#His colors confirmed my joke calling Ness

[dynamic-dingo]

Hair ruffling

I waited for his colors to do this specific panel of him. My son's so cute, such a silly guy. I love it.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

[lemons-made-here]

‘Til Alpha Comes Home

Prologue

(A/N) Alpha!Shoto x Omega!Reader, establishes Alpha!Momo x Omega!Ochaco, eventual smut and MomoxOchacoxReader but no adultery. This is the fluffiest thing I’ve written by far. 

Summary :Todoroki is out of Japan for important business meeting, leaving you with another trusted alpha and her omega to take care of you while he’s gone.

Word Count: 1.8k

As always taglists are open and feedback is greatly appreciated, enjoy!

“But Alphaa” You whine, although Shoto got you up before dawn to drive you to your home for the next two weeks, you’re just awake enough to protest.

“Omega, we’ve talked about this” Shoto says sternly, the alpha tone makes your inner omega submit, but in the back of your mind, this still isn’t fair. “I can’t miss this press tour and these meetings, I’ve tried to go through every other possible angle, this is the best route.” You know all of this already, but that doesn’t stop your bottom lip from dropping into a pout.

Shoto turns into the long swirling driveway closed in by a mix of cherry blossoms and weeping willows, with all this foliage, you can’t be sure how long it’ll be until you reach the actual house. You try bargaining one last time.

“Alpha this is my heat you can’t just leave me with some strangers! Why can’t I just tough through this on my own, in the penthouse, with my nest?” Shoto’s glassed over eyes tell you it all before he speaks, he hates leaving you, but this Alpha means you’re in good hands.

Shoto sighs, “They aren’t strangers (Y/N), these are good friends from my UA days, I trust Momo with my life and therefore, you. She’s a good Alpha, she’ll take care of you closest to I would.”

You turn your head to the window to hide your flushing cheeks, even in your cloudy minded heat daze, your heats were memorable to say the least.

“I dropped off scented blankets, pillows and clothes last week, Momo confirmed only the betas in the house have touched them to move them into a scentless room for you to nest. Plus, her omega is a lot like you, I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

As the Bentley pulls in front of the vast mansion, the manicured lawn peppered with pastel forget-me-nots and hyacinths. The Victorian architecture loomed over the two of you as you tailed Shoto, two beta servants grab you things from the back, quickly taking them inside. Shoto stops and turns to you.

“I know this isn’t what you want, I need to know you’re safe and healthy, I can’t leave you all alone to suffer, I- you know how you get during your heats, you can’t eat, drink a thing or sleep without someone there, I don’t need that on my conscience.”

Although you hate to admit it, Shoto is right; before you had an alpha your heats were unbearable, a solid week of throwing up and crying when nothing could satisfy you like a knot. Time after time your parents had sent you to hospitals to recover from the seven day hell. 

Nodding, partly in defeat and partly in agreement, Todoroki smiles and leads you into the house. The two hostesses are in the foyer when you enter, the Alpha Shoto called Momo, nods to you and begins to talk with her plans for the week, general guidelines and needs for when you’re in heat. 

You can’t helping but scrunch your nose at the smell of the two alphas, its not necessarily bad, but the mixing of your alpha’s scent with someone that isn’t you makes your stomach turn.

The alphas stop for a minute, two looking between you and the other omega. You can only see up to her shins from your view of the floor, but her scent is vastly different from what you expected. Its not overwhelming in the slightest, not a hair over too sweet, the aroma of strawberries and lily of the valley put you at ease, just a little.

“Omega” Shoto warns, “It’s not nice to stare, or avoid people, even if they’re new” You cautiously look up to the other omega, and instantly understand her scent. She’s cute, big auburn eyes and a wide smile look back at you, she isn’t much shorter than you but a rush of intimation still rushes down your spine.

“Um, hi” You hum, nodding your head “I’m (Y/N), omega”

“Ochaco, Omega” She smiles, looking to Momo for an approval, once she does, Ochaco engulfs you in a hug, holding you tight, but not too snug.

“I can smell your nerves (Y/N)” Shes says pulling away, rubbing her palms on your upper arms.

“Momo can too” She smiles with a bit of sympathy in her eye “But don’t worry, we’re only here to help, well you’re here so we can help, but that’s beside that point, these two weeks are all about you, so don’t hesitate so holler if you need a thing.”

You can’t help but bite your lip and nod, eyeing the two alphas that have moved from the foyer to the parlor, decked in elegant gold and reds. The couches look almost antique, but still contains a brilliant coloring, the walls were hidden from wall to ceiling in bookshelves or monitors that are currently blank.

Your gaze shifts between the front door and Ochaco, you’ve never felt so out of place. Yes this is technically no different than your penthouse, or when Shoto has his business partners over for dinner, but something’s still off.

“Ochaco darling!” Momo chimes from the other room, smiling at the two of you “Why don’t you show (Y/N) around hmm? I’m sure this is all a lot for her”

Shoto catches your eyes in the last few words, even so far away, he can see you’re tense. He excuses himself from his seat for a moment, striding to face you.

“Doesn’t that sound nice love? Let Uraraka show you the ropes, maybe go check out your nesting room too, I know this is hard baby, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t in good hands” He says, shrugging off his business jacket, freshly scent and draping it around your shoulders. Shoto kisses your forehead and nods toward Ochaco, who’s already making her way up the spiral stairs to what you can assume is her room.

You take Shoto in your embrace, inhaling the rich scent of rain, bonfire and spearmint, your alpha would never lead you wrong.

“I’ll try Shoto, for you”

~~

Ochaco guides you to a majority of the house, winding through hallways and grand meeting rooms alike. Currently sat on the edge  of her nest, you run your thumbs along the ears of the peach stuffed dog you’ve been given, scratching behind the ears through the soft faux fur. The sweet omega continues to chirp about her alpha, the property and the plans she has for the two of you to get to know each other. Your mind and eyes drift, the entire room is comforting to any omega, the walls are bare expect for a few painted daisies and glow stars against the orchid branch wallpaper. Fairy lights line the ceiling while a humidifier sits next to a small end table tacked with more blankets and pillows.

The entire nest is about eight feet in diameter, which isn’t too far off from your own, even with all the similarities, like how Ochaco arranges blankets and sweatshirts nearly exactly how you would, you still sit on the far edge of the nest, barely touching the inside. Your mind rocks back and forth whether to scoot back or just ask to leave, but Ochaco interrupts you first.

“I know this is different and weird and probably really scary for you (Y/N),” She starts, resting her hand on yours “And I would be too, so if there’s anything on your mind or rattling around in your head, pretty please get it off your chest okay?” Those brown doe eyes look up at you through your hair, there’s something in them that tempts you to open up.

“Just between us right? Omega to omega?” You question,

“Absolutely,” She answers in a soft tone “I was wondering if the foyer earlier was part of the problem, but trust me when I say both of our alphas are looking out for your best interest.” She assures, pulling you into the nest

“You know, I wouldn’t have brought you in here if I didn’t trust you, its kinda of insulting you haven’t come in yet, is my nest not good enough for you?” She jokes, laying beside you so you’re at an even height propped up against the cushion of a headboard. “You can ask me anything, (Y/N), I’m an open book, both Momo and Shoto get that this isn’t your norm, and neither of them want you to jump into this scared or uncertain”

You chew on your lip for a minute, thinking. If Shoto trusts these two with his life, why are you still so timid?

“Anything?” You whisper, avoiding Ochaco’s gaze, continuing the play with the ears of the dog

“Anything” She hums, tugging a blanket over your form, wrapping you into her sweet scent. Alike earlier, this mix eases the tension from your shoulders.

“I guess I’m still a little confused” You admit shyly, “You two are here to take care of me? Like babysitting for my heat?”

The other omega lets out a breath through her teeth,

“I wouldn’t put it like that, here, how ‘bout I tell you what I know that way we’ll cover our bases!” She beems, carefully taking your hands into hers, cautious to not step over any boundaries. You nod, and Ochaco pulls you a little closer.

“Well, Shoto’s worried about you being alone, from what I’ve heard he’s bee asking Momo for advice about this for months now, trying to get around every possibly.” You nod again, wiggling yourself so you lay closer to her, head tucked under her chin. It isn’t uncommon for omegas to build relations quicker than alphas, the comfort of another omega rivals the company of a trusted alpha. “So he asked me and Momo ti keep you company during the next two weeks, to make sure you’re comfortable and stay healthy. I’m a lot like you actually, I can’t consume a thing during my heats, most of the time want to curl up and spend time with Momo, so they both thought since our heats are so similar, and that their alpha-ness and habits are so similar, you could call this home for a while. We’re here to take care of you not as babysitters, but more as friends, as people who get what you’re going through.” 

A yawn bubbles from your throat, causing Ochaco to releases one too, rubbing smalls in your back while she continues,

“Just know that we want to help, but we’re not going to push you to do something you don’t want to, we’re going to to and warm up to you yes,” another yawn “But you’re gonna get through your heat safe ans sound” 

Your eyelids become heavy as the scent of the room fills your nose, it isn’t anything like either of you, but its still familiar. The mix of sweet frosting, fruit tart and summer gardens eventually lull you to sleep against the other omega. 

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (8)

The salt has returned. As well as the Protect-Marinette-At-All-Costs Squad.

---

“I can’t believe you’ve never gone bowling before.” Nanette said.

“I was never invited to go bowling.” Kagami shrugged. “Didn’t have a real interest in it either.”

Kagami, Nanette, Quinn, and Marinette were done with school and decided to celebrate the end of their utopia projects by going out bowling. With the weather steadily getting colder the further into the autumn they got they needed to find entertainment inside.

“You are going to love this place. Lots of neon lights, a billiard room, a bunch of arcade games, tons of cheap greasy junk food. It is like the perfect teen hang out.” Quinn wrapped an arm around Kagami and Marinette’s shoulders. “And I get to whip your butts!”

“Wanna bet?” Kagami smirked.

“You may wanna watch yourself, Quinn.” Marinette giggled, “Kagami is a tad...competitive.”

“You mean the all-star fencer has a competitive streak? Who knew!” Nanette joked.

They continued on their way laughing and talking. They were almost to the bowling alley when Marinette froze on the sidewalk.

The others stopped and looked at her confused. Kagami looked around and sighed. Up ahead was a group of Marinette’s old classmates and they were heading straight towards them. No alley to duck into either.

“Hey,” Kagami looped her arm through hers, “It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, “I just…”

“What’s going on?” Nanette asked. “Marinette, are you feeling okay? Do you need to go home?”

“No. I’m fine.” She felt bad for worrying them, “Let’s keep moving.”

Marinette was hoping that the other group would veer off in another direction but they kept steadily approaching them. Maybe if she kept her head down no one would notice.

“Adrien!” Nanette shouted, “Hey, Adrien, over here!”

Nanette, why have you betrayed me? Marinette thought as her pink haired friend waved to the group of oncoming students.

Adrien as well as the rest of the group was right in front of them now. So much for passing by unnoticed.

“Hi, guys,” Adrien waved at their group, “Where are you all off to today?”

“Bowling. Kagami’s never been.” Nanette explained, “Oh, and this is my friend, Quinn.”

“Hey,” Quinn was distracted by how Marinette was squeezing herself behind them. “What is up with you?”

“I--”

“Marinette?” That voice. That sickly sweet, vile, voice struck her to the bone.

Marinette peaked over Quinn’s shoulder. Among the group with Adrien was Alya, Nino, Kim, Max, Alix, and…

“Lila,” Marinette muttered.

“It’s been so long.” Her smile stretched wide, almost like she was showing off all the lies she pressed through her teeth.

“Not long enough.” she spat. Her fear quickly turning into rage as she was put face to face with her enemy once again.

“Oh, you’re still not upset about the expulsion, right?” Lila frowned, “I mean, it was over a month ago.”

“I wasn’t expelled. I transferred.” Marinette didn’t need to keep up any pretense now. She was uninhibited in her dislike and the power both thrilled and scared her. “Now if you don’t mind, my friends and I will be on our way.”

“Oh, don’t leave so fast.” Lila grabbed her arm as she tried to push past, “Aren’t you even gonna introduce me to your new friends?”

Was today gonna be the day Marinette gave someone a bloody nose? Her hand balled into a fist as all her frustration started to accumulate.

“Let go of her,” Kagami pinched Lila’s arm, hard. Lila dropped Marinette immediately.

“Ow!” Lila whined overly dramatically. “Why did you do that?”

Marinette was pulled back to Nanette and Quinn who kept their arms protectively linked with hers.

“Don’t touch my friends.” Kagami leveled her with a single glare.

“Adrien,” Lila turned her pleading eyes to him, “Is my shoulder bruised? I have really sensitive skin. I bruise like a peach.”

“There’s nothing there,” Adrien responded in a deadpan voice.

“Why are you even wearing a tanktop? It’s the middle of October.” Nanette asked.

Lila squeezed herself closer to Adrien, “I’m warm blooded but now that you mention it I am a bit chilled.” She pulled Adrien’s arm around her, “Much better.”

“Here.” Quinn tossed their jacket in Lila’s face. “That should keep you warm.”

Lila tore the jacket off her head. She was close to snapping but kept it on lock. “Thank you.” she stressed, her eyes raking over the worn down jean jacket in her hands, “But I just couldn’t--”

“I insist.” Quinn looked at Adrien, “You wanna come bowling with us, blondie?”

“That does sound fun!” Lila beamed.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Quinn snatched their jacket back from her.

“I don’t want to intrude on your outing.” Adrien said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Quinn grabbed him and pulled him next to them, “I’ve been hearing a lot about you from the girls and would like to confirm if what they said about you is true.”

“What are they saying about me?” Adrien looked back at Kagami and Marinette with a small smile.

“This and that. You in?”

“Sure.”

“Dude, you’re just gonna bail on us?” Nino spoke up.

“He sees you every day at school,” Kagami stated, “He only gets to see us once in a while. So it’s not really bailing. Especially if he wants to come with us more than he wants to stay with you.”

Dang, Kagami! Marinette stared at her. Sure Marinette wasn’t on the best of terms with her old classmates but that was cold. Then again if Kagami hadn’t stepped in earlier Lila would be lying on the ground with a broken nose. The most she would probably regret from that decision is a bruised hand.

Seeing all her old classmates like this Marinette was able to see what Adrien and Aurore had meant. They weren’t exactly zombies but they didn’t look too thrilled to be out. It was almost like they had gotten dragged along and didn’t have any fight in them to object. It may have been sad if they hadn’t assisted in her bullying induced transfer to a different school across town.

The rest of the students shuffled their feet muttering goodbyes and quietly ushering a red faced Lila past Marinette’s group.

“I like your sweater,” Alya murmured on her way past, “It’s really cute.”

Marinette’s heart lurched as her former best friend gave her a waning smile before moving on with the others.

“Thanks,” Marinette said quietly. Alya was too far down the street to have heard her.

“Okay!” Nanette clapped her hands together, “That was a whole new level of uncomfortable.”

“Yeah…” Quinn and Nanette were looking at Marinette again. A million questions waiting unanswered on their tongues.

“Everything okay with you?” Adrien asked breaking her attention away. “Lila…”

“I’m fine.” she stammered, “We were bowling right? Let’s go do that.”

“Marinette--”

“I’m fine!’ she snapped as she moved on ahead of the others. “I just...I just really want to get a good bowling ball before all the nice ones are taken.”

Her friends weren’t convinced but it was obvious she wasn’t going to talk about the confrontation right now. Not that she could keep avoiding it. Eventually she was gonna have to vent. Not even five minutes around Lila again and Marinette was ready to blow her fuse.

They got to the bowling alley and tied on their shoes. Nanette was typing in the names on the scoreboard while explaining the rules to Adrien and Kagami. Quinn sat down next to Marinette. “I found you a pink bowling ball.” they handed it to her. “Your favorite color, right?”

“Yep,” Marinette took the ball, “Thanks, Quinn.”

“I know it’s not my place to pry but you know if you need to talk then we’re all here for you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself.”

“I know.” she leaned her head on their shoulder, “I appreciate it.”

“And if for some reason you need us to kick someone’s butt we got you covered. Outside of Kagami basically being an attack dog. Did you see her face when that girl grabbed you?” Quinn made a scary face, “Hoo, I thought she was gonna break her arm. But you also got me, the first pick for dodgeball superstar and Nanette who has really sharp long nails.”

“My own little army,” she laughed, “I feel safer already.”

“Good,” they smiled.

“Marinette!” Nanette swiveled around in her chair, “Your name doesn’t fit in the slot so I just put Mari.”

“Mari?”

“What’s wrong with Mari? Everyone calls me Nani.”

“Nothing. It’s just that no one ever calls me Mari.” Marinette shrugged.

“Really? That true?” Nanette looked at Adrien and Kagami.

“She never asked to be called by a nickname.” Adrien shrugged. “Besides, Marinette is a pretty name.”

“But Mari sounds so cute. Also, as friends it is our duty to assign cute and embarrassing nicknames. Isn’t that right, Applesauce?”

“Nanette!” Quinn snapped, their face going red, “I swear to Loch Ness if you call me Applesauce again!”

“Why does she call you--”

“Don’t ask.”

“Awe, come on Quinny, what’s so wrong with--”

“Wettie Nettie.”

Nanette looked at them horrified, “We agreed that that nickname would die in a hole never to see the light of day again.”

“Yeah, but we also said the same thing about Applesauce. So if we’re taking embarrassing old nicknames out of retirement…”

“Fine. Truce. Shut up.” Nanette grumbled and went back to typing in names.

“Do I wanna know the story behind either of these?” Marinette asked.

“It’s better if you don’t. Just know that they are best left forgotten forever.”

“Wait, does Wettie Nettie have anything to do with that day the air conditioning at school--”

“Kagami,” Quinn was furiously shaking their head, “Do not engage.”

“Got it.” they all relaxed as they started the first round of bowling. Quinn and Nanette were dominating with Kagami right on their tails. For someone who had never played before she was doing very well. Better than Marinette and Adrien that is. Gutterball after gutterball.

“You need the bumpers up, blondie?” Quinn teased.

“You joke but I may actually need them if I want to get any points.” Adrien sighed as he sent his neon green bowling ball down the lane. And it spun right into the gutter again. “Come on! What am I doing wrong?”

“Take a walk, Adrien,” Nanette patted him on the back, “Marinette, you’re up.”

Please, oh please, Marinette begged in her mind, give me some Ladybug luck. She took a deep breath and threw her ball out into the lane. Keeping straight...keeping straight...turning slightly...and…

“STRIKE!” Marinette jumped for joy, “I got a strike!”

“Good job, Marinette,” Kagami said, “It was an excellent turn.”

“Now just do that for the rest of the game and you may come in second to last instead of dead last.” Quinn joked, “I’m pretty sure your model friend isn’t gonna get anything above a spare.”

Marinette did in fact not get dead last but had tied for last place with Adrien which she supposed was better. Quinn was raining champion with Nanette missing out by just two points and Kagami missing out by a mere handful.

“Alrighty then, losers buy the food,” Nanette grinned at Adrien and Marinette, “And since you two were dead last…”

“I don’t remember agreeing to those terms.” Marinette pouted.

“It’s no big deal, Marinette,” Adrien took out his wallet, “I was the real loser. I’ll pay.”

“Yeah. Make money bags pay.” Quinn ruffled Adrien’s hair, “Get three orders of the biggest fries they have. Extra greasy. Extra cheesy.”

Kagami put a hand over her mouth, “That sentence made me puke a little.”

“Live a little, Kagami,” Quinn and Nanette sided her, “When was the last time you ate something truly bad for you?”

“Bad for me like a heart attack,” Kagami shuddered, “I don’t think I should.”

“How about a game of air hockey? If I win you eat. I you win then you can order a salad and be sad with your healthy living.” Quinn challenged.

“You’re on.” Kagami’s competitive nature won out and the pair raced to the arcade to settle the score.

“I better make sure those two don’t send a puck through a wall.” Nanette rolled her eyes and chased after them.

“And I’ll help you carry the food, I guess,” Marinette followed Adrien to the concession. They ordered a little bit of everything and five large glasses of soda before returning to their table.

“Besides being absolutely dreadful at bowling this afternoon has been pretty fun.” Marinette said as she settled the tray of food down.

“It was a lot more fun than what I was doing before you showed up.” Adrien took a sip of his soda, “I don’t know how I got roped into that outing with Lila.”

“I was meaning to ask about that.” Marinette scooted her chair in closer, “Why were you out?”

“A rare free afternoon and plans with the boys quickly turned into a group outing with Alya and Alix which wasn’t bad until Lila caught wind of our plans and invited herself. Unfortunately I didn’t have a good enough reason to tell her no. Lila didn’t want to go to the movie we were planning on seeing so we just started walking around town looking for something to do.”

“So we swooped in for the rescue.” Marinette felt sorry that Lila was still running the school with reckless abandon. What was Chloe doing? She was supposed to be keeping Lila in line. Come on, Queen Bee!

“Stop pouting, Quinn,” Kagami and Nanette returned with a sour faced Quinn, “No one likes a sore loser.”

“She beat you?” Adrien laughed.

“Not a single point.” Nanette was holding in her laughter, “It was actually kinda sad.”

“Shut up, Nani,” Quinn grabbed one of the baskets of fries and shoveled them into their mouth by the fistful. “What were you two talking about?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say we were having a venting session over Lila?” Kagami guessed.

“Yep.” Marinette grimaced into her glass.

Nanette and Quinn shared another uneasy look as if to say who was gonna ask. “Marinette?” Nanette asked, “Does this Lila person have anything to do with why you transferred schools?”

“Well...um…” she looked to Adrien for support. He grabbed her hand giving her the courage to face this terrible tale once again. “Settle in, this is a bit of a downer.”

So she told them all about what happened with Lila. All her plans to sabotage Marinette and her threats to ruin her finally succeeding in pushing her out of the school. She got choked up when she mentioned how it seemed none of her friends were on her side, except for Adrien of course.

By the end both Nanette and Quinn were red in the face. “That little--” Nanette looked like she was going to pop a blood vessel, “I’m gonna go in the bathroom and scream. One second.” She stormed off.

“Are you serious? That twerp we met outside got away with all of that?” Quinn’s nostrils flared. “Who’s got an address? I wanna have a little chat with this pest.”

“Quinn, it’s not--”

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” A scream from the bathroom silenced everyone in the bowling alley. Nanette stomped back out and sat back in her chair. “I’m better.”

“You sure?” Kagami quipped, “Didn’t strain a vocal chord screaming bloody murder?”

“There’s gonna be a bloody murder!” Quinn pounded their fist on the table.

“Guys, please,” Marinette pleaded with them to calm down, “I appreciate the concern but it doesn’t matter now. I left of my own accord to get away from her and start fresh. If I never see her again it’ll be too soon.”

“But she was so--so--”

“Evil!” Nanette finished. “She’s plain evil!”

“She’s also a talented liar. I’ve tried taking her on before and it cost me my friends and my school. Karma will sort her out for me.”

“You seriously believe that?”

“I have to. It’s all I feel I can do.” Marinette felt another hand grasp hers.

“If she ever does come after you again,” Kagami said, “You’ll have us behind you.”

The others nodded. Marinette let out a breath of relief and gazed at her wonderful friends. “Thank you. You are great. Truly.” she leaned her head on Kagami’s shoulder, “And now that the emotional breakdown is out of the way, who wants me to pulverize them at Street Fighter?”

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (9)

[chronicbatfictioner]

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 25

"Ready?"

"Let it roll, Demetrius."

"Come and get me, Lysander."

Tim watched from the rafters as Dick and Jason bantered easily, both already in costume. Tonight will be Jason's 'farewell' from A Midsummer Night's Dream. For good. He would be Demetrius, and get his self-proclaimed "lifelong dream of fighting Dickiebird." Stephanie will continue to be Puck. The house was filled to the brims, tickets flying out the ticketmasters as soon as the show was announced a few weeks ago. Tonight will be Jason's final appearance in Midsummer, and his premiere return to the Wayne House's roster.

All on his 17th birthday.

And Tim will record them all in photographs, including the pre-curtain call bickering.

"Hey little bird, come down here for a sec." Jason suddenly called him. Tim obliged and swung himself down, landing right in front of Jason. "How about a good luck kiss?" Jason asked, wrapping his arms around Tim.

"You know that cavorting me could get you arrested, right?" Tim joked, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pressing himself closer to Jason. It took the family all but three dates in two weeks to catch on. And Tim could still see Bruce's tender smile and Dick's unabashed squeal when he and Jason confirmed that they were going out. Oh, that, and a plethora of condoms that magically appeared in his bedroom drawers - and he suspected in Jason's too. Because... well, Tim still wasn't sure if it was Dick or Stephanie; or the conspiracy between the two who would always feign innocence whenever they were confronted.

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're two years younger, Timothy. Not twenty." he scowled.

"Okay then," Tim stood on tiptoe, pressing a kiss onto Jason's lips. Savoring the warmth, the slight taste of chocolate and mint, and Jason-ness. Until somebody coughed behind him.

"Get a room, children." Stephanie scowled. "Now come give me my good luck kiss, mascot!" she demanded, tugging Tim's shirt.

"Mascot?!?" Tim squawked indignantly. But he kissed Stephanie, anyway, way more chaste than his kiss for Jason.

"Oh, I agree. Stay small, Timbit." Harper chimed in and stole a kiss on Tim.

"Why do I get to be a mascot??" Tim whined. "Also, Harper, you're not getting on stage. Why are you kissing me??"

"Because we love you, squirt." Dick declared, adding, "The one true Robin Goodfellow of the House of Wayne." before settling on bear-hugging Tim.

"Good luck, guys." Tim finally managed, after the entire cast went past him. Except Jason. "Good luck," Tim told Jason, as the latter stood in front of him looking whimsical. "I'm definitely not gonna tell you to break anything." Tim grinned. Jason might still need a crutch when walking on stage; but the costume department worked around the clock to create a costume that would provide a crutch for Jason's legs, yet not looked out of place in the period costume.

"Mascot..." Jason mused, sidling closer to Tim again and placed his hands on either side of Tim's waist. "You're my mascot, birdie."

Tim pouted at him jokingly. "Fine," he said, standing on his tiptoe to hook his chin on Jason's shoulder as Jason swayed them both slightly.

"Wanna make it permanent?"

"In five to six years, maybe. Ask me again." Tim grinned, feeling the pitter-patter of his heart.

A flash suddenly sparked from their left, and Tim looked around just in time to see Barbara grinning impishly. "For posterity's sake." she said, waving her cellphone. "Alfred will want this framed."

Tim laughed, tightening his arms around Jason. There will be more photos and memories, he was sure. The bird photo, the little red robin that started to fix everything, has been framed in a human-sized frame in front of Jason's bed over the fireplace. "Just to remind me that I'm home," Jason had said. "maybe one day I'll replace that thing with like, a tiger or whatever's deemed masculine or a superhero or something. Right now, I just want it there."

Tim believed him. After all, it was the bird who had brought Jason home.

At the night's end, when Bruce called everyone on stage for an encore, somebody dragged Tim along. "Come on, Tim! Get on there!"

It took Tim a few seconds to realize that it was Cullen, who unceremoniously tossed him into Jason's arm just as Bruce called, "...and this family, the family of the Wayne and Kane House, thankd you all for coming and welcoming our family to entertain you. We could never make it without you!" he turned, glaring at Tim at the last word.

Tim hid his blushing face on Jason's chest, and felt the rumble of laughter. "he's right," Jason remarked. "Take a bow, Timmers!" he pushed Tim forward a little, in time for Bruce to remark, '...to introduce to you, the true Robin Goodfellow of our House: Tim Drake!'

Tim glared at the lights and silhouettes of people behind it for several long seconds until somebody grabbed his shoulder. "Bow!" Jason's voice insisted.

So Tim took a few bows, amidst the applause.

"Tim might not be right there on the stage, but he keeps the memories of our house alive and archived." Bruce explained. "...and starting tomorrow, we shall present to you some of the archives, with commentaries from those who were there--"

Oh, right. Tonight might be Jason's last night in 'Midsummer Night's'. But tomorrow, Tim's gallery would open, right there at the Wayne House's lobby, to display the photographs he had taken through the years. It was Jason's idea, and Bruce supported it thoroughly; and then promoted it to the point where there was no way Tim could get away from it.

And Tim knew, it was for him. So that he shall be known as Tim the photographer. Not Tim the poor not-actor child of actor-and-actress Jack and Janet Drake. Not Tim the replacement Puck. Just as Tim, the photographer. Memory-keeper.

Tim looked at Jason, still a little flabbergasted long after they all got off the stage. "Whaddya say we make more memories, birdie?" Jason said, handing him a bag.

Tim laughed. "This is your birthday! I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift!"

"Consider that thing a belated birthday gift. I'm still gonna be paying for it through the next few gigs." Jason grinned. "Go on, open it!"

Tim grinned, reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow-pad-paper wrapped box. He rolled his eyes. "Really," he deadpanned.

"Stuff it. I can't find anyone who'll get me pretty papers to wrap it who won't tattle on me to you." Jason scowled. "Just tear through it!"

"I will, oh my gosh, patience!" Tim retorted, and decided to do just asked, tear through it - after failing to find the ending of the sellotape. He gasped once it was opened. "Oh my god! Jason!"

"Yeah, hi. I don't know if it's good or not. I just asked the guy at the store for the best there is and he gave me this. It's not the most expensive, but like, he said-- he said it's the best and all that... especially for motion and/or high activity and--" Jason spluttered.

"Jason. shut up! This is awesome!" Tim tore through the box of the high-end camera he had been saving up to buy. And then remembered something. "You owed somebody for this."

"Sure, Bruce. I'm paying it with my salary." Jason shrugged.

"Jason, you don't have to--"

"Oh no, I don't have to," Jason cut him off. "I just want to. That's one thing that'll worth my weight in gold in your hands." He paused suddenly, expression turned solemn. "It was your photo that brought my memory back. The gallery might be a mere colorful and fun pictures to see for everyone else. For me, it's... the literal thing that's worth all the gold in the world, right? I mean," he shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway. Everything started with your camera, right? I'd like it to end with your camera and retain your love of it. Hopefully, of me, too."

Tim smiled shyly. "That's really cheesy," he commented. "but profound."

"I'm made of profundity."

Tim snorted and laughed. "Cheesy McCheese with extra cheese on profundity. You're alright," he said.

"Yeah, you too, birdie." Jason ruffled his hair. "Now let's go to the mess hall. Alfred's gonna kill us if I'm late. I'm the birthday boy, after all!" Even after Jason refused a birthday party, Alfred still insisted on throwing a post-show celebration dinner for all of them. Emphasis on 'them' instead of Jason, and thus prevented Jason from bailing out entirely.

"Thank you," Tim said, a little belatedly as they walked side by side to the dining hall - the 'mess' hall.

"Timmy, just let me know whatever you need to keep you happy, yeah?"

"Diamond blings?"

"Anything that doesn't require the blood of innocent. Besides, aren't you a little too young for diamonds?"

Tim laughed. "Anything?"

"Yep, you've done so much for the lot of us. Let us - me, especially - help you stay happy."

Tim paused at the door of the dining hall, letting Jason walked in first and basked in the 'happy birthday' greetings. Everyone was there. There were new people - imports from the Kane House when they merged with Wayne House; including Kate Kane herself who was sitting next to Barbara. The two redheads - Kate with her bob-cut and Barbara with her long flowing locks - looked almost like sisters. Even Barbara's father, James Gordon, was there.

Otherwise, most were the people Tim has gotten to know for quite some time. In other occasions, the family would sit everywhere they want. Tonight, they were grouped at the head of the table, with two empty chairs for Jason and Tim placed side-by-side. All have started eating, but given Alfred's propensity for - at least - six-course meals, they weren't going to be finished soon.

Jason took a seat nearer to the head of the table, next to Bruce; and Tim took the next one. Dick and Barbara across them, next to each other.

Tim didn't want to cringe, but he must have - because Jason elbowed him lightly just when Bruce started tinkling his spoon against his wine glass. "Everyone, may I have your attention please!" he called out and stood up.

Jason groaned unabashedly. "I thought the speech part is over..."

"I'm a dramatic person. Bear with me." Bruce quipped. "Pardon me for interrupting your feast. But I thought it would be proper to make it official. Let this feast be the mark of the new Wayne and Kane House of Family Theater. May it bring happiness to those who came across it; and deter anyone thinking to cross it." There were choruses of 'amen', 'hear ye!' and the equivalent thereof. "Enjoy the meal!" Bruce closed and sat back down amidst the applause. "As for you two, young men..." he glared at Tim and Jason alternately.

"Ruh-roh..."

"We in trouble, Scoob..." Tim squeaked jokingly.

"No you're not in trouble. Not now, at least - or not that I know of..." Bruce turned toward Alfred with one eyebrow cocked in question. Alfred's small smirk assured him. "Just... if either of you find any mischiefs that might be a long con, let me know, yeah? I might hire somebody to make a play out of it."

"Whaaa...??" Jason squawked. "Seriously??"

"Yes," Bruce assured him. "I have started the process - just an outline for now. It would be great if you can help me with some of the details. Not to capitalize on your misery, but..."

"Oh no, I'm not offended. My entire life in the past few years could be enough to be a PSA warning for anyone looking for all that glitters in Hollywood. I'm just... who'd be interested in that kind of cliché?"

"Sane people," Kate Kane replied with a small smirk. "And you're right, it could be a PSA. But it will be a start. I shall lead the script-writing department, and I would love some help, if neither of you all mind." she addressed the last comment to include Barbara and Dick.

"I'll do the proofreading part. When it comes to imagination, you might want to rely on these two--" Barbara pointed to Jason and Dick. "fact checks, him or me." she added, pointing to Tim. "Schematic or pattern check, him."

"Cool! So we get to tell the adventure - our adventure, with a lot of artistic liberty. Can we make the villain look like, really creepy? 'It' clown kind of creepy?" Jason wanted to know.

"We can do whatever we want," Bruce agreed. "You can be in drag if you want - because I can always rely on Barbara to assess the rating later."

Tim looked at Jason, the latter looking excited at the prospect and started suggesting medieval and/or early 18th century Americas as the background, and started bickering with Dick about the lack of youtube in either era which would "poke a hole on the plot so big your ego could drive through it,"

Tim looked up just in time to catch a soft smile on Alfred's commonly-stoic face. The old man caught his eyes, and smiled at him. Tim smiled back.

Tonight might be the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream; but for the Wayne and Kane House, tonight shall be the first step to the future.

[mathewryf]

things that clicked in my head while reading this, in synchronous chronological order!

- this seems to roll in with Burgerpants's characterization in deltarune, where he seems to be intently focused on picking up chicks and the like. I.E. he's the type to wolf whistle and whatnot. That said, her lack of knowledge of corporeal fragility makes for a very horrifying thought about what her reaction would have been if she accidentally killed Burgerpants. Interesting concept to pocket.

- this sort of reminds me of Papyrus's comedic schtick in his fight after you use the "Flirt" option, in which papyrus puts all kinds of beauty supplies behind his ears, only to realize he has no ears. Not to mention that a lot of monster food is made of stuff humans wouldn't normally find edible, like the water sausage hot dogs.

- this seems like VERY OMINOUS foreshadowing of some sort to me, or at the very least a huge allusion to the concepts of alternate universes in which one very important element is omitted or altered. For example, GonerKid and HIM not truly existing in most or all runs (you know who I'm talking about). Alternatively, looking at the post No-Mercy Pascifist ending, the first fallen human in place of Frisk.

- That is definitely a funny jab at Five Nights at Freddy's. Funny enough Maddie here being used in a FNAF inspired joke is not a first for UNDERTALE, as @delta-experiment did a very fun sequence along the same lines! That said, the presence of a "Purple Guy" at ICE-E's P"E"ZZA in the world of deltarune, it makes me believe we're going to be visiting some dark concepts at the restraunt. Maybe it might even be a setting for a Dark World location!

- Another fun jab at fandom culture and the varrying interpretations of the fans when it comes to their favorite things. That said, considering Alphys's changed opinion in deltarune compared to UNDERTALE, one has to wonder how this exchange would change in THAT world. Strangely, it's almost as if Mad Mew Mew might be a better fitting piece in the other world in that regard. Another concept to pocket... (Also if this is the dialogue I think it is, the knives joke is a funny nod to both the initial Mad Dummy fight and the Yandere trope).

- While helping Blooky and whoever Mettaton was before they became Mettaton... there is still the unsolved mystery of WHO THE HELL THE GHOST IN THE RUINS DUMMY IS. Not to mention, Maddie calls attention to the fact that the ruins dummy ghost is their COUSIN. Meaning that, unless the ghost is blooky themself, we have an entire ass GHOST still unnamed and unnaccounted for. Not to mention they clearly couldn't become corporeal themself, considering the lack of action the dummy has (though this may be more akin to how Mad Dummy helps Undyne by being a punching bag).

- I remembered something about the other places Red Text shows up. Namely, it only shows up when intense personal feelings are involved. The Fallen Human in No Mercy tends to get particularly intense when stuff from their former life is inspected. With Maddie here they had finally claimed the Mew Mew body for the sake of transitioning to a corporeal form. In an act made of a pinch of desperation, she jumped fully into character to preserve the vessel she had claimed, and the intensity of her feelings came through strong enough to be presented with Red Text. This seems to fall more inline with what many community members have been theorizing: that the color RED falls in line with the trait of being "yourself", or in Homestuck terms (apparently), the trait of "YOU-ness". I suppose in some way, this confirms that even in No-Mercy, no matter how screwed up in the head they are, even the first fallen human cannot fully distance themself from who they are or were completely. Much the same way that Flowey couldn't truly escape his "Asriel-ness". In otherwords, the first fallen human and Flowey really ARE the same, and by that logic, in spite of everything, the fallen human must still have the same wish to feel something again.

- yup, just like Mettaton, Mew Mew really REALLY cares about Napstablook. They are all family, and like any family that truly cares about each other, they will find some way to come together towards the end. Thinking back on a point I made earlier, her dialogue about the statue does actually make some sense for Blooky. The white suit, the tie... it lends to a very Dapper look for a Dapper Blook. If anything, maybe it does make sense why Napstablook could be the ruins ghost. Their emotions are very subdued and withdrawn, which according to Mew Mew and Mettaton (somewhat), would inhibit their ability to merge with their vessel and become corporeal. As for the bad influence thing... truth is, I think that may be a bit of projection from Mew Mew, or at the very least it may be a sort of tug of war pride thing. It honestly feels like Mew Mew and Mettaton are both trying to one up the other in trying to help Blooky... only to be pushing them away. In fact, the Alarm app dialogue makes it more obvious just how similar the two are in both that respect and a few others. By the end of the dialogue though, it's clear that despite their glorious Kombat getting out of hand, they ultimately don't hate each other. They just want to see the people they care about happy and well. Also the familiarity thing... good god many of us were convinced that the house next to Napstablook's was Mettaton's at first but now? After all the extra content? There's just as good a chance it belonged to Mew Mew. Or hell, it may have even belonged to BOTH. I the journals inside and the inability to inspect anything else make it hard to tell. Not to mention both Mettaton and Mew Mew have a very pink motif most of the time.

- Undyne it a baseball cap... come to think of it, her Cop outfit in deltarune does come VERY close. Her role as a gym teacher in a few neutral endings means she might wear one on the regular, much the way most gym teachers do. That's what... 4 or 5 ways this all links back to concepts in deltarune in some way? Very interesting

- the Dog residue joke is hilarious, since that is a legitimate way to earn infinite money. Not to mention the same dialogue mentions "rolling around in flakes", a-la temmie flakes! (provided I read that correctly). Also someone taking over Sans' job and him not coming back to it is pretty funny and lore accurate.

- A shoddily made body, eh? Sounds like that form won't last long without some help. It wouldn't hurt for her to ask Alphys for some upgrades. That said, it would lead to Mew Mew eventually putting the pieces together in her head on how Mettaton actually came about. You could say such a truth could lead to reconciliation. It wouldn't be too conceptually dissimilar to RG01 and his crush on RG02, or the cut rekindled friendship between RG03 and RG04. And also the Amalgamates with Alphys. In fact there's a lot of moments like that, and there will probably be a LOT more to come.

- The lack of taste is mentioned both here AND in the Alarm Clock dialogue. Being unable to use all of your senses is sensible (Nyeheheheh) for someone that isn't entirely alive yet.

aaaaand text wall done, I need to lay down.

Things We Learned About Mad Mew Mew in the Xbox Port

Source!

/

Source 2

- She hates Burgerpants and finds him creepy.

- She thinks beauty cream is a food and tried to get Burgerpants to make ice cream out of it… and then tried to screw his head on “better.”

- She likes to cut MTT’s pictures out of the menu at the burger emporium and replace it with pictures of herself.

- Her voice box makes demonic noises if left uncharged and her body reacts to button prompts in a video game. She used that fact to jumpscare Alphys.

- She prefers Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 and Alphys hates the way she “misrepresents” Mew Mew’s character.

- She wants to help an unspecified ghost get a new body. It’s unclear if she means Napstablook or Mettaton’s ghost self (not realizing he IS Mettaton).

- She can speak in red text.

- She calls Napstablook Blooky and cares about them a lot. She worries that MTT is a bad influence and also has yet to tell them who she is… and feels like she can’t. HMMM, sounds familiar!

- She thinks Undyne would look cute in a baseball cap.

- She wants to make money selling dog residue and just casually took over Sans’ poker table when he was gone.

- She emits smoke from her mouth sometimes because her body is shoddily made.

She can’t taste anything until she merges with her body. New ghost lore confirmed?

In other words, she is wonderful and I am so glad we got more characterization for her.

[thatsnotlokithatsrubbish]

On gossip communities as spaces of regressive speech, part ∞

Not much is going on right now on Tom Hiddleston’s camp - that we know of. Fans are fretting over lack of project announcements; others are entertaining themselves by digging up old stale nonsense to placate their scorn needs; mainstream media is still scratching up for clicks via buzz words, like ‘Bond’, to pay up their bills while at the same time, pathetically contributing to their own demise by feeding the tsunami of fake news; the vast majority of the public goes on not giving much of a crap either way. All in all, the usual. Among all this normality, there’s something I would like to call attention to, for both future reference, and simple layman sociological curiosity. Explaining.

Last week or so ago, a Michael Fassbender interview got published, and in it, Fassbender was asked about the tendency some have to confuse him with Tom Hiddleston, with his answer being

“ I can see the similarities, but I’m better looking than him [laughs]. Other than that, yes. I like Tom. “

Which to me, sounds like a perfectly standard, acceptable sort of retort. Setting aside the fact that had Tom answered in the same lines when he got asked the exact question before, he would have been crucified to depths of Hell, but we’ll get to this in a minute. Or so.

Now, as I said, I hold no bad will towards Fassbender. This is not an exercise of shifting some sort of “blame” or attempt at smearing him in any way what so ever, but simply an analysis of some of the reactions that quote got, the social implications of those reactions, and the still very present issues those reactions reveal.

Cue the gossip communities, and their plucky take on Fassbender’s  words: it - of course - devolved in to a gush of Tom slugging, not just his looks, but, more importantly, his character getting ridiculed and belittled, all instigated by another actor making a basic quip. Such depths of pent up rage being released by something so harmless, is quite the sight. A, well, “fine”, example of this, came from a post at Celebitchy’s blog, and I quote, emphasis mine:

“ I know he was just joking around, but is that a thing?  Do people really confuse Fassbender and Hiddleston?  That is… unfortunate.  They are completely different kinds of dudes with completely different accents and vibes and everything.  The one thing I’ll give you is that Fassbender can do a pretty posh-sounding British accent so maybe that reminds people of Tom? Oh, I’ll also give you this: they’re both sort of gingery, but obviously Fassbender is full-ginger and Tom tries to hide his ginger-ness.  But still, it’s like comparing apples to oranges. Apples being well-hung Irish-German sex maniacs who could have sexual chemistry with mailboxes, and oranges being twee, posh, vaguely asexual Englishmen who cry to GQ about breaking up with Taylor Swift.  I’m just saying, it’s difficult to assess what different people will find attractive.  Hiddleston is like a delicate, pretty bird who weeps after sex.  Fassbender is like the handsome con-man who will steal all of your money but only after he bangs you properly. ”

Uuuh... burn! Take down that birdie-bird of a man, you brave person, you. Setting aside the sorry mistake on Tom’s hair color, I would like to point to the bolded words. I’m not twirling further around the subject: it’s destructive sexism at its worst. It’s the sort of speech that ruins the lives of an hefty number of men, by ridiculing them when they reveal and are clear about their feelings. It’s the sort of speech that leads abused women to accept their SO’s abuse not only as normal, but actually part of an enviable man-woman relationship. It’s the sort of speech that reinstates the social ideals that Man must act like ‘Big Bad Ogre’, and Woman must act like ‘Princess Being Conned’, or suffer the consequences. That men that don’t follow a strict set of gendered rules, don’t actually have a sex (let’s not kid ourselves: that’s what “asexual” means in that context, since this quote is clearly not an all inclusive take on Human sexuality, but a way to pettily insult a target). That men that don’t present themselves as “sex maniacs”, are not quite men, and should be mocked. “I’m just saying”, that’s what that quote stands for.�� As much as we, (or most of us? I think?...) like to criticize Redpill, those bolded lines are not only normalizing the alpha-dude premise, but actually making it desirable, while, at the same time, making the abuse of the female part, a necessary consequence. It confirms, by both main text, AND subsequent comments, the “Girls only like bad guys, nice guys finish last” bitter complaints, with all the negative impact this has to healthy relationships among individuals of different sexes.

The droves of disgust over Tom Hiddleston presented as the sensible, civil, amicable, inoffensive man are a sociology case-study of its own. The acerbic, let’s define it for what it is, hate against Hiddleston, is so ingrained, these same people who are praising Fassbender for his jokey retort, would absolutely decimate Tom had he responded in the same tone. While there’s also a UK class issue being exploited there for greater level of indignation, it’s clear there’s another set of problems people have with him: that Tom Hiddleston doesn’t follow the right gender rules, thus is to be punished and scorned for being so, Tom Hiddleston still has the nerve to think he has a right to speak up, so let’s spit on him for being “thirsty”, Tom Hiddleston won’t bite back, so let’s use him to quench our slaughter at the arena thirst.

I’ve said before - and I thought this was a wacky over-reaction of my part back then -, that, had Tom been accused of abusing a woman, instead of praising her and getting sensitive about it, he would have, in the long run, little to no issue in the court of public opinion. Celebitchy’s words and blog comentariat prove that I was wrong: I wasn’t over-reacting. Still in today’s public sphere, a man not following gender roles and actually presenting himself as sensitive, open and vulnerable is still perceived as a despicable character flow, while a man abusing women, is actually presented as... desirable! I must state again, this is no attempt at passively attacking Fassbender: now, he was once accused of abuse, but since charges got dropped, the issue dies there. This is not about Fassbender’s past, and had he not been accused of anything, Celebitchy’s scorn would still hold quite the seriously regressive message. But the fact that there were once accusations, does add quite the layer of, what I can only define as what-the-fuckery to the gossip communities’ reactions.

This type of speech not only reiterates the regressive notions regarding male-female relationships, but also reinforces the idea those who are harmless and vulnerable, are to be stepped on and trashed, while those who praise themselves and hold an aura of perceived violence, are to be admired and defended. So, way to prop up both reactionary attitudes towards gender and sex, AND feeding in to the Cult of the Bully, gossip enthusiasts! I’m sure you’ll keep up the good work.

[johncarney-blog1]

UnBearable: The Unbelievable Awfulness Of The Berenstain Bears

(Note: This originally ran in the Fall 2012 issue of Scooter, the now-defunct parents magazine published by the New York Observer. Scooter’s website no longer works, so I’m putting this up here.)

Late last October, I found myself looking for a children’s book about Thanksgiving, something to introduce my two-and-half year old daughter to the approaching holiday. Owing to a surprising dearth of children’s literature about this cherished autumn feast, I wound up with The Berenstain Bears Give Thanks.

Here’s what happens in the book: Papa Bear has been doing work for a local farmer, who pays with a live turkey. Sister Bear adopts the turkey as a pet and refuses to eat turkey at Thanksgiving. The family relents and eats fish for Thanksgiving instead.

Give Thanks is part of the Berenstain’s “Living Light” series, a subdivision of Berenstain country in which lessons about God are imparted. I have no idea why the Berenstain God approves the eating of fish but not turkey on Thanksgiving. But I do know that the last thing a parent of a toddler needs is literary and faith-based encouragement for picky eating.

After just a few doses of that finicky Sister Bear’s behavior, my daughter arrived at her grandparents’ home for Thanksgiving with a driving passion against eating turkey. To her, the main point of the holiday appeared to be about avoiding the consumption of turkey, as it was for Sister Bear. For all I know, her two-year-old theology thought God hated turkey eaters. Thanks, Berenstains!

Berenstains will infiltrate your life in a number of ways. A well-meaning friend brings a Berenstain Bears book to a birthday party. Your mother in-law visits with a well-worn copy from your spouse’s childhood library. Perhaps you pick up one of the Berenstain books because of the relevance of its theme. This is one of the Berenstain Book Industrial Complex’s tricks: there are hundreds of titles, one for almost any occasion: a Valentine’s Day book, a first-day-at-school book, a budget-cuts-shutting-down-a-school-play-ground book, even a neighborhood-racial-integration book.

Since you are not an imbecile, you are initially put off by the hideous cover. It is sure to feature four or five members of the Berenstain family—all absurdly and insultingly ugly. Mama Bear is wearing a hat or, more commonly, a bonnet—a bonnet!—and a dress that looks like it was smuggled off the grounds of a breakaway post-Mormon polygamist cult. Brother Bear and Sister Bear are identical except for their clothes—blue slacks for Brother, some hideous pink romper for Sister. Papa Bear somehow wears overalls all of the time. Honey Bear, the baby of the family introduced in 2000, seems to be thrown in as an afterthought—which, in fact, she was.

Open the book and the situation is no better. The illustrations would be dull if the colors were not so garish. The bears typically stand around in wooden poses with not a suggestion of dynamism or movement. Their faces bear no indication of thought or emotional presence, unless a grin or grimace counts towards such a thing. Not a hint of charm or whimsy or technique redeems any of the art. The bears are devoid of wit. It’s a wonder anyone would inflict these pictures on a story that someone had actually taken the time to write.

At this point, if you are lucky or particularly wise, you will have set aside the Berenstain Bears. Preferably far from home, somewhere it will never be discovered by your offspring. If you are unlucky or unwise, the book will find its way into the proximity of your child. You will be asked to read the book. This is your last chance. You must refuse to read it. Do anything but read it. Suggest a different book. G oout to the park. Resort to declaring it ice cream time, if you must. But do not read the Berenstain Bears to a child.

Reading the book will reveal that the story is—unbelievably—worse than the art. The art merely betrayed lack of thoughtfulness. But the story is to thought as a black hole is to starlight. Where the art lacked action, the plot is grindingly dull. Where the drawings lacked whimsy, the text reads as if it were written under rigid orders to avoid creativity. There are no jokes that are funny. No surprises that are unexpected. It’s all wooden grins and grimaces.

As a parent, you know what is likely to follow: you will be required to read the book over and over. Your child will demand it at naptime, at bedtime, whenever his or her day becomes just slow enough to remember that some-where in the house there is a book about bears. Time and time again, you will spend precious minutes with your child—time you should rightfully be cherishing—resentfully reading the worst children’s books ever written.

The drudgery stems from the generic characters. As the official Berenstain Bears website puts it, the bears’ names were chosen to “emphasize their archetypical roles in the family.” But that fancy word “archetype” is wishful thinking. They are more like half-conceived types. The bear children are neither childlike or child-ish—they are likeish. Mama and Papa and Honey are likeish too. They are approximations of abstractions. To call the Berenstains anthropomorphized bears insults both humans and bears.

The incessant moral hectoring makes the dull-ness ever more excruciating. Each plot is organized around the relentless pursuit of a life lesson: Don’t be mean to your brother, mind your parents, weary our helmet and kneepads while skateboarding, don’t eat turkey on Thanksgiving. Fine enough advice, except for the weird turkey thing, but it is rendered tedious by the lack of imagination with which the themes are introduced, explored and resolved. It’s like watching a train wreck that you see coming a mile away—except there is no wreck. Just a train reliably pulling into station after station after station. The Berenstain books are the train spotting of children’s literature.

Most insidious is the Berenstain empire’s cleverness in coopting the otherwise unassailable canon of bear books for children, at whose pinnacle sits A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh. The Berenstains are clearly derivative of the three bears encountered by Goldilocks. (Brother Bear was originally called Little Bear—and Sister Bear wasn’t introduced until later.) Don Freeman’s Corduroy tells the sweet tale of a stuffed bear looking for a home. Paddington Bear stows aboard a ship from Peru to London.

But the Berenstain series repudiates this proud tradition’s central tenet: that a book can be wonderful for parents and children. The franchise seems founded upon the almost anti-literary idea that children must be taught early reading through books whose art and narrative make them unbearable to read. Sure, kids may like them—but kids will drink detergent if you leave it in a cup placed on a low table. They aren’t the best judges.

Despite the dreadfulness of these novellas, they have been selling for 50 years, originally blessed by none other than Ted Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss. A few of the earliest installments, especially those rewritten in rhyme like the series-launching Big Honey Hunt, are admittedly pleasant reads. Not great, but good enough if you don’t have a Milne or Freeman around. But in short order, the books went terribly wrong. My research into the Berenstain oeuvre confirms that they have been awful for decades.

Perhaps we get the literature we deserve. But surely the delivery of just desserts has constitutional limits, I hope. Because even the most annoying parents among us should be spared these Bears.

[acercrea]

First Date, Part 2: Dessert and Dancing

A/N: This is part 2 of my sequel to My Personal Superhero, and you can find part 1 here if you haven’t read that.

First Date, Part 2: Dessert and Dancing

The restaurant was nice, and during dinner we seemed to remember that we had in fact done this hundreds of times and started to relax into the evening, our normal easy chatter taking over as we picked food off of each other’s plates and lost ourselves in the atmosphere.

“So, how am I doing so far?” Sven asked as we were finishing our entrée’s.

“Well, so far you are doing very well. But I can’t help feeling like you have an unfair advantage over every other guy I have dated,” I smirked at him, reaching across the table for his hand, enjoying the way his thumb started to trace absently over my skin as our fingers tangled together.

“Well, it is not my fault that they didn’t take the time to get to know you the way that I do before asking you out. It may have taken us 25 years to get here, but I can honestly say there is no where I would rather be right now,” Sven replied as the waiter approached the table.

“Would you like to see a dessert menu or are you ready for the check?” he asked.

“I think we are ready for the check,” I answered quickly.

“Right away, Miss,” the waiter responded before turning back the way he had come.

I looked up and saw Sven staring at me with a look of confusion, “What?” I questioned.

“I have never known you to turn down dessert, is all. Are you feeling ok?” Sven asked.

“Yeah, about that…. So, you remember me saying I was really nervous about our date? Well, I sort of called Lars. Don’t worry, he didn’t give anything away, I just needed advice on what to wear. But when he answered the call the first thing he said was that he was not helping me because he had just finished going over every detail of the date with you, including the place you were going to take me if I wanted dessert after. He didn’t say where, but he made it seem that we were getting dessert somewhere else. I am now hoping that wasn’t the wrong assumption, because I really want dessert,” I admitted.

“Hm. Are you sure that was all that Lars said?” Sven inquired.

“Other than telling me that you really liked this top on me and threatening to tell the mothers if either of us goes to him for dating advice again? Nothing,” I confirmed.

“Really? He threatened to go to the moms?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, and I think he was pretty serious about it. He called me Abigail and he almost swore,” I informed him playfully. Our favorite past time has always been making fun of Lars for being the serious one when the three of us got together. In public, he was the mischievous twin, but behind closed doors he never tired of reminding us how much more mature he was since he was the oldest. And we never tired of reminding him that Sven is only 12 minutes younger than him and I am only an hour younger than Sven.

“Oh, well that does sound serious, if Grandpa Lars almost swore,” he agreed with a glint in his eye. “And, lucky for you, you assumed right. I am not going to tell you where yet, but we are going to get dessert elsewhere. Are you ready?” Sven asked as the waiter dropped off the check. Without breaking eye contact, Sven slipped a bill inside the black book and set it back on the table.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

Once outside, I started to move toward the car, but Sven gently caught my hand in his, gently pulling me to a stop. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked, his eyebrow playfully arched at me.

“Are we not driving to get dessert?” I questioned, gesturing toward the parking lot.

“Not exactly. Feeling adventurous, Abs?” he challenged, a grin spreading across his face, pointing to the park that was behind the restaurant.

“Let’s go,” I agreed, twining my fingers with his.

“So, did you really ask Lars for advice on what to wear tonight?” Sven asked as we wandered, following a path through the park lit by trees wrapped in tiny twinkle lights, an edge of mirth in his tone.

“Hey, don’t make fun, I was nervous and had a fashion meltdown. It happens sometimes, as you know all too well. At least I have never gone to Marco Reus for fashion advice,” I ribbed lightly.

“Hey, that was one time and it was largely unsolicited. All I did was ask him where he got his tee shirt because I liked the color, and the next thing I know we are at the mall, my arms laden with clothes I will never wear and Marco won’t let me put any of it back. What was I supposed to do?” Sven questioned.

“I guess you have a point. Marco may have questionable fashion sense, but try telling him that,” I conceded.

“I was more thinking that I am going to have to thank Lars. I really do like that top on you,” he mentioned casually.

“Then I will be sure to make a note of that for the future,” I chuckled in response as we came to a junction in the path and I noticed two things in rapid succession. “What is going on here?”

“What are you talking about?” Sven asked a little too innocently.

“Only one of the paths is lined in lights, and I can hear music coming from the path that is lit up. Did you do this for me?” I inquired as we paused at the fork.

“Maybe,” he confirmed with a slight blush.

“This must have taken forever. Please tell me you at least had help doing this absolutely mad thing for one date,” I responded, knocking his shoulder lightly with mine.

“I can neither confirm nor deny, but I will say that if Weigl, Felix, or Pulisic seem a little cold toward you, it may have something to do with this,” Sven chuckled.

“Great job neither confirming nor denying,” I teased, before gesturing to the path that was lit up. “So, I guess we are supposed to go this way?”

“Only if you want dessert,” Sven smirked, waiting for me to pick a direction. His smile widened when I started to pull him down the brighter path.

Suddenly we rounded a corner and my breath caught in my throat. “Oh, Sven, this is wonderful,” I gasped.

There was a small clearing off of the path with a table set up for 2 with a bowl in the middle filled halfway with water and floating on top were candles and rosebuds, and on either side were 2 dome covered place settings. Soft music filled the area, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from, making it seem like the clearing naturally produced its own soundtrack. Along with the twinkle lights, there were several lanterns hanging from the trees, filling the area with a warm glow.

“And here I thought I was going a bit over the top. I am so glad you like it,” he confessed, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

“No one has ever done anything like this for me before. It is perfect,” I whispered, settling into his arms.

“And I have never done anything like this before. But I wanted to give you something special, Abs,” he murmured in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Now,” he started a moment later, “we really should eat our dessert before it gets warm.” He walked over to my chair and pulled it out with a flourish. “Your table is ready, Madam,” he joked.

I sat down with a giggle that turned into a laugh when he removed the dome from my dish and revealed several scoops of ice cream. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I am glad that it is ice cream. I know I said this before, but it just got more perfect. Now, what flavors did we get?” I asked, looking at his dish as he removed his own dome.

“Well, you have Strawberry, Rocky Road, Mint Chip, Raspberry, and Kiwi, and I have Chocolate, Vanilla, Stracciatella, Blueberry, and Pineapple. I figured we could share,” he shrugged.

“I take it back, it is not the night that is perfect, it is you. You are the perfect man, Manni. How did I never notice before?” I inquired as we picked up our spoons.

“I have never tried to impress you before,” he joked as we both took our first bite.

“Oh, that must be it. Holy crap, this is good, you need to try this,” I ordered, holding out my spoon out to him with a portion of Kiwi on it.

“Mmm, you are right. Here, the Pineapple is good too,” he offered, holding out his spoon.

“So,” I started as we were finishing the ice cream, “do you have anything else planned, or is this it?”

“Well, if you were patient, you would have found out that the music is just about to change and I may have requested our song,” Sven responded.

“We don’t have a song, Manni,” I pointed out.

“We don’t?” he asked with mock confusion as the music changed and a pop song started playing.

“Why is our song Never Had a Dream Come True?” I questioned as I recognized the track.

“Do you seriously not remember? Winter Formal, Junior year. My date was Sadie Ness; you went with Gerd something or other. They left with each other,” Sven prompted as he took my hand and led me to an empty area next to the table and started to slow dance with me.

“That is right, I can’t believe I forgot,” I chuckled, it all coming back to me suddenly. “It was during this song that they asked to change partners so they could talk and this is the only slow dance we have ever shared. How did you remember this?” I marveled as he led me around.

“I had actually forgotten about it too, but when I started running ideas by Lars I mentioned that I wanted a song for us, but since we haven’t really had many romantic moments in our history before 2 weeks ago, so I was coming up blank. He suggested this. I figured it was sexier than the Big Hero 6 soundtrack, even if that was what we had our first kiss to,” Sven chuckled.

“I can’t really fault you there. And the best part is we have a very long time to pick a new one, because no offense to Lars and his memory, this is not going to be our song. We will pick a new one together,” I insisted.

“Whatever you want Abs,” Sven promised with a bright smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Hm, whatever I want? Do you mean it?” I asked as the song was coming to a close.

In response, he spun me around 3 times before dipping me. As he was bringing me back up, he spoke, “Yes, Abby, I mean it. I will gladly give you anything you want that I have to give. Probably some things that I don’t have too. Even before I knew why I have always wanted to see you happy. And now that I know why, and I know that you feel the same way, I will do anything to keep you by my side so that I get to be the man who makes you happy.”

His hand had migrated up to my cheek and was warming my skin with his touch, the little trails of fire following everywhere his skin came in contact with mine. I turned my head slightly so I could kiss his palm before saying, “Man, you are a geek. But I love you, too, Manni. So much.”

“You know, you are going to have to get used to this mushy crap and stop calling me a dork or a geek or an idiot when I try to express how I feel, because in case you haven’t noticed, I am trying my best to woo you and you seem intent on masking your feelings by calling me-” he started to say, but I cut him off by leaning up and kissing him on the mouth, his protest lost as he pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, one of his hands tangling in my hair while the other one anchored my hips to his.

“On the other hand,” he continued breathlessly as I moved my lips to his neck, “I have heard your counter argument and I think I am ok with your method of showing affection. You can call me whatever you want as long as you kiss me like that,” he moaned as I nipped his pulse gently.

“Glad to hear it,” I smirked as I moved back to his lips.

“Abby,” he started between kisses. “As much as I adore kissing you here, I think it is time we either stop or get a room, what do you say?”

“I say,” I started, moving up to his ear and purring, “I’ll race you to the car.”

His groan as I pulled his earlobe into my mouth vibrated all the way through me. I met his eyes as I pulled away and then I was off, running as fast as my feet could carry me back down the lighted path toward the restaurant, his steps pounding behind me.

A/N: I hope you liked it, be sure to click like if you did, and comment or reblog if you loved it. You can click here if you want to read any more of my fics. I will see you next week with the stand alone third part.