#I mean you can probably say that if you simply mean that Paris is an abuser I guess. but...idk homies. I just really hate Helen being calle

[aemnd]

──𝑎.𝑡. ┆ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 &. 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦. ♡

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. hii .. ♡ lmk if y'all want more of this lil au .. 🧸

you don't think too hard about it when you sign up for the arrangement.

you're not dumb—no matter what people assume when they see you with your glossy pink lips, your sparkly french-tipped nails, your tight little dresses that barely cover your thighs. you know what you look like. you lean into it, really.

life's too short not to be cute, and if being cute means older, richer men buy you pretty things and take you out to fancy restaurants you can't quite pronounce, well, you don't see the problem.

so when your phone buzzes and your sugardaddy dating app lights up with a message from aemond, you pause. that name alone is hot. one word. powerful. and then you see his photo—sharp jawline, white-blonde hair tied back at the nape, expensive suit, icy blue eye fixed right on the camera.

the other eye? covered with a black eyepatch, which somehow makes him look even hotter.

you message him back with a feminine giggle and a pink heart emoji, because, of course, you do.

thirty minutes later, you're booked for drinks at a rooftop bar that probably has a waitlist for peasants. you dress in pink (always pink), high heels that click across the polished marble floors, and a little heart-shaped purse swinging from your dainty wrist. when you see him in person, you nearly trip.

he's even taller than you thought. he's quiet too, watching you like he's still deciding if he's made a mistake. you twirl a strand of your hair around your manicured finger, sip your fruity cocktail, and tell him all about your day, from the bubblegum lipgloss you bought to the dumb tiktok you tried to film. he listens. doesn't smile. doesn't laugh. but he watches you like you're a puzzle he wants to figure out.

you think he won't call again after your first date with him. guys like that usually want the silent, mysterious type. but he does.

and again.

and again.

before you know it, he's paying your rent and all of your utilities. he gets you a little pink car with a bow on top. your fridge starts filling up with expensive champagne and imported strawberries. he takes you to paris for a weekend just because you pouted and said you were bored.

he doesn't talk much. doesn't tell you about work. but he touches your lower back when you walk into rooms, tips the waiters like money doesn't mean anything, and always smells like cologne and something darker—something dangerous.

you call him "daddy" the first time as a joke.

he doesn't correct you.

things start to change after that. he looks at you differently—less like a sugarbaby, more like something precious.

the first time he kisses you, it's not like the other guys you dated before him. it's not rushed or sloppy. it's slow, deliberate—like he's memorizing the taste of your caramel latte lipgloss.

"why me?" you ask once, curled up in his arms on a leather couch that costs more than your entire wardrobe.

of course, he doesn't answer right away. he simply strokes your hair instead, his long fingers lingering in your soft curls. "you're not like anyone i've ever met," he finally says. "you make everything feel... soft."

you blink at that. "you mean, like, easy?"

"no." his voice drops lower. "like i can finally breathe again."

you don't know what to say. no one's ever said anything like that to you. you're used to being told you're hot. cute. a little dumb, maybe. but not soft, not necessary.

things keep shifting. you still go shopping. he still spoils you. but sometimes, he holds your hand in public now. sometimes, he comes home early just to sit beside you while you scroll through outfits online. you catch him staring at you like he doesn't quite understand how you're real.

you still call him daddy, but now it makes your cheeks warm and your belly flutter with arousal.

one night, he takes you to a formal gala for his family's business. you feel like barbie—long pink satin gown, sparkling jewelry from tiffany's, soft perfumed skin, and hair curled to perfection. you cling to his arm like always, ready to play the perfect accessory. but he keeps his hand at your waist all night. introduces you to people by name. kisses your cheek and calls you my girl.

when you get home, you drop your heels by the door and look at him across the marble kitchen, feeling suddenly shy.

"this is more than just... y'know, a thing, right?" you ask, trying not to chew your lower lip due to your buzzing nerves.

he crosses the room, slow and purposeful. then, he cups your face in his hands and says, "it stopped being just a 'thing' the moment you came bouncing into that bar with your little heart purse and told me the color pink makes you happy."

you gasp, flustered. "you remember that?"

he smiles, small and rare and breathtaking. "i remember everything about you, sweetheart."

that night, he makes love to you—different from before. he touches you like you're breakable, like you're more than just a toy or an accessory, like you're his.

peacefully, you fall asleep on his chiseled chest, your hand over his heart, listening to it beat steady and strong as it lures you to sleep like your own personal lullaby. and in the morning, he wakes you with a kiss on your temple, murmuring, "good morning, baby."

you stretch, giggling like a girl who is happily in love, and pull him back into bed. you may still be his sugarbaby, and you may still wear pink skirts and bedazzled sunglasses, but now, you're something more.

you're loved, and so is he.

© 𝑎𝑒𝑚𝑛𝑑. est, 2025.

[double-aa-batteries]

things about about TSC I can't stop thinking about

"hindsight was a backstabbing bitch"

curtains symbolizing jeans healing journey, how he keeps them closed at Abby's in a effort to recreate the nest in search of some normalcy, how he opens them and looks out the window his new apartment, seeking calm in his overwhelm

"I want to go home" (13) meaning evermore vs. "I want to go home" (329) meaning to his apartment with Laila, Cat and jeremy

the fact that jean's phone is probably still in Abby's freezer

Kevin "their kindness matters" Day

Neil's smile is as unsettling to everyone else as it is to him and he has so much more Nathaniel in him than he recognizes in his own pov

Jean is so similar to neil in that they're both petty, dramatic bitches who care deeply about their teammates' safety

riko and the ravens quite literally took jean's name from him (Jean-Yves, Jonny, Paris)

"[Renee's] love was so tender it looked like grief as it curled her mouth and made her eyes shine"

jean gets forehead kisses from Renee and Cat

"that creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard"

jean's many nicknames for neil: tiny bastard, tedious malcontent, abominable cockroach, wretched little runaway, ignorant child, etc.

Neil took the bandage off of jeans 3 and promptly stuck it over Kevin's chess peice

"I should have let him kill you," Jean said. "Probably," Neil agreed, "but you didn't, so here we all are."

"...aside from his outstanding murder charge, there was nothing interesting about that fox"

the fact that the point of tfc was to show characters who couldn't/wouldn't/ or were unable to heal from the trauma they had faced and yet from the very beginning and without question, TSC is about jean clawing his way forward and toward healing no matter what

the cheese drawer

dadmack dialed up to 1,000 See: "i will burn this house down before I let them touch you"

bisexual jean Moreau panicking over his teammates in swimsuits and Jeremy's long legs

"He's earned the right to be arrogant"

riko couldn't bring himself to hurt wymack because he was Kevin's father and Kevin was like a brother to riko and riko has always yearned for a father's recognition

Alvarez has a motorcycle and jean didn't say no to learning how to ride it

we know next to nothing about Jeremy Knox despite having chapters in his pov (why was he in therapy? why was his dad in France? what the hell did he do at the Fall banquet his freshman year to tear his family in half?)

that being said: Jeremy Knox is a rich boy with a butler

everything about Catalina Alverez

the fact that Jeremy knox has two brothers and one of them is probably dead

"rather than force the Trojans underground for that part, they simply built steps up and over it inside the stadium" the JUXTAPOSITION

Alvarez cooks and so now does jean

we know for a fact riko subjected Kevin to "subtler cruelties" while he was in the nest

"they never should have said yes when you asked" and "I didn't ask"

"as if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day"

"permission to break his face, coach?" jean asked. "denied," white said.

all of thanksgiving pt. II

"alarm looked wrong on a face born for smiling"

jean casually saying "your apologies are as useful as perfume on a frog" to Lucas

Neil's whole relationship with Jean

David "I believe we all have the choice to be better than the hands that shaped us" Wymack

Neil generally being a menace to society but especially "Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to it's front bumper and said, 'thats illegal, just so you know.'"

"the cracking heat in his chest could have been his ribs snapping or his heart breaking"

[sgiandubh]

Landcon Paris 7: the logistics

I said it before, I will say it again: it's not exactly for the cast that I reluctantly (at first) embraced the idea to give in and go to the Landcon, this year. I first and foremost went for the people I was very curious to meet and hug. And I also went there because I do believe that your fandom's experience is not complete until you watch its dynamics - but about this, in a separate, concluding post.

There seems to be a consensus about Landcon's logistics being the stuff nightmares are probably made of, and I can absolutely confirm this. I have written yesterday about the little legal arrangements that to me prove the organizers' first and foremost objective is the maximization of profits, sometimes at the expense of common sense or empathy itself. Because let's be clear, for once: Landcon's honchos are not exactly born yesterday. This is the seventh edition of this event, which by the way is the only official, licensed OL fan convention. By now, they should have a pretty clear idea about their audience/clientele, which is, as far as I could see, mainly composed by mature women, many of which had just arrived in Courbevoie after sometimes exhausting mid- to long courier flights or grueling train rides or drives. That means they left home the day before or pretty early in the morning and were sometimes unable to check-in to their hotels or accommodations before the allotted time window for registering, taking their bracelets and buying whatever extras were still available for sale (almost all of them).

The venue is definitely not the problem here, except perhaps for the unapologetic Brutalist eyesore that is everything but glamorous. Seen from the curb, it could be anything: a hospital, a faculty, one of those non-descript local government office buildings, an insurance company's headquarters. But once inside, I found the Centre Evénementiel to be just one of those multi-purpose spaces that I do know so well from my other, real life: a pretty intuitive to navigate, rather clean and safe affair. The Courbevoie Municipality could easily organize there a minor European summit, for example.

However, I find it absolutely unacceptable to have a Reduced Mobility Zone that was just a half-dozen of very basic pliable chairs, scattered haphazardly in a side area of the main hall, that was not properly designated, nor signaled as such. You had to be a regular and know there was also a special designated line for Reduced Mobility/Difficulty Standing attendees, people who are easily overwhelmed by the colossal hullaballoo of screaming, shouting, shushing ladies. The flow seemed endless and very much decided to get those bracelets at Mach 4 speed, which made everything look more like an Oriental bazaar, than an effective, well-oiled machine worth the rather steep ticket fees. Same goes for all the rest of the already tired people: rest or simply comfortably waiting for your sweating, swearing and grumpy party was not in order, you got the pump up the jam and move it, move it. Ugh. Such an eyeroll and so easy to address, with a bit of extra care.

I also found it very questionable to limit the staff's special needs assistance offer to the extras' moments only, cutting the Reduced Mobility attendees from their +1 friends. And the situation in the main auditorium wasn't any better, so to speak. The lady who sat on my right was visually impaired and used one of those telescopic walking sticks that you just cannot see while running around like a headless chicken to get your pics. I kept on being terrorized either by the idea of stumbling on it - imagine a pachyderm plunging in slow motion like a felled sequoia tree, IN THE DARK - or falling on her. The struggle was real, while at the very same time the panel was droning on and business as usual.

Except for the tchotchkes for sale area which was seriously clogging the space dedicated to the extras' lines, there was nothing else on offer. Not a single bottle of Evian, not a slice of one euro greasy pizza Margherita (wee joke: there are no one euro pizza slices in our old and mercantile land). To be completely honest, they did have three food trucks outside (reheated, microwaved fried chicken/squishy hot dogs with violently colored sauces and the infamous Pizza Tony - all for the price of a kidney transplant) and huge garbage bins to accommodate the ditched leftovers. But no sitting lunch area or even those sorry standing tables you sometimes see in hotels, in front of their meeting areas. Classy: I was just trying to piteously cope with a stubborn chicken strip while standing near a full ashtray, just as C was gracefully sashaying through the main entrance (and being almost one hour late!), at less than six feet from me. Embarrassing does not even start to cover it. A diva slides by and you look like a carnivorous beast, trying to feed yourself, while smoking and gossiping at the same time. One of those moments you're probably sorry to be alive on such a nice day, after all.

Enough said. I will spare you the cheap vaudeville of the lost and found bracelets at Registration Desk, the higgledy-piggledy offset alphabetic lists that made us stay in line twice and my flat-footed ordeal, while waiting in a seemingly infinite line of women who could not decide on what the fuck they wanted for their extra photos and autographs. And I will spare you this because at the exact moment my tolerance level crushed and I was about to uncharacteristically leave, swearing like a drunken sailor in at least four different languages, I met @irunfraser standing in line. And there was finally sunshine and birds were singing suddenly, everything was fine in the world, because @irunfraser and I hugged like death row inmates before their last meal, even if we talked perhaps only four or five times in DMs. What we told each other then was strictly in Spanish and I will provide neither a transcript, nor a translation, for once: it's between me and her only. But such is also the magic of this very strange Nowhere Land - it does bring people together and makes a true friend out of a non-descript handle. And such is, I believe, the strength of our underdog community, where people are overall smiling and warm and damn caring. And while I am at it, a final and special shoutout to @pamalissou, who knows everyone and everything five minutes before it becomes public. And without whom I would have never ever had my terrible, terrible C pic I am, nevertheless, very proud of.

Next - my photoshoot experiences, as they happened, spare the C one, which I covered separately. Sorry for the length: concision has never been my forte and never forget I am a babbling, sentimental imbecile.

[brucewaynehater101]

I typically go with Romantic which is just. So *oof*. Also, I can just picture it now. Dick asks Tim why he thought this was a good idea at all, why he didn't call someone for a ride and Tim simply replies, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own like this for years. No need to bother you guys." and before he can even continue theres a chorus of "you aren't a bother" and "what the fuck do you mean?!"

Tim just takes a deep breath and says, "I've been getting back to Gothem on my own since before I was Robin so it was never a Robin or Batman issue, it's always been a Tim Drake thing." of course Bruce demands to know what Tim means by "getting back to Gothem on his own" and he just sighs as he sits on some grain, biting the bullet to just get it over with as he says, "sometimes when I went on trips with my parents they would get into arguments and leave in separate cars. And both of them would think the other one took me with them. And I always showed up at home safe and sound a few days later so they never really questioned it. Ha, first time was actually at a Gala in New York. I remember they were fighting about what dig site to go to and that night Mom got on a flight to Siberia while Dad got on a flight to The Congo. I snuck my little nine year old self onto a gray hound bus and rode it all the way to Gothem and then walked back to the manor."

Tim goes on to tell them about other times, somewhere between venting about his trauma and reminiscing about times he looks back on fondly. The fight that left him in Panama Beach when he was 11, the one that left him in Denver when he was 13, just 3 weeks before he became Robin, the one when he was 15 and was abandoned in Atlanta, the time when they left him somewhere in *Canada* and the time he was left in *Mexico City* when he was 14. He even laughs about having to sneak onto a cargo ship when his parents left him in Paris, France when he was 16. He comments that that one was actually a few weeks after he healed from the Titans Tower fight. Bruce and Jason are both totally not having a near panic attack about that last one.

Tim is living his life and forgetting that what he went through is probably fucked up. If it happened to another kid, he'd label that as criminal neglect. For himself? Meh.

(I know this is possible because, as someone who's been praised for being smart, I can be so fucking dumb. After explaining to my therapist that I've had anxiety attacks several years before and get anxious in social situations, I was shocked when she told me I had anxiety. Fucking dumb of me, but I bet Tim makes similar mistakes).

Just Tim vibing over all the "good times" he had and forgetting that it's fucked up his parents did that. He probably also felt really proud of himself for figuring it out. He was able to solve his issues and navigate complicated problems (like crossing borders without a passport) all by himself! Isn't that so cool!

The poor batfam is having heart attack after heart attack hearing all of this. It's another aspect of Tim that gets added to the piles of "things he hid from us without meaning to" and "why digging up the Drakes to revive and kill them again is a good idea" (Damian and Steph mainly are the ones to propose the second option).

I love the examples you proposed! Tim really was vibing

[miraculousfanworks]

Writing Prompt: Sending your Father Down an Absurd Tangent 101

“So,” Father began stiffly, and Adrien perked up, giving his attention to his father’s uncharacteristic dinner time small talk, “is there anybody who has… taken your interest recently?”

Adrien shelved his curiosity about this most unusual question in favour for simply melting at the all-consuming thoughts of Marinette. Since he had finally acknowledged his not-just-a-friend feelings for her, he had fallen - and hard. He sighed happily.

“So there is someone, then?” his father pressed, and Adrien nodded.

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed, with what he was sure was a dopey smile on his face.

“And who is this person?” his father coaxed.

“Multimouse.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. So did Father’s.

“Multimouse?” Father echoed.

Adrien gulped. He couldn’t correct Father now - that could give away Marinette’s secret identity! So he had no choice - he had to double down.

“Yep!” he said, and it wasn’t that hard to be convincing, after all, Multimouse was Marinette, and Multimouse was adorable.

“I don’t recall there being a Multimouse; do you not mean Polymouse?” his father asked with an even tone that probably would’ve made Adrien uneasy if he wasn’t already panicking.

“Nope, definitely Multimouse!” he confirmed. “She’s amazing!”

His father steepled his fingers under his chin, dinner long forgotten. “Can you tell me about this Multimouse?”

Adrien grinned. He could work with this, and for once, his father was interested in what he had to say! “Oh, where do I even begin?”

~/~

Gabriel felt like he was going to go insane. He had been up all night, and yet-

“Nathalie!” he roared, and she immediately entered the room, as stoic as usual.

“Yes, s-” her voice cut off as her eyes widened imperceptibly. “Sir, are you alright? You look…”

“I look what, Nathalie?” he snarled, breathing heavily.

“…unkempt,” she eventually admitted. “What’s wrong?”

“Who is Multimouse?”

She blinked, nonplussed, at him. How that infuriated him.

“Who?” she asked.

“Multimouse.”

“Don’t you mean Polymouse?” she asked.

“No!” he cried, anger, frustration, and sheer desperation spilling from him. “He said ‘Multimouse’ and described her as though she was real.”

“Who did, sir?”

“Adrien! Last night!” Gabriel exclaimed, running his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time. ���We have dossiers on every single hero and akuma since the very beginning, and yet! No! Multimouse!”

“Don’t worry, sir, we’ll find her.”

~/~

Ladybug was having a most pleasant and akuma-free week, and it was a beautiful Saturday when she had decided to take a leisurely impromptu patrol around Paris during the gorgeous afternoon. After much interaction with happy civilians and being joined in her patrol by Chat Noir, nothing could’ve made this wonderful day turn sour… until Shadowmoth appeared.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were on immediate alert and battle ready, but something felt… off about Shadowmoth, Ladybug thought, almost manic.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” he called out. “Please!”

Ladybug frowned, but didn’t lower her guard. “What do you want?”

“Please!” he begged, collapsing onto his knees on the rooftop in front of them. “I need to know!”

“Know what?” asked Chat Noir.

“Who the hell is Multimouse?!”

(Pre-reveal, pre-season 5, possible identity reveal, fluff, crack, love square.)

Prompt by: SeasOfSilver. They've requested you tag them if you write a fic based on this.

[avelera]

What if Louis/Armand in AMC IWTV is meant to be torture... for Lestat?

Basically... what if the whole relationship between Louis and Armand, going back to when Armand first encountered him, is a deliberate "fuck you" to Lestat by Armand, and that is his chief motive for having the relationship at all? For keeping Louis in a gilded prison, for making Louis his love at all, for allowing the interview, and for little things like telling Lestat that Louis was injured, but not telling him where or how to help or passing on the "I love you" to Louis, and perhaps effectively keeping Louis away from Lestat ever since in a game of keep-away, as the most effective way to torture Lestat that Armand has in his possession.

I want to preface this theory by saying it's probably a bridge too far. That's a lot of premeditated malice to ascribe to Armand. I do think there was and is love there between Armand and Louis as seen in the show.

But at the same time... this might surprise some show watchers, but book Armand is an ancient creature of malice who uses his boyish looks to appear soft and gentle when he is anything but. He's over 500 years old and he spent 200 of those years running the Paris Children of Darkness, a Satanic organization that gave his life meaning and purpose during those years.

And even with show Armand, we've seen him capable of playing the long game, pretending to be someone else in Season 1 as he played Fake Rashid, with motives for doing so that are still inscrutable.

We've already seen as of ep 2.6 that Lestat broke up Armand's Paris Coven, the Children of Darkness. But I want to get into why Armand might have been lying about how he was fine with it, that he saw it coming for years, that Lestat was just the instrument of his own desire to move on from that squalid situation.

What if he wasn't fine with it? What if he still isn't fine with it? What if the long game, ever since, is to take everything away from Lestat that Armand can get his hands on, including Claudia, but especially Louis?

Well, to give my evidence for this I'll have to delve into the books a bit, so proceed at your own risk for spoilers.

Here's an excerpt from The Vampire Lestat, with Armand speaking to Lestat after the events in Paris, when he forced Lestat to testify in the trial against Louis and Claudia, because it was always Armand's plan to put Claudia on trial so he could get rid of her and have Louis for himself. For Louis to be buried alive in punishment so that Armand could save him and they could depart together:

"[Armand] leaned forward, and his face transformed itself as it had done years and years ago, as if his rage were melting it from within. 

“You, who destroyed all of us, you who took everything. Whatever made you think that I would help you!” He came closer, the face all but collapsed upon itself. “You who put us on the lurid posters in the boulevard du Temple, you who made us the subject of cheap stories and drawing room talk!” ...

...“We had our Eden under that ancient cemetery,” he hissed. “We had our faith and our purpose. And it was you who drove us out of it with a flaming sword. What do we have now! Answer me! Nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!”"

Armand plays the long game. Armand is a creature of spite and malice, at least through Lestat's eyes in his own autobiography.

Armand was not fine with the Paris Coven being dispelled. He was not fine with Lestat's generosity or the new purpose given to him by Lestat by establishing the Theatre des Vampires. He loathed it.

And after this above exchange with Lestat, Armand picked up Lestat and flew him up high above Paris and dropped him. Armand did that to Lestat in the books, it wasn't Lestat to Louis (though that could simply be a change for the show, or perhaps even reinvented as a deliberate act of revenge on Louis' behalf for what Lestat did to him, and not some sort of mind alteration by Armand but... we'll see.)

It would be a hell of a twist to end the season on. Arguably, a twist akin to the reveal of Rashid-is-actually-Armand at the end of the first season. That this has all, all of it, since the 1940s been one long revenge play against Lestat.

Again, I think it's probably a bridge too far, too cartoonishly evil, but...man, there is that but lingering in my mind. Because this is the sort of thing Armand would do. He's done it before in the books with the trial of Louis and Claudia being one elaborate pantomime to punish Lestat and Claudia and get Louis to himself.

And it's been bothering me ever since the reveal at the end of S1 that we're in an AU where Louis/Armand stayed together instead of breaking up right after Paris like they did in the book. And if I was writing this canon divergence AU, it would be a hell of a thing to make the pivot point be, "No, Louis and Armand didn't break up because Armand wouldn't let Louis go because all of this has been one long elaborate fuck you to Lestat for destroying the Children of Darkness and robbing Armand of the purpose he'd had in life for over 200 years." 70 years of revenge by comparison? That's nothing.

[chiara-fiore]

"Mon amour..."

Chiara looked at her husband, Sebastien, from one end of the marble hallway of their once-shared Paris penthouse, her face void of the same sweet sentiment found in his voice.

"There you are," Sebastien crooned, walking in a somewhat disheveled suit and smelling strongly of liquor. "You look..." In his inebriated state, he struggled to come up with a compliment he has not yet used in his countless emails, texts and voicemails asking for her back.

"Don't bother rubbing your last two brain cells together," she said, deadpan. "You're going to need it later." Chiara then stood up to her full height, her black Valentino gown rustling ever so softly as she moved. "I'm here to make sure I leave with that," she said, pointing at the large manila envelope sitting atop the ornate table next to him. "Signed."

Sebastien's eyebrows furrowed, reaching for the envelope. But he did not open it. Instead, he continued to protest as if she'd eventually break if he did it long enough.

"Baby, you're overreacting," he implored, trying to sway Chiara with his charm. Though it may have worked before in previous fights, Sebastien had crossed the line. There was no going back from stealing all her hard-earned money, the money she'd worked days and nights for since she was eighteen years old. "How about we just open our favourite win, get you out of that, and talk things through, eh? I mean, as stunning as you look, you look even better without," he smirked.

Chiara remained unfazed.

"Sign. It." Each word was spoken in his mother tongue with each syllable enunciated to ensure there was no room for misunderstandings.

"I'm not going to sign it." Sebastien stood his ground. "This is our house, this is where we live," he proclaimed, steadily getting more and more irritated. "Actually, you know what? This is my house!" he had the audacity to say. "This whole fuckin' place has been in my family for almost a century!"

"Until I bought it from you ten years ago," Chiara countered simply. "Remember? To save your parents from ruin?"

Sebastien gritted his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Besides, that's not what the envelope is for."

A change flickered in his bright blue eyes. "What?"

"The papers," Chiara mentioned, gesturing to the envelope in his hand. "They're divorce papers. And I need you to sign them. Preferably in..." She checked her phone for the time, "two minutes."

Sebastien looked more confused than ever.

"I have a gala to go to, and you know I don't like to be late," Chiara said in response to a question he was probably about to ask, to which Sebastien just stared at his wife before smirking.

"No." Shaking his head, he ripped the papers in his hands and threw them in the air. "No, Chiara. No!"

Chiara took a deep breath and calmly exhaled through her nose. Then, without another word, she closed the gap between them, unafraid to look him in the eye.

"Have your tantrum," she warned him, "but I'm not giving up. I'm not going to let you charm me back into your life so you can suck me dry of everything I've worked so hard for." Taking her purse, she stepped around him but stopped by the door. "I will get those papers signed, Sebastien, even if it's the last thing I do."

* All conversations are in French.

[logogreffe]

How to use "même" in French : [Part 1]

1. Même = same J'ai le même livre chez moi // I have the same book at home C'est pas le même // It's not the same (one) C'est pas la même chose // It's not the same thing

2. Même = even Même ma mère a oublié mon anniversaire // Even my mother forgot my birthday N'y pense même pas ! // Don't even think about it ! Je suis tombée et je n'ai même pas eu mal ! // I fell and it didn't even hurt. Même si = even if Même s'il s'excuse, je t'interdis de l'inviter à nouveau // Even if he apologises, I forbid you to invite him again.

Children often say things like : - "Même pas mal " : it's a shortened version of "J'ai même pas eu mal" = it didn't even hurt [you say this to look brave, and most of the time it did actually hurt] - "Même pas peur" : shortened version of "J'ai même pas eu peur"= I wasn't even scared - Même pas cap ! : shortened version of "tu n'es même pas capable [de le faire] !" (lit translation : You can't even [do it] !) = Dare you ! 3. Soi-Même = oneself/yourself moi-même = myself toi-même = yourself lui-même/elle-même = himself / herself nous-même = ourselves vous-même = yourselves eux-même = themselves (when the subject isn't defined you'll have to use "soi-même") Cette sculpture est magnifique, tu l'as faite toi-même ? // This sculpture is beautiful, did you make it yourself? Il y a certaines choses dans la vie qu'il faut faire soi-même // There are certain things in life you have to do yourself Etant moi-même mère de deux enfants, je sais de quoi elle parle // As a mother of two myself, I know what she's talking about.

4. Other expressions with "même" En ce moment même = in this very moment En ce moment même, ils ne sont que 3 à la cérémonie // In this very moment, there are only 3 of them at the ceremony. Au moment même... = just as... / in the very moment... Au moment même où j'ai fini ma phrase, la porte s'est ouverte // Just as I finished my sentence, the door opened. Au moment même où je t'écris, ton avion a surement déjà décollé // In the very moment [by the time ?] I write this, your plane has probably already taken off au même moment = meanwhile / at the same time Ce samedi 24 août à 21h les cloches des églises parisiennes sonneront toutes au même moment. [X]// On Saturday 24 August at 9pm, all the churches in Paris will ring their bells at the same time. Au même moment, dans le village d'à côté, la fête bat son plein // Meanwhile, in the village next door, the party is in full swing. même au moment... : even at the time.../even when.. Même au moment de partir elle trouve le moyen de me mettre en colère // Even when it's time to leave, she finds a way to make me angry. le jour même = the very day, on the very day Le jour même de ma naissance, le toit de la maison a pris feu // The very day I was born, the roof of the house caught on fire le soir même = the very evening, on the very evening Le soir même, ses valises étaient prêtes // That same evening, her/his suitcases were packed. en même temps = at the same time J'arrive à faire deux choses en même temps // I can do two things at the same time. Note : "en même temps" can also mean "then again" En même temps, c'est pas de ma faute si je suis en retard, Gregoire ne sait tout simplement pas lire une carte // Then again, it's not my fault if I'm late, Gregoire simply can't read a map ! En même temps que... = at the same time as ... Elle est arrivée dans la pièce en même temps que lui // She arrived in the room at the same time as he did.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I would loooove your take on the lyrics "it was freezing in the palace" vs "home at night in paris" (if that's actually the alternative lyric, I could have heard it wrong). why did we get that other lyric? why do you think she ultimately went with the palace lyric instead of the paris line? within the context of the song, what's the difference?

So with the caveat that I haven't really ever given the Paris line much thought since it was so ephemeral 😂...

To me, "it was freezing in the palace" conjures up the image of being alone and isolated. I take it to mean something akin to being locked in a gilded tower -- the idea of living in the lap of luxury in a palace contrasted by the chill and desolation in the air, which to me denotes being all alone with no one to keep the fires burning. It also kind of reminds me of Castles Crumbling, and specifically "And here I sit alone behind walls of regret, falling down like promises that I never kept." It also reminds me of Haunted, although maybe it's just the image of the giant bell from the Speak Now tour making me think of a giant bell tower or something lol. But now that I think of it, also Cold As You and "And now that I'm sittin' here thinkin' it through I've never been anywhere cold as you."

I could be completely wrong, but to me it just is such an evocative line about like, this huge, empty space devoid of light or warmth and being trapped inside. But I also acknowledge that it ties into the verse about the nostalgia game and the 1830s line, indicating that even in this fantasy scenario she's still left out in the cold. I've also seen some people read it as a reference to her being alone as her fame hit its stride in the Fearless/Speak Now era, which I can also see and get behind.

Iirc the original or alternate line that was briefly on Apple Music was "no Midnights in Paris," which is super interesting. I think the palace line probably ties in more directly and thematically to the verse about the 1830s, and this is something we see her do when we get the voice memos -- just like how the original version of My Boy swaps "rang out louder than our midnight sighs" for "Called the rain to end our days of wild."

I kind of like the midnights in Paris line better as a line, but I'm also wondering if it was a reference to the movie Midnights in Paris, which I have not seen because I avoid anything having to do with Woody Allen, but I remember it being fairly well-received when it came out and more to the point, from the Wikipedia synopsis, is about a disillusioned writer who travels back in time every night at midnight in the midst of a breaking point in his relationship with his fiancée. Which... Actually that fits in perfectly with the nostalgia game verse lol.

And I think makes more sense within the context of the song than simply "midnights in Paris," which, if that were the line, to me would be her saying when the balloon of the game pops due to her too-real comment (about the racists and getting sold off), the fantasy of a getaway to the City of Love is as unrealistic as the trip back to the 1830s.

So I think both lines dance around the same thing: escaping into fantasy to cope with crippling loneliness. But the castle line evokes the actual isolation, whereas the Midnights in Paris line continues the idea of the fantasy world that is built to cope with pain that can never exist.

[theriverpointace]

something that is just as strange to me as reading with shipping goggles ... is reading without shipping goggles, when everybody else is wearing them.

this thought comes from the fact that i am reading the iliad and slowly getting back into les mis at the same time, and i'm wondering how everyone can read these stories almost exactly alike, except for me. (this is in terms of patrochilles and exr, for the record.)

i think that in both cases, it's a matter of my personal experience as an aroace not quite lining up with everybody else's as allo queers. like, i simply don't read iliad patrochilles as a ship! they're best friends, that's for damn sure. they're closer friends than most people in the camp. but i guess i don't particularly feel that there's anything to suggest they're into each other romantically or sexually. i've got a whole set of thoughts about the two of them across different versions of the story that i won't get into now, but that's the gist of it. (except: the version of them i do enjoy shipping is the paris the musical version. they're snarky mean gays in paris the musical, and it's very good.)

in a similar vein, it's probably because i read/project onto enjolras as aroace that i don't ship exr. i see grantaire's pining, and there's a ton to support the ship, i just ... don't ship it. enjolras pretty canonically has little-to-no interest in dating. he's got bigger things to worry about. so the ship just doesn't sail for me.

all that to say, ship who you like! it's all good fun yk. everyone has their own experiences that impact how they process the world, including how they process stories. that's pretty cool ngl. im just feeling the sad aroace feels, is all.

[mc-lukanette]

Luka stopped his walk down the street as the pleasant scent of baked goods hit his nose. He tended to go all over Paris depending on his mood, simply to see if inspiration would strike, and while he'd only taken a trip down this particular road a few times, he knew that he'd never smelled any baked goods there before.

He looked up at the source, noting that there was a new bakery he hadn't seen before. He caught himself smiling at the cursive writing on the awning, reminded of how Marinette would always write that way when she wanted to be "fancy," even to the point of trying to learn how to write cursive back when they were little kids.

Of course, that naturally led him to want to buy something for her. If the bakery didn't have anything she liked then Juleka and Rose would never say "no" to sweets.

He approached and pushed the door open, hearing the bell above announce his presence. There wasn't anyone behind the counter, but he could see an oven open and someone partway inside, probably reaching for something.

"J-just a minute!"

Luka stiffened. The voice sounded off from inside the oven, but was no less recognizable to him. "Marinette?"

"Luka?! AH—!" She rose up quickly in her shock, hitting her head off the ceiling of the oven and letting out a pained hiss.

He rushed over immediately, pulling her out and touching the back of her head to check it. Luckily, it didn't seem serious and he couldn't feel any heat from the oven itself, so she hadn't just rammed her head directly into a hot surface.

"I-I was just checking to make sure there was enough room," she whined, peering up at him while he rubbed the spot that'd gotten hurt. "What are you doing here?"

"I was walking by," he replied. Frowning, he added, "I didn't know you worked in a bakery."

She averted her gaze, ashamed. It puzzled him, wondering why she would be so shy about this when they'd shared and done everything together growing up.

"Mmnn." Marinette toyed with her light blue apron, twisting the fabric in her hands. "I-I...I mean, I just bought it, and I wasn't sure if it would even work out, so—"

"You bought it?" Luka interrupted. Something occurring to him now that she'd said that, he started to scan the room, listening close to see if he could hear anyone else. Looking around the space he could see, there wasn't any sign of another employee working there. "Have you been doing this alone?"

She didn't answer at first, pouting and fidgeting with her apron further. Worrying that she might ruin the apron she'd clearly made herself, Luka reached out and took her hands, letting her fidget with him instead.

She sighed, gripping his hands back and running her thumbs across his fingers. "I didn't know anyone else I could trust? And you already have a job."

"I can quit," he said without missing a beat.

"N-no!" She threw her hands up in front of her, flailing. "I've always been dragging you along for whatever since the day we met! I didn't want to do it again!"

"Dragging me along for..." He trailed off, trying to summon any memories of such a thing. "Wasn't that what I was doing to you?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No. I love doing things with you."

"It's the same for me."

That had simply been their dynamic to him. Fashion was her favorite hobby, as music was for him, but neither were truly interested in making said passions a job. Whenever a new thing or opportunity arose for them to try something new, it was always together. It didn't matter what it was, one of them would bring it up and the other would follow along without a word.

Marinette, unsure of how else to take the admission from him, blushed and played with her bangs. "I...I didn't know what I could do for work, but then I started thinking about when we were kids. Since Papa and Maman had so many ingredients because of the bakery, we always snuck away with some so we could bake too."

Luka chuckled at the memory. His fondest was undoubtedly the time when they'd tried to make croissants; the edges of two of them had baked themselves together. They'd tried to be clever (as clever as kids could be) and called it a "ringssant," but pulling them apart to eat them had felt bittersweet. "We had to cover for each other and make sure we didn't have flour in our hair so we wouldn't get caught."

She giggled. "Yeah." She let out a breath, eyes softening in her reminiscence. "And I thought... if I got my own bakery, then at least I'd be doing something with a lot of good memories attached."

So she wanted to have a bakery because of him; because of their relationship. He started blushing himself, shoving his hands into his pockets while he thought that over. It wasn't just a whim or something she chose on the fly like all of their other temporary interests, but rather a job that she wanted to do that she associated with him.

He'd be kicking himself forever if he wasn't able to become a part of it.

"Do you have another apron?" When she simply blinked at him, he clarified, "I want to work here."

"But—!"She tightened her hands into fists, pouting. "You don't even know if you'd like it! It was just something we did when we were growing up!"

She made a fair enough point, but wasn't considering the bigger picture. Luka supposed that he'd never said it outright, so it was technically his own fault for not being clear.

He bent down to be level with her face, Marinette not moving a centimeter as he leaned in to place a familiar kiss on her cheek. She'd given her own to show affection, but he tended to use his to prove he was serious. Perhaps it was cheating, but he didn't care.

"It was never about what we did, Marinette," he told her as he straightened up again, "but I can wait if you don't have another apron ready."

She pursed her lips, blushing the cute shade of pink she always did when he kissed her cheek, then relented and turned away to head into the back of the bakery. He grinned in victory, walking a few steps away to lean against the counter while he waited.

To his complete lack of surprise, Marinette returned with another apron, this one pink with blue accents to complement her own. Luka had known her for more than long enough to know that she rarely made anything without giving it "a friend," as she used to say when they were younger. Her work often came in pairs because of it and they tended to have matching accessories - despite their differences in style - for the same reason.

He took a step away from the counter, then turned his back to her and raised his arms to get them away from his sides. He could hear the occasional mumble from her about how he might still regret this, but she didn't hesitate to lift the neck strap above his head and slip it onto him. Her hands brushed his sides as she took the waist ties and knotted them together at his back, but he was careful to hold still. It was casual enough for them that he didn't feel any need to be shy about it.

He wanted to spin around afterward to ask her how it looked on him, but two arms went around his waist before he could, Marinette's face pressing into his back as she hugged him from behind. The scent of pastries suddenly became unknown to him as her perfume overpowered his senses.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I felt awful not telling you, but after you got your own job I thought it was a sign that maybe we shouldn't do everything together anymore..."

Ah. So that was it. He wondered if it would be too much to admit that he did it because he wanted to be able to buy her gifts.

Almost unconsciously, he brought a hand up to rest on one of hers. While he couldn't see her well from his current position, he turned his head anyway to make sure she heard him as clearly as possible, assuring, "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."

She squeezed him tighter, as if ensuring that he couldn't even try to go back on the promise. He was fine with that, content to stand there in her arms until she felt at ease again.

She'd see soon enough, he was sure, that he wanted to stay with her just as much as she did with him.

[furyan-imagines]

YOU CAN PICK: (A) Whether you think of Riddick as simply being a criminal or (B) You think that Riddick is a person who has more to him than meets the eye

"What? Click your fingers and he's one of us now?"

You were right smack in the middle of the small train of humans who had survived the Hunter-Gratzner crash, following behind Shazza and Johns, close enough that you could hear the irritation in the free-settler's question.

"I didn't say that." You could almost hear the smile in John's reply. "But at least this way I don't have to worry about y'all, uh, falling asleep and not waking up."

Jack pushed past you, angling himself to face the two adults leading all of them. The teenager had somehow found a pair of partially-broken goggles and worn them in emulation of the famed murderer trailing behind all of them. "So, can I talk to him now?"

"No."

Continue reading (A) if you feel that you need to stay away from Riddick the criminal

"Maybe it's better if we all keep out of his way, huh?"

Jack looked askance at you, disbelief written clearly on his face.

"I mean there must be many good reasons why Riddick has such a high bounty on his head, right?"

Shazza and Johns both turned briefly. The woman gave you a look that you couldn't quite decipher, but the smile Johns shot at you was a reassuring one. At least you all had a cop watching after the group.

It wasn't that you actually had anything against Richard B. Riddick, but if so many slams and systems had arrests out for him, it would probably behoove you to go the safe route, especially after this fucked-up fiasco of not just having the ship you had been on crash, but having Zeke already killed by one of those creatures that lived on this planet, and another unnamed survivor accidentally killed by Zeke before that.

With a quick glance backwards to see just how far back Riddick was behind you (a movement that definitely caught his attention even from that distance), you hurried forward just a few steps more. You definitely didn't want to die, and right then, keeping yourself as far away from a definite killer would almost-certainly increase your chances of staying alive.

Continue reading (B) if you feel that Riddick has more depth than he shows

"I think he's an interesting fellow," you said quietly to the teenager. At Jack's surprised look, you had to laugh lightly. "I said 'interesting'; not that he is safe."

"At least interesting isn't boring, you know? Which is what everyone else is."

You were about to reply when the noise of a boot digging sharply into the loose sand caught your attention and you turned. Fry and Imam had stopped, looking back at Paris who jogged away from the rest and then fell to his knees, grabbing at something the same time Riddick had hold of whatever that same thing was.

There were a few seconds of pausing before Paris and Riddick rose.

From that distance, you couldn't hear what was said, but then you saw Riddick shake Paris's hand, before downing an entire? bottle of booze. Ah, so that's what Paris dropped.

Whatever it was, your prolonged staring had the effect of Riddick lowering his head after that drink and looking straight back at you. A slow smile appeared on his face as he tipped the now-empty bottle in your direction, almost a toast with the ghost of now-drunk booze.

You allowed yourself to smile back and resumed your march. But you slowed down enough to join Fry and Imam who were now immediately behind you.

Maybe the best way to survive this fucked up, godforsaken place and those predators that had already taken Zeke was to stick to another dangerous predator. Maybe that was the best way to make sure your ass had a seat on that abandoned ship off this planet.

[imthepunchlord]

Do you think Gabriel is a better character than Adrien?

No, honestly, ML over all doesn't have any "good" characters. And it's largely due to their writing.

They either have characters hop between two extremes and they have those two extremes exist at the same time like Gabriel "I love my son" to "HAHAHA! I'M GOING TO CHUCK MY SON ACROSS PARIS!" or "Chloe the Hero!" to "Chloe the Villain!" or Alya "Marinette I'm your best friend, here to support you, you can trust me with your secret and I will keep things secretive" to "I'm Lila's best friend, you're just being jealous, and hey, Nino, I gotta tell you something".

Or characters have the issue of just being stagnant and they just don't do anything with them, which hey, there's consistency at least, but you're kinda boring as a character cause nothing changes or is done with you, best examples being Adrien and Luka. But we can appreciate consistency so thumbs up?

Or characters are a pinball that writers will fire at random to meet their needs in certain eps so there is zero consistency in their characterization. Best and biggest example is Kagami. Riptose introduces her as someone overly dedicated, no nonsense, competitive, doesn't like her time wasted, and holding herself to a very high standard. Frozer she's a bold romantic, who is still willing to pursue Adrien despite him saying he wants to pursue his initial crush and wasted her time (Riptose Kagami would've slammed the door on his hand). Then Animaestro she's a more subtle Chloe, purposely acting out to make Marinette jealous and show off her close ties with Adrien. Then Ikari Gozen she's all "I want to befriend Marinette but she's initially hostile/wary of me why?".

Lastly, there's the plot device, best and biggest example is Lila, who can mold the narrative to her needs that it throws logic out the window and she only exists when necessary.

So is Gabriel better than Adrien?

No.

Not by a longshot. He's bad by different means.

Adrien suffers by being stagnant, and by making choices that are clearly bad and should be called out, made to be a lesson, or give him some form of consequence, but aren't cause he's not meant to grow as a character.

Gabriel is bad with his inconsistency. Between his feelings of his son, between how we're supposed to feel for him which they do try to play the pity card sometime but he's also an active eager terrorist, between whether he's a joke villain to laugh at or if he's a more serious villain to take seriously. The latter of which is especially hard cause he's an idiot. Dude had freaking time traveling power and he stilled messed it up.

Gabriel I'd probably say is the most embarrassing part of ML simply by the extremes of his portrayal as a villain, cause he's meant to be that idiotic Saturday morning villain to laugh at, but he's also meant to be the big scary force that you're to take very seriously.

It's very rare to get these two to mix, and ML's crew are not skilled enough to do so, leaving Gabriel as a threat you can't take seriously, one that stuck around for far too long, and is someone you don't feel pity for. And his ending is just irritating.

Much like Chloe, with Gabriel they should've just picked a lane in what sort of villain he is.

[sgiandubh]

Anatomy of a lie: the French connection

With a very short day in sight at the office, I exceptionally go back to the whole Rash sightings colossal bullshit, for the sake of science. By now, we know *urv denied sending the submittal to Deux Moi: something I also expected to happen, in the context of her current feud with Miss Marple (way more reasonable and probably also way better informed).

Going back on memory lane, let's remember how the Rash Innuendo started. With this, conveniently kept under covers and then brought to light when Rash's name was out on the market:

I have one very important thing to comment: no one, no woman in her right mind, no matter if she is an art gallery owner, a lawyer, a teacher, a pop star on drugs or a fashionista wannabe (like Rash) would ever wear a baseball cap inside a French restaurant that is not: a) a trucker's pit stop joint on l'Autoroute du Soleil (the Sun Highway, A6/A7, relays Paris to Marseille) or b) a Burger King franchise in Seine-Saint-Denis (the infamous Neuf-Trois, or 93, after the INSEE's topographical code number for car plates and counties: in short, Paris's metropolitan area Bronx, if you wish, where all the riots start). Especially "a bougie" one: you do not have the slightest clue about real, living and breathing bourgeois French women (madame Mère's friends and also my own uni mates), quite a different species from the Californian one. Rash is anything but bourgeois, Canadian or not (yet a Canadian who lived in Paris and as such must be familiar with that code). I am talking string of pearls and tailleur Chanel/ petite robe noire and Vuitton bag and Louboutins. On a daily basis and even on the subway. Not baseball caps and scattered shopping bags at the Hôtel Costes.

No client of that restaurant (I forgot to mention yesterday) would ever take pictures with their phones. This informed me about the fact (FACT) you have never been to France, let alone ever set foot in a French high-end joint. French people prefer living their social life outside of their homes. When invited at someone's place for dinner, you can be sure you are, by now: a) intimate; b) a very close, trusted and valued friend; c) someone to be absolutely included in their social circle, for various reasons (high level networking dinners in Paris come to mind: something I know very well). So, restaurant it is for everything like: bantering, flirting, getting to know each other, spending quality time with witty and hysterically funny people, looking for a new job, getting a new job, looking for a new investor in your projects, the possibilities are endless. That being said, conversation at that table is sacred: your full attention must be there at all times, repartee and consistency are expected. No one, literally no one will spend their time scanning the room for a B-list actor kissing a blonde trophy woman in public, nonetheless. Read my lips: not a soul - they would be all engrossed in whatever the talk is about at their table.

The game shifted to a superior gear with this French speaking Anon:

Someone saw something louche/amiss in all this and reacted:

The French is NOT 'too good'. That French is semi-vulgar and provincial, as in the crude and pauper ils étaient l'un sur l'autre (I was expecting a je te jure/ I swear to you that never came and it usually does). And what to say about elle semble beaucoup plus réelle que les autres filles? It's Google Translate all the way. A real, walking talking French person would have said something along the lines of: elle semble beaucoup plus crédible/vraisemblable que les autres filles (she looks way more credible than the other girls), simply because réel(le), in spoken and written nowadays French, always applies to concepts, never to people: un réel plaisir (very contrived), for instance. C'est quelqu'un de réel means absolutely nothing and I would laugh like a drain if I heard someone telling me something like this. Last but not least, despite insisting it was a different Anon, they all seem to use the same words: they had lots of fun/ils s'amusaient vraiment. Something you use all the time, too. Of course.

Keep your hands off France, madam. Très facile de s'y prendre les pieds dans le tapis. And for once, I am not going to translate, since you speak it so well and I am sure you got the message.

PS: The closest to a real French bourgeois woman (last pics included) is C. And FYI, that is not my style: I dress like a preppy since I was 15 and I am very happy with it.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Hello, proud non-reader of MariBat stuff here who is having MariBat thoughts from seeing too many Miraculous posts and Batman posts on my feed in quick succession! Thought I'd share.

I don't think that Bruce or the Justice League or any of the adults would be the ones to figure out that things have gone to shit in Paris and start roping the Miraculous Team into the greater superhero community. No, all those people have their areas and tend to stick to them. I think (if it's one of the Bats anyway), that it's probably Tim. Tim Drake who has connections to Paris, routinely goes off on whacky globetrotting adventures both with and without his various teammates and allies, and is a notorious little networker who sees "driven person with skill and potential" and says "how do I get this person on my payroll."

This is funny, you see, because Tim is exceptionally independent and doesn't tell people what he's up to a lot of the time simply because he hyperfixated too hard and he didn't realize that other people may want to know. This means that instead of getting adult supervision (which is what I think happens in most MariBat fics) the Miraculous Crew gets an enabler.

Like, Tim knows talent when he sees it. Even if he does resolve the Hawkmoth issue in 10 minutes---because nobody in this show is good at hiding their identity, and Tim is probably the worst thing that a paper thin secret identity could encounter. He's not going to let the magical badass teenagers just go back to living normal lives or doing their own thing. That'd be a waste of talent and opportunity. No, he's obviously going to start training them and introducing them to people and roping them into his schemes and calling in favors and now WHOOPS! All the adults suddenly have a new team of 20+ hormonal teens with way too many skills for their own good.

Yeah like!

Having read too many ml/batman crossovers, I can say that most of them were some variation of 'the class ends up in Gotham for some reason(usually a class trip) and they end up telling the Bats what's happening'.

Though I have seen one or two of 'Bruce and/or Tim ends up in Paris for Wayne Business™, sees an Akuma and goes 'the FUCK is that???'.

So yeah Tim going off on his own because some buddy in Paris mentions something, finds a dysfunctional af superhero team and goes 'well guess I gotta fix them'.

Also he wouldn't even be investigating Hawkmoth on purpose. He'd meet with Gabriel, go 'oh he's sketch as hell' and sneak around and find the whole Hawkmoth thing and just Hit him upside the head with a grappling hook and yoink the Butterfly.

[silvertws]

‼️I DO NOT ENGAGE IN DONATIONS‼️

I never did an introduction post so here I am!

Now who am I?

✨It's a me, Silver! :D✨

I go by he/She/they with a preference for he/they :)

I'm Demifluid but I'm fluxuating into more masc stuff recently-

Right now if people ask my sexuality I say Ace and bi though there's probably more specific labels for my orientation... I do not care to find them.

I also just might simply be Aromantic in denial tbh.

✨ If you do any of the things highlighted in red, you are not welcome here. ✨

I'm Italian! Which means no romanticizing the mafia around me please. Ffs they melt kids in acid.

I don't support any kind of homophobia, transphobia, racism, anti-Semitism, MAPS...

‼️AI ART IS NOT ART AI ARTISTS ARE NOT ARTISTS‼️

(I'm fine with using it as a reference. But ONLY if the end result is COMPLETELY different.)

And remember kids...

✨Trans rights are human rights! ✨

I'm a feminist, equal rights, equal fights, if you're an incel or a femcel don't bother.

I like complot theories as long as they stay as theories and you don't push them on people.

I don't support any bullying towards furries, therians, gacha kids, cosplayers... So if you ever plan on doing that, you're not going to do it here.

Sending death threats is not allowed.

I do not support genocide or war in general.

(my bestie is Ukrainian so any Russia supportes can kindly go away)

(no, that doesn't mean I hate Russian people)

If you use religion as an excuse for your ignorance or to simply be a dick, get out.

If you force it on people, leave.

If any of you even DARE to think "her body my choice" or be AGAINST abortion, because of religion, out.

If you blame a victim because of what they were wearing, go and say that to the kids. Go on, I'd love to see what their parents would do to you.

If you don't do any of this, welcome!

✨ Imma summarize some of my opinions (about random stuff) using songs ✨

Vulture -> Bear Ghost (fuck the church.)

I'm afraid I'll go to heaven -> Moon Walker

Don't cry for your daughters Eve -> Lydia the bard

GOSSIP -> Måneskin

Dear God -> Confetti (but not God)

Thoughts & prayers -> Grandson (fuck America's gun control)

To catch a Predator -> Insane Clown Posse (dead creeps can't rape, not won't, because if they could, they would)

Labour -> Paris Paloma

The Exorcist -> CALYPSO (Jesus is cool, the church isn't)

Bears and Wolves -> Lilith Max (I chose the bear.)

I like dark humor if it's actually funny.

Now onto the fun stuff!

I have been part of the gacha community since 2019, same with Origins, Country humans... Etc.

Any cringe fandoms, yeah, you can add those to the list.

My favorite ccs on yt are Pearlescentmoon, ZNathanAnimations, Manlybadasshero, FavreMySabre, Toiu, Neitirix, CaZaCoJa, IamCrusty... And many more.

Favourite characters currently:

Cal Kestis -> Jedi Fallen Order/Surivivor

Light Steve -> Ruined Reality

Rex -> Echoes of Arcadia

Dorian -> Critical Role

Seir -> The Chaos Protocol (did I write it right?)

Owen -> OutsidersSMP

Colin -> My Hero Origins

Now, if I were to post a complete list of all my fandoms, it would be around 120+.

So I'm not gonna do that.

To name some, Ib, Mad Father... And a lot of indie games of the same style, like, a lot.

I like mythology!

Anything Minecraft related is probably on the table, and a lot of different book sagas.

To name some, WOF (there aren't all the books in Italian so I only read the main story :(), Fairy Oak, a bunch of books from Licia Troisi, LOTR (I was devastated when I was told Tom Bombadil wasn't in the movies), Eragon... (We don't talk about the movie...)

But, my current hyperfixations are any kind of Steve story (so Ruined reality, The First Saviour, Ore Quest Prime...), Horror Games, BG3, Minecraft Roleplays in general...

I really like Star Wars guys.

I play D&D! :D

(send help my party is crazy)

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So what will you find here❓❓

Well, I am an artist! I enjoy drawing and posting about it! I mostly do fanart because oc art doesn't really do well... But I will post some OCS from time to time.

I also write theories (I'm looking at you RR and Fable...) and rants or that one description of my MCYT Star Wars au and some art of that...

My favorite fandoms are Steve Saga related stuff, Origins crew (FTO,SNO,OOO,SNO,MHO), Star Wars, Fable/Mer/Siege... SMP... And many more.

I also want to maybe make fanart of those few Italian ytbers I still watch or am nostalgic about. Examples: Gabby16bit, Erenblaze, LyonWGF, (guys, the Failcraft, come on), Ratorix...

Sbriser- no not HIM. (What happened to you man? Tf is you doing???!!!!)

You will also find rants/comments on some of those fandoms!

Some oc art or au art from time to time and some random bits of lore about those!

I'm also a cosplayer...! I don't know if I'll post any of that here but my main cosplay is Technoblade and the basic Genloss henchman because I was matching with my friend who was Genloss Ranboo (check out mandydoodles on yt she's very cool guys).

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‼️DISCLAIMERS‼️

I want to start commissions but until I feel comfortable enough with my style I won't so don't ask me for now.

But if anyone asks for silly doodles to post about then sure lol, I like doing funky stuff.

If y'all got questions just ask.

English is not my first language so there might be some grammatical mistakes.

If I say something offensive just make me aware without sending me death threats or canceling me right away.

No guys, being on a different HOTD team is not death threat worthy.

No, liking the last Star Wars movies or the Acolyte is also not death threat worthy.

Also, I have literally no money, don't tag me into donation stuff because I have no means to support anyone, not even myself.

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And lastly...

✨ Be respectful! ✨

✨ Enjoy your travels through my treacherous blog adventurer! ✨