#it's such a lie that you have to be some genius to read and understand literature. just think critically a little bit

[cowardnthief]

just saw someone say that they didn't need to "get the point" of a literary novel, because they read for "entertainment" and "not to contemplate the human existence," and i think that is probably the most insane take on literature i've ever read. of course it was on tiktok.

[twignotstick]

Liar, Liar

Note: The characters in this fic are from @rufwooff 's teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles au. Leo is a salamander, Mikey is a toad/frog, Donnie is a gecko, and Raph is an alligator. It can sort of be read as a rise fic if you ignore the... frog stuff? But there are things that might not make sense without knowledge of the au. This post specifically inspired the fic.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Leo-centric, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Teenage Mutant Ninja Everything-but-Turtles, tmnebt, turtle tots (still unsure abt that one), dialogue written like a child, lying, extremely fluffy, but with a hint of angst

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): nothing, why would i ever hurt kids :)

Words: 4,647

Summary: Leo finally gets to spend a day alone with his little brother, Mikey. When things go wrong, he decides to save himself. After all, what's so bad about a little lie?

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“Can grow to doo-ble the size in a few… h-owers…”

Leo held the small package he'd found close to his face, trying his best to read what the label said. Donnie had told him it was some kind of toy, but it just looked like a plastic whale to him. Mikey watched Leo from the bowl he was quickly outgrowing, listening intently to Leo's somewhat successful attempt at reading.

“Leave in a cup or bowl of wwwater and watch the magic!” Leo read triumphantly, holding the toy in front of him. The salamander looked over to his little brother. “We just need a cup or something to use it!”

“Wah'der!” Mikey noted wisely, bracing himself on the edge of the glass.

“Right!” Leo nodded, face turning pensive. “But I can't reach any of the cups or bowls in the kitchen, and Dad doesn't want me climbing on stuff anymore…”

“Waphie?” Mikey suggested.

“Raph's busy with Dad cooking dinner. Bo-ring.” Leo sighed. “And Donnie said he was studying today…”

“Hmm…” Mikey hummed, before his eyes lit up. “Bow’!” He squeaked, rocking his bowl side to side. “Bow’! A bow’!”

“No Mikey, we need a-” Leo caught on. “Oh, a bowl. You're a genius, Mikey!”

Mikey squeaked and squealed in response to the praise, wiggling what was left of his tail in the water. “Tank you.”

“Alright then, Mikester. You're gonna have to show off how good you are with those new legs.” Leo wrapped his arms around his baby brother's body, struggling for a moment to get a good grip with both of them having slippery skin, but he eventually hefted Mikey out of the bowl under his armpits and placed him on the stone floor. “This'll be a good oppa-tunity for you! You just gotta stay here while I fill up the bowl the rest of the way, okay?”

“Okie-dokie!” Mikey replied cheerfully, patting his newly grown hands on the floor. They had been fully developed for about a week, but he had yet to do much with them other than waving and clapping.

Taking Mikey's word without any doubt, Leo picked up the half filled bowl and carried it away to the nearby tunnel. Sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to go into the tunnels by himself. And sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to leave Mikey alone when they were playing. But Leo was a big boy! And so was Mikey! Mikey had all of his limbs now! That, Leo didn't exactly understand, because Leo always had all his limbs, just like Raph and Donnie. Mikey was just a ball with a tail and eyeballs. A tadpole, Donnie's voice reminded him. Now Mikey was a toadlet, which meant surely he was grown enough to be on his own for a few minutes.

It wasn't like Leo didn't like spending time with Mikey. He loved watching movies with him, coloring things with him, even chatting with him despite his more limited vocabulary. Mikey just… couldn't play a lot of the games Leo liked to play. Leo liked to move, and Mikey couldn't move a lot. Mikey couldn't play tag, or hide and seek, and he could only play Jupiter Jim if he was playing as Godfred, the Goldfish King. Even then, he was no fun to play with without his royal guards.

Today, Leo got to play with Mikey without supervision, a job usually reserved for his older brothers. It was a total breeze, he had found out, because Mikey was so stationary. Babies were boring, but they were easy.

Leo carried the bowl back, making sure to spill as little of the mildly murky sewer water he had collected as possible, and put it down right next to the toy he had left on the floor. Right next to the puddle where Mikey was sitting before.

Puddle?

“Boys! Come eat!”

“...spit.”

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

Leo walked into the kitchen with a nervous smile on his face, finding that Raph and Donnie were already seated with food in front of them. Both plates were filled with vegetables and meat, and Splinter was preparing two more plates with more of the same.

“Hello, Blue,” Splinter greeted, glancing around Leo's sides. “Where is your brother? I thought he was with you.”

“H-he was! He just got reeeally tired,” Leo lied, swaying on his feet and swishing his tail slowly. “So I tucked him in bed. He was really, indubitably tired.”

“You don't even know what that word means, Leo.” Donnie glared right into Leo's soul, pushing his glasses up as Leo sat down next to him.

“Yes I do! I-it means Mikey was really super tired!”

“Purple, do not be rude to your brother,” Splinter scolded. “If Orange was tired, he should sleep. He is a growing boy. Thank you, Blue, for tucking him in. He can eat later, after he wakes up.” Splinter finished preparing a plate for himself, then sat down next to his sons and began eating. “Did you all enjoy yourselves today?”

Raphael nodded. “I showed Cheech how to beat up the practice dummy right! He wasn't too good at holdin’ Raph's sais though.”

“That is very kind of you, Red. I'm sure that Cheech will improve if you keep training him.” Splinter smiled kindly.

“He won't,” Donnie whispered, leaning into Leo's ear. “Teddy bears can't do ninjutsu.”

“I think Raph can teach him, Raph's good at teaching,” Leo whispered back.

“What about you, Purple?”

Donnie straightened his posture, his tail sticking straight up for a moment, straightening his glasses again. “I actually did some very helpful research using the encyclopedia that Dad found and the book on reptiles we got a while ago.” He looked around at his brothers. “I learned a lot about our different species. I looked pretty closely into toads and frogs so I could talk to Mikey about his current state, but apparently I can't, because he fell asleep at 6 pm.” Donnie side eyed Leo questioningly.

“You can tell him about what you learned tomorrow, Purple,” Splinter said. “I'm sure whatever he and Blue did today was exhausting, was it not?” He asked, redirecting the conversation to Leo.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Leo agreed fervently. “Me and Mike were having so much fun. Like, Mikey was having sooo much fun, he literally passed out! And I put him in bed, like a good big brother!”

“He… passed out?” Raph asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Like, knocked out hard. Totally asleep. And I tucked him in good!”

“In his tub.” Donnie raised a drawn eyebrow.

“That's right!”

“Boys, there is no need to argue about this,” Splinter said with a strained smile as the brothers finished eating and put their plates away in the sink. “We should all be happy for Blue, who has proven himself as a big brother.”

“He's sure proving something, alright…” Donnie murmured with crossed arms. 

“You can spend a little more time up, but I want you to get to bed soon as well. Meanwhile, I will be taking this opportunity to take a nice, long shower.” Splinter shook his robed arms, showcasing the small clumps of fur gathering across his body. “This stuff gets oily way faster than you would expect.”

“Don't worry Pops!” Raph said, standing absurdly tall for a child of his age and swishing his unruly tail. “I'll check on Mike, then I'll make sure Leo and Don get to sleep too! You have my word!” Raph tried to hold up a military salute, but he caught his hand on his large jaws and hit his head backwards, tail and arms flailing to make sure he didn't fall. He looked distraught for a moment, before making a show of shaking off the pain to be strong for his dad.

Splinter sighed. “Thank you, Red.”

Leo straightened up, eyes widening as he saw his brothers going toward their room,  and dashed over to the sink to drop off his own plate so he could follow. Quickly, would be preferable. 

“Blue? May I speak with you?”

Spit.

Leo stood with the most relaxed posture he could muster as he faced his dad, leaning on the countertop behind him with one elbow. “Sure, Pops!”

Splinter kneeled down in front of the salamander. “I wanted to thank you for spending the day with your little brother. I know that he is still unable to do many of the things that you can, but it is good to hear that you included him in your games anyways.”

“Oh,” Leo said, losing his fake nonchalance for a moment. “It… it was no big deal, Dad.”

“I would say it was a big deal, Leonardo.” Splinter placed a paw on Leo's shoulder, smiling softly at his son. “Once Orange hits the growth spurt he is bound to, it will be much more difficult to keep you boys from bouncing off the walls. I am glad to know I can trust you to take care of your little brother.”

Leo's heart dropped in his chest with guilt, but he kept his outward appearance well enough. Internally, he was screaming to run away and stop his brothers from reaching the bedroom. “Of course, Dad. Mikey was actually really really super fun to hang with! Not boring at all! He actually was playing way more than me, and like, he was really cool and stuff. And fun to play with,” he added carefully.

Splinter stood up, cracking his back. “That is great to hear. Now-” he clapped his hands- “to wash the gunk out of this gross fur!” 

As soon as Splinter skipped away, Leo fumbled over his feet to rush to the bedroom. He kicked his tail a few times, but ignored it in his frenzy. His brothers were already there! It was over! He would never be trusted again! Not by Raph, not by Donnie (though who really cared about that), and most importantly, not by his dad!

When Leo got to the shared bedroom, he slid on the floor to turn in the doorway as fast as possible, only to find Raph terrifyingly close to Mikey's tank.

“WAIT!”

Both of his brothers looked up at him immediately. Donnie's glare from where he sat on his bed quickly changed from confused to exhausted. “And why, dear Nardo, would Raph need to wait?”

Leo hesitated. “Well, b-because-”

“No, Leo. You've been super suspicious ever since you came to dinner.” Donnie stood up, putting the book he had in his hands down.

“No I haven't!” Leo defended. “I don't even know what that means, so I can't be that.”

“It means you've been acting weird because you're hiding something!” Donnie accused.

“Am not!” Leo defended.

“Yes, you a-”

“Guys!” Raph whispered furiously, catching the other boys’ attention. “If you're gonna fight, do it quiet. Mikey's still asleep.” The oldest brother turned away, not being able to see the despaired expression on Leo's face, and approached Mikey's corner of the room where his small tank sat.

Donnie looked back at Leo with disdain. “Whatever you're hiding, you should just cough it up. Dad doesn't like liars.”

“Well that's great, cause I'm not lying. I'm like, the least liar-est person ever.”

“Uh, Donnie?” Raph asked quietly from his spot by the tank. “Didn't you say Mikey was supposed to mecha-morph-uh.. whatever?”

“Metamorphosis. It's the process through which a tadpole becomes a frog or toad. Commonly associated with frogs and butterflies, which come from caterpillars. And technically, the word would be ‘metamorphose’, in this context.”

“I think he meta-morph-osed into a whale instead…”

Leo held his breath.

“What?” Donnie walked over to the tank, continuing to ramble. “No, he's supposed to metamorphose into a fire bellied toad, not a whale. There's no way that- GASP!” Donnie plunged his hand in the tank, coming back out with an unmistakable item. “You left his bowl in the tank?!”

“What?! I-I don't know how that got there, I swear!” Leo stammered, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

“You said you put Mikey to bed! Mikey isn't here, but his bowl is!” Donnie shouted. “You lied! You lost Mikey!”

“N-no I didn't!”

“Oh yeah? Then how did his bowl get here?”

Leo puffed his cheeks, fuming. “It wasn't even my fault! Mikey said I could use his bowl!”

Raph gasped this time, like a normal person. “You really lost Mikey?”

Leo's anger faltered at the sad face on his big brother. The reality of the situation was finally settling in. “I-I didn't mean to. I just went in the tunnel for one second-”

“You went in the tunnels?!” Raph screamed.

Leo winced. “It was just for like a second, and nothing even happened!”

“Clearly, something did happen,” Donnie interjected, putting the bowl down. “You. Lost. Mikey!”

“I did not! Mikey said-”

“GUYS!” Raph slammed his tail on the ground, scaring his brothers into attention. “Right now, Raph's gonna ignore all the rules you broke. We don't need to fight about who to blame, because Mikey is missing. He could be in danger, or worse, already hurt. We need to find him before Dad finds out.” Raph stepped closer to Leo. “Now, where did you lose Mikey?”

“I didn't lose hi-”

“Mikey was under your supervision. Now he's gone. You lost Mikey,” Donnie said sternly. “Where did you lose him?”

Leo stared down at his feet, then sighed heavily. “It was right by the tunnel entrance, by the toy room. When I came-d back in, there was just a puddle where he was sitting before.”

“A puddle?” Donnie asked.

“Yeah, that's what I just said,” Leo groaned.

“No, that could be a clue. Show us where the puddle was,” Raph urged.

“Uh, okay.” Leo turned around and walked down the hall with his brothers in tow. He couldn't help but feel their eyes glaring into his back, judging him. Hating him for lying. For putting his baby brother in danger.

Maybe he wasn't a good big brother like Dad had said. Mikey was the only little brother he had. How did he screw that up?

They reached the end of the hall, and Leo was surprised to see a little bit of dampness still on the floor, even after almost an hour. “He was right here,” he said, crouching down to look.

“Hm,” Donnie hummed, crouching down as well. “Just as I thought.” He put a finger in the spot on the ground, surprising his brothers when his hand came up with something slimy. “Mikey didn't just leave the water from his bowl, he also left mucous.”

“Mucous? Like, he snotted everywhere?” Raph questioned.

“No, it's not snot. It's mucous. Many frogs and toads produce mucous with glands on their skin that helps keep it moist. In some, it also helps them breathe through their skin,” Donnie explained.

“So, Mikey left his skin snot on the floor,” Leo gathered.

“No. It's mucous, not snot.”

“Hey, look!” Raph pointed to another spot on the floor. “More snot!”

“Follow it!” Leo said, running over to the spot and searching for more.

Donnie pinched the bridge of his snout. “Again, not snot, but okay, we have a lead.”

“Why's it in spots, and not, like, little froggy footprints?” Raph asked, following as Leo spotted more spots.

“It's possible that Mikey figured out how to hop,” Donnie said.

“Ha! So this was worth it!” Leo said, pumping a fist. “I taught Mikey how to hop!”

“Or, you taught him how to hop off a cliff and die. Or hop right into a human's home,” Donnie replied.

“Donnie…” Raph whispered.

Leo didn't respond, instead choosing to keep following the spots. There were a few he saw on the walls, which he noted curiously. They traveled all throughout the lair, slowly becoming more recent. Eventually, the brothers found a place where they entered a door.

The bathroom door, where soft singing could be heard on the other side.

“Aw, spit.”

Raph elbowed Leo's shoulder. “Dad said you shouldn't say that anymore.”

“Why? It's not a bad word. I can say it all I want! Spit, spit, spit-”

“Guys,” Donnie said, “let's worry more about the mucous going into the room where Dad is showering.”

“Oh, right.”

The trio opened the door slowly, getting facefuls of steam that fogged up Donnie's glasses, causing him to back out. Leo and Raph stuck their heads in, surveying the area. Splinter's operatic singing filled their ears, making them wince. However, in the midst of the steam filled bathroom, they spotted what they were looking for.

Mikey was perched on the edge of the sink, looking at the closed shower curtain with wide eyes.

“Mikey!” Leo whispered, getting Mikey's attention and drawing his eyes. “Hey Angelo! Come here, come to Leo!” He held his hands out, beckoning.

Mikey squeaked softly, waving at Leo, then pointing at the shower.

“Nonono, don't go there buddy, hop over here!”

Mikey grinned, then readied himself to jump straight at the curtain.

“MIKEY!”

The clattering of metal and screams of the boys cut off Splinter's singing, as Mikey hopped right onto the curtain and pulled the curtain rod down. Raph pushed past Leo into the room, catching Mikey before he fell to the floor with the curtain.

Splinter, despite being covered with soaked fur, tried to cover himself and turned the shower off. “Boys!? What is the meaning of this?!”

Raph fumbled to keep Mikey in his arms. “Sorry, Pops! Mikey was just-”

Mikey turned around in Raph's arms, reaching out to Splinter. “Hi Daddy!”

“Orange? What are you doing awake?”

“He, uh, he woke up!” Leo said, pushing in front of Raph. “We had to follow him here.”

“Follow him?” Splinter raised an eyebrow.

Raph looked at Leo, unsure.

“Yes?” Leo said nervously.

They all stood still, Leo patting his toe on the floor. He couldn't tell if he was sweating of fear, or if it was just the steam in the room. The tension felt as thick as the steam filled air.

“LEO LOST MIKEY!”

“What?!”

“DONNIE, YOU SNITCH! I DID NOT!”

“YES YOU DID! AND YOU LIED! LEO LIED!” Donnie screamed from outside the room.

“Donnie! Stop being mean to Leo!” Raph said, struggling to keep a hold on the boy in his arms. Mikey wriggled around, bracing his feet on Raph's chest and hopping off, sending himself flying into Splinter's arms while also hitting Raph's jaws shut with a clack and nearly sending Raph falling backwards.

“Orange!” Splinter caught Mikey deftly, checking him over. Then, he looked back up to his other sons. More specifically, at the one who had just been basically slapped by his own jaw. “Red, are you okay?”

Raph grunted, but nodded slowly as he held his snout.

“Good. That was very rude of you, Orange,” he said to the son in his arms. “What do you say?”

“I'm sowwy, Waphie…” Mikey mumbled with innocent eyes. Raph gave a weak thumbs up in response.

“Good job. I'm very proud of you for learning how to jump.” Splinter looked at Leo, who physically shrank.

“I-I swear, I didn't meanta lose him. We were just playing, a-and he said-”

“He can tell me what he said.”

Leo felt tears trying to force their way out behind his eyes.

Splinter sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Red,” he addressed, “make sure your brothers get to bed. With no screens,” he said, shooting a glare at the door.

“I would never!” Donnie scoffed from outside.

“I will come to tuck you in as soon as I am done with my shower. I have a feeling that Orange won't let me go without giving him a good bath, too,” he added, causing Mikey to squeak and laugh in his hold.

“No problem, Pops,” Raph said, walking toward the door.

Leo blinked, confused. Where was his scolding? Where was his slap on the wrist? This couldn't possibly be that bad, right? “B-but I-”

“Go to bed, Leonardo.”

Leo shut up fast, swallowing all of his tears and excuses. He followed Raph glumly out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Raph was standing outside with a concerned look on his face, while Donnie wore a smirk.

“I told you Dad doesn't like liars.”

Leo walked past, trying to get to the bedroom with as little eye contact as possible. Raph reached to grab his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked faster. Donnie's words echoed in his head.

Dad didn't like liars. Leo was a liar. Dad was the one that took care of them.

He could kick Leo out.

He'd have to live in the tunnels. Or maybe, Dad wouldn't let him live in the tunnels. He'd have to live on the surface, with the humans. The humans who wanted to catch him. Who wanted to pull him apart to see what he was made of and then piece him back together to see what he could do. He would die without his dad. He didn't want to live without his dad. Without his brothers. Without Mikey. Because he did love Mikey, even if he lied. At least he thought so.

Maybe Dad wouldn't care now. Maybe Dad didn't love him now. Leo was a liar. Dad doesn't like liars. Why would he?

Leo flopped into his bed as soon as he reached it, pulling the covers over himself and turning in to face the wall. Raph attempted to talk to him, but Leo only curled up tighter, pulling his tail up so far he could see it in front of his face.

Eventually, Raph gave up. Leo heard him softly scolding Donnie, but tried to ignore it as silent tears fell off his cheeks.

Just when he thought he was about to fall asleep, Leo heard the bedroom door opening. He wiped his face and turned slightly, seeing Splinter walk first to Donnie's bed, then to Raph's, before finally coming toward Leo's.

He noticed Mikey sitting in the doorway, who waved when he caught Leo's eyes. Leo waved back slowly.

Splinter kneeled by Leo's bedside, just like he would any other night to tuck him in. Usually, this would bring Leo warmth and comfort, reminding him that his father loved him. This time, Leo couldn't fight the sense of dread that filled his chest, making it feel like he was breathing something heavier than air. He wasn't getting tucked in. He didn't deserve that anymore. He was a liar.

Dad doesn't like liars. 

His father's eyes seemed to see right through him. “I am very upset with you, Leonardo.”

Leo tensed, but kept looking at Splinter.

“I am not upset that you lost track of your brother. You are a child, and I cannot expect you to be perfect. Do you know why I am upset?”

Leo nodded slowly, then mumbled, “Because I lied…”

“Exactly. It is because you lied. You could have told me as soon as it happened, and I would have helped you look for him. Instead, you lied and put your brother at even more risk. You could have fessed up when I saw Michelangelo in the bathroom. But yet, you still didn't. You didn't admit to your own fault. It took Donatello telling me for you to finally confess. And even then, you tried to rid yourself of all guilt.”

Leo sniffed, tearing up again. “Are you gonna kick me out?”

Splinter's eyebrows raised in shock. “What? No, I will not kick you out. Why would I ever do something so horrible?”

Something shattered.

“But… but I lied! I hurt Mikey! I-I'm a bad brother!” Leo's tears started flowing openly.

“No, no, Blue, you are okay. Shh…” Splinter rubbed his hand across Leo's face, wiping a tear away.

Leo sniffled and hiccuped, holding onto the back of Splinter's hand and softly sobbing. “I'm sorry, Dad, I-I didn't want to…”

Splinter rubbed his son's cheek, hushing him quietly. “I know. But that does not change what you did.” He looked deeply into his son's eyes, ensuring he had his full attention. “I forgive you, but this cannot go without punishment. I will not kick you out, and I never would. You are my son. Instead, you will be grounded for a month.”

Leo whined, but nodded. “Okay…”

“However, I believe that taking away the things that bring you joy will not make you learn the lesson that you need to learn. That is why, during this month, you will not be disallowed from doing anything in our home. Do you understand that?”

Leo nodded.

“The only caveat is that you must spend the entire month with your brother, Michelangelo. You will only do things that he wants to do. You will not plant ideas in his head or put words in his mouth. You will only do things that he says he wants to do. If he ever wants to spend time away from you, you will spend that time with me. Do you understand?”

“Mhm.” Leo nodded again.

“Perfect.” Splinter smiled. “I forgive you for this, and I hope that through this grounding period you can regain my trust.”

Leo smiled as well and nodded one last time, wiping one last tear with the heel of his hand. “I hope so too.”

Splinter turned to the doorway and waved Mikey over with his hand. Mikey grinned and hopped over, much quicker than Leo had expected. He stopped at Leo's bedside, slowly using the bed to brace himself as he stood up on shaky legs, then looked at his father.

“Tell Blue what you told me, Orange.”

Mikey wobbled for a second, then looked up at Leo. “I, um, I'm sowwy I went away when you said not go away. And I'm sowwy, um, I jumped at Daddy when you said not to do… And, um, I wwwanted to s'eep in a big boy bed tonight, cause imma big boy now, but I don't got a big boy bed, can I s’eep wi’ you.” Mikey finished the sentence like a statement, not a question, but his intention was clear.

Leo looked for just a second at his dad, who nodded encouragingly, before looking back at his little brother. “Sure, Mike. Hop on up here.”

Mikey did just that, with more force than Leo had expected. “Wow, Angelo, you've really got good legs now!” Leo said, catching Mikey in his arms and helping tuck him into the blankets. Meanwhile, Splinter walked to Mikey's tank and came back with his bowl and a towel.

“Alright, boys. Orange, your bowl will be right here if you need to soak, and your tank will be there if you want it.” Splinter pulled the blanket up, kissing each boy on the forehead. He cringed and wiped his lips after kissing Mikey, making the boy squeak and giggle. “Sleep well, my big boys. I am so proud of you, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” both boys chorused. Mikey snuggled into Leo's chest, letting Leo hold him like a stuffed animal. Leo only flinched for a moment at the slimy feeling of Mikey's skin (mucous, not snot).

Splinter walked out of the room, and it was barely even 20 seconds after he heard the door close that Leo heard a whisper coming from beside him.

“I'm sowwy, ‘eo,” Mikey murmured.

Leo looked down at his brother, confused. “You already said sorry. You don't gotta say it again.”

“But I said sowwy then cause Dad said,” Mikey explained. “Now, I said sowwy cause Mikey said.”

“Oh.” Leo settled back in, putting his chin on Mikey's head. “Well, I'm really sorry too. And that's cause Leo said,” he added, smirking.

Mikey giggled and squeezed Leo tightly, wiggling beneath the sheets. In a matter of minutes, the young amphibian had completely fallen asleep, slightly drooling on Leo's pillow. He didn't mind.

Leo grabbed onto Mikey and closed his eyes as well.

He never wanted to let go again.

○●○●○●○

Did I tell myself I would write au comp propaganda? Yes. Did I write a fic about an au completely unrelated to the comp? Yes, and I'm not sorry. I figured since another round finished up today, why not post something?

For real, I've had some insane art block recently, and writing has been keeping me sane. I tried writing propaganda, hated it, then realized, you know what makes me feel better every time? Turtle tots.

In this case, everything-but-turtle tots.

Shoutout to @rufwooff for making one of the most serotonin filled aus I've seen in a while, and fueling my exhaustion-induced writing spree. And go check out @tmntaucompetition! We're getting closer to the end! AAH!

[lady-maracas]

Hello! I have juicy angsty request for you! It's angel dust x !male reader and it goes like this:

Reader and angel lived in the same period and used to work in the mafia where they met eachother and eventually fell in love with eachother (in a secret relationship), after some time both reader and angel die in shootouts with other gangs and the cops.

They both assume that their partner went to heaven and go many years in hell alone. Until by pure luck Reader finds angel wasted behind a bar and decides to help this random twink he found (they don't recognize eachother because angel is a spider demon dude now and thus pretty different visuallg compared to his living self, same goes for reader), after angel becomes sober and understands that reader isn't someone who will take advantage of him the 2 start having some small talk which eventually leads to them both thinking "HOLY SHIT ARE YOU ANGEL/READER?!!?", after which they cry tears of joy after finally finding their soulmate after decades spent alone

Angst prompts are 17, 22, 30 and 40

Also it's the first time that i write a request with a prompt system so sorry if i messed it up and of course feel free to modify my request however you like if you need to.

Thanks for reading!

Memories

Pairing: AngelDust X M!Reader

Word count: 2k words

Warnings: Swearing, Angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

I’ll be using angst prompts:

#17, “I lost myself the day I lost you.”

#22, “I’d take our relationship back in a heartbeat.”

#30, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

#40, “You know I still love you, right?”

It had been a cold night. A bad feeling was in the air, as if everyone knew we’d never make it out alive. It was one of those days, working for the mafia, fulfilling your destiny, as they say. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have done any of this—the killing, the fighting, the running away. I would have had a beautiful life and a better family. I would’ve been happy. Unfortunately, I had to work with my family, kill for them, fight for them, and be unhappy for them.

It was a cold night indeed. We could hear the bugs singing and fireflies lighting up the dark night. There was fog, if I remember correctly. Yes, there was. I was surrounded by my family and the rest of our mafia members. The ten of us stood around our enemies shelter, their house, hidden in the middle of the woods. We had found them a couple of days prior, deciding we needed to attack them first.

I remember walking slowly towards the house, crouching behind tall herbs. It was quiet; the only sound we could hear was our steps in the wet grass. I looked to my right, and I remember seeing him.

Oh, my dear Anthony, the light of my life. His blonde hair stood out in the dark, and his blue eyes looked right back at me. We had met a couple of years ago, when he joined my family’s team. Just like me, he was following his relatives orders, not liking the line of work we were bound to. I remember the first time I saw him and how mesmerized I was. His fluffy blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his rosy cheeks—everything about him made me immediately fall in love. He was a bit taller than I was, making me look up at him like he was a god. He was beautiful.

Over the next few years, we got to know each other better. He spent our days together, followed our families together, comforted each other through hard times, and we were attached at the hip. I would lie if I said I didn’t fall madly in love with him. Unfortunately, the 40s weren’t swell enough to accept us, two men, being in love with each other. So we never said so. It was obvious, though; he cared for me as much as I cared for him.

So that night, that damned night, when our oh-so genius plan failed, when the enemies attacked us before we even had the time to draw our weapons, I knew I had to say something to him. I remember trying to make my way up to him through the bullet rain. That is when it hit me. Right through the spine and the stomach. Fuck.

I saw Anthony’s eyes widening as I fell into the tall grass. It all happened in slow motion. He threw himself down and made his way up to me, cradling me in his arms, tears threatening to fall on his cheeks. He was afraid.

“It’s okay.” I tried to lift my hand to his cheek. I think I did. “You don’t have to hide your tears from me, it’s alright.” I gave him a weak smile, and so did he, his tears staining his cheeks.

And everything went black, as black as the night sky.

That’s what happened; well, that’s how I remember it happening. My death. It was a lifetime ago, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. I remember his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my arm, trying to make my death as painless as possible. I am forever glad the last thing I saw was his beautiful face.

I hope he lived a beautiful life after my passing. Or, well, at least I hope he lived. I have no idea when, how, or where he died. I don’t know if he’s in hell or in heaven. I hope he is in heaven, living his afterlife in peace, but a part of me wished he’d be down here in hell.

I got used to living alone in this shithole; I had to anyway. I spent most of my days working, trying my best to earn money to survive. I often spent that money on drinks, trying to solve all my problems by forgetting them for a short while. Tonight was no different; I was sitting at the bar of a shitty club. The music was awful, I cursed whoever chose to play some of these tasteless tracks. I stared at the bottom of my drink, silently hoping the creepy bartender, who has been giving me weird looks since I arrived, didn’t spike my drink.

I had very few friends down here in hell. Most of them have families and important duties to take care of. None of them knew just how much I was struggling to live here, to be happy, and to have a good afterlife. I was desperate, I needed a good friend, or at least someone who would understand me.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a loud, crashing noise right beside me. I turned my head just in time to see a pink figure jump across the bar to tackle the bartender.

“Did you fucking spike my drink?” I heard the pink figure shout about two inches from the bartender’s face, holding his collar with his right hand, or more like one of his four hands. “You fucking…drugged me!” His speech was slurred. He definitely was not sober, and if he told the truth, he was drugged too.

The bartender pushed him away, making him stumble back. “I did not!” The bartender gestured, almost knocking on my drink in the process. I grabbed the glass, finishing its contents in one swift sip.

“There’s no need to fight, gentlemen.” I spoke up, trying to break the tension between the two. I put my hand on the pink man’s shoulder; he was much taller than me. “Come on, I’ll get you some help.” I tried to reason with him, obviously, he was scared. He glared at me, his eyes staring at mine, one white, one black. I took one of his arms and led him through the front door. “Where do you live? I’ll help you home.” I asked.

“You’re the one who…asked him to spike my drink, huh? If you wanted to take advantage of me, you could’ve just asked.” He brushed his fluffy bangs out of his face. I looked back at him with a soothing smile on my face. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you…uh” I hesitated; I didn’t know his name. “My name is Angel.” His speech was slurred. “Alright then, Angel, if you want me to, I’ll help you home.” I offered him my hand, to which he clung, to steady his sloppy steps. We walked for a bit to where I assumed was his home, all the while exchanging small talk.

I noticed Angel had been leading me to the famous Hazin Hotel. Oh Lord, please don’t tell me he lives there. “You’re staying at the hotel?” I asked, a bit hesitant. “Yeah, yeah, I was forced to; my friend, Charlie, thinks I can rehabilitate my soul. Ha!” He laughed at the thought. “You don’t think you can redeem your soul?” I laughed with him. “Absolutely not!” He crossed all four arms. “This body was made for sex, Toots! There is no way I’ll ever be a sweet angel!” He stumbled a bit due to the alcohol in his system. “Steady, we’re almost there!” I encouraged him by giving him my hand for him to grab again. He was definitely a funny guy.

We made our way up to the hotel, the path seeming endless. He waddled in, keeping the door open for me, but when I didn’t enter, he turned around, giving me a puzzled look. “You’re sure you want me to come in? I don’t want to bother you.” I fidget with my hands. I definitely wanted to help him, but I did not want to deal with everyone else who might stay at this hotel. “Oh, come on, you’re no bother! Everyone else is probably asleep by now.” He let go of the door when I stepped in. I noticed his Italian accent, and I loved that…

He walked up the stairs, holding the railing with both his right hands to steady himself. I stayed behind him in case he stumbled down. When we arrived in front of his room, he opened the door, and I hesitated again, not wanting to overstep. His room was decent, even nice. I barely had the time to process my surroundings when I heard the tap water in the bathroom sink. Angel leaned over the sink to try and drink. “Don’t you have a glass somewhere you can use?” I giggled a bit at the funny situation. “Nope!” He replied, sending water down his face. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Mh! That was good!” He mumbled a bit under his breath.

“I like your accent! Is it Italian?” My mouth asked before my brain even had the time to approve. He gave me a funny look before answering. “Yeah, my family was Italian. My real family, I mean.” He sat down on his bed, resting his arms on his thighs. “I miss my life, y’know. Wait, no, actually, I don’t. I used to work for my family, which sucked.” ‘Same…’ I wanted to answer, but I didn’t. “I wish I had lived longer, but when I really think about it, I had no reason to live…” He continued. ‘Oh, this was going to be a deep conversation’, I thought. “You know, my life was pretty much like yours; I’m afraid I used to work for my family too.” I tried to reassure him. He laughed softly. “Yeah, well, I guess you weren’t working for the fucking Mafia…” He sighed.

What? I had been looking away, but when I heard him, I turned slowly back to him. This couldn’t be right…I had to be dreaming, or maybe I misunderstood him. “When did you die?” I asked under my breath, fearing the answer. “1947, why?” He looked at me as if I were crazy.

My breath got caught in my throat. I wanted to cry, to laugh, and to jump into his arms. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. “Anthony?!” I barely let out, wishing my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I saw his face become numb, all emotion leaving his face in the span of a second. “Y/N?” He returned.

I let out a breathy sob, tuning into his arms. He had gotten up, ready to cradle me in his arms, just like he did the day I died. I had finally found him—my love, my light, my everything. We cried for what felt like hours. I finally pulled back to look at his face. He did look different, but after all, he was still my Anthony.

“Oh, Y/N, you don’t know how I missed you; I lost myself when I lost you.” He smiled through his tears. Oh, how I love him. “I still love you, you know? All these years in hell, I tried to find myself, but I was never able to, not without you by my side. It turns out I died only a couple of weeks after you.” I didn’t hesitate this time; not afraid to cross any boundaries, I pressed my lips to his, stepping on my tiptoes. He returned my kiss eagerly, which sent butterflies through my stomach. I loved him. I pulled back a bit, leaning my forehead against his. “I’d take our relationship back in a heartbeat, if you’d let me.” I wiped the tears that fell down on my cheeks, to which he laughed. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He said.

At last, I had found my home.

///

Heya readers! Again, thank you for the request, @4ndr3ax10 , I hope you like it!

Just a reminder, I can write for multiple characters from multiple fandoms, you can find that info on my prompt list! Thank you!

[worriedvision]

You lie to him - Wriothesley

Angst, gender neutral reader. A bit of a strange plot here - basically parents of reader are fatui agents and they try to get away from that. Wriothesley knows this, but unbenownst to him you hold back something serious.

There is a brief mention of children being snatched for experimentation. This is not graphic, however it is important for the story.

--

Receiving letters from your parents was a concern for you - your parents were both Fatui agents, devoted to the organisation and insisting you should turn to them. You never really liked it, how some innocent lives would be taken because of the Fatui - your earliest memory happened when you were out exploring by yourself.

--

People knew not to target you due to the insignia attached to your clothing, but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for another child. You had witnessed some of Dottores underlings snatching children that were clearly not attached to the Fatui, and based on the screams of the child they weren't going anywhere great. Before you could run along to protest, however, you felt a hand on your shoulder - your mother reassuring you the child was going to have a 'use'.

You didn't need to be a genius to know that was not true. Despite your concerns, however, you couldn't get any proper reassurance the child was fine whenever you asked your mother. From that point, you weren't permitted to leave the house alone. When you tried the first few times, you would be promptly dragged back to your home roughly, your parents punishing you once they get word of it happening.

Over time, you got smarter - you were taught by people who were good at their job, allowing you to read and write. When you caught wind of you being forcefully signed up by your parents when they left a letter out in the open - the two of them assuming you were too stupid to read and understand a letter - you made an elaborate plan to escape. You decide to play up the idea of not understanding anything your tutors were teaching you, attempting to buy you more time as you plan your escape, only to get impatient when you hear your parents talk gleefully about what you would be doing for the 'family' (you realise this was the company, not your own family).

One midnight, you run out under the blanket of night to sneak onto a boat. Bundled up with one bag to keep you going for at least a few weeks, you hope this boat takes you to a place where you can find where you belong.

That's how you met Wriothesley. More specifically, you were caught on the boat. Nobody on the boats team knew you, so you were handed over to Fontaine - thank goodness you had removed any evidence of being part of the Fatui. All insignias were off your person. You get sentenced to prison, which shocks you at the time. When you arrived, most of the folk around you were much older - as a child, that wasn't surprising for a prison. Nonetheless, you were scared.

However, one child was the same age as you. He seemed to be fidgety, but upon realising the new prisoner was around his age he was curious. With more conversations, you both grow closer. When you trust him enough to not tattle on you to the Fortress for a reduced sentence, he tells you his reason for being in prison. He was scared you would be disgusted, but you understand why he did what he did.

Upon becoming the new Administrator for the Fortress, you tell Wriothesley the real reason you were there. You had fled your parents house, knowing you'd be forced to help with the Fatuis plans, and Wriothesley smirks as he adds in a comment on how it explained how you didn't hate him when finding out his crime.

Everything was going so well between the two of you - everyone knew you were a couple, and everyone was supportive.

Unfortunately, the Fatui caught on to who you were. They send you letters, threatening to claim you the moment you slip up. Knowing you had nothing linking you to them, you weren't worried. Wriothesley didn't know about this, assuming everything was going well as you continued to try and evade capture by your parents.

Ironically, it's Wriothesley who slips up. He doesn't understand that your parents had a dedicated work ethic. He lets slip that you were a 'child' of the Fatui, and the Harbinger he was negotiating with feigns being insulted by the idea of someone turning on them.

After realising your time was limited, and you were going to either forcibly or willingly be sent back by the Fatui, you opt to burn the bridge you have with Wriothesley before handing yourself over. You know he can't do anything to stop this, even Neuvillette couldn't, and if you were to not 'turn' on him, he would be implicated on housing someone with a contractual attachment to the Fatui.

So, you do something stupid.

You tell Wriothesley you never loved him, that he was stupid for falling for your tricks. Wriothesley argues back, asking why you would do such an elaborate plan and remove all attachment from the Fatui all those years ago, only for you to laugh in his face. Showing a look of disgust, he turns to hide his face.

"Get out. I don't like who you are."

A correct statement for him to make, given the horrible lies you've been telling him to cut ties and protect him.

But this wouldn't be enough, you know. You get escorted out of the building, people turning heads as you make comments on how you were a 'proud Fatui agent' and Wriothesley had been 'played like a fiddle for information'. Of course, you were doing this to protect him, but nobody else around you knew this as people share looks of concern as they see you ruining your relationship.

Upon boarding the boat back to your homeland, you see a Harbinger.

"I see you know your rightful place." Pantalone hums out. "Consider yourself lucky your parents loved you enough to write up a good contract for your safety - even in the turn of betrayal." He smiles, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "If it weren't for the concrete contract your mother had written, you would be handed over as a test subject for Dottore."

Signing up their child to the Fatui? What a funny way of protecting your child, you think to yourself.

As the ship sails off, you turn as you see Wriothesley there, teary eyed but still wanting to see the person he loved for the last time. Unable to see how hurt he was without breaking your facade of being an undercover agent all this time, you sneer before turning away, crying as Pantalone chuckles at your actions.

[feroluce]

I have been informed by a mutual aid that you are a henghill enjoyer. You've single-handedly gotten me to care about Gepard and I would love to hear your thoughts on Cowborg Menace x Dragon That Can't Catch a Break

Aaaaaaaa I'm really flattered!! I have also been informed by a mutual aid that you have good taste (read: rvb enjoyer) and I need you to know that part of the reason I treat Gepard the way I do, like messing with him constantly, is because he makes me think of Wash. Poor dude was doomed the moment I got my grubby little mitts on him sksjkskdjd

But anyway yes, henghill! They really got me by the throat out of nowhere in 2.2. They're just. Surprisingly sweet?

The two of them get along very well, they see eye to eye on a lot of matters and have some similar mannerisms, they can hold long conversations together, and they have a shockingly swift understanding of the other in a very small amount of time! Platonically or romantically, there's a lot to dig into there. ♡

And I do mean a lot this basically ended up becoming a big long ship manifesto I'm so sorry zmjzznkdjd

Like first of all they're both fucking nerds over each other. Boothill's adoration for the Xianzhou alliance is already well-documented in his About Dan Heng voice line, and is appropriately pointed out in the fandom as sounding gay as all hell.

We know what you are, Boothill.

But then! He further cements it by trying to use Xianzhou sayings in front of Dan Heng haha

Not only that, but Boothill was able to recognize the Jade Abacus of Allying Oath for what it was like immediately, and instantly took it as proof of Dan Heng's identity as a Nameless. The validation of the Xianzhou is clearly a huge deal to him.

And Dan Heng plays it cool but like. I don't think he's actually much better JFKLASJDKL

The in-game Data Bank, which is supposed to be written and maintained by Dan Heng himself, has a pretty positive glowing review of the Galaxy Rangers.

And I feel the need to point out that like. The Galaxy Rangers are essentially a vigilante justice group..."group" being a pretty loose term, there isn't a whole lot of organization in there. Not everyone has a very good view of them because they're outlaws and there's a pretty wide and wild variety of individuals in the mix there, Boothill even confirms it as such.

And that archive entry is a hilariously stark contrast to the one for the Masked Fools, who Dan Heng does NOT seem to respect. So you can tell he puts a lot of his own opinion into the data and you can really see where his preferences lie KFDLAJFKLD

He does let his fanboy slip when Boothill first announces himself as a Galaxy Ranger though, just a little bit haha:

They're like the equivalent of when your favorite big name fandom person follows you back, you feel me fjkdjasflkdjskal

Which. I feel like it does make sense that he would really idolize the Galaxy Rangers and see them as heroes. Dan Heng is someone who was a victim of centuries of wrongful imprisonment and political power plays, and it would have been way worse had Jing Yuan not gone above the preceptors to protect him. He is someone that the system failed, and horrifically so. Of course he would like the idea of righteous heroes who stand for justice and travel the cosmos freely to help people.

And as @hydrachea, CEO of Dan Heng Enterprises and Super Genius with Giant Wrinkly Brain pointed out, this background DOES lay the foundation for Dan Heng to relate to Boothill a lot. You see this displayed beautifully in his Keeping Up With Star Rail video, where Dan Heng gets really protective of him, I adored it so so much. ♡

In it, Dan Heng not only comments that he originally came because he thought he was giving a presentation on how to be friendly with Boothill, but every time the IPC tries to paint him as some violent dangerous ruthless criminal, Dan Heng speaks up to explain his way of thinking and to defend him. It was really sweet!

And Dan Heng is protective of people anyway. He serves as the Guard of the Astral Express for a reason. He had nothing and no one before Himeko took him in, and now that he's found companions to love he is viciously defensive of them. You see it in the way he guards March 7th during fights on Jarilo-IV, in how he goes out of his way to bring important info to the trailblazer, in how he left the safety of the Express and infiltrated the Luofu because he was terrified he was going to lose them. But there's maybe a little extra layer of Understanding in the way he so persistently speaks up in Boothill's defense.

And I'm sure that this is a part of him that Boothill really admires, too, because Dan Heng also displays these instincts in Penacony. He makes the decision not just once, but twice, to use the Jade Abacus to save the Express Crew. And we know from Boothill's earlier reaction to it that like. The Jade Abacus is a Big Fuckin' Deal. It is something of immense value. Even with everything that's at stake, Boothill urges him to really make sure he wants to use it.

And this was something that really got me in the heart later, because! In Ena's Dream, Dan Heng once again decides to use the Jade Abacus, and. I'm not quite sure I can effectively put it in words, but there is something just so so sweet in the way that Boothill tells him no, Dan Heng should keep it. This is a get out of jail free card that could save his life down the line, he wants him to have it in case he finds himself in danger again later.

It really gives the feeling that Boothill actually wanted Dan Heng to not have to rely on this before, but there was no other way at the time. But now there IS something Boothill can do about it, and he wants to do something about it. A sorta-kinda "let me protect you this time"-ish feeling. If that makes any sense. He doesn't want Dan Heng to have to make that sacrifice.

Because I think Boothill would consider that a really admirable and respectable action, especially given his background. The IPC eradicated his homeplanet. He lost his parents, his siblings, his daughter, his home all in one fell swoop, and he has been on a fully dedicated revenge quest ever since. How could he not be a little awed by someone willing to give so much to protect his home and his family?

I think it's something the two of them understand in each other, because as it shows in the dialogue the first time Dan Heng decided to use the Jade Abacus, Boothill caught on immediately. He already knew what Dan Heng was planning before he even said so. And it's not even the first time he does that! Even as early as their initial entrance into the Reverie, Boothill is able to tell when Dan Heng is stressed, why he's stressed, and he backs off and gives him space without any fuss.

And it works! After the Express Crew are safe, they go from Dan Heng correcting him to more just kind of going with Boothill's flow, and I feel like this is a much better basis for their interactions.

Also I'm crying about Dan Heng blabbing that the trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron, gossipy little dragon fjdkasjfdklsaj

Like the two of them just GET each other! And so quickly and easily! It's ridiculous! Dan Heng is able to explain the methods behind Boothill's madness. Boothill is able to read Dan Heng like a book. They both had the same reaction to learning Acheron was a Self-Annihilator. They both really believe it's just fine and normal to have a weapon out if you don't trust someone yet- Boothill pulled his gun on Acheron the second he saw her, Dan Heng got his spear out and poked Sampo the first time he met him (valid). And they both act Like That because they're similar flavors of wary and cautious. They had to prove their identities to each other when they first met before either of them could relax.

They're both frank, and blunt, and will openly call shit out or question it when they see fit. They both believe in answering the call to action, and share a lot of their ideologies of The Hunt, like upholding justice and saving the innocent and protecting the weak. Boothill lives to fuck over the IPC and keep them from colonizing more planets like his, Dan Heng didn't even consider his own wants and asked to go to Edo Star to help the population there. They take their creeds seriously, and dedicate themselves to them, enough to be offended by imposters. Dan Heng dislikes Boothill claiming to be a Nameless, Boothill was literally hunting down Acheron for parading around as a Galaxy Ranger.

And all throughout 2.2, Boothill displays an immense knowledge of Paths and Aeons and even Emanators, and Dan Heng is a huge nerd an archiver and a collector of knowledge. The conversations these two could have!! They've both been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things, and I think Dan Heng especially would love listening to Boothill's stories and then adding them to the data bank. They can probably relate on rough travel, too- Boothill refers to the Astral Express as "bunkin' in luxury" and Pom-Pom once said Dan Heng was "used to sleeping on the rope." When March 7th takes the trailblazer to look for Dan Heng, she even phrases this as though he and Boothill have been talking together for quite a while!

Hell, even when they awaken in Ena's Dream, they arrive together:

They were together for almost the entirety of 2.2; literally the very first scene of it was their introduction. They only truly separated when Dan Heng went to help in the fight with The Great Septimus and Boothill to gather the Rangers (and then go shoot Aventurine full of holes fjkdlsajd) but! I'm really hoping we'll get to see more of them together in 2.3! They were a really cool duo, and it was so fun to watch them all through this update, I really want to see more of them now and explore their relationship dynamic more! ♡

[materlux]

Werifesteria.

Werifesteria: (v.) To wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery.

The esteemed doctor Veritas Ratio, finds himself intrigued by the old technology of a post-post-apocalyptic planet. He finds more than he beckoned for, but on the bright side, he has a new personal student.

CW: Monster!Reader, is Ratio's attitude a warning? Fluff-ish?

Honkai Star Rail | Main Masterlist

This planet had experienced a catastrophic incident many amber eras ago, this has left its remaining life forms cut off from the rest of the cosmos. The people of this planet are, what the Genius Society would label, primitive. They do not understand the giant metal structures left behind by their forefathers, they have no knowledge of the aeons, or of the place they once occupied in the vast universe. To put it simply, it’s like someone pressed the ‘reset’ button on their civilization.

   So of course the Intelligentsia Guild sent a group of researchers there, if these people were primitive it opened up an opportunity for the whole of the IPC, but first they wanted their own proof.

   The information about the trip and the planet itself spread like wildfire, every researcher was talking about it, and it wasn’t long before the students caught on to the chatter. Dr. Ratio was getting increasingly annoyed having to listen to the same boring discourse surrounding the trip, now not even his own classroom was a quiet place.

   It would, however, be a lie to say the famed doctor wasn’t at least a little intrigued, but this kind of trip lent itself more to the social and psychological sciences, not the mathematical ones. So colour him surprised when an invitation to join the group lands on his desk, he wasn’t planning on going, but the invite only made him all the more curious.

   So here he was, along with 9 others, touching down on the planet’s surface just outside a large town. They were prepared for the locals to be hostile, but they were quite welcoming, offering shelter and food.

   The other researchers quickly found their niche of work useful, and started noting down the locals' behaviours. But Ratio was still unsure of his purpose on this trip, but having read up on the planet’s previous inhabitants came with an idea: He was here to learn and understand the ancient art of floating cities, ones that once filled the sky of this planet.

   Using the advanced technology at his fingertips, he searches for some sort of electric output, at first he only picks up the ship and nothing else. As days go by he expands the search area, closely analysing any signal no matter how weak. On the last day of the first week, he picks up a faint signal, not as strong as the ships, but not as weak as the other flukes.

   The signal pings on his small screen, it’s coming from within the depths of a dense forest. The locals warn him of ghosts and monsters, he simply ignores them, primitive species always believe in superstitions, but the truth is that these occurrences can be explained using science.

   Small ghosts gather along the path he follows, some begin to trail after him, he ignores them, they’re clearly harmless. But you certainly aren’t, sitting far above him in the canopy surrounded by ghosts, you are entirely absorbed in the vibrant colour of his hair, it reminds you of something, a flower.

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

   The water is cold against your skin and soaks into your fur, the water ripples gently as you move about, plucking purple flowers from the water. You gather a couple of the otherwise large flowers, you hope the man with vibrant hair will accept this offering of friendship, it’s what the townspeople do.

   The figure that emerges from the bushes halts its movements, it takes a moment for Ratio to comprehend the scene before him, but he swiftly turns his head away from your naked back. You look up at the noise, tilt your head curiously, water swishes around your legs as you manoeuvre up the bank.

   Dr. Ratio refuses to look at you, human or not it is ungentlemanly to ogle at you, clearly you were not expecting company at this time, whoever you were. Something wet drips onto his clothing, and an extra weight is added to his head. You gently adjust the flowers in his hair, leaning back to look him over.

   As much as the doctor intended to be a gentleman, he can’t help but look at you, completely perplexed, what even are you? He pulls the flowers from his hair, you wait with baited breath for his response. He looks them over and grimaces at the water coating his hands and damping his hair, he holds flowers back out to you. You accept them, this means he accepts your friendship, right?

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   Ratio came out here in search of old machinery in the hopes of furthering his knowledge of physics, and to maybe one day mimic the genius of the forefather to this planet. He was not expecting to have company on this search, the small ghosts were easy to ignore; their small, quiet and low to the ground. You, on the other hand, were taller, noisier, and somehow always ended up right in front of his face.

   His patience, which many would say he already lacked, was running thin. You weren’t getting in per say, but you were far too curious for your own good, this led the doctor to conclude: You must be the apex predator around here.

   For a moment the doctor sat down to rest on a log, you however took this chance to poke at him, not metaphorically, but literally. Ratio prides himself in his intelligence and ability to learn with ease, but you perplexed him, and he hated it. Your hands always seemed to find their to his hair, gentle as you were, you pulled and moved the strands around.

   The doctor could not for the life of him, figure out you found so fascinating about his hair, you had your own. Upon closer inspection your hair appeared to be matted in some places, and full of leaves and what not.

   Any chance you got, you added flowers to his hair, you were starting to run out of flowers to offer him. You had hoped he would have liked at least one of them, but he pulled every single one back out. The small ghosts offer little consolation, they find and hand you any small buds you haven’t tried yet.

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   Giant metal structures, ruins overgrown, rise out of the ground before him. The signal is close by now, it must be hidden within. Ratio walks a round outside the structure, considering ways in and the best course of action to find the object emitting the small pulse.

   You observe him from above on the structure, you don’t understand the words he mutters to himself, in your defence he doesn’t exactly use simple words. He walks into the structure, disappearing into the darkness, only a few minutes later does re-emerge. He mutters more words to himself as he looks over his screen and back up to the structure.

   Later in the evening you manoeuvre your way into one of the upper levels of the structure, within the maze of corridors and fallen metal, you have your nest. In your nest lies an object, it’s mechanical in nature and emits a faint glow, you keep it because it’s pretty.

   You look at the object in the early morning light, perhaps the vibrant haired man doesn’t like flowers, but other gifts. You have seen the townspeople give each other objects instead of flowers, this appears to yield the same result, companionship.

   Dr. Ratio looks at the screen as the signal begins to move, it should not under any circumstance do that, it’s a piece of ancient machinery. A loud thud is followed by you figure less than gracefully making it down to the ground, he looks you over, you smile like the locals do, but your smile is all sharp teeth. You hold out the glowing object, and Ratio nearly drops his jaw on the ground, he takes it carefully, inspecting it, he doesn’t offer it back.

   You tilt your head and with your limited vocabulary, you ask: “Like?” He nods offhandedly, before his head snaps up to look at you. You gently clap your hands in glee, he likes it, you made a friend.

   “You can talk?” He asks, you tilt your head again, you look akin to a lost dog. You nod hesitantly, some words elude you, but based on what you remember the right answer is yes.

   “And your name is?” He looks at you expectantly, you however understand some of those words, you feel like a big question mark.

   “Name?” You ask back, a name, you don’t have a name you think, you don’t remember having one.

   “Yes a name,” Ratio continues, “like my own.” You only continue to tilt your head.

   “My name is doctor Veritas Ratio.” You are stumped.

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

   You follow your new companion around the forest, Ratio attempts to teach you his name, you only call him ‘doctor’ so far, good enough he decides. By the edge of the forest you stop, the townspeople don’t like you, that’s why you stay in the forest it’s safer. But the doctor pays these primitive locals little mind, and continues onward to the ship, you don’t want to lose your new companion. So mustering up all your courage you follow him.

   The other researchers find you fascinating, you are quite overwhelmed by all the attention. Ratio gets special permission to leave the planet’s surface and instead board the larger ship orbiting the planet, you were not meant to join him, but it appears the great doctor has made an oversight.

   You curl yourself up by a window and observe the stars, the doctor leaves you to your devices, you seem unbothered by the fact you are floating in outer space. He notes down questions he has for you, or rather about you, he wonders if it would be possible to teach you the basics of mathematics. It would certainly be a challenge, but who better from the Intelligensia Guild to take on such a challenge, than the esteemed doctor Ratio.

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

my bohemian ass woke up at noon on a friday so I'm not firing on all cylinders yet, but there is this important distinction in the novel, The Phantom of the Opera, and the musical The Phantom of the Opera. I understand why a novel length distinction is cut for time and narrative tidiness for a medium that happens on stage, but I think people draw some very unfair, unflattering and incorrect conclusions from the stage that they port into their reading of the novel.

that is: Erik, the phantom of the opera, knows about Christine and Raoul's engagement and he's actually totally cool with Christine's plan. This is not incel behavior. This is not ~toxic masculinity~ or whatever contemporary bullshit you want to spew on the intentionally sympathetic monster in gothic literature. Raoul is supposed to leave on a naval expedition to the north pole. Christine's plan is to be engaged with him until he leaves. "This is a happiness that will hurt no one," she says. I don't have the exact quote for it but later on she relates how Erik knows and approves, at least of this intended to be limited engagement engagement. Why? Because he's the happiest of men with Christine, and he wants Raoul to experience that happiness. He does also expect Raoul to, you know, fucking leave when he's supposed to, but still. Christine and Raoul are romping around the Opera, kissing and crying together, and our ghost dude here is just like: good for them.

What sets him off is not the idea of a romantic rival. He does not, imo, feel "entitled" to Christine's love or whatever batshit nonsense the Erik-as-incel narrative huffs like paint fumes. What sets Erik off is how Christine has lied to him: not about the engagement, but about the degree of visceral disgust she feels for Erik specifically as a result of his deformity. She details, in graphic detail, how she closes her eyes instead of looking upon him, how she tells him that she only averts her eyes because she is in awe of his genius. She tells Raoul how horrible even physical proximity to Erik is, how grotesque his face is, how the horror of an animated corpse proclaiming his love to her is--well, horrible, and horrifying. Erik is on the floor, on his knees, kissing the hem of her dress, and Christine has her eyes closed the whole time.

I also think contemporary audiences can't handle that. They need Christine to be a pure and wholesome Good Girl (regressive bullshit), who is the victim of an evil evil man, and only the victim (also regressive bullshit). But also because she is a female character in the contemporary mind, she is allowed no flaws. She must reject Erik because he is a bad man. It would be ableist otherwise, yes? And the contemporary audience cannot handle lack of physical beauty being the reason. There can be no nuance to Christine's reactions. She is Good. Erik is Bad. That's all there is to it. The audience member is so sure that they themselves are above moral reproach, too. That's what is at stake here, also.

Never mind that Christine herself, repeatedly, notes that Erik is right when he says that if she thought he was handsome, she would stay. Never mind that when Raoul asks her if she would still love him if Erik were handsome, Christine declines to reply.

To be clear: this is not a Christine bashing post. I think her complexity here is fascinating. I hate a flat one note ingénue and that's not what she IS, and it pains me that fic authors write her that way, as if it's superior. No! Here she's human and she's magnificent! She's conflicted! Erik is alluring but also in ways that are no fault of his own, terrifying.

We gloss over the intended body horror of the novel. I know I do. I forget that he smells like rot and death, that he's cold and clammy to the touch, that he moans like a ghoul, that is supposed to have a gaping nose hole and eyes you can only see in the dark.

I don't think Christine is wrong to lie. But it's easy to understand, if you let yourself, how betrayed the monster might feel when he finds out about all this concealed disgust.

So, two points here

The rage upon being unmasked isn't just because he's unmasked and she broke a rule or whatever. It's the death of his whole gambit and his last hope, and Erik is, canonically, very smart. He knows this. He knows his face IS the issue. He knows it is THE issue. He reads Christine correctly in that the Angel of Music bit is ultimately forgivable in her eyes, and she likes that he brought down her favorite horse, she absolutely is there for their shared spiritual musical raptures. I want people to understand this: ERIK IS RIGHT about his own situation, a LOT of the time. He comes to some bad conclusions after, but in terms of understanding what's happening around him, he's accurate.

And so the rage and despair post Apollo's Lyre isn't "oh no, she loves Raoul," or even "how dare she, that SLUT," as some people make it out to be. It's the realization that he's been a monster to her this whole time. All this time he thought that she saw him as a man, and she has not. All the presumably good memories he has of her and her two weeks she lived with him are now revealed as lies. She's been enduring this whole time, not acclimating. She feels horror. She feels, again, disgust. She's shuddered at the touch of his hand in hers and put on a brave face and he's believed her up until this point, and he's having his physical inadequacies and his uncharacteristic naiveté described in excruciating detail to his romantic rival. He probably feels real fuckin stupid, on top of all else. He's been duped. He also feels disgusting and unlovable, because Christine has just repeatedly described him as disgusting and unlovable.

It is, of course, wildly incorrect to then decide to blow up an opera house about it.

But it's not entitled incel behavior and that's such a boring and contemporary narrative to shove a beautiful example of gothic literature into. Intellectually lazy and artistically myopic. I think most of us, if we're honest with ourselves, can think of a time we thought somebody liked us--maybe romantically or sexually but also maybe not, maybe just as a friend, as a bestie--and we turned out to be very wrong, because the person was just being polite or avoiding awkwardness or whatever. That is: they lied, in a very understandable and justifiable and socially expected way. And how did that feel, dear reader? Not great, right?

The point of the phantom of the opera is that it's a bunch of normal human experiences turned up to the max, dialed into a sublime hum that goes so hard it turns inhuman and terrible. It's that what makes a monster, what makes a man line, which is only interesting to walk if it's identifiably very human in parts. So Erik isn't just romantically rejected: he is rejected in just about EVERY way possible, besides his divinity of music. And this is supposed to the story of his entire life, over and over again, just most vividly and poignantly illustrated by his failure with Christine, when he most desperately wants to be just like everybody else.

And I think it's a shame to lose that very basic narrative and thematic point, but also a shame to lose the nuance of: Erik wants to share his happiness with Raoul. He loves Christine so, so much that he seems to find Raoul's lovesick desire very relatable. Of course, who wouldn't allow his fellow man a glimpse of heaven? And I just chose my words carefully there, if not the rest of the post. In his approval of Christine and Raoul's playful engagement, Erik is briefly engaging on a man-to-man level. He feels human about it. And when he feels human and accepted as human, instead of a walking horror show, he's immediately kind of gracious.

It's when he finds out that he's been a monster and not a man this whole time, in the eyes of his beloved and his rival, that he seems to go: I'll show you what a monster is.

[oldmannapping]

Fic: Bodyswap (Part 2)

Part One

Based on my own prompt about wanting a body-swap fic that dealt with the gross embarrassing parts.

This has expanded into something more than I intended, but I can't stop writing.

It's a Dick-Jason, Tim-Steph bodyswap. There is literally no plot. They're body-swapped and trying to deal with it, that's it. No pairings, past Steph/Tim.

It's crack treated like crack. It's two parts for now but I might add more. Warnings for language, discussions of menstruation, discussions of sexuality.

EXCERPT:

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. “PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Bruce rubs his forehead, eyes pinched closed. He’s only been in the Cave for six minutes and he’s already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

“So you can read each other’s minds?” he clarifies, still not opening his eyes.

“No,” Jason snaps derisively.

“Not really,” says Dick dick-lomatically. (Duke used that word ONE TIME and no one has ever let it go.) “It’s more like… familiar thought patterns? I’m still me, with my memories and thoughts, but I’ve got Jason’s… knee jerk reactions. His instincts. It’s hard to describe.”

“I haven’t noticed anything like that,” says Tim, peering at the older men with curiosity. “I haven’t run too many experiments yet though. I’m planning all sorts of cognitive testing and brain scans but I’ve been really foggy-headed and haven’t been able to put it together like I normally would.”

He frowns. “Now that I think about it, maybe that’s a symptom in itself. Could it be that the spell actively smothers attempts to break it? I was writing a program to analyse the results of some basic nerve conduction studies yesterday and I got so tired I had to have a nap. When I woke up, I was ravenous and completely forgot about the studies. This is fascinating. Bruce, is there any precedent for spells that are self-protecting like that? This could be something we should consult Zatanna about, or maybe even Constantine…”

“Yo, Boy Genius,” interrupts Steph, clicking Tim’s fingers in front of her own face. “That wasn’t the spell. Brain fog, fatigue, increased appetite? Congratulations, you’ve just discovered PMS.”

Tim is aghast. Jason has barked a surprised laugh and Dick and Bruce seem baffled.

“That, that can’t be right,” Tim insists. “You don’t understand Steph, I was operating WAY below my usual capacity. This wasn’t just a little brain fog. I was having a hard time with codes that I’d normally be able to do in my sleep. I forgot the word for “synthesise”. I took a two-hour nap then ate half a rotisserie chicken. I threw my keyboard across the room and then cried when it broke.”

“That was my chicken,” says Dick in a small, sad voice. Jason’s body needs a LOT of protein.

“This isn’t just PMS,” Tim continues blithely. “This is definitely something more.”

Bruce and Dick take sizeable steps backwards. Jason cackles.

Steph flares Tim’s nostrils and opens her mouth. Far too late, Tim realises that he’s in danger.

“Timothy.” Somehow, she makes Tim’s voice growl almost as low as Batman’s. “PMS is not JUST anything. When women say that they are tired. Sad. Having cravings. Not themselves. We are not just making excuses to lie in bed and let the patriarchy win.”

Oh no, she said “patriarchy”. Tim’s fucked.

Steph’s not done. “We are not weak. We are not hysterical, moody hypochondriacs with wandering wombs. We are experiencing the VERY REAL mental and physical and emotional effects of our bodies preparing to have a BABY and then overhauling itself by EJECTING AN ENTIRE BABY HOUSE out of our vaginas.”

She’s still not done. Tim’s trying not to breathe in case that makes her angrier.

“I’ve gone on patrol with a heat pack strapped under my costume. I’ve sat exams on days when I can’t remember which bus I usually take. I’ve cried in the bathroom at work and wiped my eyes, reapplied my mascara, and gone back out there because I’m a fucking woman and that’s what we’re doing every single freaking day while you assholes are telling us that we’re biologically designed to earn 35% less than you.”

Tim opens Steph’s mouth and all the other men in the room know that whatever he's about to say is going to be a mistake. “I don’t think women should earn less than men,” is what he lands on.

Bruce decides to speak up before Steph can reply. He's very brave. “So we can reasonably assume that the spell isn’t actively trying to prevent anyone from breaking it,” he says, clearing his throat. “And it doesn’t transfer thoughts and memories, but engrained thought patterns and autonomous reactions.”

Dick is very happy to be back on topic. “Yeah, basically.”

“What are some examples?” asks Bruce, walking to the Batcomputer and pulling up a spreadsheet.

Jason and Dick glower at each other silently, not wanting a rehash of their previous argument. This whole situation was dignity-shattering enough.

Dick coughs. “Jason and I have noticed,” he says carefully, “that we have each other’s automatic reflexes to situations. I’ve noticed that my aggression levels are up. I’m always wanting to scan the room for a threat. Jason’s noticed similar things about my body’s reactions.” He hopes that’s enough detail.

Bruce hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s just your bodies,” he muses, typing rapidly. “It could be your brains – your actual, physical brains, not your consciousness or whatever’s been transferred by the spell. Brains like patterns and routines. It makes them effective. It seems that while your consciousnesses have been transplanted, the structure of each of your brains has remained unchanged.”

“Has anyone studied this before?” asks Tim, pulling up his phone and tapping away. “It makes sense but I’ve never heard of body-swapping having this particular wrinkle before.”

“It sounds like your bodies’ hormone levels remained the same too,” says Bruce awkwardly, glancing at Tim-in-Steph’s-body’s abdomen with faint alarm. “Of course, we’ll need to run further tests but that shouldn’t be too difficult since we’ve already been taking daily bloods…” He hums again and opens several more browsers, muttering to himself.

-_-

“TESTING!” booms Bruce’s voice suddenly, two hours later. He looks around. He is alone in the Cave. He presses the intercom. “Alfred, could you gather the kids and tell them- Dammit!” He misses Alfred so much. Bruce sighs and dials Dick’s phone, calling his children back to the Cave.

Once they’re assembled, he starts again.

“TESTING.”

They’re standing in a circle on the mats. Jason’s pointedly holding his phone where Dick can see the screen as he scrolls through nipple piercing and tattoo websites. Dick is trying to focus politely on Bruce. Tim and Steph are glowering grumpily next to each other.

Bruce ignores their moods. He claps his hands. He’s excited for testing. Testing is one of his favourite parts of weird magic times.

“Dick!” he says, pointing. “Unlock Jason’s phone.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason locks his phone and hands it off to Dick. Dick starts to hold it up to his/Jason’s face when Bruce says, “No, with the PIN. Don’t think about it, just see if you can do it with muscle memory.”

Dick looks back to the phone and stares for a beat. Then, his thumbs move rapidly to swipe through a nine-digit code. The phone unlocks.

“Motherfucker,” Jason swears, grabbing his phone back.

“You didn’t know the code before now?” confirms Bruce. Dick shakes his head. “What is it?”

Dick frowns, then shrugs. “I have no idea. My thumbs just-“ He mimes typing on a phone. “It was too quick for me to catch all the numbers.”

“Fascinating.” Bruce is so excited to add to his spreadsheet. He pulls something out of his pocket and throws it to Steph.

She catches it automatically. “Okay? We know we all have good reflexes?”

“You caught it with your left hand,” points out Bruce. “Even though that meant you had to reach across your body. Even though you, Stephanie, are right-handed, this body is not. This body’s brain and mind are still wired to have Tim’s reflexes even if you’re the one in conscious control.”

The four affected youths eye each other warily.

Bruce pulls out a folder. “I’ve printed some pictures to show you. I want you to give me your automatic reactions to these images, don’t overthink it.”

He goes through both benign and personal pictures. It turns out that seeing Dick’s favourite food makes Jason’s mouth water. Seeing Steph’s old childhood toy gives Tim, in her body, a jolt of nostalgic nausea even though he’s never seen the tatty bear before. (“How do you even have a picture of Mr Huggins?” asks Steph. “Creeper.”) Seeing a playground makes Tim’s body anxious and Jason’s body prickle with protective anticipation.

They all thoroughly agree that Bruce is weird for making them do all of this and then immediately disband to run secret individual experiments on their own.

-_-

“This body!” snaps Jason. “This body is so NEEDY!”

Dick groans. “What now?”

Jason paces restlessly. “First it needs to move all the damn time. I always thought you were fidgeting and doing handstands off tables and shit to be annoying, but you really can’t help it.”

Dick shrugs. “It’s been kinda weird to be in your body and not feel like that. I keep thinking I’m forgetting something but it’s just that I haven’t moved in a while and usually that’s a problem. No wonder you don’t mind long stakeouts.”

“No wonder you hate them,” Jason agrees. “It’s not even that this time. It’s this weird, like, almost itching. Like a shortness of breath. You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

He stalks over to his own body and frowns up at his own face. “Huh,” he says. “You’re not afraid of me. Zero fear response. You’re an idiot.”

Dick rolls Jason’s eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’ve very scary and edgy. Such an ambiguous anti-hero. Dear me, I hope he doesn’t snap one day. Etcetera.”

Jason shoulder-checks him (ineffectively) and storms over to where Tim and Steph are sending each other triggering images over text to see who will break first. Steph’s just sent Tim a picture of a happy family on vacation with the caption “not u lol” when Jason reaches them.

They stare at Jason blankly as he gets up in their personal space. They’re used to Dick being close to them so it doesn’t feel weird, but they know it’s JASON, so it IS weird. Jason grabs Steph-as-Tim’s arm and holds it for a moment. He grunts and releases it. He turns to Tim-in-Steph, an odd look on his face. He reaches for Tim’s arm but the movement seems to get away from him and he ends up grabbing Tim around the shoulders with one arm, holding him in close.

“What are you doing?” yelps Tim, struggling briefly.

“I have no idea,” says Jason, who seems equally baffled but isn’t letting go.

“Holy moly,” says Steph. “You two are tragic. Dick’s body needs a HUG, morons.”

Jason and Tim freeze. They simultaneously realise that this isn’t a strange new grappling move. This is a hug. Oh no they’re hugging. They don’t hug. They’re not huggers.

Dick snickers, coming over to view the scene. “I could have told you that,” he informs Jason.

“It’s not allergies?” says Jason, shuffling around to look at Dick without letting go of Tim. “Your body wanted a HUG? What are you, a toddler?”

“Hugs aren’t childish,” scolds Steph mildly, taking photos on her phone even though they will never capture the true awkwardness of a Tim-and-Jason hug. “Heaps of people need touch to feel good. Hugs, cuddles, patting a pet, whatever. Dick’s a hugger, you already knew that.”

“I knew he liked hugging, I didn’t know he needed it to live,” bites Jason, trying to appear nonchalant and cool while embracing Tim to his chest like a doll. “Why is this body hugging you? Steph, I mean. Why not just go for the closest person?”

Steph and Dick roll their eyes. “Jason, when was the last time you and I hugged?” Dick asks. Jason glowers.

Steph nods. “Dick and I hug all the time, dude. You two aren’t cuddly. That’s cool. Whatever. Tim lets me use him as a pillow at movie night so I’m happy. Dick’s body probably feels more comfortable with mine than the others here.”

“Plus, girls are so nice for hugs,” Dick adds. “So nice and soft. So snuggly and safe.”

That does it. Tim and Jason break apart and swiftly put eight feet of space between them. The incident is swiftly added to the Never To Be Spoken About Again list, which is growing longer by the day.

-_-

The end? To be continued? Who even knows.

[shamixlour]

The Newsreader - 2x06

You know I was thinking of the way the last season ended.

These whole sequence is quite upsetting, at least for me, although I utterly enjoyed season 2 and ofc, its ending as well, which made me very excited for what is coming next. Grab something to drink, to eat because this is going to be a long one. 

~

First, just for some context.

2x06.

We’re back to a full circle moment, with Helen asking Dale to marry her as she cannot function without him, as she is willing to bear his secret and this time Dale is refusing. He doesn’t forget to tell he loves her but they can’t do that. Helen expresses then how she does not know what to do but Dale tells her something, he tells her that she just needs to do her job. 

Cut to Donna Gillies, the very noisy interviewer in Helen’s home with Dale and something happens, something that made chills run down my spine. Dale is doing his job, he’s doing something I did not expect him to do or rather felt very overwhelmed seeing him do. Dale is doing something that would help him keep his job, for a very long time. I’ll develop more later but we can see him expose to Donna that Helen left, that Geoff is stepping off, that all of his opponents are gone and he is now the only milking cow available, the only one left and how if she remains quiet regarding Dale’s sexuality, regarding Tim, she could have not only one big editorial, one selling story but multiples and throughout long years, even for the rest of Donna’s life because a great newsreader is forever. He is offering her everything she wants, a long thread of years full of exclusive coverage of the future events of his life. 

We can reason that Donna accepted the proposition because we suddenly see Helen at the airport. We can hear Dale's voice and then we see her looking at Dale through TV and the tears flood her eyes. She wants to cry as she watches him deliver the news on TV to the entire nation. I read her looks as very mixed emotions bumping into e/o. She’s sad. Helen is proud too. She is devastated because she knows the loneliness of it, the chaos behind and the devotion. She’s happy because Dale is where he wants to be. She is stunned as well because he is just really good. He’s THE newsreader.  

We can see him say : I’m Dale Jennings. Welcome to News at Six and then it cuts. I made a music analysis of this as I think it is a genius sequence.

 

Now that the context is established, I really want to get into details and share some of my interpretation and understanding of that ending + some of what I expect for the coming episodes, especially what might be coming in terms of personal affairs for Dale as we know this is the finale season of the series. 

When it comes to his personal life, I am a bit blank and lost but also, I cannot seem to dissociate it from his professional life as well. Will he be with Helen at the end? Will he be with Tim? Tbh, I don’t think Dale is going to end the series with either one of them. I don’t see the story heading there at all and I am not saying Dale does not deserve love. It’s quite the opposite actually. He deserves every ounce of love like anyone else but the thing is Dale does not love himself and I’m not necessarily a ‘you have to love yourself to be loved’ thruther but in this case, I think it goes even beyond that. In fact, I do not think who he ends up with matters that much, I don’t think his relationship with Helen is just that, meaning a romantic relationship or the one he has with Tim, just a fling, a gut wrenching crush.

I think both relationships go beyond that and mean much more than what they outwardly portray and imho, lie in there the entirety of the story, or most of it at least. 

Dale despises such a big part of who he is that it eats him alive from within, that it doesn't allow him to thrive, to live, to breathe. He hates himself for it, for these feelings he thought would disappear, for this way of loving that does not seem to fit anywhere, for however hard he tries, it never seems to be enough, it is always not normal. Dales hates it. He really does and I think that is why, deep down, he runs after a certain form of recognition, through TV, through the entire nation of Australia, through his colleagues at the News office, through his mom, through Helen.

I mean we are speaking of the man that took speech classes for his voice because it wasn’t good enough for the rest of the world, of the man that instantly changed his hairstyle the moment Helen tells him he looks better like that, more appropriate for TV. These events seem quite futile and silly almost but imho, they hold greater meanings and enlighten in a horrendous beam the deep and profound trauma and ache, the dreadful desire to please and be accepted, loved and respected. He runs after reassurance from Helen and finds it for a while. Dale also runs after a horrible sense of normality, of something common and ordinary and finds it again until it all crumbles down because he is not normal, because he does not fit anywhere, because he is broken. Just to be clear, Dale loves Helen, I never doubted that. I think he truly does but I believe he loves the idea of what she represents too, the safety she embodies if she is affiliated to him in society, in the 80s, as a public figure. He loves her for the confident newsreader in her, for how she manages to maintain the persona, how she holds it in despite being on the verge of tumbling down. Dale loves her as she, deep down, cares for him, loves him unconditionally (not necessarily romantically but as human to human, as a person to another one) and that regardless of the fights and despite the refusals. He knows they love each other and this is precisely why Dale does what he does. 

At the end of the season, I almost saw a bit of early-day Helen in him. He grew cold, he maintained that perfect facade for the press, for the world. Just like he promised it to Donna, to himself in a way and it reminded me of when they were shooting their supposedly lovely candid shots in their home and Dale was not comfortable as everything was too much and planned and fake and Helen told him that this is how it was supposed to be, that they had to reflect to the public that perfect picture because they were the newsreaders, the perfect ever lasting couple. 

Dale accepts and fall into that at the end. He has a goal, the desk and does anything to get to it, is willing to hide himself even deeper in the trenches to match that polished version of himself. 

The newsreader. The perfect face, the one you trust to deliver news to the world, forever. 

That, again, genuinely made chills run down my spine because, first of all it echoes the ending of season 1 where we can see a happy Dale and Helen on the desk, with Tim in the back, smiling at the vision of it because Dale finally did it. But also bcs as we got a full circle moment with the proposal, I felt like we had a full circle moment with that too and it broke my heart as I know the desk has always been a dream of his, as far as his childhood but at what cost. 

This is what season 3 will develop imo, or at least I hope so. It is going to be sad for sure and I know he is going to be hated, I know he is going to crumble down at some point and I expect Tim to reappear too and threatens that fake stability Dale seems to engulf himself within. I know they’re going to be opponents with Helen and I wonder how he will manage that too, the tension of it all. I expect him to be even more cold and hard, to lose himself furthermore up to the point he snaps and because I hope for a happy ending, I want to see Dale find himself again and love himself for it. I want to see the newsreader if it still is what he wants to do, although I can see him doing documentaries or on site live newsflashes. 

Essentially, I hope to see Dale realise that he can be forever, that he can be the face that can be trusted, that he is the face all while accepting himself, all while being at peace with who he truly is. I see him having a lovely relationship with Helen and not necessarily romantic. I think their souls are linked in ways that are hard to explain and I wish to see them as good friends, colleagues or at least as a joyful warm memory in e/o’s life. I hope he makes things right with Tim too.

Either way, it is going to be sad, hard to watch but I just know they will deliver.

Anyway, I am going to end this here before it gets too long. If you read all of this, thank you very much and please do not hesitate to hop into the conversation ^v^

[moyazaika]

Professor.

One of the most disgusting things that exists in this world is the human mind. The human mind is the source of all bad things humans do, consciously and unconsciously. It’s where we have our darkest and most private thoughts. It’s also the place where we have our involuntary thoughts. The thoughts that you have, the ones that you disagree with, but still have because they are as true as your disagreeing ones.

I hated the college that I went to. Not because it was a bad one, it was one of the best, but because I was always surrounded by people who thought they were better than everyone else. People that would look at the “lower” colleges and think about how stupid those people must be if they only got into “that one”.  The teachers weren’t much better. No matter how much some of them try to deny it, they will always feel a sense of superiority compared to other college professors, because they work at this one. They also feel a sense of superiority over the students, which doesn’t go unnoticed by new arrivals. When you are new to a space, you go in more aware of what is going on. People that have studied there long enough get used to how people view them, or in this example how teachers view them. But new arrivals, they notice how the teachers always seem to have a hint of……well….as if they are speaking to a child when they speak to them. Making the new arrivals feel belittled. 

Humans can ignore a lot of things, but being belittled seems to always strike a nerve.

I never wanted to return to the campus. It’s a beauty to the eye and an annoyance to the mind. But business is business. If this could even classify as that.

They wanted me to work here. Despite my distaste for the school and most who stepped foot on it, I was a great student even for their high standards. Since a young age I’ve strived to always want to know more, but I wasn’t a young genius (a common lie teachers tell about me when they brag that I was in their class, no matter what grade).  I was smart, sure, but only when I applied myself, which wasn’t often. I only cared to study things I wanted to, anything else that I “needed” to study, well…I nearly failed a few grades. And the things I wanted to study were either not part of what we needed to study, or they were things teachers considered far too “advanced” for me. 

Looking back, I can’t blame them. Who would encourage a ten-year-old to learn a new language when they were failing the grammar of their first language?

My interests always revolved around the same things. I loved reading books, so I wanted to read as much as possible, meaning I knew a lot of random things. And despite what some self-proclaimed “educated” people say, reading fiction is actually quite good for you. It helps you be more empathetic, increases your vocabulary, and makes you understand people even more.

(The first one is quite useless if you plan to go to the same college as me. You’ll get stepped on like a cockroach by overly polished shoes that cost more than your rent if you act to nice and understanding. Fair warning.)

I know it sounds like I’m honking my own horn. “oh, look at me, I was smart as a kid but my teachers didn’t notice. I went to a top college and am an ungrateful bitch, wow”.

No. I hate that some people know that I have a good head on my shoulders. You can’t play dumb when you want to. You think too much when you are like that, too self-aware of what you are thinking and what that means.

I had that as a kid too. I was always hyper aware of people and what they were thinking. I had what some people would say an exceptionally high emotional intelligence from a young age. I could know exactly what someone was feeling from watching them, and I could guess what the cause what, even if I barely knew them. That always helped me in school a lot, avoiding fights, stopping fights, and getting on the good side of the scary people.

But I’m getting off topic.

Long life story short, I became a “genius”. I learned multiple languages for fun on my own time because that was what interested me. I wrote stories because that was what interested me. I studied languages and psychology because that was what interested me. I got into this college and did well when I applied myself. Well enough so that years later, when I did well with my books that they wanted me to do lectures.

I wanted no part in it. But my favorite teacher, Mrs. Welling, asked me personally to at least talk to Mr. Rossi. Mrs. Welling was the only teacher I liked past elementary. She is as old as the books in the library. Her skin is withered like the paper too. So, I came. It’s hard for me to say no when people that I actually like ask me to do something. Something I’m also hyper aware of.

…

I knocked on the door to his office, a little sign on the door with neat black font saying “Mr. Rossi”.

“Come in” I never met the dude, but I knew it was him, it was a male voice, and you could just hear from those two words alone what kind of person he was, and wanted to be. You could hear that he well educated and tried to seem even more educated. You could hear the hint of an accent that he desperately wanted to hide. You could also hear he was young, late twenties. Though I guess that last one it unfair since I already knew that about him. He was a new teacher to the school, and Mrs. Welling had told me about him in the letter she wrote (she’s one of those old women that send letters with pressed flowers from their personal garden).

I opened the door and looked around.

The entire room was made of wood. The walls were beautifully carved with dark wood, candles littered all around lighting up all the books on the shelves (all bound with leather or cloth, a professor would never dare have a modern looking book in their office). Despite the room having no windows it was well lit with all the candles. It smelled like, you guessed it, burning candles, paper, and……a cologne. I tried not to grimace at the smell. It smelled nice, but I never liked the smell of cologne when I didn’t expect it. I got used to it quickly.

It reminded me off all the other rooms in the school, not specifically from the layout, but the feel. The type of place you could go mad in if you were mentally well.

Mr. Rossi was sitting at his desk, smiling. He had dark brown hair that reached his shoulders, styled in a “messy way” that looked good. He had dark eyes with lashes that any woman would envy, and thick eyebrows. And sun-kissed skin, but not in the orange glowing way, the type that is dark and cold. Like the sun has touched his skin but not his soul. If I had to make a guess, he was Italian.

“You’re early, are you actually interested? Didn’t take you as the type to play hard to get and then seem interested.”

I looked at him with my usual expression, nothing. An expression that has protected me from all the wolf in sheep’s clothing at this school.

“No, I just hate being late, and the sooner I get this over with the sooner I can work on my next book.”

He smiled at me, I hated that I knew what that look in his eyes meant. I missed my house, somewhere to be alone. 

“Please, take a seat, I was hoping that I could convince you to truly be interested in my offer.”

I sat down and debated quickly how to sit. He’s a smart man, so he’ll know however I sit will indicate how I feel. I decided to sit straight with my hands laying on top of each other in my lap. Indicating that I’m not relaxed, or comfortable, but that I’m not resorting to self-soothing behavior that would indicate weakness. Though my hands desperately wanted to rub together.

He stared at me, still smiling, and I stared back at him. I knew what his eyes meant, his politeness couldn’t get rid of it. He was interested. Not in getting me to work here, though he also would benefit from that, but he was interested in me as a ….concept? thing? It’s hard to tell sometimes.

“You’re quite an intriguing case you know.”

I didn’t respond.

“Most students when they get out can’t wait to talk about their time here, some wishing they could have stayed longer. Or at the very least brag any chance they get. But you never once mentioned it publicly. Not in your books, interviews, anything.”

“That’s my private life, I see no reason to bring it up in my work.”

Stop looking at me like that. Stop looking at me like that.

He was curious, he wanted to pick apart my brain, he wanted to know what I was thinking, he wanted to know what I was feeling, he wanted to know know know know know know.

“You know the students here often say you are one of the few real writers in this generation. They could really benefit from having someone like you in lectures.” He used an encouraging tone, one you would use to encourage a child to try a new hobby.

“I don’t care much for teaching, and I don’t agree with their opinion. There are plenty of great writers in this generation. I’m hardly a rarity.”

“Modest as ever,” He praised, “but they are saying the thing everyone else agrees with. So, you’re outnumbered there.” 

He leaned backwards in his chair a little and continued,

“You never advertised your books, just published them under a pen name and left them, not caring if people read your books or not, just wanted to publish them.  Not like the money hungry “great” writers that you speak of. You’ve never done anything to try and get you more money. The only interviews you’ve ever done were when people wanted advice and help from you, or to understand your stories more, you don’t care for advertising. You-“

“Me not advertising myself doesn’t mean I’m great, and as much as I would usually prefer professionalism, I would prefer now if you stopped trying to praise me into saying yes to your offer.”

I hated it I just wanted to leave. Both because I knew I didn’t want the job, but because I knew too much of what he was thinking. Being hyper aware of people’s thoughts is never fun. And being hyper aware of your own is even worse.

He looked at me….in…. that way……I…..stop thinking about that and move on, get away around it already for fucks sake.

I interrupted him before he could say anything.

“Thank you for the praise, and you can tell your students that I appreciate it, but I’m not interested in working here or any other teaching job. Not even for a few short lectures. I like my private life, and I’m not interested in anything that deviates from that.”

He smiled. He didn’t fail to smile once.

“I understand. And I agree, that being professional will only drag this out, so I’ll get to it a little.”

He leaned forward, in a way that tries to impose authority.

“You fascinate me, as you already know.”

I didn’t deny that, waiting for him to continue.

He pulled out a book as he continued to speak, “One of the main things that teachers often pointed out when looking back on the time you spent here was that you are very perceptive. I looked into your files and saw that you avoided a few….incidents…because you detected the signs. Good intuition.”

He flipped through the book as he spoke, the book had no cover title to show what it was about.

“Darlings that are that aware tend to try and avoid dark topics, their minds already occupied with such thoughts, but you seemed more than interested in those thoughts. Your library check outs show that you were highly interested in books about psychology, specifically darling psychology, though you had more than the average amount of books on the OTHER psychology.”

He listed a few off in the book he was looking at. The book was about me clearly.

He looked at me again, trying to search my eyes for what I was thinking, and when he didn’t find what he was looking for he continued.

“You seem to also have a high level of empathy, not just in your general EQ score but some of your personal essays.” He flipped through a few pages of what I assumed were those essays.

“You seemed to have a very understanding view of you-know-what’s, explaining the different reasons they feel the ways they do, both biological reasons and psychological reasons. You never villainized them like how some others do.”

He looked in my eyes again, searching for something, “why is that?”

I stared back at him.

“…. understanding and open-minded.”

He smiled, but it seemed more real this time, “you really are a sweetheart behind those dead eyes of yours.”

I was getting nervous, it didn’t show, but I felt it. I was becoming more and more aware of our surrounding, his breath, his movements, and what I picked up on him. And I became more and more aware about what I was feeling.

“Did you ever read “The Lying Heart” by Emily Gatsby?”

“Yes, it’s a study on how some darlings develop an attachment to “certain” people, despite them being aware that those feelings are wrong. No doubt you already knew that I read that book from my records.”

“You seemed fond of that book, no?”

“She’s a great writer, and her research was amazing, even though it wasn’t appreciated at the time.”

He nodded.

He closed the book before looking at me.

“why didn’t you press charges against the man that tried to kidnap you?”

…

…

…

…

I didn’t answer and didn’t plan to.

I got up.

“This seems to have went down a few wrong turns, Mr. Rossi. I came here out of politeness to listen to you offer me a job I don’t’ want. Instead, you go in circles about me and then bring up private business from when I studied here. I’ll be leaving now.”

He hadn’t been going in circles, he was going straight down a path that I never wanted him to reach the end of.

I walked to the door and already had my hand on the handle, when he said it,

“You’re “a lover’s dream”, aren’t you?”

I froze.

I heard him laugh, and I turned around I saw that he had also gotten up from his seat and made his way to me but kept a good distance between us.

I contemplated my actions, 

“You’re incorrect.”

“now don’t try to lie no-“

“I’m a “Darling’s Self hell”.”

Saying it out loud made me have to silently accept all the thoughts I was having the whole time. The way that I thought he was attractive from the beginning. The way that despite how much I hated the way I felt preyed upon by his eyes that tried to look into my soul, I found it highly attractive. The way that I liked how he gave off an air of threat, of danger. Not the danger to me physically, or mentally (technically), but the attraction of danger.

He smiled, but this time it was a real smile, a wolf like smile that I still found attractive,

“I’m glad we finally stopped beating around the bush. Now….where does that leave the two of us? You already know I’m infatuated with you, and I know that you have an unwanted attraction to me.”

He approached me a bit more, I walked around him, keeping a distance and avoiding a door being behind my back.

“I don’t plan to kidnap you, that’s not something I personally fancy doing. What I do want though, is you indulging that part of your brain that finds this attractive. Indulge me a little.”

It sounded so tempting, I hate to admit it even now, but it was so tempting. To indulge that part of my brain that liked this, that loved this.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t say yes, or nod.

“Since we have both clearly read “The Lying Heart”, we both know that Miss Gatsby clearly illustrated that a “Darling’s self-hell” have unwanted, intrusive thoughts that they don’t agree with. The same way some self-aware you-know-what’s aren’t fond of their mind either. So we both know that I would never agree to such an arrangement.”

“And, yet, you didn’t press charges against him. You didn’t’ seem to care then about what was socially acceptable.”

“Those are two very different levels of socially unacceptable.”

“Some people have already outcasted you for having sympathy for a “lover”, how much worse would it be to be with me?”

“I would say it’s the difference between burning yourself on a candle, and jumping into an active volcano.”

He chuckled, “A lot of the students here actually find me quite charming.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“No, not like that, I don’t engage with students, how low do you think of me?” 

“Low enough to bring up personal matters that happened while I was still a student here. Bringing them up while you’re actually supposed to be professional by offering me a job. And low enough to not take a no.”

He nodded, “Fair.”

It didn’t matter that he was attractive. It didn’t matter that I found his forwardness attractive. It didn’t matter that a part of me liked this attention. It didn’t matter because these thoughts aren’t my own. They are something my brain makes against my will, therefore, they are not my own, and I am not tied to them.

“This has went on long enough. I won’t be accepting ANY offer from you. Be that job related or other. Have a nice day Mr. Rossi, and do no try to contact me again in the future, this was a one and done thing.”

I sped off to the door, opening it and leaving immediately. I didn’t care that it looked weak, showing that I was deeply bothered by all of it. Running away like a rabbit or a deer. I just didn’t want to give him a chance to say or do anything else.

I left the hell built like heaven, avoiding the eyes of students as some of them pointed and whispered amongst themselves. Letting the breeze carry their questions. “Is that them?” “No way, really?” “who is that?”

I never thought I would write about that day. Not anywhere but my journal at least. But in light of the recent movements and criticisms towards Emily Gatsby’s works I thought this would benefit more people than it would hurt me.

I’m aware that in this piece I have outed myself as one of the types that Emily Gatsby coined in her book “The Lying Heart”, but as I will quote from her, page 17, paragraph 3 “There should be no shame when it comes to our biology. We should not blame a man for only having one arm, or a woman for being infertile. We should not blame a child for being a mute or a dog for being blind. And we should never blame a darling for being a darling. We can only pass criticism about what someone does, not what someone is.”

As of the time of this writing, there are currently charges against Mr. Rossi for attempted kidnapping, stalking, blackmailing, breaking and entering, and theft. From yours truly.

I shall end this piece with a word to an editor, who encouraged me to not write nor publish this.

Scheiß auf dich du alter sack.

(3406 words)

-✨🥐anon (Sorry for any typos! Wrote this while the wolves were howling outside.)

wowww i did not think that was the path we were going down at the end, from the way this started. the dialogue in this is probably the best you’ve written in my opinion and the banter was so good bc “you’re quite a sweetheart behind your dead eyes” took me out 😭

love love love the meta concept of a self aware universe of ‘lovers’ and darlings. love that professor, and the way he was trying to pick reader’s brain, when they wanted nothing to do with him. even the part with how darling is mindful of how they sit down so as to not give away any weakness fuck yah

interesting that they have entire books dedicated to the topic, with subtypes of darlings. i wonder what other categories exist besides ‘a lover’s dream’ and the self hell one,,

lowkey need Mr rossi carnally ❤️❤️ even if he is an “old bastard” LMAO

[urmultideadfandomperson]

How would the Arcana Twilight boys would react if the MC is an actual polar bear. Or turned into a polar bear? 🐻‍❄️

MC Turns into a Polar Bear

Character/s: Summoner (MC), Arcturus, Spica, Pollux, Alpheratz, Sirius, Vega

Genre/s: Fluff, Cracks

Warning/s: None

Summary: There was a failed experiment with a certain potion, resulting MC turning into a polar bear! What will the Guides do?

Requested by: Anonymous

Note: Thank you for the first ask, anon! I apologize if this was released very long. My schedule this April is particularly busy, and I cannot focus on every task at once. MC being a literal polar bear has already been done by @pomegranateboba. Thank you for being patient, though! May you enjoy your read!

Arcturus

This sorcerer was very surprised in seeing you in such a form.

"Summoner? Is that you??"

No wonder you did not answer his calls on your Stella Tab!

He was about to attack you earlier with his wand when he saw the necklace on your furry neck, and then he realizes that it was you.

Arcturus knows the potion's effect is temporary, so he was kind enough to help you in Contell while being a polar bear.

You cannot speak at anybody, you can only roar in response. Somehow Arcky understands you and was able to translate your roars as words.

Arcturus has knowledge about animals. When he remembered that polar bears usually survive in the cold, he did not hesitate in taking you to a cold room.

When you poofed back, he was both happy and disappointed because (1) the effects finally wore off! But (2), the softness of your fur is gone :(

Either way, he's just happy you're back <3

Spica

He was both surprised and disappointed, maybe even slightly amused.

"Summoner, what... *sighs* what happened? And what did you do?"

Spica was still sane enough to handle this mess.

Though he thought he was dumb for asking you questions when you can only reply with roars.

He helped you throughout the school period in Contell, helping you adjust to your temporary form.

Spica was rather relieved that nobody minded too much about you being a polar bear.

But some students did scream.

And he had a headache trying to calm the students. You had to help him calm down by letting him rest on your fur.

So when you poofed back, the sorcerer was quick to ask if you were alright. After that, he served you some tea.

Pollux

One of the students who screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA IT'S A BEAR— W-Wait, Summoner?!!"

Pollux was quick to ask you what happened, but just like Spica, he felt stupid because your only replies were roars.

Either way, he was more than happy to help you throughout class!

When partnered for projects, the sorcerer was more than happy to help you. He wished to do the work, but if you insist in helping him, why not?

He kept flexing you to everyone, saying that he befriended a polar bear

One of the sorcerers who just love to groom your fur! His fingers running through your fur is very ticklish.

When you poof back, he is similar to Arcturus who will pout because you're no longer a bear.

But hey! Pollux is still thankful that you turned back. He wouldn't admit it, but he would panic if the effect was permanent.

Alpheratz

Oh. My. Goodness.

"Bless the stars, Summoner. You turned into a bear... can I sleep on you?"

This man is living the life of having a pillow, even for just a short amount of time.

But that doesn't mean he will not help you. Honestly, it's more of an excuse for him to stay with you longer. But don't take this the wrong way!

Alpheratz is a genius, thus he'd definitely understand your roars. He is the second polar bear translator in Contell.

He knows that polar bears survive in the cold, and what he did was take you to a clearing that was very cool because of the trees giving oxygen. Then he snuggled you to sleep there.

And not gonna lie, it actually felt good just sleeping like this with him.

You swore you almost heard Alpheratz groan in disappointment when you poofed back.

But eventually, he was glad you're back. You're still napping with him in that clearing, though.

Sirius

For some reason, he knew before he even saw you.

"A failed experiment with the potions, I see? Summoner, you could've been careful and you wouldn't end up this way,"

He likes to tease you, but not too much that will make you uncomfortable.

Sirius is actually pretty helpful while you stay in that form. He has a bit of difficulties trying to translate your roars, but it ends well.

This man will definitely just say to everybody of how you ended up like this. The fact he says it so casually wants you to punch him.

This menace is the opposite of Pollux. If the latter will groom your fur, this guy right here will mess with it, leaving you with messy fur.

Now you look like a bear who went through a hurricane.

When you poofed back, Sirius was actually surprised when you roared like a bear at his face for the excessive teasing.

After that, he laughs and continues to mess with you. You cannot escape this maniac because you love him.

Vega

As soon as he saw you, Vega took out his sword and points it at you.

"How did a bear get here in Contell?... wait, Summoner, is that you?"

Once he realizes, he draws back his weapon and apologizes for frightening you like that.

To make it up for you, Vega helps you around Contell and the classes.

When another sorcerer teases you (mainly Sirius), he will not hesitate to draw his sword to them as a warning.

While helping you, he likes to touch your fur with his hands. Heck, the sorcerer is so tempted, he actually took off his gloves just to feel you.

Vega is aware that it is rather hazardous for you, but he likes feeds you with his raspberry gelato.

When you poofed back, he asks if you have any discomforts from the effect of the failed potion. He sighs in relief when you reassure him you are okay.

Regardless of your form, whether you're a human or a polar bear, Vega will always see you as his best friend.

[youuuimeanmee]

RWTGI 36 - 37.2 Thoughts

Forgive the 3 chapters at once, lol. If you want to read my thoughts on the latest chapter, it's on down below!

Chapter 36

If you tell me 2 years ago that Yoshino would sleep in the corridor to wait for Kirishima, I would laugh in your face. I never thought this day would come when she's genuinely worried for him.

(Then again, he almost died trying to save her and they have been close lately, so that's fair)

WOW okay queen, slayy. Ugh those pillows look so soft-

That aside, I was shocked. I get that she was too tired to change, but really Asuka? Really? Blatant fanservice outta nowhere? Is she trying to grab the male demographic too? Not that it didn't grab the females already with that kind of bod-

WHY do we get Yoshino's full bod, yet we only get a glimpse of Shouma's abs? I demand equality.

Oh Yoshino. What are you, a dog? How could you differentiate Kiri's smell amongst all else??

Wow Kiri really uses his room as a front. He really didn't lie when he said he can't sleep near anyone's presence. He's like an animal hiding inside a deep cave. And to think his real bedroom is the same place where he often received his punishment.

In the raws, Yoshino actually says in a small note, "That's so typical of Kirishima (to keep things spotless)..."

I remember when Kiri always tidied up Yoshino's mess. I thought he only did it because it's for her, but to think he also keep his own place spotless... Does he have OCD? Then again, serial killers like keeping their place clean-

Question: If Kirishima is inside, how the hell did he lock his place using that kind of lock?

It's giving the vibe of a villain' secret lair.

Why is the room so cold though. I thought it's still October/November. Did he not install a heater there, or did he intentionally blast an AC to freeze some randos who try to break in?

My heart JUMPED when I saw him in the corner of the panel. That panel placement is a genius.

I was so relieved when I see him 🥺🥺 I'm glad he's not masochistic enough to keep his wounds infected. At least he got some treatment (hopefully from the hospital, but I'll take what I can get).

Wow, she really made sure she didn't see a dead body.

SCREAMING CREAMING CRYING.

Asuka really knows how to make a cliffhanger.

THANK YOU for the precious glossary, scans team! 💞😭

Chapter 37.1

Awright! Yoshino and Kirishima finally meet! This means Yoshino would call Shouma about Kirishima so he won't report this incident to Renji! Right?

Judging by his passwords, I thought I was getting better at reading him. Turns out he intentionally made it easier to guess? Wow, way to make a person feel like an idiot.

He really takes Tsubaki's advice to heart 🤣 Starting to regret the time when you burn those albums, don't you.

(Did he burn his all his photos because of sentimental reason, or because he didn't want his enemies to find his weakness?)

Okay, so he really went to the hospital. Good.

Kiri got to have some serious enemies if he only goes to a hospital he could trust.

It's been hammered down again and again that he has no one he completely trust except Yoshino. I hate this kind of set up. It's cliché, yet, it's still playing with my heart.

The way he tried to warm her nosee aughh

Those movements, and no resistance from Yoshino at all?? This is new. She must be really worried and thankful to even care about their positions.

Kirishima, you really said some crazy stuff sometimes.

What. The fuck. Do you mean. You're prepared. To be a missing person. And. To be. An unnamed corpse. Just. To keep. Yoshino. Safe.

I know I said he's unhinged, but he still managed to shock me. I'm impressed.

Istg he's really testing my heart lately. Wdym I'm gonna fall again for Miyama Kirishima. It's not gonna happen?? (It happens)

Still no phone call for Shouma. I hope it's on the next chapter.

Chapter 37.2

Woow, a lot of subtext in this episode. You really need to read between the lines to understand their convo.

Everybody trust Kirishima enough (due to his track records) to protect Yoshino so they're not worried for her safety at all; if anything, it'd be Soumei Renji who's in most trouble.

Basically, Renji from Kirigaya Group (Kansai region) has many enemies because he made a pact with Gaku from Tokusa Group (Kantou region) -- to form a peaceful(?) alliance; despite their clashing ideals. Renji also negotiated for his group to join Kantou region despite the difference in region. Both regions have been on feud for 60 years and it should be for a good reason, so there must be a lot of people within Kirigaya and Tokusa who weren't happy with this joint. (I have to revisit ch 1, 7, & 8 to understand this, sigh). Just a reminder, there was a similar attempt in the past, but it ended with a gang war.

Dang, so even Suo Azami's real identity is faked.

Azami is a drug and weapon dealer?? Fuck.

If we remember ch 26, Akame Hishibe from Tokusa and Azuma Narumi from Kirigaya are conspiring against Renji. Narumi probably aimed to be Kirigaya's number 1 after Renji died, but what about Hishibe? What's his aim? Kirishima said Azami is currently used by yakuza. Could it be, Hishibe made Azami kill Renji because he promised him he'd make a huge profit from drugs and weapons because there's gonna be a gang war once Renji is dead?

I strayed off, lol. Anyways, back to the chapter.

So, as long as Renji is unaware of Yoshino's kidnap, she and Kirishima could live together happily ever after. Now please call Shouma that Kirishima is back safely so he won't have to tell Renji, please.

Wow Kirishimaa. He is so stupidly honest, but sometimes he's such a crafty little shit. This is the same when he agreed to do paper-rock-scissors with Yoshino because he's aware he'd win. He made Yoshino think she has her own choice, when in fact it's all a set up by him. Real glad Yoshino busted his ass this time though, he can't get away with this forever.

Asuka be trying real hard with this whole show-don't-tell, huh. In short, Kirishima finally told Yoshino directly that he's been obsessed interested in her since 12 years old. He's so in love with her, to the point where her small quirk is so endearing to him. Without her, he would've been bored to death. He'd rather die without her, but he'd do his best to live if he's with her.

Sad, but Yoshino couldn't understand his devotion. She thought based on her understanding, love is something that'd wear out sooner or later. She couldn't really rely on Kirishima's feeling forever; and thus, she payed him with money as an insurance because money's value won't change while feelings might change; or at least that's her logic.

(After all the buildup, she still couldn't trust him completely. Is this bc she's traumatized with his drastic change in ch 2? 😭 Wow Kirishima, you fucked up big time)

Woow Yoshino, way to gaslight him what he feel is not love 😂 when your understanding of 'love' is probably just a crush 🤣

Does she realize if they managed to catch Suo Azami, they're essentially preventing a gang war? Probably not.

Heh. She covered her nose because it's cold. Cute.

Wdym she placed herself in that side of the bed. She won't be able to escape easily in that position. Kirishima could just lean to her side with his uninjured hand. Is she not sus Kirishima would do something to her? And why she sleep with him in the first place when she could just go back to her room? She really trust him now, huh.

The tearrss. Is that a tear of relieve, happiness? Or is that a tear of tiredness, lol.

Aww, Kiri. He used to say he can't sleep with anyone's presence including Yoshino, but look at him now 🥹

I am glad you guys made a stronger team than ever, but

CAN SOMEONE CONTACT SHOUMA SO HE WON'T TELL ON RENJI PLEASE??

Damn this turned out much longer than I expected, lmao. But that's because these chapters have been bombs. Can't wait for the next one! XD

[whatiwillsay]

ahaha cam have you seen the ny times gaylor article?? it’s not revolutionary there have been articles before but this could be a chance for tree or taylor to make some kind of statement if it keeps blowing up i mean nyt is official…

a great read!

It takes neither a genius nor a radical to see queerness implied by Ms. Swift’s work. But figuring out how to talk about it before the star labels herself is another matter. Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity.

and

Whether she is conscious of it or not, Ms. Swift signals to queer people — in the language we use to communicate with one another — that she has some affinity for queer identity. There are some queer people who would say that through this sort of signaling, she has already come out, at least to us. But what about coming out in a language the rest of the public will understand?

literally brilliant you love to see it! this is the most well written piece i've ever seen on gaylor from a major publication!

[aquickstart]

pls may i have some saltburn takes. i saw u liked my post abt oliver never having read the reading list and it made me giggle.

OH YES DUDE oh i Loved that post because it brings up actually something that for some reason i haven't seen discussed much. oliver's unreliable narration.

i have a brilliant, i think, genius four-question plan for making people understand saltburn, and it has worked before and i will maybe elaborate on it, but not right now. right now i'll talk about one of the questions.

who is oliver telling this story to, and why?

we've established that he's an unreliable narrator at least because it's the logical conclusion for a movie shot in a way that opens and closes with his narrative. but what does oliver being untruthful actually mean for what we know about anything and everything that happened. have you ever obsessed over this particular question. well. i have.

my hot take, first of all, is that oliver is not that smart. he's clever, but the point of the movie is that he's caught up in and driven by desire; desire, pointedly, in the moment, merging desire, adapting to circumstance and leading him on. his want is not concrete from the beginning. his want is insatiable hunger that grows.

so, okay, from the top. the whole meet-cute with felix? because of a punctured tire? eh. idk if that's true. the money thing at the bar, pretending to not have any while he actually did? eh, perhaps. chronologically he then lies to felix about his dad, and this is big, this is deliberate, this is what ties felix to him for good.

what if the first two instances were coincidences? like, felix genuinely in trouble then, oliver genuinely out of cash. makes sense to become attached and actually do something, something impulsive, drastic, when felix seems to be drifting away, and lie about his dad.

interjection: you might be saying, nadia, he lied about his family from the get-go. well of course. i didn't say he's not smart enough to clock what image of a damsel in distress felix would gobble up. i'm saying he didn't do it for the long game, because there was no long game to speak of, as narrator-oliver would have you believe. i think he wanted felix so badly in that moment of several months in oxford, i think he was so blinded that he would've said anything. and he did.

now, i've briefly talked about oliver's feelings about the invitation to saltburn, and i think this is very important here. in the moment, he couldn't possibly know what exactly this invitation could mean, in the long run, only that it is definitely the next step in progression of desire for felix. present-day oliver interjection, and i believed him, after felix said he could leave anytime, i read as a slip up, an admission that oliver didn't plan shit, or at least from the beginning he didn't. it lured him in as soon as he got there, gothic house driving mad-style. he held on to a dream of something elusive (felix as a friend? lover? forever-partner in whatever capacity? i want him so bad i don't care what he is as long as he's there? please? please?).

the other obvious hole to poke at is in the end. venetia very conveniently takes the razors he places for her, and while sure, it could be read as him just hinting at how he conveniently read her fragile state and took advantage of it, i don't buy it. (i'm honestly even tempted to suggest he met elspeth on accident, to then spin a pretty story for his own sake, but him keeping tabs on the surviving cattons all those years tracks with what we know about obsessive oliver; he's definitely known about her flat for a while.)

but those are all minor stuff. i get completely if you think i'm reading too much into it and this is all just a headcanon after all, to be fair. BUT. but.

my second big take is that oliver was/is madly in love with felix. i know, shocking. but you have probably seen people say he wasn't. i will elaborate.

i wasn't in love with him. i loved him. i hated him. what does this sound like. have you ever had a friend come to you after a breakup fuming and telling you how they'll never end up with this asshole for sure and then get back together with him and then break up and say the same thing again.

i loved him, but i wasn't in love with him. i know everyone thought i was, but i wasn't. have you never told anyone something of the sort, specifically the last part, to emphasize just how it's everyone around you that's kinda hung up on whatever it is, and you've moved way past it, actually. have you never told yourself that.

i have. i know many other people who have, too. so, who is oliver telling this story to, and why? there's no one but dead elspeth in front of him. there's no one but himself. fun fact: each time you recall an event, it distorts under the influence of the mix of past and present emotions. each time you recall, you mold memory (source, e.g., x). the way i personally see it, oliver, for whatever reason, retells the story in order to solidify his own memory of it in the way that he wants to remember it. whatever he says, this is his final word, and this is his final truth.

this is also why details slip through, like my beloved i believed him, like the emotional i hated him growing into self-convincing, misleadingly dismissive, definitely unsure i hated him by the end. those are the true emotions that he recalls, those are the times that are hard to rewrite, for whatever reason.

of course, he hated them all. but before that, he loved felix to the point of blindly following where felix's desire led oliver, at least the way oliver perceived felix's desire. it failed, crucially, when felix's desire brought them to the center of the labyrinth, where oliver could not be the desired anymore.

my third hot take in connection to this is that oliver did not know he would kill felix until the very night he did it. he didn't know it, i think, until the last hour, until felix refused to reconcile completely, until he made his blood run cold. i also briefly mention it here, specifically how farleigh is tragically connected to felix's death, in my opinion. this tracks with, again, my strong belief that oliver lies, lies and lies throughout this whole story about wanting to take everything from felix from the beginning; no, he fucking didn't. he wanted felix. he wanted felix to be his. that was number one priority. he wanted felix and whatever else came with it, undoubtedly, but not the other way around.

paradoxically, he also wanted to be felix; he wanted to be him and be with him just as us tumblr people can often relate and the tragedy is that you always have to choose. felix pushed him away, so there was no other choice but to take what was left of felix that oliver could take. hence the clothes wearing, the table scene talk, the refusal to leave.

felix chose not to choose oliver, so oliver became felix. it's his fault. felix promised oliver could leave. felix left instead. what was oliver to do.

but to your point about the books, i think it could be either way, actually. i think he could have lied about it because technically that's also in character for him, he was performing for an audience of his tutor. but i also think that he was, genuinely, a nerd before he came to oxford, and he didn't, and still doesn't, have any friends, and he hates his sisters and his mother and is miserable. he's the perfect profile of someone who'd read king james' bible over the summer, and then some, imma be honest.

so, yes. i think oliver lies about most things in saltburn and i think he's pathetic, lost, confused, grieving, angry, horny, down bad and in denial. and i fucking love him. i so fuckin do.

[strawberrywinter4]

Fic Request:

John wanting to be in a relationship (no he's not gay (he might be gay for one hat wearing genius maybe~)) attends a speed dating event in which Sherlock insists on sitting next to him for so he doesn't end up with 'another terribly boring woman'.

And then Sherlock proceeds to sassily analyze each one because let's be honest he wants to be John's date.

Thank you so much for the prompt! I loved writing this story, it was so much fun <3

Pick and Choose

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Tags: Pining John, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Getting Together, Speed Dating, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Make Out Sessions, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Humor, Fluff, Some Angst, Teacups break, Swearing

Rating: Mature

Read here on ao3.

*•*•*•*•

John wants to dig himself a hole and never come out. 

Speed dating was never a strategy he thought he would have to resort to, but here he is. The venue is nice, held in one of the hotels on the high end of town, though the participation payment was surprisingly cheap, why not? The food is decent and the interior is pleasing to look at, with white curtains, windows that showcase the streets of London, round tables scattered across the spacious room, and a sparkling chandelier to top off the scenery. 

There are a lot more people attending than John thought. Beautiful women are seen from across the room and now that he thinks about it, maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. He put on his best button-up shirt, one that matches his eyes (he thinks, at least), and though his hair didn’t wish to cooperate today, he still managed to comb it decently. 

“You know you look quite ridiculous staring at the various sweets in front of you. I suggest if you’d like something, simply take it.”

The familiar baritone voice shatters John’s thoughts. 

Slowly, he turns to see Sherlock looking at him impassively. John blinks in disbelief. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” John demands. 

“I don’t understand how you could attend such an event,” Sherlock says, dismissing John’s question. “Why do this when you could be on the case I offered?”

“I-”

“You told me you were visiting your sister. Next time don’t make a lie up on the spot, it was painfully obvious.”

“Sherlock-”

“I solved the case if you were wondering,” Sherlock says. “It was simple, too simple. I’ll have to ask Lestrade for a better one. Hardly a 5.”

“Sherlock,” John interrupts. “I’m not going to ask again. Why are you here?”

“To save you from disaster,” Sherlock tells him. “I knew you were desperate, John, but this is unnecessary.” 

“Well, you scare off all my other ones,” John retorts, releasing a strenuous sigh.

“If you’re really set on getting a pathetic girlfriend, fine. But I’ll have to decide if she’s adequate.”

John stares in shock. “No… no. Why do you have to decide?”

“No offense, John, but you’re not very good at choosing your partners. They always get in the way of the Work.”

“Or maybe the Work gets in the way of them,” John offers with gritted teeth. 

“Unlikely,” Sherlock murmurs, observing the venue. A buzzer sounds, a cue for everyone to get settled in their seats. “You’ll hardly know I’m here,” Sherlock promises. 

John highly doubts that. 

John takes a seat at a table in the back, his confidence in this situation decreasing by the second. Sherlock grabs a discarded chair and places it close to John, taking a seat. John looks at Sherlock briefly, watching the detective take off his scarf, revealing his long neck that looks quite delectable, if John’s being honest-

But of course, that’s a normal reaction. Sherlock is an attractive person and John will notice that from time to time. That doesn’t make him interested in Sherlock, that just means-

“John?” a woman’s voice asks. 

John realizes he’s been staring at Sherlock for a long period of time. He feels his cheeks heat and turns to the pretty woman, who has a curious smile on her lips. 

“Hi,” John greets. “How did you- oh… right. Name tag. Hah.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock mumbles and John steps on his foot for his troubles. Sherlock scowls, kicking John’s foot back in retaliation. John takes a sip of his drink to calm himself.

“Um… is this like a threesome thing?” the woman asks as she takes a seat, eyeing the two men with slight interest.

John almost chokes on his drink. “Uh- no. No, sorry. This- don’t mind him. He’s my…”

“No one in particular,” Sherlock chimes in.

“Yes. That.”

“Oh,” the woman says, nodding. “Well, I’m-”

“Charlotte,” John says, his chin jutting to her nametag with a smile. “Beautiful name.”

Charlotte blushes, giggling as she waves a hand at John bashfully. John can practically feel Sherlock roll his eyes. 

“So, Charlotte, what do you do?” John asks. 

“Accounting,” she responds, twirling a piece of her raven hair. “Summarizing financial transactions and all that.”

“She has two cats,” Sherlock murmurs, his voice low enough so that she’s unable to hear him.

“I quite like it,” Charlotte continues. “It’s not what I’d actually like to do, but it’s enough.”

“Protective father,” Sherlock analyzes. “He’d be a nuisance. He contacts her at least four times a day.”

“What I’d really like to do is be a flight attendant so I can get out of this fucking city and explore the world,” she says, frustration slipping into her voice. “I hate it here, actually.”

“Oh, uh- I’m sorry to hear that,” John sympathizes, shifting in his seat.

“Nicely dressed, cleaned jewelry, she’s being provided great sums of money,” Sherlock says.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Charlotte asks, eyes going to Sherlock. 

Sherlock gives his signature fake smile. “Not at all.”

The buzzer goes off and Charlotte stands, huffing a breath of relief. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, George!” she says as she rushes away. 

John stares, watching her go. What just happened?

“And extremely disorganized,” Sherlock concludes. 

“God, I don’t need you spitting your deductions in my ear every second,” John scolds. 

“I’m assisting,” Sherlock retorts. “Quite wonderfully, if you must know.”

Another woman with blonde locks takes a seat across John. John’s about to say something before the woman holds up her hand, gesturing for him to shush. 

John blinks in bewilderment, but stays silent, looking around uncomfortably.

“Her sister forced her to attend,” Sherlock murmurs. “She has no interest in you or in any men for that matter.”

John wants to ignore Sherlock, but his curiosity is piqued. “Who’s she texting, then?” John whispers. 

“A coworker. She’s dedicated to her work, seeing as she has an outline of a second device in her pocket. The phone which she’s messaging on is her work device while the phone in her pocket is her personal device.” Sherlock makes a noise of disagreement. “Quite troublesome.”

The woman puts her hand down and finally looks at John, not bothering to show interest. 

“Uh- hello,” John tries.

“My name is Gabriella and your name is John, hence the name tag.” She sighs irritably. “I’m sure you’re a nice man, but in all honesty, you’re not my type. Do you know when this whole thing ends?”

“Oh, I-”

“Do you?” Gabriella asks, eyes landing on Sherlock. 

“An hour,” Sherlock responds. 

“God, this is torture.”

“If you really didn’t wish to come, you should have just denied your sister’s pleas,” Sherlock says absentmindedly. 

John shuts his eyes tight, knowing Sherlock’s forwardness never ends well. Gabriella’s jaw drops, her eyes flaring in anger. 

“I beg your pardon?” she asks. 

“Your sister is persistent, but her excessive guilt-tripping seems to control every aspect of your life.” Sherlock furrows his brows, his focus pointing toward the tablecloth. “My Lord, this is craft fabric. Practically plastic! How could they initiate such a dull detail when they hold this event in a sumptuous setting?”

“This is ill-mannered!” Gabriella argues. 

“Quite,” Sherlock agrees. “If they can afford this hotel, they can certainly afford better fabric.”

“No, you’re assumptions are ill-mannered,” Gabriella clarifies. She huffs, scooting her chair out aggressively before stomping away. 

John sighs, slumping in his chair as his hand rubs over his face. 

“I never assume,” Sherlock says matter-of-factly. 

“She couldn’t even sit with me for ten minutes,” John murmurs. 

“It’s hardly your fault, John. She simply doesn’t know how to prioritize her life.”

The buzzer goes off again. Just as John begins to lose hope, a woman with brunette hair and freckles surrounding her nose sits across John. She smiles kindly, shaking John’s hand. 

“Hello,” she greets. 

“Hi, um…” John’s eyes study her name tag. “Amelia.”

“John,” she says, taking her hand back. She chuckles. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not very good at this sort of stuff.”

“Oh, I completely understand,” John says, laughing with her.

Amelia’s eyes land on Sherlock, an unsure expression settling on her face. John waves him off, which Sherlock glares at. 

“Don’t mind him. Um- so, Amelia, what do you do?”

“I’m a veterinarian,” she tells him. 

John nods. “That’s quite the job.”

“Oh, yes, but… I enjoy it so much,” she says, giving a genuine smile. 

“I admire a person who’s dedicated to their work,” John says, a grin playing his lips. 

John would be lying if he said his mind didn’t drift to Sherlock.

No. No. Sherlock is out of the question.

“And you?” Amelia asks. 

“Uh- well, I was in the army. Now I work at a clinic,” John explains. "I'm a doctor."

She smiles. “How noble. Now that is very admiring.”

John is about to respond before Sherlock cuts in, “Recently separated.”

The air turns quiet. Amelia’s eyes flutter as if her mind is breaking a haze. “Sorry, what?” she questions. 

“No. Uh- don’t mind him,” John tries, but Sherlock is having none of it. 

“You still contact your ex-husband, obviously not over him. You came to this event to get your mind off him, meet someone new to discard the pain, but that won’t work.” Sherlock releases a long breath, showcasing his boredom. “If you’re still so attached to him, it’s probably best to stay out of another relationship. Bringing your secondary relationship problems into another relationship can cause an immense amount of conflict.”

Amelia stares at Sherlock, her pain evident. She stands and leaves without a word. 

John swallows, trying to process what just occurred. 

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock says. “I saved you from months of unnecessary complications.”

John’s knee bounces, agitated. John releases a humorless laugh. “Sherlock, that was extremely unkind.”

Sherlock furrows his brows. “She was still emotionally attached to her ex husband. I informed you of-”

“I don’t need your help!” John snaps, turning to Sherlock. “I don’t know why you’re being so bloody invasive in my romantic affairs, but I’m fucking sick of it, Sherlock. Go bother someone else for a change, hm? Go ruin someone else’s evenings, for Christ’s sake..”

With that, John stands and strides out of the hotel, not bothering to look back at the detective. As the cool London air hits John’s face, he hails a cabbie, getting into the vehicle. He stares out the window, trying not to think of the devastating expression on Sherlock’s face.

—

221B is quiet. 

John has been up in his room for the past few hours, the events of this afternoon swirling through his head. 

He’s changed out of his formal clothing, settling for a simple t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He lays in bed, staring up at the bland ceiling. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a sigh, his thoughts coming back in full circle. 

He shouldn’t have yelled at Sherlock like that. John knows Sherlock was just trying to help (though he has an odd way of showing it). 

It’s endearing, really, how Sherlock’s mind works. John has always found it fascinating. 

The way Sherlock can look at something and acquire a fact of a thought, not only an assumption. The way he gets excited by the strangest and most perplexing things. The way most describe him as heartless, but he sympathizes with people in his own, unique way that’s difficult to understand but incredibly captivating to watch. 

The way he just sees things differently… that’s what piqued John’s interest from the start. 

The way his eyes light up when he’s analyzing a situation thoroughly, picking apart every aspect with precision. The way he has highs of anticipation for a case, but afterward he takes long breaks for himself, picking a specific place to sleep for hours. 

John is utterly in love. 

John suspected the realization would be surprising, that it would come in heavy waves, but it comes to him in a smooth sailing stream. Of course he’s in love with Sherlock Holmes. He’s known it for the longest time. It was only denial that was blocking the thought from his mind, the constant “I’m not gay” accusations only a way to escape reality. 

But no. John knows it’s time to face the reality, even if it is, for some reason, difficult. He’s in love with Sherlock Holmes. 

More like, he’s obsessed with the man. Fascination doesn’t even begin to describe the appeal he has for Sherlock. 

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. 

John stands, his knees slightly shaky from lying down for so long. Cracking his neck, he walks to the door. He takes a deep breath and opens the door, revealing Sherlock with a cup of tea in his hands. 

Sherlock looks unsure, almost like a kicked puppy. 

Guilt builds up in John’s chest for handling the situation so harshly.

Sherlock clears his throat, holding up the cup. “Tea,” he says. “I um- I made you tea.”

John stares at him, his heart swelling. 

“I apologize,” Sherlock whispers, looking away. “I was inconsiderate. I- I should have left you alone with your romantic affairs. You can… you can date whoever you’d like. Of course you can. I um- I suppose I… I just don’t want you interacting romantically with anyone who will be wasting your time.” Sherlock pauses, then shakes his head. “That sounds inconsiderate as well. What I meant was that most people are idiotic and they don’t deserve you…” Sherlock’s hands clench around the teacup. “No. Wait. That sounds… that sounds… that’s not what I meant. What I-”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock stops talking, eyes flickering up to John. Gently, John cups Sherlock’s face as he steps closer. The detective’s cheeks flare considerably. John pauses, searching Sherlock’s eyes for any protest. 

There’s none. 

John kisses him. 

Everything is still. It’s silent besides the occasional sound of a vehicle passing by Baker Street in the dark of the night.

The kiss is tender, both of the men staying still. John pulls back, opening his eyes slowly. Sherlock seems stunned. 

John clears his throat, stepping back. “Fuck. Sorry, I- I thought…” He laughs awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock, I-”

John is interrupted by glass shattering on the floor. The next thing John knows, he’s practically getting pounced on by a six-foot detective. 

Sherlock holds John’s face and presses his lips against his desperately, earnestly. Once John gains back his cognitive function, he kisses Sherlock back, holding his waist tightly. John doesn’t know how they ended up at the end of the room, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls back onto the sheets with a grunt. Sherlock follows him, climbing atop him and straddling him. John makes a noise of encouragement, his hang gliding up to tangle through Sherlock’s curls. 

Sherlock’s lips move against John’s eagerly, kissing him into oblivion. John chuckles and pulls back slightly so that he can catch his breath—disappointment forms on Sherlock’s features. 

“Did I- am I doing it wrong?” Sherlock asks.

“What? No. No, of course not,” John reassures. “Just…” John nudges his nose against Sherlock’s. “Slowly,” he whispers in instruction. 

John brings Sherlock’s head down, capturing the detective’s lips. John sets a slower pace this time, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation. 

Sherlock’s lips are plump, a wonder to taste. Sherlock groans, following John’s movements as he glides his thumbs across the doctor’s jaw adoringly. John shivers at the movement. 

Yeah. He’ll never get tired of kissing Sherlock. 

John sucks in a breath, giving Sherlock’s lips several pecks before leaning back. Sherlock makes a noise of complaint. John grins, squeezing the detective’s waist. 

“I know. I know, love,” he whispers against his lips. “Just two things.”

“Make it quick,” Sherlock demands, his lips already trailing down John’s jaw. 

John huffs a laugh, his mind already getting distracted by the sensation of Sherlock’s eager kisses against his skin. “Well, you’re cleaning up the broken glass.”

“And making you another cup of tea,” Sherlock says, sucking a particular spot on John’s neck. “Obviously.”

“Mhm. Y-Yep. Obviously. And-”

“And?”

“And…” John cups Sherlock’s face and makes the detective look at him. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Don’t, John. I deserved-”

“Stop,” John interjects softly. “You never deserve that, Sherlock. Never.” John’s thumb soothes Sherlock’s cheekbone. “You’re brilliant. Everything about you is brilliant. My evenings are never ruined because of you. Nothing is ruined because of you. You’ve made my life better and I need you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that before.”

Sherlock stares at him, his breath shallow. “So you… you want me?”

John laughs. “I thought us snogging made that clear?”

Sherlock grins. “I’m not sure I’m fully convinced.”

“Mm. Well, then.” In a swift movement, John flips their positions, Sherlock now on his back and John straddling him. Sherlock inhales a shaky breath, his eyes full of anticipation. John leans down, his breath hot against Sherlock’s lips. “I guess I’ll have to convince you in full.”

Sherlock’s arms wrap around John’s neck, his long fingers running through John’s hair. “Please do.”

*•*•*•*•

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @itsonlytext @7-percent @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @tindomerelhloni-official @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack

(Please let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged or if you’d like to be tagged. Thank you for the reblogs!!💞)

[yua-nism]

I saw your tags and I’m now very intrigued like what do you mean yuhan has the SHORTEST TRAGIC BACKSTORY?!?! JUST WHAT IS GOING ON?? like granted I should have known a game about devil cat butlers would have some angst and tragic backstories but god damn 😭😭

there was a miscalculation on my part and yuuhan's is in fact, not the one with the shortest backstory! however that's only because the others have yet to have their backstories be revealed. sorry for the late answer btw, exams have made me pretty tired.

ok so ill briefly explain a bit. this ties in to the requirement to become a devil butler that is, having felt so much despair that one feels like dying. normal people will be swallowed up by the devils they contract with. the despair essentially acts like chains for the devil. so to talk about their pasts in the Briefest Way Possible (lie):

miyaji has beef with lucas on the surface but really it's because he still can't get over the fact that lucas decided to save him from the verge of death instead of someone else he thought was more capable than him while lucas simply chose to save miyaji because he had higher chances of living.

lucas was basically a child prodigy/genius. since young, he's always loved reading books, and even read thick books that even adults struggled to understand. even though he was lonely and had no one to talk to, he still endured it, skipped grades, and became a doctor at the age of 10+. at first he was looked down on for being young, but an older doctor stood up for him. eventually he became the leader of the doctors, but due to his lack of social skills, he struggled to communicate well, which resulted in the doctors hating him. in the end, all the doctors except lucas quit their job. and the group collapsed. (tbf id quit too... imagine being said you didn't work as hard as him and don't have as much brainpower compared to him as well)

ammon has only had his mom since birth and lived with her, selling flowers for a living. ammon would always make sure the flowers would be sold out at the end of the day for his sickly mother, but if he doesn't manage to sell all of them it's heavily implied his mom whips him like he does to himself even now. they were like super poor but ammon still loved his mom because he only had her

berrien has like this super mysterious past but rn it's starting to unravel in chapter 4. he's an orphan and got adopted into a church backed by the grovanas or whatever nobel family to nurture warriors who could fight angels, but surprisingly the church is actually full of love and was ran by someone who fighted angels named Goetia. berrien also met his soon-to-be older brother figure named Beren/Belen. btw all of the kids go by the last name Cliane because goetia wants everyone to become true family.

when berrien was 26 (Beren 29), goetia died from a chronic disease and Beren had to take on goetia's responsibilities. berrien became the one running the church, however shit happened, Beren got demonized, and berrien used his powers to keep Beren alive after forming a contract with his current devil. he's still residing in berrien's basement as of current, but in a coma. berrien still thinks he himself has no rights to be a butler and really does not believe that he's the one keeping the damn thing running

also the church got destroyed like 2400 years ago and yes berrien is 2000+ years old

haures was born into some wack ass family, his dad ran away with some other woman and his mom projected her rage and stuff like that onto haures, and his newborn younger sister Tricia. haures is 10 years older than Tricia. when he was that age, he ran away from home with Tricia (literal baby) because he no longer trusted his mom to take good care of them. after that, when haures was 18, he trained hard to become a soldier under the grovanas nobles so he could afford to let Tricia get treatment for her worsening vision. one heartbreaking scene was when haures showed off his red uniform to Tricia and she said the blue uniform looked good on him... but 5 years later, haures managed to get Tricia's eyes healed!!! surely nothing bad could happen!!!!

sike. haures caught one of the grovanas nobles illegally trafficking humans with some dealer, and arrested him. however that led to the seller getting revenge, and he decided to capture tricia. he stabbed her and threw her into the woods. when haures found her, she only managed to call out to haures before she died after a few breaths. haures was really really really devastated. he sought revenge on the noble, and while the noble didn't die, he was jailed 5 years for harming the noble (not death sentence because he was determined mentally unstable after losing Tricia.). after he got out of jail, he found the noble again and wanted to kill him, but he was reminded of how Tricia admired him for protecting the people and helping those in need, which stopped him. after that, he became a devil butler because of his proficient fighting skills.

lamli was forced to work at a circus by his mom at the age of 10, while starting up with simple duties, he decided to train to become a circus troupe performer so he'd earn more money for his complaining mother. its heavily implied he's abandoned by her and becomes a devil butler because of his nimble body. btw his mom said she never wanted to have lamli right in front of him. jesus.

fennesz was born into a wealthy happy family, and had an older sister. however his war general father lost a war against nobles, and the economy went into shambles. his mom remarried but even though their stepdad was nice, fennesz and his sister ended up strays on the street due to some reasons i forgot of. fennesz would get bullied by kids on the street because of his father's loss in the war, but his sister would always protect him, and they relied on each other for survival. she's very smart, as shown in the story. she also loves history, as she said, it can help people learn from the past. its heavily implied she is dead.

ok flure! flure grew up with his older sister and mother who both did ballet (can one of you have an actual dad for once?), and he also followed in their footsteps. however when he was a child he was bullied for liking stereotypical girly things, like playing with his sister's dolls, doing ballet and having long hair. even though he was laughed at for doing it, he still underwent strict training guided bg his sister and mother. he never found the courage to tell his sister or mom even though his sister could tell something was wrong (heard him crying at night). he still thinks he should be more courageous to this day and thinks he's pathetic. we don't know what happened to his family but they probably died.

i wanted to talk about boschi but i realized idk much about him apart from the fact that he only had his grandmother (who's actually a great caretaker for once!) and he was bullied for being a bookworm/nerd at school and had no friends. though he did actually beat those bullies up later for mocking his grandma when she wanted to take him back home. she didn't want boschi to fight but she said herself she was actually rooting for him when he was fighting LMAOOO love her for that

lono. ok so lono was really poor and had no parents, and he acted as the older brother for the younger kids living on the streets with him. he'd work as someone who'd clean up rubble from battling angels, which was a job that had unstable income since no one knows when angels are gonna appear. they were family basically. lono would rather starve than let his siblings eat less, and his love of cooking originated here because he loved seeing them happy from his cooking. we don't know what happened to them, but they're probably dead

nac was born into a rich family, and has a father, not sure if he has a mother, never mentioned at least. apparently the stein family was great at sales or trading or smth??? they're just some very rich and well-known name. however on his 12th birthday, his butler led him to the forest near the stein mansion, and revealed himself to be someone the stein family harmed. just as he was about to kill lil nac in shock, nac retaliated in defense. and when he realized, he already stabbed the man at his vital point. his dad appears out of nowhere and reveals that he knew this all along, and that the stein family is actually a long line of assassins with sales as their front personas. nac was trained to kill since then, and thought he'd never feel positive emotions again before he became a devil butler. he also has scars all around his body, probably from the assassin work he did.

lato and his non-blood related brother, Aleks I think? were kidnapped by people who wanted to train people to become angel fighters. however unlike berrien, this time it's just pure cruelness and literal torture. they were 8 when this experiment started. not only that, all the children were sold by their caretakers to this place, including lato and aleks' "mother", the head of their orphanage, who they deeply loved and believed in. when lato finally found a way to escape, almost half the children were dead.

and when he told the others, they told lato that they already gave up on escaping, including aleks. from, i suppose, all the suppressed anger and trauma, he burned the experiment facility down, leaving the other kids to die because he hallucinated that they wanted them to be burned so they could be free. after that, lato returned to the orphanage even though he knew the "mother" sold him in the first place. guess what the mother did! that's right she ran back into the orphanage when she saw him, locked the fucking door and told him to get the fuck away from her. and lato burned the orphanage down.

now onto the new butler trio!

teddy is the one with the most details in his backstory so far. when he was young, he Had a twin brother, and teddy was a far cry from who he is now. he was negative and gloomy compared to his brother, who was positive and talented, and people always favored teddy's brother more. but one day, his brother died protecting him from an angel, but since they were so alike people didn't know whether the one that died was teddy or his brother. and after grieving his brother, teddy decided to become him, and used his brother's name to live on as him so people wouldn't be sad, because "teddy" was the one that died. and that led to teddy forming his personality today. teddy is his actual name though, he started using it after he became a knight. he became a knight because he wanted to protect people from angels.

but during an attack by an intelligent angel, namely seraphim, one of the angels that appeared at the end of chapter 1 and also the major antagonist of the story, teddy's entire unit got killed. at the start of chapter 2.5, he recuperated in a hospital, however he kept terrible nightmares (reliving the massacre, and hearing the voices of his comrades asking him why he abandoned them and why he got to survive) and so didn't sleep at all. he eventually snuck out of the hospital to visit their graves, and then started wondering what the point of him still being alive is. he almost threw himself off a cliff before haures and aruji reached him.

hanamaru. ten years before the story, hanamaru was fleeing from something- he walked all the way from the east to the central, and collapsed in a forest. a nun found him and took him back to a church that doubled as an orphanage. however the nun soon fell ill and died, so hanamaru began taking care of the kids in the church after he was saved by her.

but 5 years later, the church was attacked by angels. he was away from the church when the attack happened, and when he came back, all he saw were angels flying away from the ruined church. only 4 kids survived. hanamaru had a breakdown, and kept kneeling and pressing his head against the ground, saying things like "i couldn't protect them", "i swear ill keep them safe next time", implying this is not the first time something like this has happened. he swore vengeance against the angels that day, that he would never forgive them, and himself. so berrien suspects that the 4 kids that survived were the people that kept hanamaru around. who knows what could've happened if they passed as well...

lastly (finally), yuuhan. at the age of 9, he trained to become a soldier of the sardeis family so he could protect his hometown, and made it after 3 years. he quickly rose up in the ranks, being a prodigy. in the main story, he started doubting his loyalty to the family after they attempted an assassination on the devil butlers. and he betrayed the sardeis family and fell into their trap when investigating forbidden records. he got thrown into jail by the head, and the head decided for his punishment, yuuhan's whole village and everyone he knew there will be burned and killed. he could only despair in jail. in the story, after his prison guard left after serving him food, yuuhan started crying. he called out to his father, his mother, everyone from his hometown, apologizing again and again, believing that it's his fault that they died.

after that, the head, fubuki, paid him a visit. fubuki beat yuuhan up, pushed him to the verge of death, but not grave enough injuries to die. yuuhan asked fubuki to kill him, but fubuki refused. he even says he'll force feed yuuhan till the day of his death execution if necessary. however, yuuhan was rescued by the butlers during his execution. (it took place in a forest with tigers. basically the death penalty is getting eaten by tigers) he became a devil butler after that.

holy shit. also im not typing Bastien's since you can read his backstory from the tls available here.