“Most yes, this one probably isn’t as fancy as some, but if you’re interested I’m sure we can visit a few of the more famous ones. I bet Dick’s seen some really cool ones from when he was younger.”

The look on Damian’s face, of excitement and anticipation was enough to melt Bruce’s heart and say yes to anything the kid might ask. Bruce tugged him forward.

“Come on, let’s get in line.”

They didn’t have long to wait, just until the ride stopped and emptied off. From there, they traded in a few more tickets for a chance to ride. Damian wandered the whole of the ride before selecting a white horse with gold trimmings. Bruce took the brown one beside it. They’d taken so long selecting, that almost the moment after they were settled, the ride began to move.

Damian’s laugh when the horse he was on began to rise and fall along with the forward momentum of the carousel was like music. Bruce wanted to take him on every carousel in the world to keep hearing that laugh and seeing that smile.

“May we go again?” Damian asked, the moment the ride stopped.

“Of course.” Bruce told him.

After the second ride, they stepped off and back into the crowd. Bruce checked his watch, they still had some time to spare before they had to be at the art display. He glanced around and caught sight of some food stands.

“Have you had a funnel cake before?” He asked, elbowing Damian.

His son shook his head.

“Then we’re getting one.” Bruce declared, “They’re the perfect mix of fried dough and toppings. We’ve got enough time to enjoy one before getting back on track.”

Damian looked less excited by the prospect of fried dough, but agreed to try it. Soon, the two of them were seated at a picnic table with a funnel cake between them. It was topped with powdered sugar, chocolate, sprinkles, and even some whipped topping. Damian gaped at the concoction, but Bruce passed him a fork with confidence.

“You just have to go at it.” he explained, “Dig in and enjoy.”

His son snorted, “That sounds like something Richard would say.”

Bruce grinned at him, “It should, he told me the very same thing when he introduced me to funnel cakes.”

Together they managed to eat the entire funnel cake. As Bruce set his plastic fork down, he thought finishing it off might have been a mistake even if they weren’t in the middle of an undercover operation. His stomach felt heavy with grease, sugar, and bread.

“That was--a lot.” Damian said, finishing his bottle of water.

“Yes.” Bruce said, wiping at his fake moustache, “It was. But I think we’ll be fine. It’s about time to head over to the exhibit.”

He wanted to get there early enough to see Damian’s piece. The kid had been very secretive of what he’d been working on for it. Taking the project as seriously as he would have as if it were for his own school fair. Bruce wanted to be able to enjoy it before they disrupted everything.

They were here to catch one of the students in the act of trying to blackmail a teacher. Damian had gotten news of it from his friend Collin, letting him know that strange things were going down. After some research, Damian had found some discrepancies in grades with a few of the students, and noted one teacher withdrawing large sums of money on a regular basis. Not enough to make a kid rich, but enough to placate a teen who’d watched too much television.

Damian had brought the case to Bruce, and together they’d worked out that this would be the next best place to find the kid and teacher interacting in a public location. From what Bruce could tell, the teacher hadn’t done anything against his students, instead he seemed to be in the middle of an affair with a seperate teacher. The plan was to bust the student, or at the very least record the exchange and get it in the hands of the administration.

The teacher in question? One of the art instructors.

They tossed their trash into a bin and Bruce let Damian lead him over to where the art exhibit was put up. It was tucked in one of the further corners of the fair, out of the way of chaos, but on a busy enough route that plenty of people were stopping by to look at the art.

“Which one is yours?” Bruce asked.

“Ah, it is this here.” Damian led him to a painting hanging up on a temporary pillar.

It was a painting of the garden outside Wayne manor. Done in bright beautiful colors it looked like you could step right into the painting. Portions of the paint were raised up to create texture and shadows, like the petals on flowers. In one portion, Bruce could see Alfred the cat sleeping in a patch of sun.

“It’s gorgeous.” Bruce said, “the detail is incredible.”

Damian was blushing, “It is nothing, a quick painting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, I know you were working on this for hours.” Bruce told him, “Do you get to bring it home?”

“Yes.” Damian said, “I was not sure what to do with it.”

“We’ll hang it up, of course. There’s a spot in the library I think will work well. Some greenery in a very brown room.”

At this point, Damian’s ears had gone red, “If you are sure.”

Bruce nodded, “I am.”

They spent a little longer looking at Damian’s painting before they shifted to look at some of the other pieces on display. There were quite a few that were really good, and a number of interesting ones. Some looked as if they had been submitted just for a grade, but all in all it was enjoyable.

Bruce was busy looking over a self portrait when he felt a small sharp elbow jab him in the side. He looked up to see Damian staring at another young man. Probably about sixteen, who’d just walked into the display area.

“That him?” he asked.

Damian nodded, “Let us wait to see if he approaches Mr. Franklin.”

Bruce slipped his phone out of his pocket and played with it, as if he were taking general photos.

“Matches, why don’t you stand by your painting? I want to get a picture of you with it.” he said, affecting a delighted uncle voice, “I’m sure your dad would love to see it.”

They moved over to the painting, and Bruce aimed the phone as he walked. Mr. Franklin was situated just behind the pillar with Damian’s painting on it. He snapped a few pictures of Damian, directing the kid to smile and pose, before slipping the phone’s setting over to video. He shifted slightly so that Franklin was in frame and hit record.

After a moment, the other boy approached him. Bruce inched forward to make sure he could get sound, and glanced over at Damian. The kid was hurrying away, off to find a separate teacher to bring over and hopefully stumble on the blackmail scene.

The exhibit was a good place to meet as Franklin was in charge of it and there wasn’t any reason for other teachers to wander over unless they were just checking things out. Most were too busy for that, with their own booths and class exhibits to care for.

Thankfully, Bruce did catch the conversation clearly from where he was. He hoped that no one would notice he’d stopped recording his kid, and started just recording the area. If he had to, he’d just say it was b-roll for a home video or something.

It wasn’t very long before Damian came back, a teacher at his heels. Bruce shifted the camera subtly back towards Damian’s painting.

“And here is my Uncle Malone. He can vouch for my skills if my piece does not convince you.” Damian was saying.

The teacher opened her mouth to say something, and then suddenly the boy speaking to Mr. Franklin shouted, “This is not what we agreed on!”

“I’m sorry--” she said, “Matches, Mr. Malone I’ll be right back.”

With that, she split from them to intervene on the argument. Bruce stopped his recording, and sent the video to Oracle who was going to forward it to the school.

“Well, that should take care of that.” Bruce said, turning to Damian, “How about we enjoy the rest of the fair? We’ve still got tickets, and there’s some rides we haven’t tried yet.”

Damian nodded, “That sounds acceptable. This fair has been, quite fun. And I am enjoying spending time with you.”

Bruce grinned, and tugged Damian into a hug, “Me too.”

“We should do the carousel again.” Damian said, stepping away to take Bruce’s hand, “And after that there is something that apparently spins you at such a speed you are stuck to the wall.”

“Oh? Well, lead the way, we’ll go until I feel like I’ve had a full patrol.”

Damian grinned at that, and Bruce felt his heart soar. He was going to have to figure out other ways of getting them undercover to things like this. Or just take Damian out to fairs more often as father and son.

[5thmarauderwrites]

Apps, Texts & Wizardry — The Marauders x Reader | Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “Helooo💛 could you write a modern au where the reader is teaching the marauders how to use tech? Have a nice day :)“.

Pairing: The Marauders x Fem!Reader [platonic].

Word Count: 2,4K

Warnings: None, it’s basically all fun and teasing and friends being friends.

A/N: Hope you like this! I had to refrain myself from the dialogues a bit because i had lots of fun remarks and teasing moments in my head as i imagined how the teaching process would be, so it would end up being very, very long if i hand’t stopped myself. Also the title SUCKS because i literally couldn’t think about anything good.

“L/N!” James yelled your last name in the middle of the library, shaking a brand new smartphone clutched in his hand; Sirius and Peter on his trail. Remus walked a little further, an apologetic frown on his features as he looked at you.

“Potter!” Madam Pince shrieked. “Out! Now!”

“But I’ve just got here!” The boy with unruly black hair protested.

“I do not care! Screams and loud tones of voice are strictly forbidden in my library! Go on – out! Out before I hex you!” The witch brandished her feather duster at the boy as she gesticulated for him to leave.

James grimaced, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose, “I just need to talk to my friend, please! She’s right there!” He pointed to you, who watched the unfolding scene with a look of pure terror, in fear that Madam Pince would banish you from the library for good after James’ antics.

Madame Pince sent you a death glare before turning back to the Marauders with a fulminant look on her face, “out, all of you! NOW!”

“We haven’t even done anything!” Sirius shrugged with a frown, trying to defend himself.

The older witch gave them a last warning glare and, getting the message; Remus mumbled an apology and dragged the other three boys out of the room. Madam Pince waited until they were completely off the library’s limits to walk angrily to the table you were sharing with Lily, Marlene and Alice in the quieter corner of the study room.

“L/N!” She spat as she approached your table. “You know you’re one of the few students that I actually tolerate in this school, but this better not happen again because next time you’ll be kicked out with them!”

You widened your eyes in horror and nodded vigorously, afraid to make any noise and irritate the librarian even more. Madam Pince huffed satisfied at your acknowledgement of her threat before turning on her heels and leaving you with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“I don’t know how you and Remus can be friends with those twats,” Lily said in a belittled tone of voice whilst rolling her eyes.

“They’re not that bad once-“ you started to defend the Marauders but trailed off as you looked in the direction of the closed window by the side of the door and saw James and Sirius with their faces glued to the glass, waving for you to come to them.

“You were saying?” Marlene frowned disgustedly at their behaviour.

“Come on, they’re nice people, girls!” Alice chuckled, defending the boys as the sweet and kind person she was.

“They are! Thank you, Ali!” You wrapped your arm around the girl’s shoulders in a gesture of appreciation.

“Sure,” Lily teased with a frown as she studied the boys, whom were now making silly faces at your group from behind the glass window. “I’m sure if you google stupid twats their names won’t come up as soon as you hit the search button.”

Marlene high-fived Lily at her remark and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you rolled your eyes at your redhead friend, “you know you and James have a lot in common, don’t you?” You teased, getting up and grabbing your phone and laptop.

“Where are you going?” She asked amidst a blush, purposely ignoring what you had just said.

“To see what they bloody want before Madam Pince spots them and forbids me to step a foot into the library for good of course,” you shrugged with a lopsided grin and walked away from your lady friends, heading to the boys in the corridor.

 -

 “Y/N, I’m so sorry! I told these idiots that you were studying and they should not bother you!” Remus said as soon as he saw your moving figure approaching the door, his arms up in an apologetic gesture.

“That’s okay, Rem. I know their stupidity is uncontrollable,” you chuckled, squeezing the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed, offended, as he ran a hand through his thick dark locks.

“She’s not lying,” Remus said with a light shrug of his shoulders, pressing his lips together to contain a smile.

“What do you bloody want from me anyway to barge in the library like that?” You winged your brows, specifically scolding James.

“Sorry about that, little one. Madam Pince really needs to learn how to relax,” he frowned, recalling her unpleasant screams. “Anyway, we got ourselves brand new phones and this muggle box you call a laptop and we were wondering if you could help us out with those… things.”

You lifted a brow as you crossed your arms across your chest, “you got phones? And laptops?” You repeated his sentence with a surprised tone of voice.

“That’s what I just said, yes,” James frowned.

“I reckon you saying something like,” you started, raising your hands in the air and mimicking quotes as you tried your best to impersonate James, “’I will never trade my owl and parchments for these bloody muggle things with these annoying noises.’”

“I’ll admit I may have spoken too soon,” he shrugged with a grimace. “Blimey, it’s hard not to surrender to those things when the entire school and even the Professors are using it!”

You gazed at James with an amused look on your face.

“So, will you help us out, love?” Sirius steadied himself on you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and stared at you with puppy eyes.

“I could use the help of these things to improve my studying method and have easier access to books,” Remus said shyly, putting his hands into his pockets.

“I want to try those games the lads have been playing, they’re even talking about doing championships and starting clubs,” Peter’s eyes twinkled as he nodded excitedly.

You heaved a sigh as you looked to the pleading faces of the four Marauders. “Fine, I’ll help you idiots out.”

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

 You had been helping the Marauders with the muggle technology for a few days now and it wasn’t getting any easier. As wizards born and raised into wizarding families, the boys never had any sort of familiarity with technology nor muggle devices before, which hampered the task in hand considerably. Even Remus, who was unquestionably the cleverest among them, was struggling to learn how to properly use a phone.

Beginning with the smartphone was your idea, because you thought that after they mastered this complex device, learning how to use a laptop would be a piece of cake. You just didn’t imagine that it would be so bloody difficult.

“Wait, wait, and wait!” Sirius interrupted your explanation about the Face ID for the third time with a confused frown as he threw his head back heavily into the back pillow of the Gryffindor Common Room sofa. “How am I supposed to make my face unlock this thing? Will I have to hex it?”

“No, you daft dimbo!” You huffed, annoyed. “I’ll get there if you just stop interrupting me!”

“Sorry, love,” he smirked satisfied at your apparent annoyance, resting his elbows on Remus’ and James’ shoulders. “I’ll admit I have a liking to piss you off; and apparently I accomplish that even when I’m not trying to.”

“You sure do!” You smiled wryly at him, curling your legs on the seat of the stuffed armchair you were occupying, leaning yourself a little in the boys direction. “Anyway, you’ll access your phone settings right… here,” you said, showing them with your phone where to tap. “To register your face, you’ll need to hold your device between 10 and 20 inches away from you. With your face centered in the circle, you’ll move your head around until the scan is complete.”

The boys quickly followed your instructions and registered their faces, finally completing the basic configurations of their phones as they did so, allowing you to start teaching them how to use its apps and download other ones.

“There’s a camera in this? Cool!” Sirius exclaimed excitedly once he unlocked his phone screen. “What?” He added with a smile when you chuckled at his reaction.

“I’ve always thought that if you were a muggle, you’d sort of be an edgy photographer,” you answered with a lopsided grin.

“I could be one to,” James shrugged uninterested. “I’d definitely be edgy.”

“You, James? Come on!” You rolled your eyes, laughing wholeheartedly. “You’d be an annoying influencer jock.”

“A what?” He asked, utterly confused as if you were speaking in another language.

“You’d definitely be an overachiever high school athlete who were not only famous at school but also on the internet,” you winged your brows at him, resting your chin of your fist.

“You’d definitely be like that, mate!” Remus laughed, pointing his index finger at James.

“Yeah? And how would all-mighty Moony be?” James teased, crossing his arms across his chest and bending his head a little so he could playfully stare at his brown-haired friend.

“Rem would be a total hipster!” You shouted excitedly, clapping your hands. “He’d definitely be an outsider to the cultural mainstream, he’d have an online blog where he’d review books and would definitely be vocal about structural issues in the muggle society.”

“Why would he be the coolest among us?” James frowned, a little annoyed.

“Because he already is,” you shrugged, winging your brows.

“I can totally see muggle Moony being like that too,” Peter nodded vaguely from his seat on the arm of the sofa, picturing what you had just said inside his head.

“Can we focus on the tech again?” James said, swinging his phone in the air.

“Yes, we can, you pampered berk,” you answered, the ends of your lips curling up into an amused smirk as you got up of the armchair and motioned to the sofa, squeezing yourself between James and Sirius.

Slowly, you started to explain to them how to use the iMessage service and how to text someone and read the texts you receive. The boys seemed awestruck by the fact that you could get in touch with someone so easily and get an instant response back.

“Wicked! Now I can ask Lily out without putting myself in danger!” James exclaimed excitedly, the blaze that crackled in the fireplace lighting up his features. “Can’t I?”

“Well, she can always block your number, you know…” you frowned mockingly at him, earning amused laughs from Remus, Sirius and Peter.

The four of you teased James for a while before you and the boys got back to the teaching process. An hour or so later, you had already covered all the phone basic apps and they were already familiar with their functions and how to properly use them.

“Now, to the fun stuff!” You announced excitedly. “Let’s introduce you lads to the wonderful world of the trending apps.”

“Are there more?” Sirius widened his eyes as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Indeed, my dear Black!” You quirked your brows satisfied, tilting your head so you could look him in the eyes. “There are tons of apps you can download to improve your experience, apps that match your likings such as, in your case, dating apps.”

“Dating apps? Can’t you just charm the ladies through texts?” He asked confusedly.

“You sure can, but these apps are basically made for people who want to engage on… knowing someone a little bit better, if you know what I mean,” you chuckled. “With the dating apps you don’t have to ask yourself if the other person is somehow romantically interested in you, because when they swipe right and the match is made, it means the interest is mutual.”

“And how would you know all this?” He asked, lifting his head and smirking mockingly at you. “Y/N L/N, do you use dating apps?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you retorted, blushing furiously. Sirius’ smirk grew wider.

A sudden silence fell among the five of you as you and Sirius stared at each other with narrowed eyes; he holding a teasing look whilst you held a deadly one. James and Remus watched the scene with delighted expressions whilst Peter monotonously scrolled through his phone screen.

“Ahem,” Remus cleared his throat with an amused smile, dragging you and Sirius back to reality. “Are there any good apps to download books and to read them?”

You slowly tilted your head in Remus’ direction and, nodding, started to show him the apps you had on your phone for reading purposes and which ones you thought would fit his needs better. Remus avidly listened to your tips whilst downloading each and every app you had mentioned on his own phone.

The day quickly faded into night as you and the Marauders went on and on about the technologies and its functions and soon, the five of you were the only ones in the now silent Common Room, the light coming from the fireplace and the displays of your phones being the only things shining in the almost complete darkness.

“And done!” James exclaimed, getting up from the sofa and stretching himself. “TikTok is already downloaded and ready to be used! Tomorrow we’ll pull the ‘Dance Like a Hippogriff’ prank and Y/N here will film everything so we can upload the edited video on our TikTok account later.”

“Excuse you?” You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He joined his hands pleadingly. “Come on! Please?” He added at the grimace you made.

“Fine!” You rolled your eyes with a smile after a few seconds. “Now I’m going to bed before another brilliant idea pops up into that twat mind of yours."

Saying goodbye to the Marauders, you walked to the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitory and took a quick look over your shoulder. Before you climbed up the stairs, a smile formed on your lips as you saw the four boys talking excitedly and laughing whilst scrolling through their phones.

[queerderpyturtle]

some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

[sneezefiction]

apple pie & ice cream

Kenma x Reader - Scenario

desc: gloomy days can always be brightened with sweet smells, cinnamon sugar, and a homemade apple pie from yours truly: Kenma Kozume

a/n: to the anon who requested this a little while ago... happy birthday, love!! i hope you’re okay that i switched things around a little bit & had Kenma make you something sweet instead <3</i>

warning: slight language

wc: 1580

---

Some days are longer than others.

You’ve never had a good explanation as to why, but there are at least some telltale signs.

Like when red lights seem endless, your favorite song doesn’t sound as pretty as it should, and you just can’t keep your tired eyes open. Even with a cozy mug of hot tea in hand or the gentle stream of sunlight filtering through your office’s window, the warmth on your fingertips and face simply refused to reach you on the inside.

It also doesn’t help that you were flipped off not once, but twice, by some shitty drivers when you clearly had the right of way.

So you determine that the faster you can get home to Kenma, the better you’ll feel.

You take every short-cut and any back road, impatiently awaiting the moment that you can kick off your uncomfortable shoes and step out of those constricting work clothes. To turn on the air-conditioning and crash into a couch that proves to be far more welcoming than the outside world. Even just a nice, long stretch would do your aching back and heavy arms some good.

But most of all, you long to sink into Kenmas chest and lazily breathe in the comforting smell of home that rested on his well-worn hoodies. To run your fingers through his silky, soft hair and make messy braids out of it while sighing heavily to relinquish the day's grip on your tight shoulders. You can’t wait to bother him until he sets aside his black and red headphones to kiss your forehead and pull you into a soul-catching hug.

Most crappy days call for extra love from your gamer-boyfriend… but today Kenma has really gone out of his way to shower you in sweetness. Literally.

You’d sent him an awfully lengthy text about the number of crazy drivers on the road, the dreary weather overhead, following it up with a recap of your teary-eyed breakdown in a fast food chain parking lot... and you topped it off with just how much you missed him.

So he did the one thing he knew could lift anyone’s spirits.

Kenma got to baking his world famous apple pie.

Countertops were covered in white and brown sugar, apple peels, and other various, scattered ingredients. A store-bought pie crust was preheating in the oven, because only God knows how long it would take for Kenma to learn how to make that from scratch. Spices plumed in delicate, little clouds throughout the kitchen. Everything was coming together beautifully.

Kenma mumbles to himself quietly, a little miffed that he’s missing his weekly streaming session...

But secretly, he’s been meaning to do this for you for a long time. 

He’s been dying to thank you for putting up with his incessant live shows and never-ending computer gameplay. For living with him in his rental house even though he could probably (definitely) afford something far more luxurious. And you deserved luxurious. You should be decked out in diamonds and fancy cashmere, lounging on a sofa atop some rooftop garden oasis that overlooks the entirety of Tokyo, and dancing the night away at clubs and galas.

But you chose him. 

Simple Kozume. 

A smaller-framed boy with a knack for video-games, patterns, and strategy. The one they jokingly called “pudding head” in high school. That kid who used to hide behind his own hair because the world around him was far more daunting than he thought he could handle.

Kenma would rather stay in and binge a series on netflix than spend a night out on the town. He invests himself in playing an overly-competitive tournament of Mario Kart with you over flying out for a highstakes game of poker in Vegas. He prefers nights surrounded in fairy lights when you collaborate on videos with him, throw popcorn at his long hair, and drink a bit too much just because you both compliment each other more when you’re a little tipsy.

You love all of this about him and you’ve reminded him time after time that you wouldn’t trade him for the world… yet Kenma is still determined to at least have this apple pie done by the time you get home.

But as luck would have it, you’re early.

The lock to the door clicks and twists as you slide it open with a few squeaks.

Your senses are instantly delighted by the blooming fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg. An ambrosial wafting of warm apples and pastry dough permeates the airspace while the added ginger and lemon cut through the sweet scent.

As if the room had just handed over a fluffy blanket and set you in front of a crackly, wood-burning fire, you’re filled with that much needed comfort. 

You’re home. And it smells so damn good.

If heaven had a scent, this was it. And you might as well be wearing a halo and angel wings.

“Kozume…?” You call out, wondering if it was really your boyfriend in the kitchen creating that mouth-watering aroma. 

“...yes, y/n?” He replies slowly, trying to clean up the countertops, a little frustrated that the pie wasn’t finished in time for your arrival.

“Is that you? Or did Gordon Ramsey break into my house and take over my kitchen?” You giggle, waltzing into the kitchen, the stress of the day being alleviated immediately upon seeing those speculative, gold-speckled eyes.

His hands are in his hoodie pockets, but when your form turns corner into the kitchen and makes its way toward him, Kenma draws them out and sneaks his hands up to your cheeks, cupping them gently.

He leans in, his expression a tad quizzical and somewhat mysterious, and whispers…

“You’re an idiot sandwich.”

A laugh bubbles up and out, shaking your whole body as you wrap your arms around his frame. You’d seen him just this morning, but wow you’d missed him and his extensive knowledge of meme culture. Now Kenma has his arms draped around your waist, hands squeezing at your hips a little. Your flustered but smiley expression spurs on a soft chuckle, a gentle yet deep rumbling in his throat.

“I thought you’d be back a little bit later, but I’m glad you’re here.” He murmurs out, voice tired but so soothing to your ears.

“Mmm, I’m glad to be back… now are you gonna tell me what that magnificent smell is? Or should I open up the oven and check?” The cheeky tinge to your voice causes him to pull away from you for a moment to look you in the eye.

“If you want it to turn out well, I’d keep your pretty little hands away from the oven for the next few minutes.” Kenma quips.

You playfully stick out your tongue but then proceed to place a teasing peck between his eyes, making him crinkle his nose cutely.

“So, when you sent me those texts earlier, I might have accidentally made an apple pie.” Kenma admits, looking away.

“Accidentally?” A grin slowly spreads across your face, eyes glinting with humor.

“Yep. Accidentally.” He shrugs, “I found some ingredients and a pie dish and I just accidentally threw it all together. So yeah, how convenient is that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. 

He’s really something else. And to think your day had previously been wrought with misery and disappointment.

“Mmm I don’t know, Kozume… it doesn’t sound like an accident to me. I think you did it because you wanted to be sweet.” You whisper softly into his ear.

Leaning back to brush away a strand of his hair from his face to get a full visual of his cat-like gaze.

“And why would I do that?” He teases gently.

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe because you love me?” You poke at his shoulder.

“Huh? Love?” He gives you a goofy look, raising both eyebrows in mock confusion. “...Is that some kind of sauce?”

He tries to keep a straight face, but the quirk of his lip gives him away.

You just stare at him before giving in to another fit of rolling giggles. The hearty, unrestrained laughter overtakes the both of you, causing you to double over and clutch your middle in an attempt to hold yourself up. Kenma has his back up against the counter-top, holding the edges of it with both palms to keep himself steady and from falling to the floor. 

As you both recover from aching lungs and that cloudy, euphoric feeling, you can’t help but let a smile plaster itself on your face.

Kenma has done many things today.

He gave you a reason to come home with hope in your heart. He’d drawn you into a heartfelt, soul-refreshing hug. He had made you laugh like nobody ever could. He’d even baked you an apple pie.

But best of all, he‘d held you together.

Like he always did.

Every single day, without a doubt in your mind, you could celebrate and smile. Because you would always have this cinnamon-covered cutie to smile and crack up with. He would always brighten the most mundane of weekdays and find the loveliest of ways to match your moods.

You two are like apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream.

And speaking of ice cream…

“Hey, Kozume?” You bring him into one more bear-like hug.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Did you get ice cream to go with the apple pie?” You ask, your face preciously tucked into the crook of his neck.

No reply. Had he heard you?

“Kozume? Did-”

Cue a huge sigh from Kenma.

“...Where are my car keys? I need to go to the store immediately.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

[qqueenofhades]

Hi there, I really liked what you had to say about the upcoming election. I was wondering if you have published any articles recently in regards to that? I know you said you were a historian.

Aha, thank you so much, this is very flattering. Alas (?), the book that I have just published is about the crusades, as I am a medieval historian by training. However, one of my main research interests is the role of the “imagined medieval” in modern culture, I have written a book chapter about the role of the crusades in post-9/11 political and cultural rhetoric, and I am developing a research project that examines the current crisis of public history through a medievalist perspective. That, however, is still in draft stages.

That said, I absolutely DO have a mini reading list for you (and a lecture to go with it, because as noted, I am an academic and this is how we function!) The topic of today’s class is “Why Accelerationist Ideology Is And Always Has Been Horrifically Racist and Genocidal Throughout History, and White Americans Only Like It Because They Don’t Live In Countries Where It Was Done (By America).” Not very snappy, but there you have it.

The reading list, to start off, is:

The Cold War: A World History by Odd Arne Westad

The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism by Naomi Klein

The Silk Roads: A New History of the World by Peter Frankopan

Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi

Drift: The Unmooring of American Military Power by Rachel Maddow

The Bridge Betrayed: Religion and Genocide in Bosnia by Michael Sells

These are all hefty books (though the Maddow and Sells books are shorter) but they’re accessible and written for the layperson, and we always have time to educate ourselves. Why are they relevant to the 2020 election, you might ask?

First: the Cold War book lays out in great, GREAT detail the consequences of a global world order absolutely gripped by a competing standoff of ideologies (American capitalism vs. Soviet socialism) and how these two forces gulped up the politics of the rest of the world, destroyed numerous satellite states, and tried to rebuild them from the ashes into new ideological utopias -- precisely what a lot of people are suggesting now with the ridiculous “just burn everything down and it will magically fix itself!” theory that is somehow presented as the Moral Alternative to voting for Biden/Harris. You know what this caused during the Cold War? Yep. Human suffering on a massive scale, and absolutely zero utopian perfect states, whether capitalist or socialist. It also makes the extremely salient point that in the 1930s, German leftists and liberal democrats were infighting among themselves as to who was Less Morally Pure, and couldn’t agree on a candidate or a moral imperative to oppose the other guy, and figured that their flawed liberal idealists were “just as bad” as said other guy. Was that guy’s name Adolf Hitler? Why yes. Yes it was. Is there a lesson here for us? Who can say. Seems hard to figure.

Leaving aside the tragedy and pointlessness of the Korean and Vietnam Wars, both fought as proxy battlefields between Americans and Soviets, let’s consider the Great Leap Forward, in China (1958-1962) under Chairman Mao Zhedong. The idea was to dismantle traditionalist Confucian Chinese society and rebuild it as a modern socialist state, which was the goal of a lot of twentieth-century old-school socialist/Marxist “people’s republics.” Mao took this exact “burn conservative society down and rebuild it according to Enlightened Leftist Principles” approach and it was... a disaster. A total and epic disaster that caused both short and long-term suffering to the Chinese people and, wouldn’t you know it, did not result in a utopian Chinese state. This is also the reason you cannot say anything complimentary about Fidel Castro, especially if you want to win Florida, no matter how “good” you think his socialist principles were in the abstract, because: Cubans and Cuban-Americans fuggin’ hated the guy. You know why? Because he also destroyed their lives.

Obviously, there is a ton of distance between old-school Communism in the 20th century and 21st-century modern democratic socialism such as that run in Norway (and the Scandinavian countries in general), no matter if your racist uncle on Facebook insists on conflating the two and howling about the Red Menace like it’s still 1962. But the point is that radical leftist accelerationist theory hasn’t changed from 1962 (or frankly, from Karl Marx) either. It still figures that by some miraculous principle, the entrenched systems and ideologies will either just disappear or be “torn down,” the Peasants will Rise Up and Overthrow the Aristocracy, and something something socialist utopia. Except that was tried multiple times in the 20th century and it always failed. More than that, even if it was supposedly “leftist,” it inflicted just as much suffering on its own people as fascist right-wing dictatorships. Americans have always been infused with the triumphalist confidence that they “won” the Cold War because socialism was bad, and it was the inherent flaws in socialism as a world order that doomed it to defeat, unlike rah-rah Red White and Blue American Capitalism. So capitalism, ignoring its own fatal flaws, went hog-wild in the 80s and 90s, establishing Reaganite deregulation as the core and unimpeachable tenet of the market, and we’re all living in the increasing wreckage of that economic system now. Obviously the right wing uses “socialism” as a bugaboo to scare us that Things Could Be Worse, but I haven’t seen the faintest trace of historical context or awareness from the particularly deluded breed of hard leftists who still cling onto the magical theory that a Perfect People’s Uprising Will Fix Everything.

On that note, let’s move to Naomi Klein. The Shock Doctrine lays out in similar excruciating detail how the U.S. systematically destroyed the economic systems of countries particularly in Asia and Latin America (and the entire shameful history of Uncle Sam in Latin America should be required reading for EVERYONE) and sold them a bill of goods about “free market economics” in the Keynesian model. Guess what resulted from this attempt to destroy entrenched societies overnight and rebuild them in the name of Ideology? If you guessed “massive human suffering and ongoing generational devastation and dysfunction” you’d be right again! This was accompanied with constant political interference from the CIA and the State Department to support right-wing dictators and military takeovers in a way that have left the politics and institutions of Central America in permanently broken disarray, because it turns out it’s a lot easier to keep exploiting those brown people in governmental systems that don’t allow dissent or democracy, no matter the exalted principles you like to preach about Freedom and Liberty. The U.S. likes to act as if the Central American refugee crisis is this unwarranted invasion of these dirty immigrants, as if it didn’t play a DIRECT AND LONG LASTING EFFECT in destroying the infrastructure of these countries to the point where they’ve become incapable of functioning as healthy democracies. If you think “banana republic” is the name of an upscale clothing store, I beg you, research the history of that term.

This hasn’t even gotten to the absolutely horrible history of Africa’s treatment at the hands of white Europeans (see the Kendi book for obvious anti-racism education and also how those racist ideas are directly built into the ideological infrastructure of America). Somehow white leftists, while professing to be allies of Black Lives Matter and proclaiming themselves Woke, have managed to overlook this, and I don’t know how??? (Answer: it’s racism Jan.) First it was the transatlantic slave trade and the large-scale kidnapping, sale, and chattel bondage of generations of people. Then it was 19th-century colonialism and imperialism, where Europe thought it could “civilize” the “Dark Continent” and rebuild it to an “enlightened standard.” This was not a right-wing project; this was solidly mainstream and it was enthusiastically advocated by many liberals and intellectuals who busily composed an entire academic and “scientific” literature to support it. Did the European wholescale destruction of traditional societies in an attempt to build a Perfect Ideological Utopia result in... massive human suffering, by any chance? Leopold II of Belgium might have something to say about that. Then when an overstretched Europe was finally forced out of its overseas colonies in the aftermath of World War II, guess what resulted? Did African society spring from the ashes and remake itself in a perfect image? Nope! It became subject to decades-long civil wars and bloody military dictators because its infrastructure had been so crippled (very deliberately so) by its departing colonialist overlords that it likewise had no sustainable model for development. It turns out when you break things out of the idea that they’ll magically fix themselves, they just stay broken and they get worse. Now we once more have the West acting like Africa is a hotbed of Primitives while ignoring its own role in destroying it (and the situation in the Middle East, but that’s a whole OTHER can of worms! So many cans! So many!)

The Peter Frankopan book is an excellent exploration into the flourishing medieval trade networks across the East, the function of the Silk Road in bringing culture and commodities across the known world, and how Europe’s intervention and eventual ascendancy was marked by profound violence, the destruction of these networks, and the outright pillage of non-white people and riches. Which we know, but... read it. Europe and its heir (America) started the crusades, colonialism, imperialism, two world wars, and other conflicts that always contained a virulent aspect of spreading Ideology and getting people to Believe The Right Thing. These cumulative conflicts have devastated the planet repeatedly and we are still feeling their effects right up to this minute. They were all connected to Establishing Supreme Ideology and Supreme Whiteness (and Supreme Christianity). I’m detecting a pattern. The Rachel Maddow book explores how from the 1980s onward, America went absolutely hog-wild with the military/military ideology as a central way to solve its problems, which was tied to the Cold War, capitalism, and extreme individualism. All of which are tied to our current mess today.

Obviously, the most extreme examples of putting ideology above people result in outright holocausts, which is why you should read the Michael Sells book about Bosnia. Everyone knows about the WWII Holocaust of the Jews (and we have already seen how that is busily being denied along with the return of anti-Semitism, which never goes away), but the Bosnian holocaust was happening while most of us were alive. The West deliberately ignored it, because it was framed as the “last crusade” against Muslims in Europe and they needed to be removed in order to create a Pure Christian Europe; hence the Bosniaks were apparently an acceptable sacrifice in achieving this. I have some words on my tongue, I think they start with “massive human suffering,” and how that is constantly what results when an existing society, no matter how flawed, is attacked by ideological zealots who see huge amounts of death as an acceptable price to pay for their brave new world, as long as it’s not theirs (and sometimes even when it is). In fact, the accelerationist theory of social change is so profoundly racial and genocidal (and is indeed being used in exactly that way by the neo-Nazis and white paramilitary elements today) that it’s even more shocking to see supposedly progressive and moral people advocating so enthusiastically for it. It is a white supremacist Nazi wet dream of an ideology in which all the “flawed” people just vanish (spoiler alert, they don’t vanish, they are brutally murdered or allowed to die from deliberate and arrogant negligence) and the Aryans cavort in paradise. Just replacing that with some socialist jargon buzzwords doesn’t change the underlying framework.

And this is STILL NOT GETTING to America’s own history, and you know, the fact that this continent was occupied when white settlers arrived, declared it “terra nulla” or “empty land,” and set about slaughtering the existing advanced civilizations and their people in the name of! You guessed it! SUPERIOR IDEOLOGY! Funnily enough, destroying the Native Americans “for their own good” didn’t result in utopia for them. It resulted in.... yeah, I think we get it by now, but just in case, one more time: MASSIVE HUMAN SUFFERING.

Tl;dr: The accelerationist theory of social change (just destroy everything and it will magically rebuild according to our preferred ideology) is a racist and genocidal fantasy of orgiastic destruction that has caused untold damage throughout history. White Americans whether on the right or left are fond of it, because they have never lived in a country where this has been repeatedly and horribly done to them (often by America itself) and which has cost uncountable Black, brown, Muslim, Jewish, Latin American, Native American, etc lives. The deliberate or deliberately negligent destruction of society does not lead to regeneration. It leads to long-term and unfixable damage, and the people who profit the most from deliberate disaster are the capitalist corporate overlords that the left professes to hate. This country is a racist garbage fire and nobody denies that it needs to change or die, but buying into this theory about how you should just stand back and let it burn/obstruct efforts to work within the system and mitigate the damage IS BULLSHIT and RESULTS IN MASSIVE HUMAN SUFFERING AND DEATH. Which, so far as I know, wasn’t supposed to be a progressive value, but hey, I could be mistaken.

Learn some history. Wear a mask.

Don’t be a whiny pissbaby that makes the rest of us die.

Vote Joe Biden and Kamala Harris 2020.