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sunlit-squid · 3 years

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I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

#sbsp #my fics #spongebob squarepants #squidbob #spongeward #spongebob #squidward #ask #asks #sunlit-squid

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love-geeky-fangirl · 3 years

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Ranking every teen drama I've watched

I have gotten really into teen dramas lately, because it's quarantine I can't go out and have fun, but I can still watch other people my age going out and having fun and doing things I don't get to do. Anyway I haven't seen all teen dramas, I was never interested in supernatural ones, so you won't find Vampire Diaries and similar shows on this list.

From worst to best:

The Secret Life of the American Teenager

I will never understand how this show ran for five seasons. It will forever remain a mystery to me. This show is so bad it's good. The writing resembles a wattpad story, Amy's pregnancy is inconsistent (like how was she five months pregnant for like five or six episodes, aren't the episodes supposed to be set a week apart?), the acting is bad (that is not to say that Molly Ringwald or Shailene Woodley are bad actresses, obviously they're not, I'm talking about Amy's sister that has the same facial expression no matter what her mood is supposed to be), some of the views this show expresses are very old-fashioned and damaging (the madonna-whore binary, the fact that they can't even utter the word abortion) and every single male character on this show is a creep and a cheater. I can't believe I watched like thirteen episodes of this. I will never get that time back.

Weirdest moment: "I'm a whore!" "Well, you're my whore." (Was this supposed to be romantic??)

Best moment: none

Glee

This is going to be unpopular and don't get me wrong, I like Glee, but I feel like the writers put much more thought into the musical numbers than the storylines. Again, Quinn's pregnancy is inconsistent (but I'm starting to think TV shows are always inconsistent about pregnancies), the characters don't look like they're in high school at all, the cheerleaders wear their uniforms 24/7 for no reason (Quinn even wore it to her sonogram, like seriously?) the whole celibacy club thing is weird and Mr Schue is a terrible teacher. However, the visuals and the musical numbers are great, Sue Sylvester is iconic (albeit also a terrible teacher) and some of the scenes are really emotional (Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand made my sister cry) so overall, it's pretty good.

Weirdest moment: Finn praying to grilled cheese (what??)

Best moment: Quinn giving birth to Bohemian Rhapsody, Kurt singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Dawson's Creek

I LOVE their 90s' outfits and Joey and Pacey are really otp material, but I just can't stand Dawson! He got mad that Joey didn't tell him about his mother's affair, as if it was her place to get involved. She was 15! It's understandible she didn't want to get tangled into that mess. He also slut-shamed Jen in a really gross way. He literally stopped talking to her for a day when he found out she isn't a virgin. Why are both Joey and Jen into this guy?? This would've been a much better show if it was called Joey's Creek or Pacey's Creek.

Weirdest moment: the way Dawson's mom confessed her affair to her husband. I don't think any irl human would use this choice of words. Also that scene where Dawson's father was teaching him how to kiss while Joey was watching. Cringe.

Best moment: any time Joey and Pacey are bickering. My shipper heart!

Pretty Little Liars

I loved the book version of this, but the TV version seems way too dramatic. First of all, they romanticized Aria and Ezra's relationship (ewww) and made the whole thing seem much more overdramatic. I don't know how to explain it, I mean the books are also dramatic but the TV show somehow took it to a whole new level. None of the girls look like they're in high school, but I love the way they dress and do their makeup. It's almost as though the writers put more thought into their outfits than storylines. I still loved watching it until Netflix took it off, though.

Weirdest moment: Spencer somehow trying to block A's number from her laptop in the middle of a park and then being confused that it didn't work. Weren't you supposed to be the smart one, Spencer?

Best moment: Haleb in the shower, hiding from Hanna's mom.

Skins

This is a classic. Effy is iconic (I somehow heard about her even before watching Skins) and the musical number at the end of season 1 was out of nowhere but still somehow fit perfectly into the story. I also give this show point for being one of the few TV shows where teen characters are actually played by real life teens. They look their age, talk their age (no "I reject reality" or other cringy lines like that) and aren't unrealistically perfect like characters from American teen dramas tend to be. They look like people you might actually meet in high school. However the show loses points for all the continuity errors (are 8 episodes supposed to be the whole school year??) and the number of unneccessary death/tragic accidents. It seemed kind of over-the-top and unneccessarily dark and brutal at times.

Weirdest moment: Chris's graphic death

Best moment: Wild World

Euphoria

The Gen Z American version of Skins, but with better visuals. Much better. I loved the aesthetic, the colors, the lighting and glitter. Zendaya's a great actress and I give this show points for casting an actual trans actress in the role of Jules. However I find it weird that all guys on this show are complete irredeemable assholes (except of Jules's dad and Ethan that is). Are we supposed to just root for the girls and not the guys? Also I find it hard to believe that any of these characters are actually 16/17. They have sex all the time (yeah teenagers have sex sometimes but on this show they treated Kat as some kind of a chaste nun for being a virgin at 16) and have seemingly no rules and no curfew. It would've been much more believable if they were in college.

Weirdest moment: Nate breaking into Tyler's house, beating him up and then taking a shower. The audacity this guy has!

Best moment: "You did this to me!" and Rue having an anxiety attack on the stage in theater class

Gossip Girl

I know this is also an unpopular opinion, because many claim Gossip Girl is the best teen drama ever, but for me it just got way too soapy as the seasons went on. The first two seasons were believable, even though they didn't really look like they were in high school, but after that it was just more and more weird plot points. I will give this show points for the fashion (I mean Blair's headbands and school uniform inspired a fashion line), the acting ("I killed someone"- iconic) and the choice of background music (Nate and Serena kissing to Paparazzi, Thanksgiving with Watcha Say). Despite the wild twists and turns of events, I just had to keep watching because this show had me hooked.

Weirdest moment: Bart Bass somehow flying off the building for no reason (seriously, what he did there had no logical explanation and defied laws of physics), Dan being Gossip Girl, Bart faking his death and returning more evil than before, Serena becoming Gossip Girl, the affidavit, everyone randomly stopping going to college... there are so many but Bart takes the cake I guess

Best moment: the Thanksgiving flashbacks from season 1, Dan placing a plastic crown on Blair's head

Freaks and Geeks

This is one of the few shows where high school is depicted realistically. It's not all glitter and parties and not everyone has sex and does drugs. Okay, I admit, the bullying was over the top and it was weird how no adults cared but other than that, it was pretty spot-on. It was emotional without being too dramatic and far-fetched and also had funny moments. Yes some of the characters may have been stereotypes but at least the show seemed self-aware of that. It's truly a shame we only got 18 episodes of this show, while The Secret Life of the American Teenager somehow got five seasons??? I don't get it.

Weirdest moment: when Cindy suddenly got super mean once she started dating Sam

Best moment: Daniel showing up at Kim's doorstep, Sam breaking down in tears in the end of 'Garage Door'

Gilmore Girls

I'm not sure this one counts as a teen drama, maybe it's more of a dramedy but I'm still including it here. It's funny, the dialogue is witty and full of obscure pop-culture references and the relationships between generations complex. Same as with Freaks and Geeks, the portrayal of high school is pretty realistic. Characters are shown studying and taking tests and not just partying all the time. However the show loses points for getting weirdly soapy in the 7th season. The dialogue wasn't as good and the camera angles were soap opera like and the storylines weren't very good either. You could really tell the show changed show-runners. The earlier seasons are the best. It's hard to explain but something about them feels cozy like a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Weirdest moment: Lorelai marrying Chris and then making the whole "you're the man I want to want" speech, Lorelai defending and loving Dean for no reason

Best moment: Rory's graduation speech, Rory yelling at Chris and calling him out for not having been there for her, Then She Appeared, "Yes Emily, you may go first"... there are so many!

#teen dramas #the secret life of the american teenager #glee #dawson's creek #pll #skins #euphoria #gossip girl #freaks and geeks #gilmore girls #i would've included the oc but i havent seen enough of it yet

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thedevillionaire · 3 years

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Panacea

Exordium, part two, though this can be read as a stand-alone. This one comes with an 18+ label.

Some other supernatural soap opera folk get brief appearances here too. Aera – Sorcery Leader and best of frenemies with Cerberus; Vampyra – Vampirism Leader; Ashtaroth – Incubus, Vampirism Understudy, Kia’s BFF and ex-FWB. Mentioned, not appearing: Lilith – Cerberus’ ex, and Therion, Demonics Understudy. As always, any questions, please do ask! But anyway...

Offering a hurried apology, Cerberus sneezed again, more heavily than before, and Aera and Vampyra frowned at him simultaneously. “Cerberus, if you get me sick, I will never forgive you,” Vampyra said, the expression on her face suggesting that she was quite serious about it too. “I have far too many things to do, and not just this. Also, if I can’t do those things, then you’ll have to work with Ashtaroth or, more likely, whoever he sends in when he doesn’t feel like working, and you’ll completely deserve it. So think about that.”

“Mm,” seconded Aera, looking at Cerberus and raising her eyebrows as if daring him to disagree.

Cerberus, mildly affronted but feeling increasingly unwell, blew his nose, excused himself and took a drink of water. He cleared his throat, grimacing a little at the pain. “If either of you would like to try reclassifying the Demonics Levels without me, then please, go right ahead. Although surely Therion can do at least some of it. I’m not particularly keen to be here, you know.”

Aera rolled her eyes. “None of us are. And really, I’m still not convinced it’s even all that necessary. We’ve gone generations without doing anything to rejig the whole ratings whatnot and the place hasn’t collapsed.” She waved a paper in the air as if it would back her up, not that anybody else could read it. “I mean, I do agree that there probably should be more fine detail between levels, but, at the same time, if…”

“Huh-TSSCH-uu!”

Cerberus, having abruptly derailed Aera’s point, muttered a reflexive, “Pardon me,” added a more than somewhat irked, “again,” and internally cursed himself for failing to shake this off despite his best efforts. He sniffled. Everything ached, his head foggy, this damned incessant itch still refused to abate, and he knew at this point his fight was a lost cause.

“For fuck’s sake, go home,” said Vampyra crossly.

A sharp nod of agreement from Aera. “Yep, what she said. You sound awful. Go be Kia’s problem. You can test her resolve about the whole ‘in sickness’ part of things,” she said with a brief sardonic laugh. “I’ll call Therion. If he fucks it up, you can fix it in a week or so, alright? Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be double-checking it all anyway,” she added. “And don’t argue.”

Cerberus hadn’t intended to. He stood, gave them both a curt nod of acknowledgement, remarked, “Don’t call me,” and disappeared.

----

Closing the door behind him wearily, Cerberus leant back against it and sneezed heavily three times in succession, his eyes watering and his head pounding. Kia, her attention abruptly and thoroughly pulled from the Inception papers she’d been reviewing, peered down at him from her vantage point at the top of the stairs. Abandoning her work, concentration destroyed, she descended and crossed the foyer to meet him.

“Meeting over already? Or just over for you?” A rhetorical question, the answer writ unambiguous across her bonded’s entire demeanour. She reached up and put her hand on his forehead. “Well, at least you don’t have a fever. Oh, hon. I knew I should have kept you home tonight.” She gave him a soft look of chastisement. “What happened to ‘I’ll be fine’?”

He’d certainly meant to be fine. “Miscalculation,” Cerberus managed before his breath caught again, sharp and demanding, and he turned from Kia in haste. “Ahh-TSSCH-uu! Gods! Pardon me. *snf!* Sorry. Can’t seem to stop doing that.” He met her eyes with apologetic dismay, sighing. “I’ve been exiled.”

Kia made a gentle noise of sympathy, stroking his arm and motioning for him to accompany her into the loungeroom. She glanced up at him as his expression helplessly crumbled anew, pressing a pre-emptive tissue into his hand as he lost a very briefly fought battle against another heavy sneeze. “Hh-hh… Huh-ATSSCHH-uu!” He groaned, excused himself again, blew his nose.

“Aw, bless you, sweetheart. Sit,” Kia said, and Cerberus all but collapsed onto the couch. Kia moved to join him, stretching her arm across his shoulders and stroking his hair repetitively, soothingly. Cerberus closed his eyes, relaxing into her touch, although with a measure of reluctance. “Careful, darkling. I do not want to give this to you,” he murmured.

Kia, not concerned about that in the slightest, kissed him lightly. “I know.” She continued to stroke his hair, and he leant into her, energy drained and thankful for the respite she provided. “Do you have any cold meds in the house?”

Cerberus sat up a little straighter, sniffled again, shook his head. “I never catch cold,” he said with another sniffle, the unmistakeable notes of congestion starting to blunt his consonants now, and he conceded quickly to the soft challenge in his love’s eyes. “Alright, well, not never...clearly.” He claimed another several tissues, wiped his nose and sighed in weary resignation, pressed his fingers to his forehead against the relentless pulse of cold-fuelled ache. “But no.” And despite Kia’s expression now plainly reflecting well that probably wasn’t the best-laid plan was it, it was indeed true that he’d not had a proper cold for well over a year, possibly two – not that his newly bonded had any way of knowing that – and there were only so many unexpected events one could prepare for.

“Okay then, I’ll do a drug run,” said Kia, deciding practicality was the best course of action right now, and stood. “I shouldn’t be too long, depending on how busy Healing is. Here.” She handed him the box of tissues from the loungeroom table. “So, um, just a thought…if it is really busy, can I name drop you and skip the queue?” Kia raised her eyebrows archly.

“Hmm. Your hopes as recent Underworld queen are certainly ambitious,” Cerberus said, then after brief consideration added, “Although…yes, probably,” with a conspiratorial chuckle and a tired but knowing smile.

“Ha! I’m going to try it.” She kissed him again. “See you soon. Because queens don’t queue.”

----

Kia did indeed return in good time, carrying a bag of Healing concoctions. “Hey, babe,” she said, kicking the door closed behind her and crossing the foyer to meet Cerberus in the loungeroom, where he now sat on the chair nearest the fireplace, looking more than a little defeated, a blanket draped across his shoulders, tissues in hand. “I didn’t get a chance to name drop my way to the top, because they were actually not busy, damn it. I swear, the only time I’ve ever kind of wanted them to be busy, and…nope. Anyway, the dealer is in,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

Cerberus held up a finger to indicate that Kia should wait, pausing with brow creased in expectation, turning from her as that expectation escalated to urgency, excusing himself as hastily as he could, desperately and unstoppably overcome. “Huh-TSSCH-uu! Hh… h-huhTSCHHUU!”

“Bless you,” said Kia, looking at him with a mix of sympathy and concern. Cerberus acknowledged her as best he could, made a small sound of exasperation and sneezed again. “Ahh-TSCHUU! Gods!” He sniffled fiercely, managed to take a determined moment to recover, and met Kia’s compassionate gaze with a matter-of-fact certainty. “I’m going to die,” he announced succinctly.

Kia suppressed a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. Well, um, probably not, but...”

“No, I-ihh-HH…” Cerberus inhaled sharply, shakily, and broke off in short order. “HehAHTSCHUU!” He groaned and cleared his throat, the resultant raw sting bringing with it instant regret. “I’m definitely dying.” He blew his nose, sniffling again, vaporised the latest addition to an increasingly long succession of used tissues, and put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, darkling.” Looking back up at Kia in sincerest apology, he raked his hair back from his face and rubbed his nose with resolute firm hand, sighing heavily. “I have a question for you, though, if I may. I assume you remember the night I proposed?”

“Vividly,” Kia said, chuckling in reflex at the apparent randomness of it. “Interesting tangent. But first, drugs! You sound wrecked, hon.” She handed him the bag. “By the way, I’ve been warned that you’re a terrible patient. More than once.” A kiss pressed to his forehead. “A lot, you could say, actually.”

“Malicious lies,” said Cerberus as imperiously as he could manage, which wasn’t particularly so given the circumstance.

“Naturally.” Kia rested her arms on the back of the chair, and brushed some wayward hair out of his eyes, tucking stray tendrils behind his ears. “Anyway, I think…maybe you’ve just never had the right nursemaid.” She kissed the top of his head lightly, running her fingers through his hair now in a tranquil, repetitive motion.

Cerberus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Well, it was certainly true that Lilith had never been caretaker inclined – not that he’d considered any alternative reaction as a possibility at the time. Avoidance of these sorts of…contagious absurdities seemed a perfectly reasonable response anyway, he thought, as he rubbed his nose once more against another rising itch, frowning, but managed for the moment to see it off. He refocused. “My question, then, darkling, if you’ll indulge me. Earlier that night at your old apartment, when I told you that you were always beautiful, you told me that I was either a liar or crazy.”

“Or drunk,” Kia added brightly.

“Ah, yes, of course. Anyway, love, if you are even the slightest bit attracted to me in this…frankly ridiculous state—” Cerberus sniffled sharply, as if to emphasise his point. “—then I’m afraid you owe me an apology.”

“Hmm.” Kia smiled slyly, feigning consideration, as she continued toying with heavy ebony hair, trailing her touch further now, slowly, down angular jawline, across broad shoulders, and mused, “I don’t know. I mean, what if I am crazy? Because—”

An acute deep inhalation the only warning, Cerberus interrupted her with a sudden, powerful sneeze. “AAHTSSCHHUU! ..ugh. Excuse…” he began, but the insistent, demanding need was not yet sated. “Huh-TSCHU-uu! Oh, for…” Another catch in his breath and he surrendered again, almost doubling over with the force of it. “Ahh-HEHTSSHHUU! Fuck! If I find out who’s responsible for this, I will immolate them!” His patience completely at an end, he looked up at Kia in consternation, the frustrated fury alight in vivid emerald indicating there was every chance that he wouldn’t so much as hesitate if given the opportunity.

“Sweetheart, I know that’s kind of a Demon king perk, but…probably a bit extreme in this case.” Patting his shoulder firmly on her way, Kia moved to sit on the table in front of him and tried to think a little less about just how deliciously being indignantly dishevelled suited him. For the time being, at least. She took his hand in hers, held his gaze. “Alright, I want you to listen to me now, okay? Take the drugs, go to bed and I promise I will do my best to make everything better in just a little while, but you have to help me out here.”

With a discomfited sigh, Cerberus sniffled again, apologised – though that green fire, albeit ameliorated slightly, still burned apparent – and nodded after a short time in mildly begrudging concession. He stood, taking the bag of Healing concoctions and the tissues with him. “As you wish, darkling,” he said, and kissed Kia gently on the top of her head. Another sniffle. “But make no mistake – an immolation would be entirely and thoroughly deserved.”

:Ash! Hi! Sorry about the intrusion, but I was hoping maybe you’d want to come entertain me for about an hour or so? Are you busy?: Kia stretched her legs out across the coffee table and took a sip of wine. :Also…I could kind of use your help.:

Ashtaroth needed no further encouragement. :Not busy, definitely would like to get the hell out of here, will help with whatever. See you imminently, sweetie.:

Kia laughed and began walking towards the door, reaching and opening it at almost the exact moment Ashtaroth arrived. He smiled and hugged her in greeting. “Alright, fill me in, love. A time limit and a mystery task? Darling, what is going on?”

“Come in first,” said Kia, heading back into the loungeroom to reclaim her wine and pour one for Ashtaroth. She took a seat on the couch and motioned for him to join her. “Okay, well, basically, the short version is I’m on a bit of a medication timeline, and I could use some assistance with getting into an outfit.”

Ashtaroth, taking a seat beside Kia, raised his eyebrows. “Not out of? Where’s the fun in that?” He smiled mischievously. “Wait, did you say medication timeline?” He looked closely at Kia, frowning in concentration. “Well, all hail to the Healing team. I’d never have picked you as ill. What’s wrong?”

“Not me.” She pointed upstairs. “Head cold.”

“My, my. So the delicious Demon can be undone like the rest of us after all. I imagine he’s taking it just marvellously.” Ashtaroth chuckled. “Ah…and you intend to be the cure, am I right? I am, aren’t I?” He grinned, winked and raised his wineglass in a toast. “Well, then. To the goddess Kia, panacea!”

“Ooh, I like it!” Kia laughed. “A little bit ambitious there, maybe, but, well, I’m going to try, so…here’s hoping, at least for a while. Cheers!” Kia raised her glass also, then hesitated. “Oh, actually, hang on. Probably shouldn’t. There’s kind of a fair bit of fiddly lacing up of stuff to be done yet.”

Ashtaroth drank his wine anyway. “I’m well practised,” he remarked. “And since I’m very sadly not actually the one who’s going to be the beneficiary of this, and I’ve only got an hour here – even less than that now – honestly, I should probably have your drink too.”

Kia laughed again. “Fine, but I’ll be doing my own eyeliner.”

“Deal!” Ashtaroth claimed Kia’s wineglass for himself, smiling playfully. He took a sip, then said, his tone serious and genuine, “You’ll be fucking irresistible, Kiki love. He’s so lucky.”

“Oh, Ash,” Kia said, touched. She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“I mean it. He is. And I think,” Ashtaroth said, toying with Kia’s hair, “that after this you’ll even properly believe it yourself.” He stood, finishing the rest of the wine, and offered his hand. “Alright, come on! Let’s get you even more gorgeous.”

----

Kia opened the door to the bedroom quietly, peeking in at Cerberus, who was semi-lying, semi-sitting amid an array of pillows on the bed, a Demonics text in one hand, and smiled to herself. Perfect. She entered the room.

Cerberus pushed some hair back from his face, sniffling lightly. Healing’s assistance had brought some manner of relief, though his head was still somewhat heavy with the cold he’d come home with and – to his immense irritation – failed to shake off, but he sat up a little straighter and widened his eyes as his bonded walked slowly further into the room, closing the door behind her. Kia, dressed for pure seduction in a black silk fitted minidress, velvet and lace detailed, bodiced and skintight, six-inch stilettos and sapphire eyes kohl smoked, her hair a wildness of arranged disorder, gave him a knowing smile as she reached the foot of the bed, and stopped. She placed one fishnet-clad leg smoothly onto the bed and looked directly at Cerberus, who gazed back at her in a mix of astonishment, disbelief and desire.

“Hey, babe,” she purred, shifting to sit now on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, her hourglass figure lushly emphasised by the corsetry she wore. “As promised…I am here to make your night…better.” Rearranging herself to straddle him, she lowered her body across his and traced a tapered dark ruby fingernail along his jawline, cupping his face in her hand and kissing him deeply before sitting up again, fluid, measured, catlike.

Stunned, Cerberus couldn’t take his eyes off her, absently dropping the text to the floor and barely noticing that he’d done so, mesmerised and fixated, only returning to his senses as a re-emergent, rising tickle sharply forced his attentions redirected. With a brief frown and shake of his head, he hastily claimed a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table, apologising as he did so but unable to do anything else much about it. “HHTSCHuu! ahH… HuhTSCHuu! Ah, gods, I’m s…” he began, intending to attempt a half-hearted protest that he wasn’t at all sure he was up to this and that he’d meant it when he’d said that he didn’t want Kia to get sick too, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “Shh,” she soothed, putting a finger to his lips. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” A little smile and a quick, gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. :Bless you.: Pressing herself closer again, she kissed him anew, warmsensual, indulgent. “And you don’t need to do anything…well, one thing, but I don’t think,” she continued, now trailing her hands down to his inner thighs and pressing, coaxing, insistent, “you’ll have any trouble with that.” She gave him a sultry smile and a quick wink as she felt him harden at her touch. She pushed herself against him a little more, and Cerberus made a small sound of pleasure, closing his eyes, giving in. Kia smiled again, briefly, wickedly, as she moved to weave her fingers through his hair and gently but firmly pull him towards her, teasingly licking, lovebiting and kissing him before murmuring, “Okay, babe, I need you—" Another soft kiss. “—to trust me now.” And another kiss, intense and absolute, accompanied by a heatwhispered Mindsend of :Drop your Protect.:

Cerberus immediately opened his eyes again at this, meeting Kia’s gaze directly, serious, questioning. :Darkling…: he began in reply, uncertainty evident, but she did not relent.

:Trust me.:

And he looked at his love, his heart, and he chose to trust her in a way that he had never trusted another and so gave himself over absolutely, and she took him in body and psyche and she was power, essence, flesh and dream, she was air and emergence, she was sensurround envelopment and possession, immersion, complete and completion, weight and flight and heat and heat and (oh gods) heat, sanctuary and abandon. She was vibration, whisper, scream and pulse, metronomic beat-beat steady and crescendo (breathe) and fall (gods) and arise, crescendo, once more, once more, again immerse again again (breathe) and again (breathe) fire my love, fire, the inferno elemental and burn, burn, burn. She was becoming, she was ascension, she was all the unknown and all the familiar. She was warmth and blood, the crimson charisma, ecstasy and power, she was urgency, debauchery, divinity, desperation, she was insatiable lust and beautiful sanctuary, the splendorous art of the succubus supreme, the frisson edge, enveloping centre and magnificent release, release, ravenous need, and (oh) she danced, yes, (oh) yes, unstoppable force ascendant, as she took his hand, his heart, his sex and his soul and she was everything, everything, everything, and she was, they were, and (oh, oh gods, oh) he was wildpurest sensation, plenary surrender, ecstatic enraptured climactic consummation everything (oh gods) everything (oh gods) everything and (oh gods yes) they were everything and now he was (oh, oh gods) he was (OH) he was hers, he was hers, he was oh (!GODS!) he was hers as he came supplicant unprecedented and she wrapped her arms around him and whispered I love you through his entire being, more than and more than, and kissed him like there was nothing else in the world but this…

..and Cerberus, as beyond words as he’d ever been, found himself unable to do anything more than gaze at Kia in a state of amazed reverie as she smoothly shifted positions on the bed to kneel beside him. She smiled gently, a little impishly. “Feeling better, yeah?” she said with a wink, and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead. :Get some sleep, babe: she Mindsent with Compel, taking advantage of his Protect still being down, and in entranced tractable rapture, he fell readily into unconsciousness. Kia kissed him lightly and stood, gathered some scattered items of clothing from on top of the bed, repositioned the bedcover to ensure he’d stay warm, and made her way downstairs, privately but without reservation delighted.

----

Cerberus, rested and freshly showered and impeccably dressed in an all-black silk nightwear ensemble and robe, his hair still slightly damp and falling loose around his shoulders, entered the loungeroom slowly, almost cautiously, meeting Kia’s eyes with an intense focus as he did so. She smiled idly up at him from where she was lying stretched across the sofa and put the book she’d been reading aside. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “You’re looking quite unfairly hot right now. I’m not sure you should be, but…whatever. I’m fine with it.” She grinned. “I might even take some of the credit.”

Cerberus chuckled quietly. “You probably deserve all of the credit, darkling.” He walked over to sit opposite her and looked at her almost in study, a slight frown on his face, contemplative and in consideration for some time before he asked, sincerely and seriously, “What did you do to me?”

“Well, hopefully gave you the best orgasm ever, but I think you might mean more specifically, yeah?” He indicated agreement, and she continued. “Immerse and Possess, the succubus experience deluxe. Everything but the Take.” Kia smiled again. “I’m pretty good, you know,” she said haughtily.

Cerberus acknowledged this with a nod and soft laugh of assent. “I… We’ve had some marvellous sex, darkling, truly, but you… That… I can’t… You…” He shook his head. “Damn it, I really thought I’d have things together by now.” He sighed heavily, smiled a little, and sniffled. “Apparently I’ve forgotten how to talk.”

Kia laughed. “Babe, you’re sick and full of meds and, well, let’s face it, still a little fuckstruck, so…”

“I’m what now?”

Kia smiled, gentle victorious, and blew him a kiss.

:Mine.:

----

#snzfic #snz fic #my OCs #my writing #cerberus #sneeze fic #supernatural soap opera #in which kia technically becomes the most powerful person in the Underworld #Cerberus has never before voluntarily ceded power to anyone for any reason in any circumstance in any way EVER

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texanredrose · 3 years

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Okay, to put some limitations on this, I’m only including the WIPs that I’ve done more than a synopsis for... that I can remember... that’s on Google Drive... that I actually think I might post one day... but haven’t posted yet because my posted WIPs are fairly easy to identify... okay... I got tagged by @unsteadyshade and I’m tagging @faunusrights and @alexlayer69

1) Across Time - Inuyasha AU where Weiss gets thrown back in time to the ancient past, where she meets two demons (Yang and Blake) warring against each other over a misunderstanding.

2) Alpha’s Devotion - Omega’s Strength, but from Winter’s POV.

3) Bears, Oh My - An exhausted Winter, lost on a hike, comes across a cabin where Yang lives with her three pet bears.

4) Brave New World - Continuation of the Dishonored AU where Ruby and Winter reflect on the new Mantle.

5) Bruised - Third installment to the ace!Yang AU.

6) Coming Home - Based on Dash’s Tiny Knight AU, Princess Blake is betrayed and stranded far from home and must rely on a reticent knight named Weiss to return to her kingdom.

7) Complications Always Arise - Papa Schnee is demanding Weiss marry before he’ll allow her to take his place as head of the SDC, so Yang volunteers to pretend to be Weiss’ beloved. No one else knows the relationship is fake, least of all Blake and Winter, and it’s just a bunch of pain.

8) Divided - Continuation of the By Moonlight AU where Whitley returns to the castle and Winter’s not upset by that- and Winter’s upset by the fact she’s not upset and has to figure out why her inner wolf is cool with this when she should, by all rights, be furious.

9) Dragonsbane - Mage Knight Winter hears tale of a dragon in the countryside that the local villages wish to see vanquished. Winter, however, has other plans.

10) Eye of the Beholder - Blinded and near death after a battle, Winter is rescued by the mysterious Yang and is nursed back to health despite her protests otherwise. (It’s a Medusa!AU.)

11) Fabled - Fable 3 AU where Princess Ruby and Princess Yang are forced to confront the fact that Queen Raven has lost her fucking mind, only to discover that fear drove the woman insane- a fear they must confront themselves.

12) Fields of Love - Farmer Yang offers a job and housing to apparent single mother Winter and her young daughter Penny. What starts as a kind gesture grows into something so much more.

13) Full Circle - Van Helsing (2004) AU, Winter and Weiss, amnesiacs employed by the church to handle all manner of unholy problems, are sent to discover what happened to King Taiyang. Along the way, they become wrapped up in a centuries spanning prophecy and a bloodline hanging in the balance.

14) High Bar, Low Blow - Yang owns a bar where the gimmick is that everyone’s an out of work actor and the staff is staging an ongoing drama on par with a soap opera to keep their customers coming back. Winter joins the staff and then things get a bit real.

15) Hoodlums and Hijinks - Robin Hood AU where Princess Winter and Princess Weiss are just as in favor for overthrowing the king as the group of bandits run by Ruby, Yang, and Blake.

16) Last One 2: Electric Boogaloo (title subject to change) - a sequel to Last One where the haunt continues.

17) Lexical Access - Sequel to Tip of the Tongue, where Yang gives her girlfriend a bit of roleplaying payback.

18) Little Red - Carmen Sandiego AU where Ruby was kidnapped adopted by a group of thieves and raised to become the world’s greatest thief, but a chance meeting with Penny via a stolen phone opens her eyes to the wider world, and she meets the rebellious heiress Weiss, street smart Blake, and brawler Yang, creating a team that works to foil Ruby’s former friends while eluding capture by mysterious operatives with a somewhat familiar white color scheme...

19) Long Term Investment - Yang, a fae who lives in the woods, makes a deal with Princess Winter to save the Queen. The price? Winter’s firstborn. Winter misunderstands how she’s expected to get pregnant and Yang’s never actually intended to collect. Next thing Yang knows, Winter’s moving into the clearing beside her tree home.

20) Miscalculation - Another Omegaverse AU where Weiss is an omega and Blake and Yang are alphas, except Weiss lied and said she was an alpha when enrolling in Beacon and now she’s locked in a room with Blake and Yang on the verge of starting her heat. Sharing is caring.

21) More Than Words Can Say - Winter, rendered mute by a military accident early in her career, is honestly the best girlfriend Yang’s ever had. However, tonight’s the night they’ve decided to get intimate, and that includes showing some scars that they don’t show often. It’s less about sex and more about trust and intimacy.

22) Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera AU where the mysterious, disfigured shade of the opera house, Weiss, finds herself at odds with the rich, jovial Yang in a competition for Blake’s heart. Then there’s Adam being a dick, too, and the opera house has never seen so much drama.

23) My Heart Will Go On - It’s the Titanic, but double the rich, unwilling-to-marry ladies and triple the won-a-ticket-to-a-ship ruffians. Penny’s there too; she, like Ruby, just really likes ships.

24) One Fucking Favor - Winter’s due for a long assignment and wants to make a sex tape for stress relief purposes. Yang doesn’t ask questions; she’s just the one with the camera. But then, Winter’s partner for the vid doesn’t show up. What’s Yang going to do about it?

25) Prophecy - Star Wars AU where Ruby, Yang, and Blake are trained as Jedi, Winter and Weiss are part of the clone army, and Ruby’s the chosen one. That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, but Senator Salem is there to lend a helping hand...

26) Propositioned - Faunus experience bouts of heat; sometimes, they can safely ignore it and go about their lives, but every now and again, they really can’t. Concerned for Blake’s health as she’s skipped too many heats to be healthy, Yang sets up a partner for Blake’s heat. Blake’s not a fan but she does like the idea of banging Weiss Schnee.

27) Proven - ARK: Survival Evolved AU where Winter, after being ‘won’ by Yang, is taken into the bowels of the earth to learn how the underground tribes who inhabit the area survive in such an unforgiving environment. As she acclimates to the tribe’s ways, she finds herself carving out her own path, culminating in facing off against the Queen and proving herself worthy.

28) Reaping What You Sow - When Winter escaped to the countryside with Penny to start a farm, she knew she had her work cut out for her. In need of help and facing a harsh cold season, she hires Yang, a one armed drifter, to help her. The two end up needing the other more than they could’ve imagined.

29) Tear My Heart Open - Blake thought she understood how the world worked. As a member of the White Fang Gang, all she needed to do was keep everyone motivated to continue their ongoing street war against the police and authorities bent on keeping them down. But while running from the cops, she’s offered sanctuary in the home of one Weiss Schnee and her girlfriend, Yang. From there, her perception of the world is completely upended.

30) The Duel - After her father offered her hand in marriage to the winner of a tournament, Winter opted to assume a disguise and fight for the prize herself. In the final match, she faces Yang Xiao Long, a competitor she’s come to know quite well, and she finds her conviction to win wavering slightly. Is it enough to lose her the fight?

31) The Lies We Tell Ourselves - Weiss has made it; she’s opened her tattoo shop in Vale, well away from her father, and aside from a bad first impression with the florists across the parking lot, everything’s looking up for her- until her father finds her. Luckily, Blake’s been through some shit and doesn’t mind helping Weiss drive daddy dearest up the wall, even if it means letting her own parents think she’s dating Weiss. It’s not like either of them is going to catch feelings... unless...

32) The Princess’ Bride - After losing her fiancée to the dreaded White Fang Pirates, Yang vows to take to the sea herself and exact her revenge. Princess Weiss finds herself falling madly in love with Yang, who still loves Blake, and all this is thrown into even more chaos when Yang gets kidnapped and Blake comes back from the dead!

33) Two for One - Yes, another Omegaverse AU. Five years after the fall of Beacon, Yang and Blake cross paths, each believing the other has spent the time keeping their mutual mate, Weiss, safe. When they realize Weiss is with neither of them, old wounds are torn open, but before they can resolve their dispute, Winter captures the both of them and hauls them to a remote part of Atlas where an SDC facility has been turned into a fortress. There, they find a mortally wounded Weiss clinging to life and raising twins daughters; she gives her mates until her death to endear themselves to their children, else the twins might opt to stay with Winter and be kept from Blake and Yang for good. Between learning about their kids, Blake and Yang navigate their complicated feelings and try to reconnect with Weiss, all while a sinister force gathers to destroy the fortress and steal the prize within.

34) Weaknesses - Loosely set in the Glamour AU, Yang is being forced to assume her mother’s position as leader of their vampire coven. Her fellow vamps disapprove of Yang’s werewolf girlfriend. Winter, of course, doesn’t care.

I got lazy and cut a bunch out. No, fuck you, I don’t have too many AUs, I will add more if I want. Also, some of these, the first chapter is posted on my Patreon. Don’t ask me which ones; I genuinely have no idea. I’m bad at this, y’all.

#Me jokingly: I'll number them so I can prove I don't have too many!#Present me is pissed at past me #I just know someone's gonna come at me for this but whatever #I can't control the words they just come as they please

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giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years

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Giorno’s Dinner Party: Mudad Adventure pt ?

Summary: Hol Horse enrages little GioGIo, so obviously he is forced to take drastic measures to put Hol in his place.

CW: Giorno acting like his father, attempted murder, DIO the bad dad encourages said murder, no actual murdering tho

Disclaimer: Obviously DIO reads ancient history and philosophy to Giorno as a bedtime story. He thinks graphic Greek tragedies are perfectly age appropriate for a five year old.

That was the last straw, Giorno thought to himself. His chubby cheeks were red with rage and little fists were clenched as he stiffly stomped down the hall. Hol Horse was going to pay for his sins dearly. And Giorno knew exactly how he was going to exact his revenge on the weird cowboy man.

A maniacal little giggle escaped his mouth as he changed directions in the corridor, opting instead to run into the part of the backyard where Enyaba kept what she called a “dangerous garden”. The name sounded so inviting Gionro couldn't resist! He was hoping for something scary like a venus flytrap or another plant that could bite. He giggled again imagining Hol Horse running around while a plant bit his butt.

However, Giorno’s evil little dream was crushed when he pushed open the doors to her greenhouse. There were just neatly manicured rows of what looked like herbs. And the whole place reeked of garlic. No wonder DIO didn't come back here at all.

Giorno scrunched up his nose at the smell and tried to breathe through his mouth. He walked briskly down the aisles looking for anything that could make this garden even the tiniest bit dangerous. He also made a promise to himself to grab the first possibly painful thing he saw because the smell was starting to make him gag.

Basil? No, that tastes good. Cilantro? He was sure he could find something that tasted worse than soap. Mint? No, that also tasted too good… Hemlock? Now, that one sounded familiar. Oh yes it was! Giorno distinctly remembered this one because it was one of the rare bedtime stories DIO had told him. Some guy named Socrates drank it to kill himself or whatever. The details were fuzzy, he remembered DIO called Socrates some names at this point, but it was poisonous! And boy did he want to poison Hol Horse!

~~~~~~

Hol Horse looked between DIO and Gionro skeptically. Yeah it was odd to have dinner with either of them, but the way Giorno kept laughing to himself scared the shit out of him. Honestly it was scarier than how DIO was staring at him. Hol had nervously tried to excuse himself from the table but DIO wouldn’t allow it.

“Now now Hol, don't be in such a rush. I'm sure Giorno has something spectacular planned for dinner. It's not everyday he requests both of us to join him.” DIO just grinned. He seemed a little jealous that his son had invited this mess of a man to dinner with him, but he seemed intent on letting whatever Giorno had planned play out.

The servant brought DIO a glass of his “special wine” while Giorno rushed in with what looked like half cooked pasta with cut up leaves. Hol Horse eyed it nervously; it looked very suspicious. Ok that was an understatement, everything in this mansion was suspicious but this plate of pasta looked like it could kill him. And that glare in Giorno’s eyes looked like he wanted it to.

Hol spared a glance towards DIO to see him trying to cover up a fit of laughter with a cough. Hol started nervously laughing too, at which DIO suddenly stopped.

“Won’t you try a bite Hol? It looks like Giorno worked very hard on it.” DIO purred. He had noticed immediately what sort of “herb” GIorno had used to garnish Hol’s pasta. It was an adorable first attempt at murder and he wanted to make the moment last.

“Ah sir, and kid, Im sorry but I just had a huge lunch and this sorta leafy thing isn't really my uh thing.” Hol was sweating. The pasta was definitely poisoned. It could not have looked more poisoned if a giant cartoon skull and bones formed from the steam rolling off of it. It literally screamed Hol Horse’s Poison, Poison for Hol Horse, Poison made especially for Hol Horse, Stuff that will Poison Hol Horse.

DIO let out a dramatic sigh and extended a hand to console Giorno.

“Im sorry my dear but I dont think it’s time for Hol Horse to eat that just yet. He still has a contract with Daddy, remember.” Giorno’s lip started to quiver. “But, if Hol Horse did something to hurt you we might have to reconsider that contract…”

Hol Horse had to have misheard that right? The world started to spin, when Giorno’s piercing yell tore through him.

“HOL HORSE CALLED MY DRAWING OF A LADYBUG A COCKROACH” The child was seething as it clung to DIO’s waist. Hol was scared shitless but DIO just snickered.

“Hm that was a very insensitive thing to say Hol Horse” Oh god this was it, DIO was finally going to kill him, “But you know Giorno,” DIO picked up Giorno and plopped him onto his lap, “Hol Horse is American and they're not very smart. Even for them Hol is a bit of a dud. He probably wouldn’t even know what a good lady bug looks like if he saw one in real life.”

Every bone in Hol Horse’s body had turned to jello. Yeah he knew working for an evil vampire with a revenge fantasy would be difficult, but he hadnt realized the job would make him a pawn in some terrifying soap opera of murder. Best to just go along with it he thought and tried to apologize to Giorno.

Hol reached down to ruffle Giorno’s hair as a half-assed apology, but Giorno turned to him coldly and stated, “I have rabies and I will bite you.” That was enough demon child for today Hol Horse reckoned as he quickly walked out of the room before DIO could change his mind about letting him survive.

~~~~~~

“Come now Giogio, I'm sorry that didn't go as planned but how about you come hunting with me next week?” DIO tried to console his son the best way he knew how: Father Son Murder Spree.

“It's not the same.” Giorno pouted. Oh how absolutely adorable, DIO was tearing up, he wanted to kill for revenge! How pure!

#mudad adventures #this is a crack fic #based off of a child I nanny #Shes a handful and scares me #but yeah Giorno shows his DIO side here #young Giorno #haruno #giorno #giogio #DIO #DIO the bad dad #Hol Horse #Giorno's Dinner Party #Enyaba #SDC

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fandom-strumpet · 3 years

Text

Imagine walking into your room to see Dean on your bed PART 2

1 am

You’re back at the cabin, but something feels different this time. Shrugging it off you enter gun raised, ready for whatever may jump out of the shadows. Coming up at a corner you can hear the breath of a vampire, trying to hide but unsuccessful. He jumps out at you but with two shots and the swift movement of your blade he is down on the ground decapitated. His death didn’t come quietly unfortunately and you hear another 2 coming your way. CRAP. Where the hell is Sammy? You jump out with a gun drawn in one hand and a knife in another, two shots into one vamp and she’s down. For the moment. The second vampire is larger and too quick for your gun. He knocks it out of your hand across the room, but in one swift movement your knife arm arch’s through the air separating his head from his body.. Multiple scratches and a couple of severed heads later you run into Sam. You nod for him to go left and you go right to search for the missing couple. Luckily you’re the one who finds them. You reach the woman first, quickly cutting her ties and pulling the gag from her mouth. She lets out a sob- “PLEASE-“

“Shhh, there could still be more.”

“PLEASE HELP MY HUSBAND!” You nod to her and move on to the next room where you find a vampire. Now something really feels off- you don’t remember running into him. He turns and you expect to see the husband but instead you see Dean, all bloody, looking at you with glassy empty eyes. “NOOOOOOO! You scream.

With a start you sit up in bed. Thank god. It was only a dream. You turn over in bed only to be greeted by bloody dead Dean. “Its all your fault. I’m dead because of you.”

You wake up screaming and fall out of bed with a loud thump. You hear footsteps running down the hallway and Sam runs into the room with his gun drawn. Oops. You forgot you and Sam share a wall so of course he would be the one to arrive. Part of you wishes it were Dean.

“Y/N?! What’s wrong?!”

“I’m so sorry Sammy, false alarm. Just a bad dream, I didn’t mean to wake you up…”

“What was it?”

“I saw Dean. It was my fault he died and there was nothing I could do to save him…”

“Hey- it’s okay, it was just a nightmare.”

“Hey Sammy?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“Do you mind sitting here for a little bit so I can fall asleep? Please?”

“Sure, I- uh- of course.” Sam stutters through his sentence.

“And Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean about this… I don’t want him to worry or think I can’t handle hunting with you guys.”

“Y/N…”

“Promise!”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Months pass and the night terrors continue. Always varying but the ending always the same- Dean dying and it being all your fault. Sam was there through all those late nights, keeping an eye on you, always making sure you were alright after waking up screaming. Through all those months he never told Dean about the dreams and for that, you were so thankful. Unfortunately, your team’s latest encounter with Crowley left everyone on edge. He knew how to get into everyone’s head but loved toying with Dean, especially. Minutes felt like hours with Crowley watching him tear down Sam and Dean. When Crowley turned to look at you, you could feel your heart beat start to quicken and you knew he could hear.

“Nervous are we?” he chuckled darkly.

“Screw you.”

“Haha oh my dear, you’ve been keeping secrets. Does Dean know?”

“Know what?” Dean growled

“This pretty little huntress has been having night terrors. *pause to turn to Dean* About you. I personally find them quite entertaining to watch. It does get too soap opera-ey for me though every time Sam rushes in.”

With a whoosh Crowley disappeared into thin air.

“Dean- “ Sam and you both started, but he had already started out toward the Impala. The entire ride back to the bunker was quiet, high tension in the air. The only sound was coming from Dean’s favorite ACDC mix tape. He brings the Impala to a slow stop on the gravel driveway with a familiar crunch which would normally be comforting but is now deafening. Without a word, Dean gets out of the car and walks inside, you and Sam trailing behind him like puppy dogs. Once you’re inside the words start to gush out from both you and Sam.

“Dean-” Sam starts- “listen, I wanted to tell you, but it wasn’t my place to say anything.”

“Its fine Sammy.” Dean snaps. “You can go. I need to talk with her alone.”

Sam turns to leave but not before you see his expression- the one he makes before Dean loses it. You gulp and turn to see Dean staring right into your eyes. Did he get closer? Or am I just nervous?

“You should have told me Y/N.”

“I know but-”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Dean- “

“HOW LONG?”

“.....Since the night all those months ago when me and Sam went on that vampire hunt that went bad.”

Dean closes his eyes momentarily to pinch the bridge of his nose but then he goes right back to staring into your soul with those eyes of his…

“I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want you to stop me from hunting with you guys. I’m so sorry Dean-” tears started to form “I don’t want to lose you, Dean, I-”

He cuts you short, cupping your face in his big hands, his warm plump lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss…

“You would never lose me Y/N, and you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you. I’m scared of losing you too, every time we go on a hunt. It’s part of why I’m so hard on you, I just want you to be careful. I love you Y/N.”

Your eyes tear up at his words, the waterworks getting closer to spilling over with every passing moment in this beautiful jewel of time.

“I love you too Dean.” You smile, your hand now cupping his as you enjoy his embrace.

“How about you sleep with me tonight, Y/N?”

“I would love that.” You grin sheepishly.

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #snfanfiction #deanimagine

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spacebabe51 · 4 years

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Thoughts on 1991 Dark Shadows

You guys asked for it, but I warn you, I'm stupid long winded. I’ll spare you the long intro I was originally gonna tack onto this post because it’s already way too long. Basically this is just my thoughts on Barnabas, Victoria, Willie and Julia and why and where I think they fail to capture the audience’s attention.

So let’s start in the obvious place; Ben Cross as Barnabas Collins. Now. I have a lot of sympathy for pretty much anyone who tries to take on this role: Jonathan Frid just has this unhatable quality to him, which makes the ill-advised nonsensical hypocritical B.S. that spurts from the character of Barnabas Collins like a fountainhead somehow forgivable. It would be really hard to give this role to anyone and maintain that odd mix of unlikeable and endearing. Ok, now that I’ve said that I can say this: I don’t like him. I don’t like this Barnabas.

It’s not because he’s young; I understand why that choice keeps getting made, although I disagree that it’s essential. The original show does go in narrative circles pretending that Frid/Barnabas is much younger than he looks or just avoiding the subject altogether. A young actor can play Barnabas; a hot actor can even play Barnabas; and I’ll grin and bear it as long as he’s entertaining. Cross is not entertaining. I don’t know if it’s fear of doing something wrong or if he watched the original Dark Shadows and saw Frid hamming it clutching a rubber bat to his throat and said “couldn’t be me”, but he will not emote and it absolutely kills the character for me. Barnabas is a lot of things in his first few episodes on the show. He’s suave, he’s scared, he’s unhinged, he’s mournful, he’s triumphant, he’s cruel...but one thing he never is is boring. Even when he’s standing around looking off into nothing and reciting long verses of meaningless prose, we’re engaged. Frid, after all, was a trained Shakespearean actor. Staring into nothing and reciting prose is what he’s best at.

Another thing Frid is is visually nervous; he was out of his depth on a vampire soap opera as well as constantly at a loss to remember his lines, and it shows; in ways that somehow endearingly make the character seem lost and out of his depth in a new time and in a fate he doesn't enjoy. All Cross ever really shows us is suaveness; stillness, and a vaguely constipated expression. He isn’t nervous. He seems calculated. It makes scenes like the one near the end of the pilot way more terrifying. He goes from telling Vicky the story of Josette and Barnabas’ love and her death to savagely beating Willie with nearly the same facial expression and inflection; he comes across as a cold blooded sociopath more than an unhinged impulsive killer. There isn’t much humanity to him, and that makes him hard to root for, either as a villain or a sympathetic monster.

Joanna Going’s Victoria Winters:

Hey, what a surprise! I actually don’t hate her. At least, I didn’t at first. Now, Vicky is a fairly easy character to cast- because let’s face it, she’s a pretty textbook example of a gothic romance protagonist. You know, the kind that are always running away from houses on book covers?

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to find someone the audience will connect with and like. The protagonist needs to be a little something more than a blank slate, which is something the original character suffered with, (not in the first season, but in every subsequent one) Going’s Victoria seemed at least a smidgen more self-aware and spunky(?), which is refreshing. Or, at least, I thought. And then episode three came along and suddenly she was 100% on board with Barnabas’ gross stiff romance. So never mind, scratch all that. The actress is fine for the character, but the character is still being sold a bill of goods by the writers.

Jim Fyfe’s Willie Loomis

Let’s get to the real meat of it, shall we? I have to first say that I am probably not qualified to talk about this, being fairly neurotypical and knowing little about the state of representation in the media for intellectually disabled individuals. Secondly, I have to say that I have at least some respect for Fyfe for being one of the few people to go against the grain and actually act on this show, and he is slightly less boring to watch than a lot of the others, if...not in a pleasant way. In any case I don’t think we can blame what I’m about to talk about on his acting per say.

That said...uh...there were some, ahem, bad choices made in terms of Willie’s character. And yes, of course I'm talking about coding him as intellectually challenged and then treating it like a joke, or a character flaw (?). In fact the more I think about it, the worse it gets. Now this is just conjecture, but the choice to cast Willie as conventionally unattractive and intellectually challenged, in order to, I guess, justify or explain the dislike everyone has for him, is incredibly bad for any goodwill the show already isn’t trying to establish among the rest of it’s main cast. Karlen’s Willie, by comparison, is set up as a scumbag from long before Barnabas arrives. He harrasses women, steals, lies, starts fights; etc. Even in the “House” movie, we get a few seconds of him being gross towards Maggie to imply this is normal behavior from him. The most we see Fyfe’s Willie do is be kind of surly and annoying at a bar where he’s already been denied service. He seems more like a guy who isn’t good at social cues, and who is just genuinely sick of being pushed around for no good reason. If Dark Shadows had for some reason decided it wanted to do a story about inequality and social stigma in the midst of it's vampire fever dream, then fine, but that's not what this is; It’s almost like the show wanted to rely on his looks and supposed “mental insufficiency” to make the audience dislike him. He seems more like Collinsport’s long time scapegoat than a drifter who came into town to start trouble, and combining that with the coding paints a very dark picture and makes the already emotionless Collins’ family seem pretty terrible. (and I won’t even go into the whole “Barnabas beats Willie and then two episodes later they’re best friends” thing here because there aren’t enough expletives in the world for it) ALSO also, and this is nit-picky, I have a problem with the fact that Fyfe can’t pick an accent. Sometimes he seems to be trying to imitate Karlen’s Booklynese, sometimes he sounds vaguely Southern, sometimes he sounds like he’s trying to impersonate Goofy...it’s very distracting. Not more distracting than all the other terrible things, but distracting.

Barnabas Steele’s Julia Hoffman: As anyone who follows me knows, I sort of worship Grayson Hall, so I almost feel bad saying I don’t like someone in this role, because, duh. For me, there will only ever be one Julia Hoffman. Is that gonna stop me from saying it? Hell no.

Steele’s Julia suffers from nearly the exact flaw Cross’ Barnabas does; an inability or unwillingness to emote in any fashion. Add on, however, a nauseating lack of chemistry with any of the other actors, and you have a recipe for eyes glazing over by act two. I think, honestly, the biggest flaw of trying to recast this show is this; Dark Shadows is, essentially, a play. It was a troupe of mainly theater actors, working in close proximity, live, on a shabby theater-like set. When you strip away those elements and add in true soap opera people and plots and camera angles, you lose that magical experimental, campy, electric element the original had. I know I’m talking more vaguely about the show now and less about Steele’s Julia, but honestly there's not much to say about her? She doesn’t come across as particularly clever, or bold, or any of the things that made us root for Julia when we were pretty sure she was on the fast track to getting killed her first few weeks. She just sort of meanders through plot points and talks like she’s controlling a ventriloquist dummy somewhere offscreen. She’s not interesting, and when it comes to Julia Hoffman, psychiatrist, blood specialist, hypnotist, fake historian, etc, that’s the worst thing she can be.

If you've read this far, thank you! I would love to hear you guys' thoughts, whether you agree or disagree or think I missed the mark entirely. I'm only on episode 6: I'm going to continue watching, purely out of obligation since they're taking the show off Amazon Prime at the end of the month, and I may make some memes/follow up posts when we get to Angelique, 1795, etc.

#dark shadows #ds #dark shadows 1991 #91 dark shadows #barnabas collins #ben cross #jonathan frid #Victoria winters #Vicky winters #Joanna going #alexandra moltke #willie loomis #jim fyfe #john karlen #Julia hoffman #dr Julia hoffman #Barbara steele #grayson hall #dan curtis

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hello-robin-goodfellow · 4 years

Text

Soft Tag Game.

Nobody indicated me. So i’m doing it aniway.

RULES:

*Write 11 facts about you

*Answer the questions of who indicated the TAG to you

*Indicate 05 or more Tumblr friends (blogs) to answer the TAG

*Make 11 questions to who you indicate.

PART 01 - THE 11 FACTS ABOUT ME:

01. My favorite activity is sleeping.

02. Sometimes i like to look at my horoscope to see what gets right and what gets wrong about my personality. I’m a Taurus.

03. About animals: I have a huge phobia of frogs. And i once raised a brown stick insect as a pet, because i watched Pixar’s A Bug’s Life a lot.

04. My favorite colors are: silver, black, blue, green, lilac purple, violet and orange.

05. I enjoy listen to classical music, and i love to watch/watching ópera and ballet. One of my first fanfics was a (terribly writen) two chapter sequel story to Giácomo Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. My favorite ópera is Giuseppe Verdi’s Il Trovatore. My favorite ballet is Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring.

06. I sometimes dream/wish to have a Youtube channel to post AMVs and review books, movies and TV shows.

07. I started writing because i once haved the dream of become a screen writer for telenovelas (the latin equivalent os soap operas).

08. I understand portuguese (my native language), spanish and english.

09. My favorite genres of fiction are: comedy, horror, musicals, fantasy (fairy tales) and sci fi.

10. My dream crossover is between Doug and The Simpsons.

11. My first geek passion as a kid were dinosaurs and greek mithology.

PART 02 - ANSWERING 21 QUESTIONS

01. The book that transformed your life?

I think it was probably Voltaire’s Candide. This book is a tragicomic story about a ragtag bunch of misfits who were raised as rich priviliged people that believed that everything was alright in the world, and have their visions shaked when they lose everything, so they must get united and adapt to their new reality to get into a happy ending. The message i take of that story is: “Yes, the world is shitty. Out there are lots of people who will exploit and hurt you. So learn to count with your friends, be kind to one another, and keep living and moving on”.

02. The movie that changed your way of seeing the world?

Walt Disney’s Fantasia. This experiment to give visuals to classical music trough classical music formed my believe that we must keep blurring the lines between popular and erudite arts, and all art should be acessible to al people.

03. The music that makes part of the soundtrack of your life?

I tend to say that Mägo de Oz’s ‘Danza del Fuego’ is the song that would be the opening of a series about my life.

04. Define longing?

A word that sound better as the portuguese ‘saudade’.

05. If you got back in time, wich scene would you visit of your life?

I would go back to 2008, and say to my 10 year old self how to give some improvements to its writing.

06. The place where your heart is.

The beaches.

07. The travel of your life.

To the brazilian state of Rio Grande do Sul.

08. An author that you have metted recently, and whose works you want to continue to read.

Probably Umberto Eco. I reded two books of him, and i got curious to know more of his work.

09. Coffee or tea?

Tea. Specially of mint.

10. Who's your Doctor (if you don't watch Doctor Who, who's your favorite character from a TV series)?

Third Doctor (Jon Pertwee), from seasons Seven to Eight, and Eight Doctor (Paul Mcgann), from the 1996 TV Movie.

11. If you could just throw everything away and live your dream, what would you do?

No idea, really.

12. If you could choose to be a character from a book, TV series or movie, who you would be?

Probably the Doctor. He is a self regenariting (shape shifter) imortal alien who can travel to anywhere in time and space. How not to choose to be it?

13. What makes you don't like a story?

If everything is grimm dark and the characters are boring, i don’t have any will to continue reading or watching it.

14. Do you like romance in stories? Why?

If i feel that the couple is health together and have good chemistry, even if is not the focus of the main plot, i find that it can be a nice way to humanize characters, showing how its lifes are outside of the intense action.

15. Wich book did you hated having read?

Sons of Lilith: The Awakening by Elaine Velasco has a character who is a vampire that doesn’t want to give away killing humans to drink their blood, but them says he is in favour of life while massacring the people in a clandestine abortion clinic (which, i have to remember, can save several teenage girls victims of sexual abuse from dying of a risk pregnancy). I tought ‘What’? and ended up really hating this book because of that character.

16. Wich movie did you hated having watched?

A brazilian movie Wolf at the Door. All the characters were assholes, and i left the movie felling really miserable.

17. Do you like anime/manga? Any favorite?

I love it. My favorite mangas are probably Legend of Kamui (Sanpei Shirato), Árion (Yoshikazu Yasuhiko) and Evil Crusher Maya (Masami Kurumada). My favorite animes are Saint Seiya, Tenkuu Senki Shurato, The Rose of Versailles and Ashita no Joe.

18. Who is the best villain you saw in a story?

Probably Claude Frollo, from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Before the recent fever of catholic priests involved on sex abuse scandals apearing on the TV news, Victor Hugo was already denouncing it with that creep.

19. If you could do an interview with any person, alive or dead, from our world, who would you choose and why?

Mary Shelley (british writer), Frida Kahlo (mexican painter) and Violeta Parra (chilean folclorist and musician). I consider them to be very complex people and fascinating artistic role models.

20. If you could meet and and befriend a writer, who would be?

My lady, Mary Shelley.

21. Cats or dogs?

Cats. They kill rats for you and are more independent.

22. If you could choose any time period or society to live, wich it would be?

A utopic future with vaccins for every desease ever.

PART 03 - NOW I TAG YOU TO ANSWER MY 11 QUESTIONS:

I TAG: @anne-white-star @theimpossiblescheme @theroguefeminist @thedyingtimelady @deise-tb @graf-edel-weiss @princesssarisa @amalthea9

01. Did you haved a imaginary friend as a kid?

02. Describe your aesthetics.

03. Wich was your biggest fear as a child?

04. Wich is your favorite season: Summer, Autumn, Winter or Spring?

05. Kodomomuke, Shonen, Shoujo, Seinen or Josei?

06. Wich artist that you admired lefted you down when you learned how it/he/she was as a real life person?

07. Wich foreign language would you like to learn?

08. Do you watch tokusatsu? Any favorite?

09. Do you prefer dubbed or subtitled movies and TV shows?

10. Wich is you guilty pleasure movie?

11. Wich fictional character was your inspirational childhood heroe?

#ask game #tag game #send me questions #ask me things #get to know me #memes #ask #asks #tag #tags #answered #fandom musings #answered game

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janedoherty666 · 4 years

Text

Questions not usually asked

1: Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Open - because of the cats

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?

Yes

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?

mostly tucked in

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before?

5: Do you like to use post-it notes?

Sometimes

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?

I honestly dont know...i think i’ll take the Bees

8: Do you have freckles?

9: Do you always smile for pictures?

10: What is your biggest pet peeve?

Snorting

11: Do you count your steps when you walk?

Haha, no.

14: Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils?

rarely

16: How many people have you slept with this week?

One

17: What size is your bed?

Double Bed

18: What is your Song of the week?

“Crumb begging Baghead” - Babyshambles

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink?

Idc

20: Do you still watch cartoons?

Yes

21: Whats your least favorite movie?

“Apocalypto” by Mel Gibson

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?

it depends.

23: What do you drink with dinner?

Various. (Tea, coke, Water etc)

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in?

I’m vegetarian. But i would choose sweet sour sauce

25: What is your favorite food?

Pasta! <3

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love?

Harry Potter, Pulp Fiction, Alice in Wonderland (old Disney Version)

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout?

No.

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?

No.

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?

Many many years ago :D

31: Can you change the oil on a car?

Idk

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

I dont have a license.

33: Ever ran out of gas?

Nah

34: Favorite kind of sandwich?

Tzaziki, Lettuce, Tomatoes, Onions, Mozzarella, Cucumber, Pepper Bell,

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast?

Leftovers from last nights dinner...:D

36: What is your usual bedtime?

Varying. ( I’m working in shifts)

37: Are you lazy?

Yes!

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?

Vampire, Devil, Fairy

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign?

Bunny

40: How many languages can you speak?

Native Language is German,

English

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions?

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs?

Neither

43: Are you stubborn?

Not that much

44: Who is better...Leno or Letterman?

idc

45: Ever watch soap operas?

Ugh, no.

46: Are you afraid of heights?

Not really

47: Do you sing in the car?

48: Do you sing in the shower?

Sometimes

49: Do you dance in the car?

? :D

50: Ever used a gun?

No. I don’t live in Murica :P

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

Few Years ago

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy?

No.

53: Is Christmas stressful?

Yes. But positive stress.. I love it.

54: Ever eat a pierogi?

Yes

55: Favorite type of fruit pie?

Strawberry or “Schwarzwälder Kirsch” - Kirsch= Cherry

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Oh so many.

Stewardess, Nurse. Vet,

57: Do you believe in ghosts?

I dont know...sometimes

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

all the time

59: Take a vitamin daily?

60: Wear slippers?

61: Wear a bath robe?

Neither

62: What do you wear to bed?

Shirt and underwear

63: First concert?

February 2016 - “Deichkind”

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

We have none of them in GER

65: Nike or Adidas?

Nike

66: Cheetos Or Fritos?

Crisps! :D

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Peanuts

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?

69: Ever take dance lessons?

Nah

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

my Boyfriend is a male Nurse

71: Can you curl your tongue?

72: Ever won a spelling bee?

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

Of course

74: Own any record albums?

I wish, haha.

75: Own a record player?

Not anymore.

76: Regularly burn incense?

Yes. I love th smell of Lavender and Citrus Fruits.

77: Ever been in love?

Iam.

78: Who would you like to see in concert?

The Libertines. ( I saw Pete Doherty with his new band the Puta Madres last year in Munich, it was amazing)

79: What was the last concert you saw?

Deichkind, March 2020 in “Münster”

80: Hot tea or cold tea?

Both! Depends on the weather.

81: Tea or coffee?

Tea alle the way.

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles?

Snickerdoodles

83: Can you swim well?

Yes

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

Of course.

85: Are you patient?

Most of the time.

86: DJ or band, at a wedding?

Hard question. I think both would be fun.

87: Ever won a contest?

Yes

88: Ever have plastic surgery?

Hell, no

89: Which are better black or green olives?

Depends on the Meal. But mostly black olives.

90: Can you knit or crochet?

No.

91: Best room for a fireplace?

Living Room

92: Do you want to get married?

Maybe

93: If married, how long have you been married?

///

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?

96: Do you have kids?

97: Do you want kids?

No, thanks.

98: Whats your favorite color?

Blue, Yellow, Black

99: Do you miss anyone right now?

No :)

#bored #questions #janedoherty666 #quarantine #text #faq #ask me #asks #fun #boring #get to know me #journal #scrapbooking #tumblr #german

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catsafarithewriter · 5 years

Note

Vampire AU: "You can't just turn into a bat and fly away when you don't want to deal with things!" "Watch me!"

A/N: I am living for all the Vampire AU prompts you’re sending

Haru had had this holiday planned for months.

She’d booked the weekend off in February, the site in March; she’d even made a nice little list of things they’d need, and things they’d want, and things they’d almost certainly forget if she didn’t put it down on paper.

In short, she had had this camping holiday planned long before Baron had come into the picture.

And vampire-sitting wasn’t on any of the lists.

“It’s just a holiday,” she assured as she threw a handful of clothes into her rucksack. “I’ll be away for a few days and then I’ll be back, no biggie.”

“No… biggie?” Baron echoed skeptically.

“There’s literally nothing for you to worry about,” she translated. “In fact, I’ll be far more worried about leaving you behind - and no,” she quickly added, “that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind and you can come. My holiday. My two days of peace and quiet. You just stay here and stew in front of the TV watching soap operas for two days. Please.”

“I still don’t entirely understand the point of your excursion. You are staying out in the woods in a rickety tent for… what? What kind of holy day requires this sort of ritual?”

“I said it’s a holiday, not a holy day, what are you–” She broke off. “Good god, you don’t know what a holiday is, do you?”

Baron, as usual, looked somewhat affronted at having his outdated vocabulary criticised again. “If words have adapted in the last 400 years, I hardly think it is a surprise–”

“You don’t. You poor, poor man.” She hesitated, and then amended, “Creature. Monster? Look, I’m not entirely sure what to refer to you as - and, no, ‘monster of the night’ is far too much of a mouthful and I’m not saying it. Okay, I’m going away for the weekend to get away from work and responsibilities and I’m going to have fun. That’s what a holiday is.”

Baron started to speak again.

“A vampire-free weekend,” she added.

“I still feel it is highly inadvisable for a young lady to spend several nights sleeping the woods.”

“Just as well I’m not taking advice then, isn’t it? And stop pouting - I’m not going alone. Hiromi’s coming with me.”

“Ah yes. Hiromi.”

“You could sound less like you’re dribbling the name off your tongue. What do you have against her? You only ever met her once.”

Baron hesitated. “She… creeps me out.”

“You. The ‘monster of the night’. Are creeped out by my tiny friend. I left you in the same room together alone for all of two minutes. What happened??”

Baron’s mouth thinned. Haru recognised that look.

“Oh dear, was she not instinctively terrified and reverential to your impressive vampire aura?” she crooned. “What a shocker. How traumatic that must have been for you–”

“I have spent enough time in this century to recognise sarcasm, Haru.”

“Oh thank goodness. You’re finally getting a sense of humour.”

“That’s not–” He scowled again. “I still don’t like this.”

“That’s fine. I’m still going.” She threw her rucksack over her shoulder just as a car horn announced her ride’s arrival. “Try not to eat all the prunes in the first day, okay? I haven’t left you any grocery money.”

“I don’t need money.”

She bapped him on the nose the same way she did with naughty dogs. “No stealing into shops in the dead of night and raiding them. If any robberies get traced back here, I will not help you.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll never trace it back here.”

Haru stared. “That’s not what I meant – look, just behave, okay? You can surely do that for a weekend, right? Please?”

Baron’s mouth was thin, but in defeat this time. “I will not cause chaos here while you’re gone.”

“Close enough.”

The air in the forest was almost like the air Baron remembered from his life pre-400-year-nap. There was no need to breathe for him, but he could still taste the discrepancies in the breeze, the clarity far from cars and cities and people. Wild. Untamed. Free…

A bundle of hikers popped out from a thicket of ferns and blindly relocated the path. One of them held the remains of a map. The human with the map approached Baron. Yet another human who had somehow lost that vital survival instinct.

“Hey, I don’t suppose you know whereabouts we are on here?” the woman asked, thrusting the torn paper towards him.

He flashed her a fanged smile. “You’re in the monster’s lair.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so… I think the Devil’s Punchbowl was down that way, so…” She turned the map around a few times. “Yeah, the sun is that way, and the valley is behind us, so east is…”

“Don’t you know what I am?” he tried again, injecting a slight growl into the curve of his words.

“Very bad at directions, apparently.”

“I’ve got signal!” One of the other humans hurried forward and brought their phone into the light, carefully as if carrying some hallowed item. “It seems to think we’re… here. Don’t-don’t move it, or I’ll lost it again, but…”

Baron caught sight of a miniaturised map on the phone screen, a small blue dot flashing in the centre.

The woman shot Baron back a smile, all blunt teeth and useless canines, and nodded politely. “Looks like we’ve got our bearings. Do you need directions somewhere or…”

“I don’t need your help.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but you probably should be moving soon. It’s getting dark and you probably shouldn’t be in these woods alone at night.”

Baron watched the hikers vanish into the undergrowth with a fresh layer of incredulity. His mind rebooted after the last of the ferns rustled back into place. “I’m the scariest thing in this forest!” he snapped.

The forest didn’t seem too impressed.

A squirrel ran along the tree roots and paused to pick at acorns scattering the forest floor. Baron bared his fangs in a snarl. The squirrel continued on unaffected.

In the end, Baron threw an acorn at it to make it leave.

Twice.

The first one missed and the squirrel actually stopped to pick at it, and almost approached Baron to see if he’d give another. The second acorn still missed, but was close enough to startle the creature.

Maybe the problem wasn’t humans. Maybe after 400 years, he was just losing his touch.

He glowered and leapt up into the trees, scaling the trunks and moving silently through the canopy until he came to the tent where Haru and her… friend were staying the next two nights.

He wasn’t following Haru. Of course he wasn’t. He just… had thought that an evening stroll into a wood would be a nice change of pace. If it happened to be the same forest Haru was staying in and he just happened to pass by, well then, it was only natural to stick around and make sure she was okay. After all, she was his host. If he lost her, he’d had to find somewhere else to live. With someone who maybe didn’t have the channels with good soap operas, or who didn’t buy him tinned prunes, or who didn’t tell him how their day had gone while they were cooking and laugh at odd things that the 21st Century deemed funny and curl up like a housecat while reading.

And that would be a shame.

Night was fast drawing in, even with the long summer days, and the two women had set several lanterns in a loose circle around their tent. Their little temporary home was a gentle patch of light in the otherwise shadowed forest. Like a little moon.

Baron perched in a tree just beyond the lanterns’ glow and kept guard, his back to them as he watched the forest for any hidden dangers. Their conversation - louder than the conversation Haru and Baron usually shared, rambunctious and bouncy - was a strange sort of company for him, but not one he disliked. Eventually they gave in against sleep and retired into their tent and it was just Baron, sleepless and eternal.

He dropped down to the ground, approaching to stomp out the last embers of the fire, and hit a wall.

No. Not a wall. But definitely a barrier of some type.

He circled the makeshift campsite, but the barrier seemed to encompass the entirety of the shared women’s tent - including the fire. He stepped back and re-examined his surroundings, eventually resting his gaze on the lanterns. They were placed evenly around the tent - too evenly. Too precisely. He lowered his gaze and now saw marks in the ground - carved out with a stick, most likely - to create a warding spell. Designed to keep creatures like him out.

But Haru knew no such magic…

“So what’s your deal, huh?”

Haru’s friend was leaning casually against a tree trunk within the circle, still in pyjamas but with a chunky wooden stick slung over one shoulder. A stake. A glint of metal at its tip. Silver.

Instinctively his mouth curled into a snarl,

Hiromi swung the stake into her hands. “Oh, so you recognise this, do you? I used to have a much fancier one, family heirloom in fact, until it got… uh, stuck in a creature like you. Luckily the important details aren’t hard to replicate. Wooden stake, silver-tipped, a few important runes in place and bam. Perfect vampire-killer.”

“I knew there was something off about you.”

She laughed, presumably emboldened by the protection of her spell, and pointedly stared back at him. “Hark who’s talking. You’re not so hot yourself, slick. Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing with my best friend and I might reconsider staking you into permanent sleep.”

“I’m not doing anything to her,” Baron retorted. “She’s my host.” He winced at the bad word choice, quick to correct himself. “Not in… not in a vampire way. She lets me stay with her.”

“Why?”

“Kindness, she told me.”

Hiromi snorted, and all of Baron’s surprise at Haru’s reasoning felt a little belittled. “Naturally her kindness ends up inviting a vampire into her home. Naturally. God, I love her, but her kindness gets her into all sorts of chaos, you know?”

“If you know my kind as well as you boast, then you’ll know I haven’t touched Haru,” he said, his tone sharp, sharper still for the dismissal. “Even a single drink from a human leaves its marks.”

Hiromi glowered, and Baron could see she had already checked as much. “You’ll be drinking from someone.”

“Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to drink from a person in a world I know so little about? Please,” he scoffed, mimicking the tone Haru had thrown so often at him. “Give me a little credit.”

“Then where are you drinking from?”

“There are other things vampires can survive on. Animal blood. Eggs.” He hesitated. “Prunes.”

“Seriously?”

He allowed a flicker of irritation to darken his face. “Would I joke under such circumstances?”

“I don’t know. I’ve met several vampires with a sense of humour. And before you say anything,” she added, “I didn’t kill all of them. Only those with a fondness for human blood. Still, prunes are a first.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” Baron muttered.

“Uh-huh, and one of yours may be my best friend.” She considered. “For whatever reason, Haru seems to… tolerate you to a surprising degree - I don’t know what she sees in you, because it certainly isn’t your humour or your manners or your personality–”

“Is this going somewhere?”

“–so I won’t tell you to get out of her place. But–” and she swung the stake so it rested between them, on the tip of the invisible barrier “–if you touch one hair on her head, one little drink, one single bite, if you give in to your vampire urges for even the briefest second, I will stake you, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then we come to an understanding.”

“I’m not going to harm Haru. Even before your threat, I wasn’t going to harm her.”

Hiromi gave him a strange, searching look that Baron wasn’t entirely sure he liked. Like she understood him better than he understood himself in that single moment. Then the moment passed and she threw a bark of a laugh and turned away. “You should be going before all this wakes Haru up.”

“But–”

“What were you even doing here? She’s your host, sure. But the home she’s sharing with you is all the way over that way. Why come all the way out here?” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you were thinking about a late night snack while away from the city…?”

Baron bristled at the accusation. Still, he wasn’t even entirely sure of the answer himself. “I… The forest is a dangerous place for humans.”

“Yes. Because of creatures like you.”

“Sometimes.”

Hiromi smirked. “Well you needn’t have worried, if that’s true. If you can worry. Can you?” She shrugged and continued before Baron could muddle through an answer. “I can take down pretty much anything of your like. And a few others as well.”

He eyed the stake. “Apparently.”

There was a grumble from the tent, followed by movement.

Hiromi made a face. “Shit. Get going before we have to start explaining.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

The tent flap opened and Baron dissolved into a swarm of bats, vanishing before Haru could see his human shape. He lingered just long enough to see Hiromi’s smirk widen, and see Haru spot his bat form disappear into the dark.

To echo Hiromi: Shit.

Haru found him early the next morning.

The light was still low, long shadows cast through the forest canopy and just dim enough for Baron to remain safe from the rapidly warming sunlight. Lord, he hated summer.

She stalked out of the tent, obliviously out of the protection spell, and stopped by the dip of a river. The water was caught in an eddy, courtesy of the rocks channelling it, and it churned like a… well, a punchbowl. As Haru sat down by its cooling side, he wondered if this was the Devil’s Punchbowl those infernal hikers had been rambling on about.

“I know you’re there.”

He jolted, and was optimistic enough to think that maybe she was talking to somebody else.

She shattered that illusion pretty quickly, dropping her head back in his general direction and adding, “Baron.”

He dropped down from the trees, barely making a sound as he landed on the forest floor. “How did you know I was there?”

“I can always tell. It feels like someone walked over my grave.” She paused, and added, “And then there was last night.”

“Ah.”

“Did… Did Hiromi see you? Or did you stay in your bat form the entire time?”

He considered. If she didn’t know, then Hiromi hadn’t seen fit to inform Haru about her true occupation or her awareness of Baron’s. He considered revealing Hiromi’s monster-hunting life, but quickly discarded it. Haru had only seen his version of vampires - and however he wished to be rightfully intimidating, he was by far not the worst vampire out there. There were vampires out there that would make even his skin crawl.

Vampires that Hiromi had probably encountered, if her boasts were anything to go by. Vampires her family almost certainly had. Tales of bloodlust and slaughters and a carelessness for human life that would turn the stomach of anyone humane. Tales that might be shared with Haru if Hiromi’s true life came to light. And Hiromi would have little reason to hide such stories from Haru.

Stories that would change the way Haru looked at him.

“Baron?” Haru gave an uneasy chuckle. “Oh god, tell me you didn’t do anything stupid. Again.”

“She didn’t see me,” he lied.

“It was close though.”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Close enough.”

“I can’t believe this. I told you to stay at my flat. You said you would behave–”

“I said I would not cause chaos in your flat,” Baron said. He helpfully gestured to their forested surroundings. “We are not in your flat.”

“I am going to kill you.”

“You can’t.”

“Stake you, then.” She made a frustrated nonsense movement like she couldn’t quite decide which rude gesture to throw at him, and kind of spun on the spot.

He smiled, and then looked away before she could see it.

“How would I even begin to explain what you were doing all the way out here? ‘Heya, Hiromi, meet my flatmate, he stalks me but it’s fine, I promise. Sleep? Oh no, he doesn’t sleep - he’ll just turn into a swarm of bats and hang around until daybreak.’ I mean, honestly, what was I going to – what are you grinning about? I’m being serious here!”

“I know.”

“Then what’s so funny?”

He looked back to her, and wasn’t sure how to explain it wasn’t humour, but a strange sensation of contentedness. It was a fondness for the familiarity he saw in her. It was in her bluster, her teasing tone, the tilt of her head and the flicker of her eyes. He knew exactly where he stood with her in this exact moment, and it wasn’t because of his ability to intimidate, but because of her.

He said none of this, however.

“Did I ever thank you for giving me a place to stay?” he said instead.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’d kinda stopped expecting it.”

“Then thank you.”

A surprised tilt of the head. A funny half-smile on her lips. “You’re welcome?”

Suddenly Baron knew that if he were still human, he’d be blushing right about now. As things went, he couldn’t be sure his expression wasn’t betraying just as much anyway. He looked away again. “Well, I can see you’re managing just fine without me, so I’ll just be going--”

“Wait, wait, you’re still in trouble for stalking me here--”

His form began to shift, deliberately slow enough so that realisation could hit Haru before he dissolved into a swarm of bats.

“Hey! You can’t just turn into a bat and fly away when you don’t want to deal with things!” she snapped. “Baron!”

He grinned before his face vanished in a haze of wings and fur. “Watch me.”

#caylinnightengale #replies #in which I am being painfully historically inaccurate #apparently 'holiday' has been a word since 950 #but baron being ignorant is always fun #tbf i'm putting in about as much research into this as most YA vampire books do #so you can't fault me #the cat returns #cat writes #tcr ficlets #modern vampire au #you know how cats do that thing where they turn their back to you #if they're comfortable with you?#yeah that's baron here #the cat queues

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

Text

Dropping off another commission which means okay NOW I only have one to finish. This one is a throwback to that time I was talking Marvel/DC crossover ships, and I said okay but what about Dick/Wanda because yeah, like two of the only Rom heroes in anywhere being a thing would be pretty cool, but also like.

Batfam + Magnetfam holiday dinner gatherings.

Someone agreed, and asked for more along those lines and asked that I not worry about the crack potential but feel free to embrace it instead, citing that Batboys adopted by Zatanna AU I wrote as a tone they’d enjoyed. Their only other requests were they wanted to see if I could include Luna and Crystal in any ways, and that I give Stephanie some time in the spotlight. I warned them that my usual take on Stephanie is ADHD as hell, but that apparently was not a problem, so uh...hang on when it gets to Steph or be prepared for her to leave you in the dust. She doesn’t slow down for stragglers.

There were a ton of characters to juggle in this so not everyone gets the same degree of focus, but I did my best to work everyone relevant to the scenario in as best I could. Also, I don’t actually know where a couple of these particular takes came from - I’ve never ever written Lorna anything remotely like this in my life, but I kinda just let the crack do what it wanted to do. *Shrugs* I have no defense, only oops.

Anyway, without further ado, I give you 15K, yes you heard that right, 15K of crossover crack that puts the Batfamily and the Magnetfamily at the same dinner table, lights the match and then runs for cover.

************************

We enter unobtrusively through the dining room’s lone doorway. Our awkward approach is that of the mockumentary style; our hushed atmosphere is that of taking ourselves very seriously, because if we don’t, who will?

Said dining room’s doorway is perfectly situated so as to allow only one point of entrance and exit. Also: maximum drama while doing so. The architecture of Wayne Manor was designed with a clear set of priorities in mind. We invite you to picture the airs of Downtown Abbey, but as if skewing less towards the egalitarian passive aggressive stylings associated with British High Drama, and more towards the rather more direct passive aggressive stylings of American High Drama.

As an example...where a British soap opera might depict someone dramatically gasping “Why, I never!” and clutching symbolically at their heart in order to convey they’re mere insults away from having a myocardial infarction, an American soap opera might instead depict someone dramatically yelling “Bleep you!” and then vaulting across the table to punch someone in the face in order to convey they’re really quite angry and the only way to fully express that is by starting a feud that will last 72 episodes and only end when one of them is murdered and replaced by their evil twin.

That sort of thing.

We return to unobtrusively entering through the doorway whose very singular purpose in the narrative is as a conveyance that this is the House That Drama Built.

It should be added as an afterthought that only just occurred to us but is no less important because of its poor punctuality: the House That Drama Built also exists as a kind of metaphysical Drama vampire that cultivates an atmosphere of Drama whilst simultaneously feasting on the Drama it creates just to harvest as its crop of choice.

Quite nasty and shiver-inducing, to be sure, but let it serve as a good rule of thumb: Don’t trust centuries old rich people houses. There’s always something messed up about those places. Seriously. You know its true.

Proceeding onward, and despite having explicitly mapped out why its impossible to do so, we nevertheless manage to sidle into prime vantage points without being noticed. Look, we can do stuff like that because we’re magic, okay? Also fictional, and really just a tonal framing device introduced as a thin coat of varnish overlaying everything with the glistening sheen of crack fiction. Now shush and pretend we’re not here, which should be easy because we’re not.

The two family patriarchs, Erik Lehnsherr and Bruce Wayne, each sit at opposing heads of the excessively long dining room table that is almost certainly an indication one of Bruce’s direct ancestors felt a clear and urgent need to overcompensate for something.

Locked in an epic battle of wills that looks remarkably similar to the staring contest perfected by kindergartners everywhere, though that’s undoubtedly just a coincidence,the two titans of temperament face off in a face-off for the ages.

Both steel-faced and with backs so straight the sight would make any right angle weak in the knees, these bastions of brooding are equally infamous for their rigidity and refusal to bend, even when they probably should - because sometimes its a battle over the fate of the world and a fight for the very heart and soul of humanity, yes, absolutely true, but other times their children just asked if they could have pizza tonight instead of meatloaf and it really didn’t need to escalate that quickly, but oh well.

Heedless of the judgment of fictional narrators as well as every person to ever suggest to them that their sphincters might actually benefit from the occasional attempt to unclench, the Master of Magnetism is an irresistible force while channeling the unleashed totality of his willpower through his steady gaze, as fixed and unwavering as the North Star itself. At the same time, his counterpart is an equally immovable object while planted firm and steady in his convictions, the imposing edifice of his impassive expression not likely to be eroded by the mere disdain of another mortal. Not when the Man of Bats has stubbornly stared down gods.

Admittedly, the last one used the opportunity to blast him through time and space instead, but that’s the kind of risk one takes when matching an ageless deity ego for ego. It should not be viewed as an indication as to whom among these two mighty mortals might appear the victor when engaged in similar combat. Especially as neither is in possession of magic eye beams which technically should count as cheating, if you really think about it.

They match each other fractional eye squint for fractional eye squint. Both lost in the intensity of each other’s gaze in a way that regardless of tropes is less enemies to lovers and more enemies to psych, we’re still enemies and if our kids do tie the knot, I’m totally going to insist on hosting the wedding at my big-ass mansion and you can call that a power move if you want because it totally is, what about it?

In response to the challenge that’s conveyed with crystal clarity thanks to the power of crack, Erik’s own gaze narrows fractionally further as he reaches down with his mutant abilities until they chance upon a vein of iron miles deep. He then proceeds to push and pull on it in such a way as to make the earth shift beneath their feet.

He is not subtle about being the cause. That sort of thing isn’t really in his wheelhouse.

However, in the name of defending Erik from his children’s exasperated glares, it should be pointed out here that Bruce did in fact ask, what about it, and Erik did in his own fashion simply indicate what about it indeed.

Well. Sorta.

The initial clash of wills meeting wills subsides and assures both men that their opponent will be no easy pushover. With that, the concrete aspiring contenders retreat once more to their far sides. They proceed to keep eyes locked and faces solemn and still, neither taking their gaze off the other even while eating or responding to some conversation piece directed at them by another denizen of the dining room.

“This is quite the meal, Mr. Pennyworth. You are to be commended,” Erik says sincerely. His face is still as smooth as Lake Placid, with nary a Syfy Original killer crocodile lurking dangerously beneath the surface.

“Yes, truly some of your best work, Alfred, thank you,” Bruce adds completely deadpan, not to be outdone.

Eternally placing his professionalism above all else, Alfred waits until he’s out of the room and halfway to the kitchen before venting an exasperated exhalation of his own.

Of course, Wayne Manor does have excellent acoustics.

Elsewhere along the table’s lengths, Pietro and Damian also keep their stares deadlocked from across each other, never deviating throughout the entirety of their meal. Their detente, however, is more accurately termed an ‘arrogance-off,’ with each refusing to give way before a lesser opponent. If Pietro is remotely bothered that he’s deeply invested in establishing his superiority over a twelve year old, it doesn’t show.

Look, if he starts making allowances for age, where would it end? With him letting toddlers walk all over him simply because they managed not to blink first? Don’t be absurd.

On the other side of Pietro, Jason is gleefully lobbing conversational grenades down the length of the table. Seizing advantage of even the slightest lull, he packs every sparse moment of silence full of yet another philosophical hot take he’s strategically brainstormed to cause maximum conscience carnage.

Each carelessly uttered but carefully aimed moral dilemma-turned-mortar fire is tactically engineered towards setting each and every highly opinionated diner to warring over the higher ground. There are always holdouts of course, those who instead hunker deeper down in their trenches in an attempt to wait out the bombardment without engaging. Persistence has never been something Jay lacks, however, so even the few duds that fail to properly detonate only end up followed by a rapid-fire encore the first chance he has to reload.

Meanwhile, Lorna downs a glass of wine like its a shot of tequila and she’s a veteran of the collegiate drinking experience. Then again, she actually is, even if most tend to forget that. It doesn’t quite lend the same weight to her resume as actual freaking superhero, you’re welcome for the planet’s continued state of existence does, so she doesn’t tend to lead with it.

But that doesn’t mean that even this dubiously termed ‘skill’ lacks a time to shine. One does what one has to in order to make it through family gatherings when the family in question is hers, the mistress of magnetism maintains. Be sure to note both lower case m’s in the script of her full title, because sharing a powerset with her father doesn’t mean she actually has to indulge in silly shows of power with the sole purpose of establishing one’s right to self-brand with fully capitalized letters.

She finds such things exhaustively tedious, as dull as they are droll, and as much as she loves her father, she could really stand to see him embarrass himself less in public, with his ridiculous insistence on those farces.

In his defense, the enemies that flee in terror upon such displays, wetting themselves all the while...well, clearly they’re suitably impressed. But that doesn’t mean Lorna can’t still be embarrassed for him. Honestly, would it really kill him to act his actual age of....

Oh hell. She’s not nearly drunk enough yet to try and make sense of her father’s age.

Full disclosure, and also full awareness that her brother will never fail to bring up her own recorded instances of ridiculous grandstanding whenever its remotely relevant, and most other opportunities as well - yes, those happened, yes, she agrees they were ridiculous and necessary, but she also requests it be on the record that in all such instances she was either very young, very possessed, or very both.

Probably.

Look, the possessed thing happens often enough its not like even she can keep track of it. If she wants to squeeze a few perks out of that particular trend towards things that are obnoxious and unnecessary for five hundred, Alex, she’s damn well entitled.

And why, in the name of all the gods she hasn’t been teammates with and seen drunkenly stumbling around in their underwear at some point, is she picturing her ex Alex’s face when whimsically thinking of the Jeopardy host? Better question, why is she still not drunk enough to not give a shit if she does?

Ugh, if this leads to her having to admit Betsy was right and she’s begun indulging in her family’s tendency towards being excessive about anything and everything that keeps their minds off boringly pedestrian events like a break-up, well. That would really suck.

Mostly because Betsy is unbearable when she’s right about anything.

Driven to extreme measures by the fact that her thoughts are being rude and contentious and mean to her, Lorna trades introspection for the potential hazards of engaging directly with her dinner companions. Risky as that may be. They could be more unbearable than Betsy, for all she knows. And bad things tend to happen when she gives strangers the benefit of the doubt. She usually ends up disappointed, or bored.

Also, possessed.

Girding herself with jaded detachment, Lorna resigns herself to the mortifying ordeal of having to know other people - people who when taking into account her sister’s track record with such matters, could easily turn out to be serial killers or even worse, annoying robots.

Shuddering at the memory of the Pencil Sharpener That Walks Like A Man, she surveys the chaos she’d mistaken for white noise when still busy being her own entertainment. Its slightly livelier than she’d assumed it would be.

Lorna’s never lacked her father’s eye for tactical analysis and strategic scheming, to be clear. Its more that she’s absent his desire to see her molded into any kind of mini-me that could potentially carry on where he leaves off when he dies, as if no interruption has taken place.

But never mind her issues with her father, that she steadfastly refuses to refer to as Daddy issues. Coolly assessing the commotion around her, she decides the only role worth adopting here is that of the official fanner of flames. The only side worth taking is of course the only side ever worth taking: hers, obviously.

She wades in without any warning beyond a green-lipped smile that toes the line between bearing just enough menace to act as a threat, but never so much as to warn people to take sufficient precautions when facing her.

It’s been said that the difference between her and her father is that Magneto causes natural disasters.

Lorna is one.

Wasting no time before establishing herself as an enemy to all and a friend to none, as if she needs any, she sets up shop as a random sequencer with no allegiance or agenda other than making everyone regret insisting on her attendance.

She deftly diverts Jason’s verbal volleys off their intended course with dry, sardonic wit and she wields sly insinuations like a racket with which she redirects grenades of great ethical weight at whomever strikes her fancy. She is whimsy: watch her do whatever the hell she wants. Object, and catch hellfire.

Rather than take offense at her interference, Jason tips his head to her in appreciation of her craft. Like calls to like, after all. Lorna decides in a burst of decisiveness that she likes this one, at least.

She tilts her glass to him with a smirk and refills, topping off Kate Kane’s glass as well when the older woman holds hers out with a look that leapfrogs right over seduction and practically all the way to the morning after. She decides then and there that she likes this one as well. Two for two, look at that. And people say she’s anti-social. Distinctly recalling she’d taken a second look at Kate’s legs before sitting down, and adding in those eyelashes....

Well. Lorna’s never seriously considered taking another woman up on one of these looks before, but it wouldn’t wholly be accurate to claim she’s never thought of sending one to say...Ororo or Betsy a time or two herself.

Or even a little accurate, actually, but that is neither here nor there.

Lorna thinks, though, that if she were to take up this particular woman up on this particular offer on this particular night - there might at some point be explosions.

This is not a dealbreaker.

Look, she didn’t get her degree in geology because she held any particular interest in literally dull as dirt sandstone. Pyroclastic igneous rock formations, on the other hand...now that’s a different matter entirely. Fire pretty. Batwoman pretty.

Okay, she might be a little tipsy at this point. She looks at her wine glass accusingly; she shouldn’t have to find these things out on her own. It neither confirms nor denies.

Bitch.

Still further down the table, Dick's usual charming composure has been knocked out and left tied up in a coat closet somewhere. With the anthropomorphic embodiment of the emotion Frazzled then stepping in to take his place, and not at all very obviously acting out of sorts, if the amused but completely unhelpful smirks of his siblings are anything to go by.

The Dick-shaped entity seated in his place makes occasional token attempts to direct the flow of conversation like the maestro he’s usually known to be in such settings. In this particular setting and time, however, he mostly just manages to exist as a sentient display of the condition or state of being I Have Regrets.

His attention flits from one person to the next as he periodically tries to distract everybody from plotting the murders of everyone else at the table. Or covering up the murder of someone else, as committed by one of their family members. Or from plotting to frame someone else at the table for murder. Or from broadcasting that they’d absolutely get to the bottom of any frame job and prove their relative’s innocence and see the real culprit behind bars.

Also, he may or may not have to every so often stop and distract himself from plotting murders of his own.

Dick lands briefly on Jason every now and again with an “I know what you’re doing and would greatly appreciate it if you’d stop” glare.

Its met each time by his little brother’s “I have no idea what you’re talking about, this is just how I partake in family gatherings, isn’t that what you want or should I just go home” mask of blatantly transparent faux-innocence.

Jay’s expressions are practically close captioned, that’s how far he is from even attempting to bother with the whole thing.

Dick returns fire with a narrowing of the eyebrows that screams: “I’ll get you for this, and your little dog too.”

Jason’s lip only upticks at one corner, his otherwise studied indifference sending back his crystal clear response: “Bitch, I died. What’re you gonna to do, threaten to go a week without trying to ambush me with hugs?”

Dick’s jaw shifts like a tectonic plate movement, teeth grinding as he holds the glare. “You’re the worst.”

Jason beams and tilts his head, eyes drifting upwards in silent contemplation, as if to say, “Well, we all aspire to great heights in our own unique ways.”

“Allow me to congratulate you on your successful achievements then.” Dick’s now puckered expression fires barbs from a blowgun.

“If you really cared, you’d show me with a trophy. What’s a guy gotta do to get his brother to try and buy his love and affection,” said little brother lofts at him by way of an obnoxiously exaggerated batting of his eyelashes.

Next to Dick, Wanda has her elbow on the table, propping up her head in one hand as she lazily pokes at her food with her fork. She’s not even trying to hide how much she regrets every decision that led to this. She likes Dick, quite a lot, but clearly, neither of their families are fit for conjoined festivities. Lesson learned.

Duke is shoving dinner roll after dinner roll into his mouth, as if afraid to risk missing out on anything by attempting more focus-intensive food handling than that. His eyes are feverishly bright as they dart from one length of the table to the other and back again. This is the best day ever.

Tim and Cass are seated side by side and occasionally dip their heads together in hushed conversation. At other times they flick their fingers at each other in sign language just below the surface of the table.

Periodically, Tim will then wade into one conversation or another, never staying focused for long on any one single conversation partner before moving on.

If one were to view this whole....event...as an exercise in conversational warfare, one might be tempted to view Tim’s patterns of discussion as somewhat akin to guerilla warfare. Brief engagements not aimed at achieving any kind of victory so much as feeling out the oppositions’ defenses and tactics before withdrawing to form more firmed out plans based off the gathered intel.

Dick closes his eyes and sighs as he sees Tim and Cass dip their heads together again. Right after Cass’ eagle-eyed gaze spent a few moments lingering on the wake of Tim’s latest ‘tactical retreat,’ which was plenty of time for their sister to soak in a fair amount of everyone's reactions and responses.

Dick coughs into his hand. When Tim looks his way and meets Dick’s stern gaze with an inquiring eyebrow, Dick reaches a hand to the side of his head as if to smooth back a lock of hair. Instead he then signs with grimly dancing fingers, “Please tell me you and Cass aren’t using a holiday dinner together as a chance to develop contingency plans for taking down members of my girlfriend’s family.”

Tim cocks his head slightly and frowns. The only indication that his fingers are once again busy at work beneath the table is the slight ripple of movement along his upper arms. A few moments later, Dick’s phone vibrates with a notification. He slides it into his lap and reads Tim’s text.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you just said. I don’t speak ASL.”

Dick tilts his own head and fires an unimpressed look across the table. “Seriously?”

Cassandra pokes Tim in the side, sending him an inquiring look of her own. No doubt curious what he’d texted Dick to elicit such a response. Tim grins and answers her in swift, practiced gestures the little twerp makes no attempt to hide this time. Blatant ASL, just one of the several different sign languages they were all fluent in. Cass raises a hand to her face and hides her giggle behind the back of it, just as Tim finishes. Dick darts his sour face at her, texting her phone in turn.

“Et tu, Cass?”

She glances down at her own phone and then just shrugs at him, utterly unrepentant. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. Okay then.

Pietro’s daughter Luna had long since retreated to one of the Wayne family dens to watch movies, citing a headache. No one doubted that the precocious young empath was just entirely uninterested in being in the vicinity of all their entangled and extremely loud emotions.

Her father had briefly attempted to impress upon her the importance of being present with the rest of them for at least some of the dinner. His daughter had simply met his token effort at imparting politeness protocols with a pointed look first at him and then at Damian, who was at most two years older than her.

Pietro had grimaced. In an ideal world, caving to her demands would not be easier than him just conducting himself like a mature adult for the duration of a single dinner gathering. But then, none of them came from an ideal world, and he suffered no illusions about being an ideal parent. And more importantly, in the grand scheme of things it was hardly like this was one of the really important battles, the ones that needed to be picked carefully.

That was his excuse and he was sticking to it. And thus Luna had been excused to entertain herself with the Waynes’ vast video library.

Wanda’s twin sons thus far seem content to keep themselves busy with their own back-and-forth in the private ‘twin language’ they’d crafted over the years - more due to cheating than the existence of some preternatural twin understanding of each other. Neither boy pretends to have a clue how the other’s mind works.

Essentially, Tommy just talks to his brother at full superspeed, while Billy has a spell in place that allows him to keep up and understand his twin no matter what speed his ramblings take. No one seems entirely sure what mechanism they have for Billy to speak back to Tommy in a way no one else ever picks up on, or even if such a mechanism exists at all. It's entirely possible that due to the nature of their dynamic, they’d never found creating one to be at all necessary.

That isn’t to suggest that Billy is a follower in temperament or by nature. Its more just that when dealing with Tommy, one either follows (or tries to play catch up slash does damage control) or else one waits until Tommy races off to do what he wants, for however long it takes for him to eventually figure out that nobody has followed or is even going to. Then finally racing back and submitting to following someone else’s lead, sulking all the while about how nobody ever listens to him about anything.

Basically, letting Tommy take the lead in the more low-stakes engagements is just being efficient, in Billy’s opinion. The alternative takes way too long and his twin is a pain to deal with when in a heightened state of Sulk.

However, as to just how low-stakes or not this dinner actually is, well, that seems to be a matter of some debate between the twins, and not something Billy himself has even settled his opinion on.

Frequent high-pitched squeaks occasionally sound out from their corner of the table, most too quick to even register for anyone other than their uncle Pietro, who currently is still preoccupied with his extended staring contest against his diminutive rival in all things pertaining to ego and attempted sovereignty

If anyone else were even to register their existence or frequency, the combination of squeaks and Tommy’s repeated glares at his brother might lead to the conclusion that Billy is repeatedly poking or jabbing his twin in order to rein Tommy in from leaping into some fray or another and escalating the already existing tension to biblical proportions. As is his wont.

And Billy, at least, is enjoying his meal.

Well, he’s trying to, anyway.

But the closer he gets to completely clearing his plate, the more frequent Billy’s longing glances in the direction Luna had vanished become. Clearly, the teen is debating the merits of faking some ailment of his own and following his cousin’s example all the way to blessed, blessed relief from the chore of being the only one capable of saying “Tommy no” and actually producing an end result that isn’t just an accelerated timetable.

It’s not hard to tell when Billy’s inner war of his self-preserving tendencies vs his self-sacrificing tendencies is ultimately decided with a final score of Sanity: 1, Pointless and Unappreciated Gestures of Nobility: 0.

The seventeen year old sighs loudly and slumps back against his chair, his entire demeanor broadcasting an aura of “I give up” on so many clear wavelengths, it interrupts every skirmish currently in progress and results in every adult at the table sending concerned looks towards the twins’ corner of it.

Billy’s crossed arms and the empty space his gaze is determinedly fixed on combine to clearly convey he has nothing to do with whatever has happened or is about to happen.

Leading to every scrap of attention thus trekking further down the table to his twin, where Tommy is beaming with the brightness of a thousand supergiant stars about to go supernova and make a mess that will span galaxies and last for ten thousand years.

His Aunt Lorna’s own penchant for pretty explosions and fireworks has nothing on his, other than seniority.

Tommy’s own family knows that gleam in his eyes well enough to be aware their own immediate reactions should be duck and cover. Unfortunately, the Waynes’ dining room affords few actual defensive positions, all of which are already occupied by members of the Family Batshit. Resigning themselves to the inevitable, the Family Maximumoff Damage brace for impact.

Not being familiar with the gleam in Tommy’s eyes themselves, but more than observant (and paranoid) enough to recognize the braced positions of the other family and adapt accordingly, the members of the Family Batshit are all quick to follow suit.

Wanda meanwhile takes the scant seconds before collision to close her eyes and try to recall why she ever wanted children so desperately she literally wished them into existence.

She’s got nothing.

Dick uses the same time to gulp and take a deep breath, frantically trying to fortify himself with everything he knows of Wanda’s more....mayhem-inclined child. Hopefully he can use that intel to prepare contingencies for whatever fallout may follow in the next few seconds.

Ever the optimist, that one.

Into a silence stretching longer than a speedster in the spotlight has ever before allowed silence to linger - with Tommy clearly savoring the focused attention and abundant awareness of his Impact™ and reputation - the silver-haired teen grins with teeth bright enough to ignite the ensuing firestorm all on their own. The fateful words he finally utters almost seem overkill. At least until he finishes saying them and everything else ceases to matter, because boom.

Ignition.

“Hey Dick, if you end up marrying our mom, does that mean we can call you Dad?”

The silence that follows that particular detonation is akin to the death-knell of the dinosaurs, in the moments immediately after a giant asteroid wiped out 80% of life on the planet.

Then: anarchy.

“How dare you!” Damian launches himself out of his seat with what would normally be described as a hiss, were it not uttered at a decibel closer to being an actual sonic boom.

Jason looks like he can’t decide if he wants to fall to the ground laughing or fall to the ground tucking and rolling. To avoid having to make a decision, he grabs his until now untouched wine and guzzles it like a man who just found the only oasis in a hundred mile wide desert.

Lorna uncorks another bottle of wine and raises the whole thing like she’s toasting existence itself, on her way out the mortal coil’s exit-marked door. Kate thrusts her glass in front of Lorna for another refill.

“I know many lesbians can and do have kids in any number of ways, but do you think its okay if I cite this as proof we’re the highest evolved life form and if I was meant to have kids of my own, God wouldn’t have given me such an obvious hint as to the opposite?”

Kate absently muses to Lorna under her breath and out of the corner of her mouth, both of them still fixed on viewing the various diners turned statue-still by the Medusa like turn of the table’s conversations.

“It feels like that’s one of those things people tell me I should keep in my head and just gets me in trouble when I decide to share it instead, but honestly, I can never tell.”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Lorna whispers back. “I get possessed by this one psychic ghost enough that one of the few perks is I don’t have to worry about ticking people off anymore. Nowadays if I piss someone off, all I have to do is wait a couple of days and then say I was possessed again at the time. Then I just ask why the hell did nobody notice and dramatically make a lot of noise about that until everybody forgets what the hell they were even ticked at me for in the first place.”

“Ugh. Lucky bitch.”

Lorna shrugs with the faintest of smirks. “It’s all about just working with what you’ve got.”

Elsewhere at the table, Duke is frozen with his mouth still stuffed so full his cheeks are puffed out like a cartoon chipmunk’s. The only movements coming from his direction at all are the twin orbs that are his eyes, currently imitating tennis balls being rocketed back and forth across the court by pro players who never miss a swing.

Tim and Cass are clutching each others’ forearms, the closest either has come to displaying a panic reaction in literal years. In Cassandra’s case, more like in her entire lifetime.

But the title of ultimate attention draw is for the moment a dubious honor bestowed upon the Wayne patriarch himself.

Bruce leaps from his seat like an Olympic sprinter off the starting block, managing to catch up to his youngest before Damian plus Damian’s butter knife make it more than a foot towards Tommy. He snatches the twelve year old up by his waist, smoothly disarming his son and spinning around to plant himself between the boy and his target with the practiced and precise moves of the bedlam ballerina that he is.

“Umm,” Dick utters at last. His eyes fly wildly around the room as if seeking permission to land. They settle on making repeated loops of a race track that runs from Tommy’s smile of success to Damian’s enraged expression, and then to his own father’s attempt at a poker face: normally flawless, but now only warranting such acclaim if Bruce’s intention actually was to mimick the poker face of someone steadily ingesting lemons and nothing else throughout the course of a game.

Its not Dick’s finest work, obviously, but to be fair he’s also quite busy,trying to will himself through the floor. Possibly the Earth’s core while he’s at it. Results are still pending.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by the inhabitants of the dining room, Pietro’s ex Crystal has arrived as previously agreed, so she can pick up Luna and their daughter can spend the back half of the holiday with her mother and the latter’s teammates.

They were on their way to the dining room so Luna could say her goodbyes to her father, aunts, cousins and grandfather, when the current chaos had erupted.

Her own heroic impulses instinctively compelling her to charge in and attempt to help, Crystal’s tugged back by her daughter’s hand in hers. Knowing full well that Luna’s empathy-fueled instincts are superior to just about anyone else’s, Crystal halts and takes in the scene before them again, still with caution but with slightly less urgency.

“I suppose you have some idea what’s going on in there?”

Luna just smiles softly at her mother, as if shyly amused by the situation they’re witnessing.

“Did you hear how just when we were coming down the hall, Tommy said something about calling Wanda’s boyfriend ‘Dad’ if they get married?”

Crystal furrows her brow and nods; she hadn’t been paying that much attention, but one didn’t engage in superheroics (let alone marry and live with a hyper-active speedster) if one had poor situational awareness. Well one did, theoretically, but in such instances, one usually just died before gaining any kind of reputation or relevance.

“Well see, that set off Damian, Mr. Wayne’s youngest son and Dick’s baby brother - he was the one shouting ‘How dare you’ - “

“Don’t tell me this family has some kind of superiority complex about the twins or Wanda not being good enough for one of their own,” Crystal interrupted. The air around them crisped and heated even as a stray wind arose inside the manor and teased the ends of her hair into furious activity.

She and Pietro might not be together anymore, but her fondness for him and certain other members of his family hadn’t ceased to exist simply because their marriage no longer did. Wanda had been her friend for years before she and Pietro even began to date, and her twins were still Luna’s cousins. All of which made them still family as far as Crystal was concerned.

And she’d certainly put up with enough of her own family’s nonsense about nobody being good enough for one of them...more than she should have, to be honest, even if that was still ultimately the reason she’d cut ties with them and made her teammates her and her daughter’s true family. Crystal wasn’t about to stand idly by while strangers subjected her daughter’s cousins and aunt to more of that bullshit, even if they were hugely respected heroes of this universe’s Earth.

But Luna just shakes her head swiftly and decisively, and Crystal forces her metaphorical hackles to subside at her daughter’s apparent lack of concern.

“No, its nothing like that. Well, Damian’s kind of a brat sometimes, but it feels like he only acts out like that when he doesn’t have instincts about how to react to a given situation and he’s embarrassed about that. He had some kind of messed up childhood none of them like to talk about too much. But honestly, he feels more jealous right now than he does anything else. Aunt Wanda gave us all a rundown before we got here, about Dick’s family and things to not ask them about or bring up, and what kind of stuff they’d been told about us for similar reasons. Anyway, she told us Damian didn’t even live with their family until a few years ago, and when he first came to live with them there was a year when Mr. Wayne was missing and most of them thought he was dead....and so Dick was basically Damian’s first real kinda dad even before Mr. Wayne got a chance to be, and even though he’s been the one raising Damian ever since he got back, it sounded like there’s a lot of mixed feelings and confusion and tension between him, Mr. Wayne and Dick ever since.”

“And of course your cousin just couldn’t resist poking the elephant in the room, once he’d been made aware of its existence, if only to see what would happen,” Crystal sighs. That boy....

Not for the first time when around her ex’s family, she finds herself reminded to be grateful for the relationship she and her daughter share, mostly due to her daughter’s willingness to be understanding of others’ flaws, her own included. Crystal makes sure to will forth a wish for fortitude in Wanda’s direction while she’s at it. Couldn’t hurt.

And of course, speaking of Luna’s ability to be understanding....

“Tommy was just trying to have a little fun, he honestly didn’t mean any harm by it,” her daughter defends the cousin in question. “I know he didn’t really have any idea how much of a reaction he’d get, and just how deep and strongly they had about this. And I know it probably sounds like I’m just trying to make excuses for Tommy to keep him out of trouble, but maybe this is a good thing, that he made this happen? Because I can tell they definitely don’t talk a lot about these things or let them out in the open instead of trying to shove them down all the time. So Damian feels jealous, probably because he still has feelings of seeing Dick as a father that he feels he can’t act on because he doesn’t want to upset their actual dad or cause fights between them.”

"And I can feel Mr. Wayne feels jealous too, but of how Damian feels and the fact that he acted on what was so clearly jealousy to everyone else, but also he’s upset at himself, probably because he thinks its not right for him to feel jealous towards his own son and specifically because he and his brother have such a strong relationship and Dick did such a good job taking care of him when Mr. Wayne couldn’t. And then Dick feels guilty but also a little upset at himself as well, maybe because he knows he has nothing to feel guilty for? I’m not sure about that part, I haven’t totally gotten a feel for their usual emotional dynamics. But also he feels jealous too, and of Mr. Wayne, most likely because he gets to be Damian’s father and on some level Dick wishes that was still him occupying that role.”

“Maybe you should be explaining all of this to them instead of me,” Crystal concludes when her daughter finishes her run-through in a rush of hastily accelerated words. Luna is leaning to the side, as if trying to be subtle about craning to look around her at the drama on the other side.

“I will if they ask me to,” her daughter says, now sounding somewhat defensive of herself. “I don’t think they would have liked it much if I just tried to talk to them about all their feelings that they refuse to acknowledge or act upon, even just with each other in private.”

“Hmm,” Crystal just hums thoughtfully. Luna rushes to present the rest of her case, though Crystal still lacks a clear picture of just what the specific endgame is that her little schemer simply can’t resist trying to nudge things towards.

“Besides, like I said, maybe this was a good thing, Tommy got it out in the open where now they have to talk about it with each other, since its pretty undeniable to everyone. I mean everyone else in their family definitely feels kinda satisfied I think? No, vindicated. That’s it. I think they’ll be fine on their own. They all definitely love each other and if anything, the jealous feelings are all just from loving each other more than they feel they should or have a right to, because they don’t want to make one of their other family question whether they love them too. None of them have done anything bad or wants anything bad, they just need to talk it through.”

“Well that’s all good to hear, but it still sounds to me like there’s no real reason for us not to interrupt, and every possibility it might defuse some tension and give them all a little time to cool down before talking about things.” Crystal crosses her arms and looks down at Luna knowingly.

She might be the best daughter Crystal could have ever wished for, and light years more mature than anyone else her age, but she’s still only ten and every ten year old has room for more maturing.

Sure enough, her daughter squirms guiltily.

“I guess. But I still think its better to let things just happen on their own. You’re always telling me that my power isn’t permission to insert myself into the problems of everyone I meet. And that assuming otherwise can be bad for me too.”

“That’s true,” Crystal nods. All the same, her left eyebrow starts to climb. “However, another truth I’ve heard told to you by your father is if you ever feel guilty and are put on the spot for something, have two truths and a lie ready to explain yourself. And always lead with the lie.”

She loves Pietro still, she does, and she's at times even painfully aware of just how much she always will. But their vastly different ideas about parenting were just one of the reasons they hadn’t been able to make things work. She vividly recalls the time she’s referring to...and the argument she and her husband had immediately following it.

Pietro’s stance had always been that children were just little versions of who they’d grow up to be, and didn’t need to be taught dumbed down versions of the advice no one would a problem giving to the grown up versions of them.

“I see nothing inappropriate in teaching her that,” Pietro had said stubbornly at the time. “I do the same thing all the time and I’ve never attempted to pretend otherwise. In fact, I clearly remember explicitly describing that as my life philosophy on one of our earlier dates, and if I recall correctly, you laughed and called me a charming knave at the time. And I am of course remembering it correctly, as I have perfect recall listed among my numerous attributes.”

They never did reach an understanding about that particular bit of parenting. Probably because that argument had ended up seguing into the make-up sex that had kept them married far longer than they probably should have been.

Not that the latter detail is of any relevance at the moment. She coughs awkwardly.

In the here and now, their daughter continues to fidget beneath her mother’s now imperious gaze and newfound resolution to not allow her semi-fond nostalgia to cause her emotions to waver.

“Fine!” Luna groans at last, throwing up her hands in as explosive manner as the usually contemplative girl ever does anything. “I also don’t want to interrupt or go yet because I still have some of the popcorn Mr. Alfred made me and its really good and also if you had to have dinner with some of the most tense and repressed people on two different Earths, and feel everything they were trying to pretend they didn’t feel, you would want to at least get to enjoy the part where they finally stop doing that and get all dramatic and dumb. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Crystal says primly, fighting a smile at her daughter’s rare display of immaturity before remembering who she was talking to and ceasing to bother with the pretense. Besides, its not like she doesn’t have a point.

“But I believe we’ve also talked about people not being your personal entertainment,” she adds. It just feels like the kind of moment where she's supposed to say something along those lines. Even half-heartedly.

“But is it really my fault if people are being entertaining through no fault of my own, and I just happen to be nearby and have every right to just stay put until being right where I am stops being entertaining?” Her daughter counters.

The glint in her eye and the wry smile that says she knows she’s scented a moment of weakness and has no shame about pouncing on it - those are wholly among Pietro’s contribution to their child, and not anything Crystal can truly fault him for, at the end of the day. He is who he is, and part of that is who their daughter is, just as much as she is part of Crystal. She sighs and relents.

“If one of the Waynes catches us treating their conflict like a reality show and feels the slightest upset about it, it is your responsibility to either justify yourself to them too, or acknowledge responsibility for their upset. Whichever it takes to reverse the negativity you contributed. Understood?”

"Promise,” Luna says, bobbing her head repeatedly as she holds forth her hands, unprompted, to demonstrate that she has no fingers crossed as she did so. A follow up that has been normalized for years, given that crossing fingers behind one’s back is another one of the bits of parental wisdom Pietro had imparted upon their precocious daughter when she was younger.

Crystal just sighs once more and shakes her head fondly as she steps to the side and provides an unobstructed view through the open doorway across the room.

Back in the dining room, heedless of having garnered spectators to their spectacle, as well as equally heedless of the passage of time, the room’s inhabitants exist in a state of suspended animation.

Everyone knows a reaction to what just happened is required. That the pregnant pause persisting since then demands a clear follow up to the blatant display of certain emotions from certain parties. All of whom are usually quite certain they’d rather witness the end of the world than see those specific feelings slip out into the open where anyone could see them and from that, draw certain conclusions.

Nobody is confused on that front. Not even their guests from an entirely separate universe.

But the unthinkable has happened nevertheless, and as it has been neither preceded nor succeeded by any hint of an apocalypse, there is no alternative. The naked display of previously avoided topics can not in any way be avoided at this point. What was done was done and now things have to be said or done as a result.

The problem lies in the fact that not a single person present has the faintest idea of what those specific things were. And thus no one seems interested in showing any initiative in ending the stalemate that has been forged from the uncommon uncertainty that was their only commonality.

The rise and fall of chests are the only movements betraying that the tableau they set exists in all three dimensions, rather as a static snapshot someone had taken in commemoration.

And even breathing seems done reluctantly.

If cosmic entities such as Uatu the Watcher were prone to hyperbole, as the only other witnesses to the unprecedented anomaly, they might narrate that for a time it seems as though two of the most powerful and influential families of two different universes are fated to spend the rest of eternity existing in this rare moment. This endless moment where some of the most reckless, impulsive, tactical, analytical, insightful and decisive heroes to ever exist on two separate Earths......are all equally stricken with indecision and uncertainty as to what course of action to take next.

Who could even imagine what kind of consequences that might result in, for two entirely different multiverses? What deviations from intricately plotted grand designs that could cause, what opportunities might be missed, from the most potentially fortunate events that otherwise might stem from these various heroes’ heroics?

How far might the ripple effects of this seemingly innocuous moment in space and time reach? How many worlds might rise and fall, universes live and die, all because this one singular family, this comparatively tiny collection of dissonant souls who regardless of their frequent discord still manage to come together in harmony often enough to chart the course of cosmic events....

These unlikely conductors who at separate times are both the voices of the people, and the music of the spheres themselves? Their choices often doing more to directly affect various celestial bodies than the choices of entire civilizations added up across countless millennia?

Regardless of the degree of potential calamity, that remains a fate both universes will be spared their discovery of. For in this hour of need, where some of the prime movers and shakers of worlds sit motionless whilst hardly daring to breathe, all mutually frozen in their seats, all seemingly powerless to act or speak until someone releases them from this spell that has been cast upon the room and all within it....

Well, unto this unlikely conundrum, there arises an unlikely hero.

Not the hero anyone present deserves, perhaps, but certainly the hero they need.

And so it is that with great daring - and dare we say, even panache - a voice rings out loud and clear. One overflowing with bountiful mirth and a zest and zeal for life. Not to mention one brimming with reckless disregard for any potential consequences, even those not very dissimilar to the kind that have in years past made even the hardiest villains quail in fear...

And all at the same time, all undeniable, all contributing to the sudden spasm that erupts along the fault line that is Bruce Wayne’s entire face - that treacherous, forbidding chasm that exists at the edges of the two tectonic masses that are on one side his disapproval, and on the other side, the muscles that control his expressions...

Into that momentous stillness lands the only response truly appropriate, given the root cause of all of this.

“Awkwaaaaaaard,” Stephanie Brown sings out, half standing out of her chair to stretch across the table in front of Wanda and Duke in order to retrieve the gravy boat. She returns to her seated position and proceeds to slather her mashed potatoes with its contents, blithely paying no attention to the fact that all other faces in the room have swiveled to face her with stunned disbelief. “Seriously, I haven’t felt this uncomfortable since I farted in front of Superman.”

“When did you even get here?” Bruce frowns at her, exasperated enough that Damian is able to use his distraction to slip free of him and slink back to his own seat.

No one else has ever managed to achieve the depths of distraction Stephanie and Stephanie alone can push the usually unflappable Bat to. Or is it heights, and the joys of alliteration might need to be sacrificed upon the altar of accuracy? Whatever.

She pretty much considers it her superpower, though. She's still working out how to weaponize it for use on other targets. Or even better, how to capitalize on it for use when living Whilst Reluctantly Capitalist. Currently, she’s testing market research along the veins of blackmailing Bruce into paying her a monthly allowance in exchange for her keeping her levels of Intentionally Irritating him to below a Level Four on a ten point scale. Its her own custom model in the fashion of the ‘rate the pain with a number from one to ten’ scale, but she’s taken the liberty of specifically tailoring it to Bruce’s condition of Suffering Stephanie the Supreme’s Presence. She's pretty sure she’d ultimately settled on the title: “How much is my chewing gum while I’m supposed to be being sneaky causing you actual physical pain?”

There’s an itty bitty chance she actually picked something totally else on account of how she’d been super drunk at the time and she’s crap at reading her own handwriting so deciphering the notes she’d made while especially inspired were like....seventy percent guesswork.

But close enough, anyway, and also like, shut up and stuff. Wait. But is that really considered blackmail, technically speaking, or is it more like bribery? Not that it really makes a difference, but she does prefer being as precise as possible when listing her crimes slash achievements. It’s like. The principle. Or maybe the aesthetic? Whatever.

Really, though, this is just her and the Big Guy’s thing. Its just what they do. Their dynamo depiction of a duo doing things after their first take on being a Dynamic Duo detonated so disastrously. Yeah, she could never bear to part with her precious alliteration merely for the sake of precision. Its important to have clear priorities after all, and if it for whatever reason that probably will involve fifth dimensional imps, like, some nefarious ne’er-do-well demands she make a choice between alliteration and precision, well, she’s as of right now making an official ruling on which darling she’d kill first.

Sorry, precision, but you just haven’t done for me lately what alliteration has brought me in joy and also usefulness.

“Wait, my bad,” she realizes suddenly, on account of how everyone is staring at her when all she’s doing currently is stuffing her face like a pro. And as hype as she is on her ability to make anything she does look like a Feat™, she’s pretty sure she doesn’t make it look that good. “What was the question again?”

Bruce faces her fully, arms crossed in an attempt to restore himself and his dominion to some semblance of its usual order, his face schooled back in his usual Mona Lisa smile aka stone cold impassivity. Which nobody here was buying, for the record. Big faker.

“How long have you been here?” Asks Stone Cold Steve Austin, wait no, the Stone Cold Steve Faker. Faker Austin? Ugh, this is gonna bug her.

Also, nobody here is buying his voice as being Forbidding right now so much as just Deeply Embarrassed Because I Had Feelings And They Distracted Me. Honestly, she should start keeping a tally. For what, she’s not sure, but you never know what might come in handy some day. There’s a whole TV show about hoarders to back her up on that supposition. See? Science, suckers.

“I dunno. Since way before dinner even started though. Dude, I’m literally on my thirds.”

As if making a show of evidence, Steph shovels more meat in her mouth. She’s not entirely sure what they're even having, like it could be veal or lamb or turkey for all she knows - look, she never got around to mastering “How To Solve the Mystery of Mystery Meat” or whatever. She’d been busy learning how to tell the difference in blood spatters, because like, meat may be murder sometimes but murder is always murder and thus takes priority. Soooorry.

Point is, who knows what the fuck kind of meat it is, but its damn good and just further proof that Alfred is probably secretly God in disguise or maybe just a lower case g kinda one, but whichever, he and his culinary arts are definitely proof she’s too weak to ever walk the Way of the Vegan.

She finishes chewing fully before continuing. Because she’s a proper lady, obvy.

“And way to make with the Rudeness, B. I know I can pull off pretty much any look, but Fly On The Wall is not one of them. How dare you come for my self-esteem like this. I’ll sue you and get all your billions and use them to make a swimming pool of gold coins all Scrooge McDuck style, because its like, the one thing you could never and thus the perfect way to establish my dominance and stuff.”

“Has she seriously been here this whole time?” One of Dick’s girlfriend’s twin kids stage-whispers from the other length of the table. “How did we not notice before? Not exactly flying under the radar there.”

“I’m a goddamn social chameleon, that’s how, Cloud.” Stephanie jabs another meat-laden forkful in his direction for emphasis, on its way to her food hole. Ugh, bliss. “Also, I would be like, a kick-ass spy. But nobody ever gives me the spy jobs because everyone’s always like, you can’t be quiet or still or even serious for longer than five minutes, Stephanie, and I’m always like, umm, just because I choose not to doesn’t mean I can’t, but do they ever listen? Of course not.”

The kid wrinkles his nose at her. “Why did you call me Cloud?”

“Isn’t that the name of the Final Fantasy guy whose hair you ripped off?”

“Is it? I don’t know, I’ve never played. And maybe he ripped me off, you don’t know,” Not-Cloud says, looking suddenly intrigued, though who knows by which part.

Stephanie swivels towards Tim for confirmation. He looks back, vaguely irritated.

“Why does everyone always look at me for stuff like that? I have no idea. When exactly would I have time to be a gamer in the first place? And for the record, back when I had actual hobbies, I used to skateboard.”

“Jeez, sorry, Tony Hawk. I didn’t recogize you cuz I was too busy giving you mad props for that sick wicked half pipe ollie oopsie.” Steph rolls her eyes. Then she cocks her head to scrutinize him more fully and maybe give him a serious answer. She settles for flapping a hand at him vaguely as she says, “And you just have like, a certain Quality about you or whatever. I don’t know what it is.”

“She doesn’t even live here,” Bruce says, almost plaintively. Y’know. If he were someone who does anything plaintively ever.

“She’s our guest,” Cass says, almost primly. Y’know. If she were someone who does anything primly ever. “You’re being rude.”

Steph plasters on her most injured expression, the better to make like Exhibit A when Cass sweeps an arm towards her for demonstration.

Also though, oh shit, oh shit, look whose internal monologue stumble-stepped into a motif. She’s Emily Dickenson-ing this place up tonight. Finally, someone bringing a little class into the House of Ass. You’re welcome, all the ghosts of Bruce’s equally gloomy ancestors who definitely haunt this place on the regular.

“Yeah, Alfred has always impressed upon us that there are certain protocols for how we’re supposed to treat guests in our home, Bruce,” Tim adds in a tone that was equal parts thoughtful musing and suppressed merriment.

He slides a smirk down the table to Steph. His own irritation of 7.5 seconds prior has completely evaporated into the ether, because that’s just how they roll. Look at them, making with the maturity like they’re just a couple of motherfucking bosses. She’s seriously so impressed with the both of them on their own behalves.

“If I were a betting man,” Tim continues nonchalantly, “I’d put down money that hanging on to guest privileges is one of the main reasons she turned down that adoption offer we all pretend we don’t know B’s definitely given her at some point.”

“Or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself, being the one whose dating history with Steph makes adopted siblinghood seem weird and icky and stuff,” Duke suggests from further down the table. He smirks, lounging in a way that looks lazy and careless to those uninitiated in the sacred Bat arts of being anal about everything at all times, like literally even when just looking at things. Because B-Man’s secret superpower is how to make anything boring, even things that are literally just using your eyes.

Though in defense of B but also like, the years of their lives they’ve all committed to obsessively training themselves according to his fucking anal doctrines anyway, like a bunch of absolute suckers, there is an upside to all that anal retention. Such as how people who make healthy but boring life choices would look at Duke right now and be like oh shit, that kid’s about two seconds from falling asleep like he’s a cat and that’s a super inconvenient place for him to fall asleep, which everyone knows is basically the same thing as Kitty Nirvana.

But meanwhile, the other teen still clearly shows all the checked boxes that spell out hey this dude could be ready to kick your ass in 2.5 seconds, like just give him a reason punk, he’s ready to go. Or at least, that’s how he registers to those of them with Bat-supersenses that aren’t actually super but really just the end result of lots of boring training exercises that honestly don’t sound anywhere near as cool so just let them have this.

Point is she totally lost track of her point, but then Duke follows up with an accusing pointer finger aimed at Tim, one appropriately dramatic and just like, making her so gosh darn proud of the latest castaway to wash ashore on their weird ass little Island Of Misfit Toys. Kids. They grow up so fast.

“Of course you wanna distract everyone from how you’re a Sister Depriver,” Duke intones, putting some super thematic bass into his boom. That right there, that little something extra...that’s how you make fucking art. Hot damn. “And as a result, poor Cass has to bear the weight of being the only girl in the Wayne clan all by herself. For shame, Timothy.”

“Yeah, Timothy,” Cass echoes smugly. “For shame.”

Tim shoots betrayed eyes at her, but its his own fault for forgetting the Cardinal Rule Of Cass: her allegiances are fickle and prone to shifting in the direction of greatest potential drama. Cass loves drama. Lives for it. Something about how refreshing it is to be able to immerse herself in the movements of people who are actively trying to speak or act in contradiction to what their body really wants to say, instead of just being lying douchebags who necessitate caution when they do anything similar.

The rest of them are split 50/50 as to whether that’s true and heartwrenching, or whether its well-played Cass bullshit aimed at distracting them from what a gossip-loving drama queen she really is.

“Whatever,” Jason says dismissively as he chimes in. He swipes the last few exchanges out of the way like they’re open apps he’s not using at the moment and he’s all uh, you can go now, losers. “The real issue here is that obviously the Old Man has never figured out how to interact with a teenager or young adult he hasn’t adopted or can’t adopt. Middle D over there is proof that even B’s vaunted no meta rule isn’t really a dealbreaker, so betcha the real reason Dickie and Tim’s Titan friends never come over is because their parentals are worried about B trying to snatch them up too. And since B adopts, fosters or otherwise absorbs via osmosis every other kid or teen he comes across, there’s never been a control group for him to practice his non-adoption-intending behavior on other kids. And no practice means no way of being perfect at that, and we all know how not being perfect at something makes B cranky as fuck.”

Duke takes a beat to contort his face into a Rubik’s Cube of half-formed and hastily discarded expressions. Most likely trying to work through whether Middle D counts as a weird-ass endearment for this particular family, or something he’s gonna be endlessly annoyed by if it happens to catch on. Its a process, especially considering it has to be filtered through the Jason to English dictionary first.

Finally he just shrugs in a lazy non-reaction that in Batspeak manages to count as a challenge. Basically a ‘try and guess what I decided if you can, chump.’

Jason’s face morphs Terminator style. The later ones, not the Governator model. He ends up displaying a mash-up: the smirk of inevitable victory meets the narrowed eyebrows of intent focus as bestowed upon a worthy foe.

Then the whole piece makes like an Etch-a-Sketch and is wiped completely away before being replaced with an annoyed jaw clench.

“Jay’s theory game is strong,” is the route Duke ends up taking though. “And here we thought the reason Bruce always says no about Superboy coming over is to prevent him from being a Brother Defiler. But all along it was just the insidious work of a Brother Depriver, with Superman himself being the culprit who told B hands off, this one’s mine. It all makes sense now! Superboy even fits the standard issue black hair and blue eyed, in store model.”

He tips his head towards the older boy in a gesture of appreciation for Jay’s detective work and connect the dots high score. Jason scowls back. By the standards of the Family Batshit, he’s clearly been caught off guard. With him so readily taking up the implied but not outright stated challenge teased by the younger boy, he’d completely failed to prepare for the compliments Duke then followed up with instead.

His siblings hide snickers behind faked coughs and gratuitous napkin usage. He’s netted himself an undeniable loss, according to the intricate rules and traditions of their family - ironically, many of which had been laid down by Jason himself when first established back in the misty years of yore. That mysterious, little spoken of era of legend and mystery, one that is nevertheless oft whispered of in hushed rumors and hearsay. The time before time, better known to the Bats and Birds as The Age of The First Two Robins.

If it had just been the family present, it might have been a different matter, but the presence of others changed things. Cuz see, in the eyes of anyone who isn’t a member of their observation obsessed and perpetually paranoid family, the relatively minute exchange between the two boys no doubt looked like Jason had been needlessly aggressive while the younger boy was just trying to pay him a compliment.

In a nutshell, Duke goaded Jason with what seemed like a challenge but didn’t technically count, so Jason’s attempt at responding to Duke’s not-challenge actually counted as the first actual sign of aggression, which Duke neatly side-stepped by already being in the process of paying Jay a compliment between the time Jay actually launched his challenge but before it actually landed.

Ergo, Duke wins.

Look, if its hard to follow, that’s probably for the best. They’re all pretty sure stuff like that isn’t supposed to make as much sense as it does to them.

Jason huffs but then finally heaves a sigh and tosses a tight-lipped and grudging but genuine nod of acknowledgment down the table to Duke. Despite himself, he can’t help but be a little impressed by the kid, having already picked up on even the more minute ins and outs of their family’s complicated interactions. But then, of course the younger boy is as precocious as the rest of them. Their family could single-handedly keep the nature vs nurture debate going for centuries.

Duke beams back before licking the tip of a finger and painting a single stroke in the air in front of him. A clear declaration that this round of the Batkids’ never-ending game goes to him. Jason rolls his eyes but can’t exactly begrudge him his endzone dance. Its not like he’s known for being graceful and gracious in victory either.

Come to think of it, none of them are. Huh. That explains a lot, probably.

Its at this moment that Dick finally regains enough composure to make his presence felt again.

Its understandable, really, the others acknowledge via conspiratorial looks of sibling solidarity that bounce their way rapidly across the table by way of their patented younger sibling network.

Anyone would have trouble juggling the combined stressors of introducing the girlfriend’s family, mediating their own eternal family mayhem, and on top of all that, seeing shoved into the spotlight his ‘shh, we don’t talk about that, what are you, new,” tendencies towards acting parentally protective and possessive of Damian, even with (and at times especially with) Bruce himself.

Not to mention the occasional clashes over the parenting strategy, or lack thereof, that Bruce still manages at times to bumble like the perfect dope that he is. Because if anyone has super strong feelings about Bruce’s parenting and no patience whatsoever for watching their father repeatedly fail to learn from his mistakes, well. That’s all Dick’s territory.

So with all of that kept firmly in mind like the efficient little multi-taskers they all know how to be (when they feel like it), they’re all poised to lend Dick a certain amount of leeway in how much amusement they enjoy at his expense today.

In all fairness to them, its not like he makes it easy. They had perhaps overestimated just how well Dick was juggling the various stressors in play today. After all, you can take the acrobat out of the circus, but that doesn’t mean jack shit about whether or not he can juggle because that’s an entirely different skillset, duh.

Hindsight’s not just sometimes a bitch. Its sometimes quite bitchy as well. Ugh, their subconscious minds could be such brats, honestly.

Look, the point is, even as they all patiently watch their eldest brother struggle his way back to a state of coherency and and managing to be present in the actual present, they’re still expecting him to pop out the other side with something at least approaching poise.

Instead, they get an encore.

“Umm,” Dick utters at last.

Tim buries his face in his hands. Duke tilts his head back and mutters prayers to some higher power. Cass closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly and sorrowfully. Lorna reaches across the table with her wine bottle and refreshes her sister’s glass. Wanda looks like she needs it.

Damian sits with arms crossed over his chest and scowl firmly directed at the table top, Judging Everything. Then again, that is still his default setting and pretty much what he’s been doing all night anyway. Say whatever else you want to about the kid, Steph reflects, but when he commits to a theme, hoo boy.

Jason, meanwhile, has thrown himself bodily at his brother, clamping a hand over the older man’s mouth and stage-whispering with exaggerated emphasis: “Careful! You could set off the exact same chain of events and we’ll all end up trapped in an eternal time loop we can never break free of! I mean, its practically a guarantee, if you combine my knack for being in the worst place at the worst possible time, Tim’s shitty spleen-phobic luck, Cass’ destined to someday prove ironically prophetic name, and your own lightning rod-esque ability to attract cosmic-level catastrophes to you like you’re catnip and they’re really just a cute little furball named Fluffy McWhiskerson.”

“Must you always insist on going the extra mile when being ridiculous, Todd?” Damian cuts in testily. Also, cuttingly.

“Shut the fuck up. It’s my coping mechanism for being part of a family that goes that extra ridiculous mile every damn day.”

“And people wonder what possible reasons I could have for not wanting to be adopted into this family and instead hanging onto a golden parachute option?”

Steph wonders aloud (and loudly) as she maneuvers the side of her fork around her plate like its a zamboni hard at work on an ice rink. Really, she just refuses to let a single scrape of Alfred’s home-made mashed potatoes go to waste. She’s not some heathen.

“You. You seem pretty smart.” That loaded statement and the finger pointed in her direction come courtesy of the Final Fantasy kid whose name may or may not be Cloud but probably isn’t, which is a shame, because Cloud is a pretty kick-ass name in Steph’s estimation. Not that anyone asks. Typical.

Also, where did they end up landing on the subject of what his name should be? Or is? Whatever? Was there a flowchart passed out at some point and she just missed it while busy being fabulous, or was this an actual oversight on B’s part and thus something they should all bring up as often as possible from now until the end of time?

No doubt spurred by a desire to be absent from whatever follows his twin’s newest train of thought, Billy raises his hand half-heartedly. No one bothers to point out the absurdity of raising his hand like he’s in school. He just seems like its a thing with him. He has that certain Quality, Steph decides.

“Can I be excused?”

Nobody seems sure who he’s asking, so its probably okay that nobody responds to grant permission. Besides, suffering through the awkwardness and drama like the rest of them is probably like, good for building character or something.

After about half a minute, Billy nods to himself as if that’s about what he’d expected. He lowers his hand again and uses it to prop up his head as he slumps over the table and idly sketches patterns atop the antique oak surface.

“I’m a galaxy-brain level intellect, you little Silver Whatever-the-Adorable-Baby version of a Fox is called,” Steph declares at last, jabbing her finger right back at the apparent Greater of Twin Evils. Y’know. To see how much he likes it. But also just because its fun to make like a drama queen in a place like Wayne Manor. Ambiance really is everything. “I even took my SATs and correctly informed the moderator that I was in fact there for the SATs and hadn’t gotten them mixed up with my ACTs.”

“Hmm,” the twerp says then, not at all appearing to be taught a lesson by her dramatic finger pointing reversal. He sweeps his eyes over her, assessing. Given that she hasn’t decided yet if she even likes the little twerp, let alone what he’s trying to assess and also if she even gives a shit on account of she might not even like the little twerp, Stephanie splits the difference and settles for combining bitch face with her best “How you like me now,” pose. Let him make of it what he will. ‘Snot like she knows what she’s going for there.

Also, its probably rendered slightly less effective due to her forgetting to factor in that she’s sitting and not standing, but whatever, she commits like a champ. Also, she’s still at most 60/40 on the liking of the twerp, so who even cares, honestly.

“I used to be able to count on my own smarts,” Platinum Punk says, seemingly settled on an opinion at last. “But I naively gambled that away in the name of wishing upon a star for family or what the frick ever, and I forgot to set wish parameters for ‘and also please let them all not be completely nuts.’”

“Watch the ableism please, sweetheart,” Wanda says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry, Mom,” he says with an eye roll that nevertheless seems to somehow satisfy her. “But see? I’ll get a lecture about my language, but I skip school with my friends to fight giant robots in Times Square and she doesn’t bat an eye. My family’s priorities are not like your Earth’s priorities.”

“Or my Earth’s priorities,” he adds as an afterthought. “Or any Earth’s, probably. Maybe not some really weird and out there Earth, but they don’t count, probably.”

“Well I don’t like it, certainly, but I don’t want to be a hypocrite,” Wanda says defensively. “When I was your age, I was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list for being a mutant terrorist. All things considered, I have relatively few objections about how you and your brother spend your time.”

Several members of the Family Batshit direct eyes that are ever so slightly on the wide side. She meets them with an unapologetic shrug.

“I had a complicated childhood. I got over it.”

Lorna snorts into her wineglass. Wanda shoots her sister an annoyed glare, but still amends her statement.

“Mostly, anyway.”

Lorna smirks and waves her glass in some attempt at a meaningful gesture. Who knows what its actually meant to be. She seems to accept the amendment, at least.

“Please excuse our dear little sis her porcine displays of condescension,” Pietro interjects in silky smooth tones that do nothing to hide the sharp edges thinly veiled underneath. “She didn’t grow up with us and our dear, doting daddy, yet has never lacked for opinions on what superior choices she would have made in our positions. The fact that she’s still made plenty terrible choices of her own, is apparently quite irrelevant.”

His green-haired sister opens her eyes artfully wide and projects feigned innocence. “None of those were my fault. I was possessed a lot by a very evil psychic. Who, if you recall, actually called herself Malice. The evil was right there in her name. Advertised. I was innocent. She was evil.”

Pietro swirls his own wineglass, unimpressed. The other set of siblings have clearly been down this road a time or two themselves.

“I was primarily referring to your romantic history with a Summers. And not even the competent or aesthetically pleasing one, at that,” he drawls.

“She also had terrible taste.”

“Anyway, not to tear focus away from discussion of my dear auntie’s romantic selection process, as she and Uncle Pietro both lack the shame gene and they absolutely can and will traumatize all present via a thorough analysis of each other’s past partners in the most bizarre game of sexual chicken you will ever have the misfortune to witness...”

“Bold of him to make that claim when he’s never seen Dick and Jason do the exact same thing for the exact same reasons,” Tim mutters. Cass and Duke both nod. Jason glares, but seems stuck at the ‘come up with actual proof that he’s actually wrong’ stage of the rebuttal process. Dick has by now returned to the land of the living, but seems to have along the way decided discretion is the better part of valor as best guess is he’s currently preoccupied weighing the pros and cons of potential escape routes.

“Hey, Shiny Pokemon version of Sonic the Hedgehog,” Stephanie snaps her fingers and hopskips the focus back on the speedster in question. She waves her hand at the rest of the sound and fury occupying the table with them, as if to express just how much it all signifies nothing. “Just get to the point already and leave out anything else that these vile miscreants could possibly hijack and turn into tangents. You’ll never make it through a conversation in this house otherwise. Everyone here is expertly trained and practiced in the art of derailing the most obstinate and tunnel-visioned man in history from reaching his point whenever that point is deemed destined to make our day end poorly.”

“Some of us just happen to be better at that than others,” Jason says with smug confidence, twirling his butter knife lazily.

“Ironic, coming from the one trick pony,” Tim says dryly. Jason leans forward and raises his knife-wielding hand and Tim quickly raises his hands in a defensive gesture that’s clearly not meant to indicate he sees an actual threat, more just aimed at beating his brother to the punch with the rest of his punchline. “Sorry, I miscounted. I mean the one and a half trick pony.”

Steph clears her throat pointedly and looks back at Platinum Ken Doll. He just sighs in full gloom and slumps down in eerie symmetry with his twin. He definitely is the superior practitioner of the Sulk.

“Never mind,” he says melodramatically. “It wasn’t even a big deal anyway, just stuff I was trying to be like, snarky about or whatever, but the moment’s passed and it’s just kinda dumb and pointless without feeling like, natural or whatever.”

“Probably,” Stephanie agrees unsympathetically, because hey, when you’re right, you’re right. She doesn’t believe in coddling the youths, especially not the ones who are realistically only two years younger than herself at the most. “But you’ve managed to pique my interest enough that not knowing what you were going to say is randomly gonna bug me at 2 am or something obnoxious like that. Also, you started to praise my intellect and I don’t let things like that go unfinished. It sets a bad precedent. Now c’mon. Speak up. Praise me. Enunciate, so Damian can’t pretend he doesn’t hear you just because he’s trying to set the table on fire with just the searing intensity of his disdain.”

Damian responds with a gesture that he definitely didn’t learn from Dick, but on second thought, he probably did.

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Keep on keeping on, slugger. If anyone can develop the ability to cause spontaneous combustion with nothing but willpower and spite, its Angst in the key of D Minor himself. I believe in you, kiddo!”

If she weren’t actually being full of shit about that, she might be in trouble from the glare Damian follows that with. Ashes to ashes and all that good stuff. But as rage-vision still refuses to make an appearance, the baby of the family in age and irony only retreats to the support of his high-backed chair.

Looking more adorable than he’d hopefully ever comprehend, lest he attempt to weaponize that as an addition to his armory, he slouches down and mutters something that makes Jason’s eyebrows climb his skull like they’re trying to set a speed record for making it all the way to the top.

It’d been in one of the languages that Damian knew and that her own circle of languages learned share no overlap with, but she mentally repeats it sound for sound in her head until she locks it in. Anything that can make Jason look that impressed is worth knowing, and translating something phonetically from an unknown language is nothing Google can’t handle.

And by Google she meant Tim, but that’s what ex-boyfriends are for, right? She’s fairly certain she saw that on a T-shirt somewhere, which is basically the same thing as true.

Anyway. Back to the praises that are supposed to be being sung, and yet weirdly, she still hears no singing. Steph boomerangs her focus back down the table to Smugness in Silver, and oozes impatience and expectations out her pores at him like emotions are contagious and she’s a cooties hotspot.

Fumbling from a clear unease with this particular kind of spotlight, and also how it’d admittedly been a weird fucking night for everyone concerned, the younger teen at last manages to self-consciously eke out: “Look, I said it was dumb now. I seriously was just gonna make a joke about you being too smart to get sucked into a weird ass family with endless drama without having an escape clause, and I was just gonna be like, teach me your ways or y’know. Whatever.”

“Wait!” Stephanie stops him right there with a palm outstretched in the universal sign for hold the fucking fuck the fuck up. She leans towards him, and in a voice pitched low and even but vibrating with barely leashed intensity, she asks him the only question that could possibly matter now:

“Was that last bit actually part of the joke you were going to make? The thing you were trying to say from the get go, not just something you said right now because you got confidence diarrhea and stopped using the words good?”

“Uh, yeah?” He says warily.

Stephanie slaps both her hands on the table’s surface, loudly enough to make most everyone jump a little in their seats, and forcefully enough to rattle some dishware and make her inner monologue hiss oww and yell at her for unnecessary roughness. She ignores herself, on account of having much more important things to deal with.

Launching herself to her feet, she leans into her palms where they press down on the table, giving herself a little bit of Loom to go with the gravity she forces onto her face. Glee is waging a valiant effort at retaking the lost ground, but she’s always insisted that she has excellent self-control, dagnabbit, and Stephanie Brown is many, many things, but she’s no liar.

Well, except for the times she is. But there are always reasons or like, extenuating circumstances for those.

Usually.

“I accept the honor and responsibility of being your Family Drama Sensei, and I shall teach you everything I know and also some stuff I make up just to fuck with you, because I’m not like Other Mentors. I demand and expect some giggles to go with the shits, or what’s even the point, y’know? First lesson: that was rhetorical! I say y’know a lot and when I actually expect an answer I’ll also be like omg hurry up, I aged 84 years waiting for you to say something already. Got it?”

The Twin That Could Have Probably Starred In Twilight blinks dazedly at her. He then turns to look at the rest of the table.

“Is she serious?”

“Deadly,” Steph intones, before one of these naysayers could nay on her say and potentially undercut her authority with her new minion. Uh, she means, like, henchkid. Sorry, sidekick. Shit. Crap - protege! That was what she has, a protege! Hah!

“For real?” He asks, doubtfully. She frowns. Is she stuttering?

“So real I make reality look fake,” she assures him gravely. He blinks some more. He does that a lot, she notes, like a Good Mentor who notices stuff about her mentee.

“Okay, see, because that wasn’t really what I was going for?” He says cautiously.

She rolls her eyes. C’mon kid, she doesn’t bite, except for like, sexy stuff and eww no, he’s like twelve. Well sixteen probably, but that’s basically the same thing as twelve. Also they had a lot of work to do on the spine-having thing because this sorta bit right here is totally gonna make her look bad in front of all the other mentors, if it doesn’t exit stage right, like post haste. And what not.

She doesn’t say any of that that out loud though. She’s not sure they’re there yet.

“Like, I was aiming more for just....a...I don’t know, a hah-hah?”

He leans back slightly, adding a little distance as he looks at her like she’s part of the craziness he needs help surviving instead of his sensei in all things suited to surviving the craziness. Ugh, she has so much work to do with this one. Its a good thing she’s always been pretty sure she’d make an excellent mentor, so like, qualifications. She has them. Obvy.

“La la la, I can’t hear you but also no take-backsies. You’re part of a legacy now. Or lineage. Or whatever the word is that’s not actually about dog family trees. Look, the point is by virtue of being my first ever protege and also the first protege of anyone who isn’t Dick or Babs who both don’t even count anyway because Reasons, you are now part of the grand tradition that is being a Bats and Birds person...partner...sidekick...thingie. Look, we don’t have the terminology all worked out yet. Like I said this is basically new territory except for Dick and Babs who don’t count and also Bruce, but he mostly communicates via grunts and scowls anyway, rendering most terminology moot.”

“What’s happening right now?” Her protege asks to no one in particular. Ugh. Unacceptable. She’s taking twenty points from House Twilight whenever she finishes reading those damn books and figures out just how that whole thing works.

“Okay, so the big takeaway from your first lesson here, because fuck that being cryptic noise, mentors who are always like ‘you have to figure out what you’re supposed to be learning here and then also learn it’ like, ugh, no. The worst, seriously.”

Look, occasionally detours are probably inevitable, but the important part is that she remain strong when doggy-paddling determinedly towards her point, because good mentors can handle occasional detours and don’t treat them like Kryptonite that’s gonna kill them all when they’re literally just sparring in the Cave, like, perspective, have some, y’know?

And also they don’t need to stop every couple hours into training so they can have temper tantrums because their kids are like, no dad, we can’t hang out today because that’s a thing that kinda happens when little kid people turn into bigger people people, like oh noes, gasp, horror. And then they have to go stomp around and make that everyone else’s problem because no matter how much they insist they’re loners, they actually really suck at being alone. Even though you’d think that mastering that particular skill would logically come first before you get around to training to say shit like “I am the Night, my dude,” with a straight face.

Its faintly occurring to her that she might actually have unresolved issues about Bruce and her brief apprentice-ship thingie with him. And also maybe its not super awesome conclusion and also the follow-up to all that bit of bother, all of which gargled a fair amount of donkey balls.

Ugh. Epiphanies are such losers. Literally who asked.

“Ahem. Anyway. Big takeaway. Teachable moment. Right. So yeah, first big thing is commitment. You start something, you see it through, got it? In this family and otherwise vaguely affiliated network of mentors and mentees, we don’t do take-backsies, okay? Its a matter of pride. Principle. Also, maybe brain damage. Like I said, this all really started with Dick, and he does get hit and shot in the head a whole lot, so admittedly, the rest of us do have some. Y’know. Questions. Now you sit there and absorb all that for a second. Like a sponge. See yourself as a sponge. Be the sponge. Good sponge.”

Wisdom having been successfully imparted, Steph nods in satisfaction and then spins to take in the rest of the room, hands planted on her hips Wonder Woman style, because power poses are totally gonna be lesson two.

Her eyes find their way to Bruce easily enough, which makes sense seeing as how his scowl takes up half the room. Any room. Okay, at this point she's willing to jot that whole might have issues thing down as okay so maybe she definitely has unresolved issues with Bruce. So what? She also has a protege, albeit one who probably does need some more convincing to fully be on board, but the point remains that like. Whatever. Suck her entire ass.

“Well,” she declares loftily, as if she’s not just talking directly to the B-Man. Plausible deniability, yo. Just because she’s willing to admit to herself that she maybe definitely has issues to still sort through, that doesn’t mean she has to like. Go around admitting that to other people. She’s not some kind of heathen. “I trust that we’ll all remember where we were when it was undeniably revealed that I, Stephanie Brown, do in fact have Wisdom and Experiences to share with the youths of tomorrow. As that is a thing that just happened. Lo!”

“I have witnesses,” Steph declares with the dial set all the way to Peak Drama, because look, if you can’t lean into the drama in Wayne Freaking Manor, life is empty and meaningless and that’s gonna be her supervillain origin story, probably. She throws out an arm towards the rest of the table, encompassing the dual rows of expressions that could best be described as bemused - if she were being generous and also lying out her freaking ass.

Still, she stands firm in the silence that follows her ringing proclamation, allowing not the slightest hint of self-consciousness slip free of her self control, because she’d literally just made a big deal about how it was all about committing, and Stephanie Brown might be many things, but a hypocrite is not one of them.

Well, other than - nope. Not doing that again. Upon reflection and careful examination of what really matters, accuracy also can be invited to suck the proverbial it.

Besides, there’s too much at stake for her to allow any weakness to betray her now. This is a momentous moment. Clash of the Stubbornness kinda stuff. She’s facing down Punky Brucester himself, and on his own turf of all places. Things like principles....and...and being right, all hang in the balance.

And yes, Stephanie is well aware that she has left even Peak Drama in the dust aeons ago, and they’re deep in uncharted waters now, with like, here there be dragons, lurking dramatically. So what if she’s being ridiculous? She maintains that he had started it, she’s like 99% she is being not at all irrational and unreasonable about that, and by God, she will have her vindication or she will have....whatever the tail end of that cliche goes like. Unless its death, because she kinda sorta already did that, and as far as she’s concerned it counted, and either way, she’s way over it and not looking for reruns.

All the while, Bruce stares her down with his face doing that resting I’m Judging You Face thing that nobody can be that oblivious to walking around with all the time, no matter what they may claim in liar-esque fashion.

Though, for all her various unresolved issues with him or whatever, she can admit to herself that the man is a goddamn master of conveying a bitch could care less. She’d sat on gargoyles that had served more face than Mr. I Could Be Listening To You Right Now or I Could Actually Be Thinking Boring Rich Asshole Stuff Like Whats Up With the Stock Market Today, LOL You’ll Never Know.

She upgrades her ‘Think About Issues’ notification to a maybe consider talking to someone about some of this stuff level.

When Bruce’s carefully placid facade finally breaks, then, it doesn’t break so much as it freaking shatters. Further evidence of this definitely being her superpower, which means time to move on to asking like, ugh why such an obnoxiously specific superpower, tho.

“She doesn’t even live here!” Bruce thunders again. Or some synonym that still means loud and forceful but also being desperate and totes whining. The Big Guy turns to face his children imploringly. He throws an arm in Steph’s direction for accusatory emphasis. Y’know. All dramatic like.

Oh shit. Maybe she did pick up some things from him after all.

Ugh. Okay, never mind, its definitely epiphanies that are gonna be her supervillain origin story. Seriously.

Fuck those guys.

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