#NOW you can call me a drama maker

[ilminnestrone]

Let me get this straight, since you all seem to love vague posting so much. This is what I learned from this fandom so far:

You treat a stranger who was agreeing with you like shit and keep on vague posting about anyone who barely crossed you but when said people block you is somehow someone else's fault who has been harrassing you.

This person is so fucking powerful that have the magical ability to harrass you even if they don't interact with you and they don't talk about you for almost three years, but when you constantly post and talk about them you're just stating facts.

If you agree with someone about someone being unpleasant, they clearly manipulated you.

If you block someone who openly lied to you about being friends with someone who treated you like shit and about telling they hate your friends publicly, they are entitled to:

vague post about you;

let people call you names;

misgender you;

trying to get back to you via mutuals;

use neurodivergence as an excuse even if you are autistic;

block you when you say you will think about it.

People who don't know anything about your reasons are entitled to intercede for people you blocked because they personally don't have a problem with them (good for you!).

When you say someone that you blocked a person and their closer friends because you don't want anything to do with them and be completely invisible for them, they will know what you told to said someone word by word no more than 8 hours later. And they're gonna vague post about you.

I have no fucking problem being the "bad guy" here. Are you all okay with being 14-year-olds (with all due respect for 14-year-olds)?

[itsjusthockey]

December - Adam Fantilli

Officially in Adam era. Enjoy

I miss him at Michigan

w.c: 1,923 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

You learned quickly that December is a lot colder without him here. All the Christmas lights seem a little less bright, the hot chocolate tastes a little more bland, and the joys of the season are still there, just slightly muted.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. He was busy, so were you. College and hockey don’t stop, and the world will never cater to your relationship, no matter how much you wish it would sometimes. Instead, you both learned to figure it out. You FaceTime, call, and text as much as you can. Adam even suggested writing letters, but with his handwriting, you suggested something else.

You both send each other care packages, his typically filled with snacks you knew he’d love or books you insist he needs to read. Yours were always filled with new merchandise and one of his sweatshirts that still smelled like him. It is a good system, and you love how you make it work. But alas, Adam isn’t in Michigan, and you wish every night that he was.

A pound on your door jolts you out of your daze, and you check what time it is on your phone; it’s around 6:30, and you aren’t expecting anyone to your apartment. You’re confused when you look through the little peephole, but that all of a sudden disappears when your second favorite Fantilli is on the other side of the door. He’s not alone either, standing patiently with Rutger.

Each boy is clad in Michigan gear from head to toe, and Luca giggles about something when you open the door. The boys turn to you with the wildest smile that immediately makes you suspicious.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” You ask, narrowing your eyes a bit.

The boys dramatically roll their eyes, and Rutger places his hand on his heart in mock betrayal.

“Are we not allowed to visit our favorite person ever?”

You roll your eyes at Rutger and shift in the doorway, opening space for them. With bright smiles, they shuffle in, dropping their bags and immediately making themselves comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, Rutger opens your fridge and grabs out Capri Sun.

“I love this, don’t get me wrong, but why’re you here? I know you’ve both had a busy day.”

The pair grow quiet, and Rutger looks toward Luca to lead.

“Adam said you were a bit sad today.” Luca pipes up. “And we’re good at making you happy.

A small part of you feels terrible; it’s not their job to check on you, but most of you want to cry happy tears. You love these boys, and it means a lot that they still care about you, even when Adam is gone.

“So, we’re taking you out. No arguments, go change.” Rutger says, shooing you to your bedroom.

You give in because, of course, you do. It has been a bit of a rough day, and it didn’t help that your boyfriend has only texted you a few times today, telling you about how busy his weekend is going to be and he might not be around much.

You pull on some of Adam’s old Michigan gear, and within a few minutes, you’re walking out of your apartment with the boys. They don’t tell you where they’re taking you, but you just follow, content with being with your friends.

“She actually said that to her face?” Luca asks in disbelief.

You are telling the boys about some friend drama when you reach your destination. It’s a cute little pasta place close to campus, and It is one of your favorite spots. Adam took you here a lot in the last year, and you haven’t been able to go as often now that he’s been gone.

You smile as you follow Luca in, Rutger trailing behind you as you continue telling your story. Soon enough, you’re seated in a booth, food ordered, and you’re listening to them tell you about their own lives, hockey, and whatever the hell else.

You’re soaking up every minute with them, and you realize as you’re talking that you miss being around them. You miss the jokes, the laughs, the chaos, and you know that you have to get out of this little funk. They’re still your best friends, and you have to start seeing them more.

The pasta comes, and you dive in. It tastes like heaven, and you’re transported back to all the times you’ve eaten this meal with Adam. Your heart twinges slightly, but you shove the emotion down and continue laughing with the boys.

“So what’d you get A for Christmas?” Luce asks, mouth full of pasta. “Promise I won’t tell.”

You shrug your shoulders a bit. “A couple of little things. But I was thinking about visiting him, but I’m not sure he has time.”

You looked into it a bunch, but every weekend before Christmas was jam-packed in both of your schedules.

“You guys will figure it out.” Luca hums.

“Yeah, besides, he hasn’t seen you in a while, and I bet all he wants is to unwrap you like a pres-“

“Gross Rut,” Luca interrupts him, and you both laugh at his disgusted face.

The rest of the meal goes by, and at the end of it, you’re feeling much better about life. You’re super happy with this reunion, and you want it to continue, but Luca's phone buzzes on the table, and he gives Rutger a look.

“Ready to go?” Rutger asks, and you nod, heading back outside into the Michigan cold.

It’s a beautiful night, and when you step out, you see that light snow has started to fall. It looks picturesque as you stare at the snow and the decorations for the season. You feel your heart swell, then get slightly sad again, but you smile anyway.

“It’s perfect out.” You whisper to the pair, and they nod. “Are you guys going to come back up? Watch a movie or something?”

The pair share a quick look, and Rutger shakes his head.

“We can’t, we gotta head back.”

You’re a bit disappointed, but you don’t show it. They both have lives, and you can’t expect them to stay forever just because you’re a little lonely.

“All good, this was so nice. Thanks, you guys.”

Both the boys smile at you, and you walk back to your apartment. It’s still snowing, and when you reach the building, they stop at the entrance.

“Are you good to go back up yourself? My mom’s calling me.” Luca says quickly.

You nod your head, say a quick goodbye, and watch as the boys walk briskly away. You’re a bit confused, but you wave anyway as they speed off.

You make your way to the elevator, and you feel good as you climb the floors. You’re happy you got to spend time with some of your favorite boys, even if it was just for a while.

When you step out of the elevator and round the hall to your place, you smell a Christmas candle, and a wave of nostalgia hits you. It’s your favorite Christmas scent, and you almost want to cry. However, you don’t because as you come to your door, you realize the smell is wafting from your apartment.

You’re so completely lost, but when you unlock the door, everything falls into place.

There he is, standing in the center of your apartment wearing a cozy ugly Christmas sweater you’d bought him and smiling as though he’s the happiest man in the world.

You freeze, taking in the decorated apartment. You see a small little Christmas tree with a few presents, lights that line the space, and your favorite fucking candle lit on your dining table.

You drop your keys to the floor, and tears flow as he crosses the room to meet you. When he envelops you in his arms, you cry even harder, knowing that this is probably the happiest moment you’ve had in a long time.

“Hey baby,” Adam says into your hair. “Merry Christmas.”

You release him just enough to see his face. His beard has grown back, his eyes are a little glossy, too, and his smile is one of the brightest you’ve ever seen.

“Did you miss me?” He asks, wiping a tear from your face.

You pull back even further and give him a slight glare. “Yes, you asshole.”

You pull him back in, but this time, you pull him down slightly to meet his lips for the first time. In a simple moment, it’s like a world of color appears again before your closed eyes. Almost every thought in your brain is stripped out and replaced with him. He’s here. Really here. He’s here pressing his lips to yours and pulling you closer. He’s cupping your face, running his hand up and down your back and into your hair. He tastes familiar, and everything about him makes you feel complete. You finally feel whole again within his arms.

When you finally convince yourself to pull away, you meet his eyes again. You want to tell him you love him, but instead, your brain fails to string any thoughts together. So you simply pull him back to you and hope your kiss will show him those three words.

———————-

The night goes by slowly, and you couldn’t be more thankful. You spend hours talking, laughing, and staying cuddled on your couch. Only removing yourself when it gets late enough and you can barely keep your eyes open. You eventually make it to your bed, and everything is right as you lay against Adam’s chest, listening to his heart steadily beating.

“So Luca and Rut were your pawns?” You ask Adam, tracing little shapes on his chest.

He lets out a small laugh, and it's music to your ears.

“I mentioned I needed help surprising you, and the team had to draw names to see who would be the distraction.”

You smile at the thought and cuddle even closer to him.

“I missed you.” You say after a minute.

You grin as he pulls you impossibly closer and kisses you gently on the head.

“I know,” he says. “But this doesn’t last forever. It’s just tough right now.”

You nod, agreeing with him. Right now, it sucks, but soon enough, you’ll be done with school, and he’s already out there making a name for himself. You know he knows how proud you are of him, and you support his dreams, even if it means you have to spend a couple of years like this.

You have your own life and your own dreams to keep you busy. But even then, you crave being with one another, and a piece you is always missing when he isn’t around you. But you do it anyway. You love him, and it’s these little moments that remind you why you put yourself through the pain. When he’s with you, when you’re together, everything is aligned, and it's nothing but perfection.

Yeah, December might be much colder when he isn’t with you, but when he is, it’s like you’re on fire. The only feeling you have is endless warmth.

[igotanidea]

Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town.  And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put  a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Guide Dan Vol.50, January 2024 Issue ft. Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger Cast Members Sakai Taisei x Masato Yano Interview (translations below)

Publication: January 26, 2024

"Please introduce the character the other is playing in Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger."

Sakai: Yano-san plays Racules Husty, the big brother of Gira Husty, who I play. At first, we were led to believe that he was a bad guy who hurt his citizens, but unknown to Gira, he was carrying a huge burden on his shoulders, and was deliberately behaving in a way that made him look like that. Gira may have lost his childhood memories, but I think he respected Racules in those days, and even now is of great importance to Gira.

Yano: Gira is the younger brother of Racules, but at the same time, he's a mysterious being. Somehow, he can communicate with the Shugods…For the rest of the story, it felt like he was moving forward with innocence, but gradually, he gained leadership, moved the hearts of those around him, and became the driving force for the previously broken up Royal Sentai to become one. Furthermore, he's also been gaining more and more dignity as the new king, and now he and Racules have resolved their differences and are fighting together.

"Outside of your roles as brothers, what's the relationship between you two like?"

Yano: (with a solemn expression) We normally don't get along very well.

Sakai: (with a straight face) We fight alot.

Sakai & Yano: (laughs).

Yano: No, we're just joking. That's not the case at all.

Sakai: Yano-san takes very good care of me. He cares about me, asking, "Are you eating properly?," and also gives me advice on acting.

Yano: I'm not offering anything major. I just say, "Here's what I'm doing."

Sakai: For example, in running scenes, Yano-san breathes loudly with, "Haa, haa" to make the sound easier to pick up. Since Gira has many running scenes, I try to incorporate this in my own way.

Yano: I believe that each actor has their own way of creating emotion, so I often talk about the technical aspects. For example, it's better not to blink during important scenes, as it could distract the viewers. If there's no dialogue in a scene where you're close to a character's face, I'd suggest that you express your feelings by clenching your teeth or swallowing saliva.

Sakai: He teaches me these things in a way that's easy to understand. Furthermore, Yano-san has so many variations to his performance! He's always been a great help.

"Speaking of, what do you usually call each other?"

Sakai: I call him "Aniki."

Yano:…You've never called me that once though.

Sakai: Ahaha! Just now, I got scared~.

Yano: I immediately started thinking about the best way to respond to your joke.

Sakai: Actually, it's "Yano-san."

Yano: For me, it's "Sakai". Sometimes I call him "Taisei." Like when we go out to eat.

Sakai: It makes me happy to be called Taisei by Yano-san. From now on, I want you to call me Taisei!

Yano: You prefer Taisei?

Sakai: Yeah, but Sakai is fine too. I've been called that since I worked together with Yano-san in the drama "Shinyu wa Akujo."

Yano: Everyone called him Taisei, but I intentionally chose Sakai.

Sakai: Eh? Was it to make me feel special?! I'm so happy~!

Yano: Well…that's right! (laughs). What does Ikeda Masashi call you by?

Sakai: You mean by everyone?

Yano: Why'd you respond like that? (laughs). Sakai is like this, and sometimes I can't get through to him. The other day he asked, "What did you eat for dinner?" and when I answered, about 3 minutes later, he asked me the same question again.

Sakai: I wanted him to respond with, "How many times have you asked that?!" (*he wanted to do a bit with Yano)

Yano: Absolutely not. I could tell by your face. Sakai has a different kind of expression when he's like that.

Sakai: Eh? So you can understand such subtle changes! Yano-san is the mood maker on set. When he's on standby in front of the cameras for a monologue scene, he makes strange faces right up until the actual performance (laughs).

Yano: Hey, hey, that makes it seem like I don't take my job seriously! Well, it is true that I make strange faces (laughs).

"We've heard from your co stars that Yano-kun is lonely, and that he posts the most in the King-Ohger cast's group LINE…"

Yano: It's a misunderstanding. There's a reason for that. It's a common occurrence among actors, but even if you create a group LINE with your co stars, after filming begins or after some time passes, no one says anything. I don't like it, so I post frequently, but no one ever responds…

Sakai: I often have trouble speaking up because I'm too considerate of my seniors.

Yano: Sakai doesn't really say anything. Rather, he doesn't return private LINE messages.

Sakai: That's not true. I reply as soon as I see them!

Yano: You didn't reply the other day.

Sakai: I might've been working.

Yano: Let's just leave it at that (laughs).

"Since you play brothers in this work, we'd like to ask what kind of household chores you'd share if the two of you were to live together."

Sakai: Leave the toilet and bathtub cleaning to me!

Yano: Are you good at it?

Sakai: I'm the type of person who makes things beautiful when my "switch" is turned on. However, folding clothes and vacuuming…I don't feel like doing that.

Yano: Well then, guess I'll do it.

Sakai: Please also take care of the cooking!

Yano: How strange! (laughs). Because, Sakai, you have a rice cooker at your house, and yet you eat precooked rice packs, right?

Sakai: Cooking rice is a pain…

Yano: I really don't understand that feeling.

Sakai: Everything depends on my mood (laughs). If I feel like cooking rice, I'll cook it.

Yano: So, on days when Sakai feels like it and cooks rice for me, I'll have to say "Thank you~!" out of consideration. How annoying~ (laughs).

"(laughs). In the future, if you were to work together again as actors, what kind of production would you like to work on?"

Sakai: I'd like to play a yakuza role.

Yano: I see. Your role would be something like, "Even though his face is cute, his face is calm when he kills," does that sound good?

Sakai: That's good!

Yano: Well then, I'll play the role of the detective who hunts him down. There was a drama like that, right? It was…"Informa," featuring Morita Go-san and Kiritani Kenta-san!

Sakai: Ah!

Yano: Sakai would be in Kiritani-san's position in that drama. Or, I'll be in Kiritani-san's position and Sakai will be in Yokohama Ryusei-san's position.

Sakai: That's really good!

Yano: Personally, I'm looking forward to it. What kind of work will Sakai first appear in after he graduates from King-Ohger? I think it's really important to make that first step. What kind of production do you want to be in?

Sakai: I have almost no experience in acting, so I'd like to play any kind of role.

Yano: Then, if you had to choose between comedy, romance, or serious, which one would you prefer?

Sakai: Are they genres I can do? In that case, I'll do it.

Yano: No, don't just say "I'll do it." I just gave you choices.

Sakai: I see, my bad (laughs). If I had to pick, I'd like to do a serious one. Also, comedy.

Yano: You chose two (laughs). And they're completely opposite genres.

Sakai: I'm greedy (laughs).

[h-didanart]

I MADE IT

CHARACTER REF SHEETS

FINALLY I CAN SHARE THESE GUYS PROPERLY

:D

*ahem* Hello fellow fans and au makers! I am here to showcase my silly little au. Allow me to introduce you to our main characters:

These are Sunset and Moonlight, from The Sunset and Moonlight show! Close ups and info dump below

Where to start where to start, okay, a general description of the AU should be good to start with yeah? Yeah

This is a swap au, but unlike what I usually see swap AUs do, this is less of a full personality swap and more of a ‘bend the characters to a point where they change roles’ thing.

NOW. THE CHARACTERS THEMSELVES—

Sunset Rays Celestial-

Sun is a tired and apathetic guy. He would like to be left all alone in his room for the rest of his days, but that’s not really a good thing so he’s fine just living a calm and drama-free life.

His hobbies include cleaning, painting, sewing, and gaming. The cleaning has gotten embedded into his code to a concerning degree, he will clean a spot over and over for hours if he’s having a bad day. He got into art while he was undergoing “repairs”, he found painting to be a fun activity despite its messiness, and sewing has proven to be fruitful for his wardrobe. He’s gotten so good at these that he actually gets commissions and is paid very well. He prefers to draw with pastels and markers when he can. The video games are a shared hobby with his twin brother, Moon, they both play together sometimes. His favorite game is Cult of the Lamb.

He has a malfunction of sorts where his voice box will give out randomly and he’ll be unable to talk. It’s annoying but he doesn’t really mind, he has gotten really good at sign language from it. Plus, he uses it as an excuse to avoid talking to Moon whenever he gets the chance to.

The Computer absolutely hates his guts and has sent him off to various different dimensions. He’s acquainted with quite a few people and even has friends.

He has very good aim, both in video games and physically. He usually uses it to throw something at Moon to get his attention. Or to get him to leave him alone. Or to annoy him. Or just because. This has proved to be a really bad habit.

Despite being generally apathetic, he’s actually pretty good with emotions, being able to read them well on others and act accordingly.

He also knows magic.

Crescent Moonlight Celestial-

Moon is an energetic and nervous guy. He wants nothing more than to live happily with his brother. And do science, he’s a nerd.

His hobbies include science and gaming. On the side of science he specializes on robotics, programming, and inter dimensional studies, with some advanced physics as well. He’s a genius, basically. Gaming is a shared hobby between him and his twin brother, they both play together sometimes. He seems to have taken a liking to the Kingdom Hearts series, but Pokémon will forever have his heart.

The killing code is very much still in him, it manifests as heat on the back of his head and irritability. During a full kill code episode he’ll be extremely aggressive, on top of having increased physical capabilities and virtually no filter. He dreads having those and constantly checks his temperature. Independent from the kill code he has a bad temper.

He isn’t exactly a ‘people’s person’ yet due to having been the active Daycare Attendant for a few months he has grown acquainted with a few of the Pizzaplex animatronics. Montgomery took a liking to him. Because money.

Because of reasons he has a lot of bunkers on a lot of different parts of the world. He remembers them all thanks to the collection of tree branches he has picked up when he visited. These are jokingly called The Whacking Sticks (and is a genuine joke, he just likes collecting sticks)

He wanted to learn emotions better so he decided to find the code that controls emotions in himself and turned it on all the way. He’s starting to realize this wasn’t a good idea.

A master acrobat, he loves flying with the wire.

In case it wasn’t clear yet, Sun and Moon switch places in this au. Things may change, and I may come up with funny details later, but I hope you had fun reading this little introduction to my au

More stuff about them to come at some point!

[hitlikehammers]

Starring Steve Harrington in a Leading Role as 'Mom Husband Disappointed in YOU PERSONALLY'

rating: teen tags: future fic, established relationship, Eddie commits a capital offense, bitchy Steve strikes again, Eddie loves him so much, married steddie, rockstar husbands ✨for @hbyrde36 at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: “I assume I deserve this, but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

One look is all it really takes.

As in: Eddie doesn’t have to do more than pulls his key from the lock, kick the door closed behind him, open his mouth to spill his usual litany of adorations, multiple at least tenfold for the uncommon days—plural, two whole days—spent apart from his husband, from his beloved, from less his other half and more his entire whole, the soul and breath of him, the rhythm-maker of his heart entire, his—

Eddie gets so far as turning to start on spilling all the love he’s had to bottle up because Steve wasn’t next to him for a whole 63 hours, and voicemails are fine, phone calls are nice, texts are a gift from god but also the bane of his existence because they’re starting to pretend—as in, the wider-world-of-they—but they’re starting to pretend they’re sufficient, that they’re enough and, and…

Fucking never.

But Eddie’s been gone—label negotiations, shit they were digging their heels on being in person for no goddamn reason, as proven by the actual days in person—and now, as he takes in his husband at the island, sat on one of the bar stools, those legs danged low and crossed at the ankles, the fucking socks on him tantalizing, good goddamn, but he’s leans back from the waist and those…those arms. Crossed over his chest.

That’s never meant anything other than judgement. Than what the kids used to term Mom’s disappointed in you personally.

Except Steve is his partner. His til-death-do-us-part-and-then-some. And…

Oh. Oh, he’s got his glasses on when he’s not working—Eddie scans the countertop for papers, nothing obvious—which only enhances the effect of the look; gives it a whole new dimension of accusation as he looks over the tops of the frames and lets his gaze fucking…just sear into Eddie. Uncompromising. No mercy.

Eddie will not try to pretend his doesn’t fucking gulp, the violent motion of his throat around it undoubtedly obvious: but Steve doesn’t budge. Doesn’t grant him quarter.

Fuck. Right. Okay.

Diffusion tactics.

“I assume I deserve this,” Eddie starts, pitches the words to land gentle because, well, they’re honest. Steve’s a fucking drama queen, absolutely: but it’s never been without his reasons, and Eddie loves him with his everything, right, so he respects his reasons.

Even when they’re fucking absurd.

But there’s no evidence here yet either way, about the what, about the cause of the sheer fucking inferno blazing in those eyes, the venom that Eddie can almost taste in the air that seeps from his lips for just breathing, that could probably land a death blow on its own when he actually deigns to speak, and so: yeah.

Eddie does assume he deserves it, one way or another. Because Steve loves him with his everything, too, like for like and then some, both ways and all ways. So he doesn’t react quite like this; doesn’t pull this sort of shit lightly.

“But” and he’s still picking his way through the minefield, takes only the barest step closer palms open near his hips, plaintive-like as he…yeah, kinda he pleads:

“Can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

Steve—okay, so, in any other circumstance: the sounds Steve makes, the guttural fucking growl that rumbles from his chest: that’d be hot as shit.

In fact it’s still hot as shit, but: not the time. Because those eyes are still…like, third-degree-burn to the touch.

“You lied.”

Eddie blinks, because…he hears Steve’s words. They’re very simple, and very clear.

But they’re nonsensical.

“What?”

“You lied to me.” And then Steve’s grabbing something behind him, flinging it closer to where Eddie stands at the end of the island and oh, okay, a magazine and—

Oh. Oh.

Okay.

A magazine with Eddie on the front with some…

Wait.

“Stevie,” and Eddie’s not gonna be placating, he’s not going to be evasive or dismissive—Steve knows the other party hanging off Eddie in the photo, it’s Lance, the band’s media intern who has a not-so-secret infatuation with Steve of all people, and is about to be replace by a kid, Marvin maybe, in his senior year in PR and media studies who, honestly, Eddie suspects may have an even bigger infatuation with his husband, but that’s not a concern for right now; the concern for right now is that Steve’s looking at Eddie, glancing every half-second toward the photo again and looking…somewhere between enraged and betrayed.

And it’s so fucking sour in Eddie’s chest, god: he needs to fix it. He’s just, he’s got to fic it but—

He doesn’t know what the hell it even is.

“Baby, I would never, not ever lie to you. And you know Lance,” Eddie tries to point out soothing, rational, no hint of patronizing because he wouldn’t, he would never, especially not like this.

Steve’s scowl just depends, and he taps hard enough on the page to leave an indent, to score a line with his nail.

Right. Okay.

“Stevie—“

“You,” and Steve leans toward the far side, grabs something out of view before he points the something at Eddie almost threateningly:

“Lied.”

“Steve,” and Eddie’s eyeing the instrument leveled at him carefully before he notes what it actually is: a pen.

A red pen and oh. His Stevie. Always the consummate educator.

And Steve does the growling thing again, probably because Eddie’s face goes lax, all soft and shit in the face of Steve being all competent in his profession in the small, sweet ways that pop up all the time, that Eddie loves so deep, so hard, but then Steve’s scribbling and oh, it’s one of the fancy pens, more like a marker that’s bright against the magazine gloss and he’s circling, he’s making arrows, there’s no rhyme or reason—

“Lies!” Steve declares, definitive as he throws down the pen and shoves the marked-up photo toward Eddie so it’s skids across the island, so Eddie has to catch it, and he squint a second, tries to make sense of what’s circled over and again and—

“You fucking promised me,” and Steve…yeah.

Steve sounds like Mom’s disappointed in him personally to a fucking T.

But so much worse again: because this is his husband.

“I did—“

“No!” Steve cuts him off; “no more bullshit,” and oh, fuck, Eddie knows it’s serious, that word’s got a premium still in their household, and then Steve’s leaning closer pointing forcefully at the image, at the red-ringed offenders:

“That,” Steve snarls; “is fucking frizz, Edward,” and Steve looks up at him, again, some combination of livid and offended on principle; “why did I even bother to pack you the conditioner that you swore to me you’d use—“

“I did, Stevie!” Eddie protests, pleads for leniancy; “I did, I swear, my bag got delayed the first night, it was only that first night that I showered without it,” and fuck, how’d they even get that photo, how the fuck did it get to print and in Steve’s hands even, how—

“You cannot maintain your curl pattern without proper maintenance,” Steve grits through clenched teeth and yes, yes: Eddie knows. He’s learned, and learned again, and learned some more, for…for years.

He kinda loves it. But he’ll never love making his husband sad. So, because he’s skilled on his feet, he tries for a compromise. A Hail-Mary, in sports ball speak—or he thinks that’s the right thing to call it.

“Maybe you can salvage it,” Eddie proposes, damn-near begs, and yeah, yes: he means that wholehearted, too; “maybe we can go upstairs and you can save it?”

And Eddie’s not even trying to make his eyes big, knows Steve’s largely immune unless he chooses not to be, but his eyes are stinging for how wade they’re stretched, and he holds the gaze, stares pitifully at Steve, pleads so hard, and then—

Steve smacks Eddie’s forearm with the rolled-up magazine and makes to leave the room; Eddie just stands, a little frozen, a little bewildered, until—

“Well, get your ass up here,” he hears from the staircase; “you better hope I can work miracles, dipshit, else your photocalls are gonna be stringy and sad all goddamn week.”

And Eddie grins because like: he knows his husband—and the man himself is already kind of a miracle.

So miracle working is kinda his area of expertise.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

[desertfangs]

For the writing prompt thing: "may I have this dance?" with Lestat/Daniel

I know this took me a millennia to get to so I appreciate your patience. I'm still working on the rest of these as well. This is some Court Angst with Lestat/Daniel, featuring Louis/Armand, Louis/Lestat, and Armand/Daniel. All the angst and drama of that weird New Court Era. About 1600 words. Thank you for the ask/prompt!

Daniel shifts the collar of his shirt, trying in vain to loosen it. When that fails, he tugs at the hem of his velvet doublet instead. Marius and Armand had been delighted to dress him in purple finery and hose and Daniel enjoyed the process, but now that he’s stuck wearing the outfit all night, he feels awkward and uneasy, like he’s wearing a costume. 

Of course, everyone is dressed in various styles of historical finery. Pandora wears a bright orange dress layered over a cream-colored one, sandals on her feet, hair up like a Roman goddess. Marius is dressed in similar fashion, in a red and orange Roman tunic, his blond hair loose around his face, while Armand’s outfit is similar to Daniel’s, though rich blue in color, and his auburn hair is long and loose around his pale face. Daniel watches as his maker moves effortlessly across the room toward Louis, who looks like he’d stepped out of the French court in the 1700s. He pushes down a flare of envy at how Armand gravitates toward Louis so automatically these days. 

He continues scanning the crowd and spots Lestat not far away. Lestat is wearing leather: leather pants with studs on the pockets, a torn white shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s an interesting choice, given that most of the others look like historical reenactors, although an argument can be made that the 1980s are now a historical period. That’s a strange thought, and Daniel looks down at his own outfit, fashion from over five centuries before. How long until Lestat’s wannabe Billy Idol attire will look as antiquated? He laughs at the idea. 

Lestat raises an eyebrow and glances his way. He’s talking with Alain and Gregory, but he excuses himself and makes his way over to Daniel, who’s hovering against the wall.

“Something funny, Molloy?” Lestat asks, expression hard.

Daniel grins at him. “Just thinking how you look like you’re planning to host the MTV Video Music Awards.” 

Lestat frowns. “Do they still do those?” 

Daniel shrugs. 

“I’d make an excellent host. Perhaps I should call my agent.”

Daniel roles his eyes. 

Lestat smirks. “Although I see you’ve opted to dress like one of Marius’ kept boys. I’m sure he’s thrilled.” Lestat leans in and speaks right into Daniel’s ear. “No doubt he’s eager to get you alone.” 

Daniel elbows him in the side. “You’re the one in tight leather pants. Who are you hoping to lure in your bedroom this evening, huh?” Lestat turns his head almost automatically toward Louis and Armand, who are now dancing together in the middle of the dance floor. He stares at them for so long that Daniel adds, “If it’s Armand, you’re working too hard for it.” 

Lestat jolts, pulled from his thoughts. Daniel can’t read them since they both have their mental walls up but he can guess. He’s looking at Louis longingly, as if they’re estranged. Funny, because they were walking together in the village just last week. Wasn’t it last week? Time seems to compress itself here at Court, especially in the winters when the snow can be relentless. 

“Armand does look delectable in his little Venetian boy attire. I suppose you two make a nice matching set. Perhaps it’s your maker who has designs on getting you alone, hm?” Lestat smiles wickedly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I think he and Marius just like to put me in anything but jeans and t-shirts,” Daniel says honestly. Although both of them did give him long looks earlier this evening. 

The music switches from classical to a pop song Daniel recognizes. He thrusts his hand out toward Lestat. “May I have this dance?” 

Lestat takes his hand without hesitation and leads him to the dance floor, positioning them suspiciously close to Armand and Louis, who, with the change of music, are no longer clinging to each other. But they still dance together, a modern sort of dance common in nightclubs, which looks all the more fascinating in their getups. Daniel realizes he must look the same way. 

Lestat bops to the beat, moving right into Daniel’s personal space, practically grinding on him. It’s hot as hell and Daniel moves with him. 

Armand catches sight of Daniel and smiles at him until he sees who he’s dancing with. Then his expression turns stoney. Annoyed, maybe, or even jealous, though which one of them he’s jealous of is anyone’s guess. So many little jealousies here at Court, when everyone has so much love for each other. But then, Daniel is not immune. 

Hell, even seeing Armand dance with Louis now brings up those old feelings of resentment and loss, his frustration that Armand found such solace in someone else’s arms, while Daniel, mad and out of his mind, was hardly a blip on his radar. 

Lestat grabs Daniel’s face and turns his head so he’s looking at him, right into those intense blue-gray eyes. He smiles and then leans in, kissing him on the mouth before Daniel knows what’s happening. Not that he’s going to complain. His lips are soft and pliant as they move against Daniel’s, his tongue sliding into Daniel’s mouth eagerly. Daniel kisses him back, arms winding around him and soon they’re not dancing at all, but standing in the middle of the dance floor making out. Daniel pulls back when he realizes it, cheeks heating as they undoubtedly go a little red. 

Everyone is watching—of course they are! Lestat is the prince, everyone is always watching what he does!—but most of them have the decency to pretend not to be. Louis and Armand have stopped dancing, too, and Louis turns and walks away. 

Armand looks angry. 

Daniel isn’t sure why. It’s not like he and Lestat haven’t kissed (more than kissed) plenty of times before. Lestat turns and disappears into the crowd. Uneasiness worms through Daniel’s gut and he feels like he’s been played somehow, only he doesn’t know what the game is. 

“Sorry,” he mouths at Armand, who probably doesn’t see; he’s too busy staring daggers at Lestat’s retreating form. Yeah, Daniel definitely missed something. He slips off the dance floor, face flushed, and follows Lestat out of the ballroom and down the hall. He finds him standing out on a balcony. The air is freezing and a fresh coat of snow glitters on the ground down below. 

“What the hell was that?” Daniel demands. 

“I thought you always enjoyed our little dalliances.” Lestat keeps his back to him so Daniel walks up beside him and sees him clutching onto the railing. 

“What’s going on between you and Louis?” 

Lestat looks mildly surprised. “Doesn’t your maker tell you everything? You two are always sneaking off into dark corners and having intimate little meetings.” 

Daniel swallows uncomfortably. They’re off in corners, yeah, making out and actively not talking, because talking leads to dredging up all the shit they’ve yet to work out between them. Talking leads to fighting. They steal away into the nooks of the Chateau to kiss and touch in a setting that’s not conducive to talking. Daniel knows they need to move on from that but things are still new and strange, and the kissing is nice. 

“He didn’t mention anything,” Daniel says. 

Lestat stares at him, as if trying to judge if he’s lying. Then he turns around and hops onto the ledge of the railing, sitting on it effortlessly. “Louis is here to be my royal consort and yet as soon as your maker arrived, they’ve been inseparable.” 

Daniel sighs. That’s a bit of an exaggeration but Daniel understands what he means. Armand and Louis spent so much time together that they are entwined now in a way that Daniel and Armand used to be. He feels Lestat’s frustration. His jealousy. And he hates that he does. Armand and Louis were together long before Daniel was even born. It’s not their togetherness that incites such envy, but rather how they seem like a unit now, two parts of a set, and Daniel doesn’t know where he fits anymore. Obviously Lestat feels similarly. 

“Louis came here for you,” Daniel points out. 

“Did he?” Lestat scoffs. 

“Yes,” Daniel says. Daniel remembers how hurt Armand was by Louis’ decision to do so, and how, though he refused to say so, he hadn’t wanted Louis to leave Trinity Gate. 

Lestat is silent for a long moment. Then he reaches out and brushes a stray hair off Daniel’s velvet top. “He’s acting as if he doesn’t want to be here.” 

Daniel shakes his head. “He’s dressed in finery and at a ball at your behest. He’s making an effort.” Daniel looks down at his own clothes. “We all are. This is all so new. It’ll take some time to acclimate.” 

Lestat considers.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, “I’ll go pull Armand into a corner for a bit and give you a chance to steal Louis away for a dance or two.” 

Lestat smiles. “Please. I can steal him from the little imp’s grasp anytime I desire.” 

“Then why are you out here sulking?” Daniel asks. 

Lestat punches Daniel in the shoulder. Daniel rubs his arm. Lestat jumps down from the balcony. “But you make a good point. I need to help Louis see what his role here at Court is meant to be.” 

Lestat grabs Daniel and kisses him on both cheeks, and then the lips again. Then he stalks off back toward the ballroom, leaving Daniel out on the balcony alone. He smokes a cigarette and then heads back inside.

When he reaches the ballroom, Louis and Lestat are dancing in the center of the room. Armand is off to the side, watching them with his intense amber eyes. Daniel touches his shoulder. He nods at the exit and then takes Armand’s hand in his and leads him out of the ballroom. Lestat spots them heading out and gives him Daniel a wicked smile. 

[reluctantjoe]

‘Baddies are my new type’: Mathew Baynton on Ghosts, Wonka and wicked villains

He is about to say goodbye to his role in beloved spectral sitcom Ghosts. But dastardly turns in Wonka and the a festive Agatha Christie drama suggest the actor’s future is bright – if somewhat nefarious

“I feel like I’m moving into really wanky territory now,” says Mathew Baynton, looking a little anxious. We are talking about Ghosts, the much-loved comedy about a gaggle of spirits consigned to spend the afterlife in a crumbling country mansion, which Baynton co-writes and in which he plays a deceased Regency poet. After a triumphant five seasons, Ghosts officially breathed its last in October – except there’s now a Christmas episode on its way. (Last year’s Christmas special drew 5.9 million viewers, making it the BBC’s biggest comedy of 2022.)

When I ask Baynton what it is about Ghosts that struck a chord with viewers, he worries he might sound pretentious. “But here goes,” he says. “I have learned that, as a writer, you don’t always know what you’re writing. There are the quite boring times where you have an idea and it comes out as you imagined, and there’s no mystery in that process. But when it’s exciting, you have an idea and it leads you to places you don’t expect.”

With Ghosts, he and his co-writers initially imagined hundreds of spirits haunting Button House, which would have allowed them to tell different stories with a new set of characters each week. “But when we looked at the taster tape we made, we all went: ‘Hang on, there’s something much richer here,’” Baynton continues. “We realised it was a show about people being stuck together, potentially in eternity, and how they find ways to get along. All of which is to say that I’m enamoured with Ghosts too because, right from the get-go, we had absolutely no idea what it would become.”

Baynton, who is 43, is talking from his study at home in north London where he lives with his partner, the film historian and film-maker Kelly Robinson, and their two children. He is self-effacing and thoughtful, choosing his words carefully and, at intervals, wondering if he could be expressing himself better. “I think it’s partly the writer in me,” he says, “but I do come away from conversations thinking how I’d like to rewrite things I’ve said.”

As an actor, Baynton has cornered the market in ultra-sensitive men who walk a fine line between pathos and silliness. Along with his lovelorn poet in Ghosts, there was his turn as a Victorian psychiatrist in 2017’s Quacks, who masterminds a new treatment for patients called “talking”; his lute-playing bard in the 2015 film Bill, about the early life of Shakespeare (“London is not going to know what hit it!”); and good Samaritan Sam in The Wrong Mans (2013-14), which he co-wrote and starred in alongside James Corden.

But this winter heralds a new set of projects that Baynton has dubbed “my Christmas of villainy”. In Murder Is Easy, based on the Agatha Christie novel about a spate of killings in a sleepy English village, he plays a doctor who, he says, “is an awful person with some very awful views”. Next year brings A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, based on Holly Jackson’s bestselling YA novel, in which a young true-crime enthusiast investigates a five-year-old murder case; Baynton can’t reveal too much, although he confirms his character is a far cry from the puppy-eyed romantics for which he is known. And in the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory prequel, Wonka, released in cinemas earlier this month, he plays the devious Fickelgruber, Wonka’s Brylcreemed rival in the confectionery business.

Baynton can’t account for this sudden pivot into treachery beyond the fact that “a few [casting directors] had the same idea at the same time … Acting is strange like that. You do one notable thing early on and you are put on a track that for 10 years that can be hard to get off. Perhaps baddies are my new type.”

Wonka was co-written by his friend and Ghosts compadre Simon Farnaby (who also co-wrote Paddington 2) and was filmed at Warner Bros Studios in Hertfordshire. For Baynton, it “felt like you were with the same kids but in a plush playground … Even though you’re working with this huge Hollywood star [Timothée Chalamet, who plays Wonka] and you’re on a set that probably cost the same as an entire series of Ghosts, it’s still a comedy with a big heart, so for me it felt like home.”

Baynton and Farnaby first came together on the set of Horrible Histories, the anarchic children’s sketch show that recreated history’s most ludicrous and bloodthirsty moments, alongside Martha Howe-Douglas, Jim Howick, Laurence Rickard and Ben Willbond. Shortly after it finished its decade-long run, the six of them wrote the madcap puppet comedy Yonderland, largely because “we couldn’t bear that we weren’t going to get together for more mucking about in front of the camera”. This was followed by Bill, and, four years later, Ghosts. They have even given themselves the collective name Them There, mostly for production credits, though “no one actually calls us that”. Aren’t they more Britcom’s answer to the Brat Pack? “I don’t know about that,” Baynton says, bashfully, “though it depends on which of them you think I am.”

The youngest of three children, Baynton grew up in Southend on a diet of sea air and his dad’s Monty Python cassettes. He reckons being lowest in the pecking order at home contributed to his desire to perform and be noticed. In his teens, he went through a morose period during which he was overtaken by self-consciousness, but then he discovered theatre via a production of Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles by Theatre de Complicité “which moved me to tears in ways I couldn’t understand and ignited something in me. I knew I wanted to be in that world in some way.”

Baynton went on to drama school, where he studied directing, but when he got there he realised acting was his calling. He spent a summer as assistant to Cal McCrystal, then director of the physical theatre group Peepolykus, who pushed him to join in with improv games. Later he went to Paris to study under the renowned clown Philippe Gaulier, which cemented his love of slapstick. Upon returning home, McCrystal gave him his first break on the stage in a production of Joe Orton’s Loot.

But it was Horrible Histories that really opened doors for Baynton, both as an actor and writer. On being offered the job, he nearly turned it down, fearing that he might get stuck doing nothing but children’s TV, but his agent persuaded him to take the job by telling him: “No one will see it.” In a talk last year at the Oxford Union, Baynton remarked how, were they making it today, they would do certain things differently, such as not using white actors in tanning makeup to portray Egyptians.

“I think it’s important that we examine where the line is [around portrayals of other cultures],” he says now. “It’s a murky area where intention sometimes doesn’t match reception. Certainly, no one had bad intentions making Horrible Histories and none of us at that time, in the culture as it was, hesitated and thought: ‘Hang on, maybe I shouldn’t play an Egyptian.’ But times have changed and I would hesitate now.”

If the odd Horrible Histories sketch hasn’t aged well, it is worth observing the sensitivity and inclusivity that runs through Ghosts. Baynton notes how throwing together characters from different historical periods allowed them to “highlight wrongful attitudes and interrogate how they had arrived at them. At one point, there’s a gay wedding at Button House and [the ghost of] Lady Button is appalled and goes on this journey in which she faces her own homophobia. When we were writing that story, it felt like I was having a conversation with my homophobic nan.”

Baynton is content moving between acting and writing, not least because “if I’m between acting jobs, it means I get to dream up new projects for myself and my friends”. Keen to avoid any signs of egotism as his career soars, Baynton keeps his feet on the ground by recalling the “pure dystopian hell” of his time as a school leaver working in a call centre. There, every second of the day was monitored and he was once upbraided by a manager for taking too many toilet breaks. “So when I’m on set in a scratchy costume or I’m feeling a bit tired and thinking what a terrible time I’m having,” he says, “I remember that time, and what a privilege it is do what I do.”

[theratisbackanditsinyourkitchen]

not to cause drama or anything but I HATE SCYTH ASMR! (Tw fictional domestic abuse, and fictional abuse of power)

Hate is a strong word, and my feeling might be a little over the top but, I do wanna talk about some of his stuff. I was a big fan of his when his first V vid was made. I joined the discord and followed all his posts. And then he posted a video that happened to have domestic violence in it, MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR THAT PAST THIS!!!! this vid has the listener character “cheeky” (I will not be calling her that cus that’s is a cringe ass nickname btw) and V, the romantic interest training, then after some flirting (one sided on V’s part, I’ll get into this later) a cargo truck full of scientists drives by! V quickly gets into the trunk and kills everyone in there, the listener character tries to stop him from killing what she think is an innocent person, he kills the guy in front of her, and then throws her out of the car, chokes her, talks about how he’s going to kill her and pin her death on the people in the cargo truck, and then says “how about one more kiss before you go” before letting her go. He then afterwards explains that the reason he killed all of them, was because of some in story lore about werewolves. It’s explained that what they did basically caused a werewolf to go feral and become evil and kill people. So obviously! These scientists who were probably forced by the government to do this, deserved to die! That makes sense! Anyway the moral of this vid was that the listner character should always listen to V no questions asked! I hate this vid for a number of reasons. The biggest one is the number of comments sexualizing and romanticizing the fucking horrible and traumatic abuse this listener faced, even bigger then that was the fact scythe audio fed into it.

The worst comment (trigger warning, victim blaming)

As you can see, scythe not only condoned this behaviour, he feed into it. This comment makes me sick. I accidentally watch this video without reading the description and became very triggered at the video. (this is not scythe audios fault, I must make this clear) seeing people make jokes like “I asked to be choked but not like this” and talking about how the listener character deserved and even enjoyed the attack was and still is repulsive.

The relationship between V and the listener character was also extremely abusive, but it was always shown as loving, or something like that. The listener has to stay with V and basically do whatever he asks (including kissing and I assume sexual favours) or be tossed to the streets to be picked up by either the evil shadow government or the actual government. Both wanted her dead. So, she’s trapped staying with a man who threatens violence if she doesn’t follow his every whim, who sexually harasses her daily, who diminishes her trauma, and who treats her like trash, just so she doesn’t her tormented and eventually killed. My issue with this isn’t the fact he’s an abusive ass hat, my issue is that instead of giving him any actual character growth, V was given orphans. He was made into an adopted dad to a shit ton of orphans cus he has ZERO REDEEMING TRAITS OTHER THEN HOT. Scythe audio must have realized this guy was his money maker and realized he had to make this guy actually redeemable if he wanted to have him to keep Marlon him money. Anyway it was unconvincing cus right after introducing the fact there were cute kids in the equation, he dropped the domestic abuse.

Another thing, less about the videos and more about how he interacted with fans. His discord sever had rolls for age! They specifically had one labeled “16 and under”, now, I’m not against having minors in asmr fandom spaces, but having minors especially such young ones in a sever he made? It just felt like a weird choice, especially seeing as he had and still has, and I’m going to say it bluntly, porn up on YouTube. Now you can say “but the video said 18+!” We all know that has never ever stopped a minor from doing anything. With this said, a large amount of his fandom was under 18, I’ll give him this, I don’t think i ever saw Scythe interact with an under 18 fan, but he knew they where there, he knew they watched his content. And yet knowing this, he wrote stories that glorified domestic abuse as a way to teach your partner how to fall in line he wrote stories glorifying the horribly toxic relationship that was V and the listener character. This type of thing affects kids greatly, especially if they have no clue it is abusive. Even in the video with the domestic abuse the description says “this may be triggering to listeners in regards to domestic based violence” not “Trigger warning, this video contains Domestic abuse!” It says it more like “it’s kinda domestic abuse, but only if that triggers you”

In Redacted, the description will always tell you what to expect. “Gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationship” he will make sure you know that a toxic relationship is toxic, he makes sure your aware that the abuse shown, isn’t love. The most scythe does is say “well V is a villain! He’s not a good guy!” And yet her tries to make him redeeming so people like him.

Now, I get that this was over 2 years ago, scythe audio could have totally moved past this weird glorifying abuse thing, who knows! I mostly wrote this as a vent cus my friend reminded me he existed. Anyway if you made it this far have a nice day. If you where or still are a scythe fan, tell me what you think of all this (without being mean please) if you happen to be scythe himself block me I don’t want you near me. Anyway have a nice day!

[satansindexfinger]

Can you do the Brothers and Undateables reacting to an MC who called God sky daddy?

Author's note: ahsjdjdkf this is hilarious, thank you for requesting! It feels so weird putting the fancy banners and everything for something this silly lmao

Warnings: none

Crack; gn!mc

Everyone's Reaction To You Calling God 'Sky Daddy'

Lucifer

"... Pardon?"

He knows for a fact you did not just call his father sky daddy of all things. It takes him a moment to process it.

He visably cringes and rubs his temples, annoyance evident, "Please, for the love of everything, do not refer to him that way ever again."

What would even posess you to do that? You humans really are an enigma Lucifer can't decipher.

He couldn't look more disgusted if he tried.

Mammon

"Huh? W-who are ya callin' that?!"

Relax, Mammon. God isn't their side-hoe. It's not the type of daddy you're picturing. It's a joke.

"Damn, why didn't ya just call him by his name... yer really weird, yknow that?"

Now he's jealous. Why does God get a goofy nickname and he doesn't?!

Leviathan

"LMAOOOOO"

Thinks it's hilarious. So what if it's his dad? That was a good one, MC!

Boy is well-versed in obscure internet slang so nothing can surprise him on that front. Won't dare to use it himself but... okay, maybe when it's just you two.

He really wants to fit in okay? Probably has his own fair share of memes relating to The Lord (tm) and will send you every last one.

Satan

"Thank who?"

Did he hear you right? Is this some weird type of human word play? Even his big brain needs a second to connect the dots.

"Huh, I've never heard that alias of his before. Well, he is on the upper realm, and he is technically the father of all things... I suppouse it makes sense."

Doesn't pay any mind to it after analyzing the connection. He thinks it's a weird way of saying it but you do you, MC.

I lied. He so keeps that in the back of his mind to use when Lucifer is around just to piss him off.

Asmodeous

"Oh, MC! I didn't know you had quite the mouth on you! How blasphemous!"

Gasps like the drama queen he is.

Good job, you've turned his cringy flirt mode on. Now he won't leave you alone.

You might want to reconsider your word usage around this bitch next time.

Beelzebub

Whomst? What?? Sky who?

Doesn't get it, doesn't ask about it. He thinks he didn't hear you clearly over the sound of his munching.

Will look at you like a confused dog and cock his head, hoping you'd explain. If you do he will just nod. Like it's the most normal thing he's heard all day.

"Ah, you mean Father." Whatever. Back to your guys' scheduled sixth meal of the day.

Belphegor

"Sky daddy? Really? Could you be any weirder about him?"

If you pay close attention you can hear his subtle snicker. Come off it Belphie, you think it's hilarious.

Would absolutely call his maker sky daddy if they ever met again. Shame he's probably permanently banned from the celestial realm.

Look me in the eyes and tell me he hasn't attempted to call God weird ass names to his face before.

Joins Satan in his quest to piss Lucifer off by calling their father that.

Diavolo

Congrats, you've stumped the demon lord himself! .. For a split second. Then he lets out a laugh like he's just watched the funniest stand up on Netflix.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, MC? What an odd nickname!"

Thinks it's charming for some reason. You little humans and your interesting choice of words! How cute!

"Does that make me ground daddy?"

Diavolo please.

Barbatos

Ignores you. No reaction from this killjoy right here.

Okay, maybe he finds it just a tad amusing. Won't show it though. He might mention it in passing while he's having tea with Diavolo and chuckle a bit about the blatant disrespect you have the balls to show, but that's about it.

Or so you think. Motherfucker will drop it in conversation when you least expect it.

"It's a good thing we heard the timer on the oven this time. I suppouse we can thank Sky Daddy for this?"

It sounds illegal coming out of his mouth.

Solomon

"Daddy Jay-Z really has blessed us today."

Will play along with it. Man gives zero shits. Remember, this is the same dude who wanted to call Michael Mike.

He already knows he's going to hell shall he become mortal again so why not drag his favourite MC down with him?

"May the cloud son-in-law and holy poltergeist help us one day too."

You two are a walking menace.

Simeon

(Let me upload the banner you piece of shit site)

Look absolutely scandalized. You might as well have murdered Luke right infront of his eyes.

"M-MC!! That is highly disrespectful! Please watch your language, especially if Luke is around."

Knows you were probably trying to be funny but mans is whipped for holiness. Relax, he knows you probably didn't know any better so he isn't mad.

Just a bit dissappointed.

Won't lecture you further but will sigh and look disapprovingly if you ever did it again.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Ignus Nilsen Waltz

I've decided to change outfits for this. This is going to alter some of the dialogue we've already heard.

ECHO MAKER - "He should know the meeting starts at 22.00 *sharp*." His companion looks up at you and squints.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - His eyes are tracing an invisible line back and forth from your jacket to his companion.

ECHO MAKER - "Hey, Steban. Isn't that *your* jacket?"

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - What a coincidence! You two have the *same* jacket. What are the odds?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Based on the prevalence of white Saramirizian suits in Martinaise? Extremely low.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "It certainly *looks* like my jacket, Ulixes. Where did you get that, gendarme?"

I just found it… in a room."

"Must be a coincidence. I see these jackets all the time."

"This jacket is RCM property. It's been confiscated as part of an ongoing investigation."

[Leave.]

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Unlikely. That's real Saramirizian twill. Only old Saramirizian communists and drug smugglers wear those anymore..."

"See, Uli? It's just like Mazov wrote. How does it go again?"

ECHO MAKER - "'Those committed to the rights of property are those most apt to violate them'." His companion nods emphatically.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Just a minute. Steban... Ulixes... *why* do those names ring the faintest of bells?

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Probably because they're the real names of 'Nasteb' and 'Exilus', the authors of that so-called essay about TipTop Tournée you read...

CONCEPTUALIZATION - You should get to the bottom of this, when you have the chance.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "I assumed it was Maurice who broke into my room, to play a trick on me. I didn't think I'd *actually* been raided by the RCM!"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - There is surprise in his voice, naturally, but is that a note of *excitement* you also detect?

"So, do you want your jacket *back*?"

"Listen, comrade, it's not what it looks like..."

"Why do you sound *excited* to be raided by the RCM?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Oh, gendarme, because this is perfect..."

He turns to his companion. "Can you imagine the look on Maurice's face when he finds out the RCM has been kicking my door down?"

ECHO MAKER - "He'll shit himself! Positively."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "And now they've shown up *in force* to break up our meeting!" He rubs his hands together excitedly.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant sighs. "Something tells me these young men are not very experienced with law enforcement."

"Hold on, we're not here to *break up* your meeting. We want to *join* your meeting!"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "The RCM wants to join us?" A quizzical expression...

KIM KITSURAGI - "My partner, of course, is acting in a strictly *personal capacity*, not as an official representative of the RCM."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Interesting. Does that mean you've done the reading?"

DRAMA [Impossible: Failure] - Uh oh. No one said anything about *reading*. You'll just have to wing this one.

And we're back.

4. (Whisper.) "Kim, did *you* do the reading?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "No, detective. The only reading I've been doing is right here..." The lieutenant holds up his little blue notebook.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - He seems to be wagging the notebook at you, as though he suspects you may have forgotten why you're here.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I have not had time to seek out pretentious communist book clubs, nor have I done their 'reading'."

ECHO MAKER - "It doesn't sound like they've done the reading, Steban."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Well, this is getting awkward. I'm not sure what you were expecting to find here then..."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - There's profound consternation in his voice. You suspect it's about something bigger than your not having done the reading.

ECHO MAKER - "Maybe they can explain themselves."

"What *exactly* are you two doing here?"

"What were you doing with those matchboxes just now?"

"Do I *know* you two from somewhere?"

"That's enough for tonight. Will you still be here if I have more questions?" [Leave.]

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "In the most general sense, I would say we're cultivating revolutionary consciousness."

ECHO MAKER - "Yes, that's probably the best way to describe it."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "But more specifically, we're running a reading group, the most rigorous and theoretically advanced materialist reading group in Martinaise."

ECHO MAKER - "Comrade Steban is a great discussion leader. One of the best at the university."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - It's obvious they take this 'group' of theirs extremely seriously. Whatever you do, *don't* compare it to a common book club.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - *YAWWWWN!* Can you imagine anything duller than a bunch of binoclards yanking each others' knobs?

"Is this where I can square off in *theory combat*?"

"Sounds like a place for intense intellectual engagement. Exactly my kind of jam."

"Sounds just like a regular book club."

"Sounds like a yank-fest for binos."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We have been known to get into some *spirited* debates. But it's always in service of our larger intellectual and ideological project."

ECHO MAKER - "Precisely. We're not interested in senseless parroting. We like to read *critically*."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Within the contours of Mazovian historical materialism, of course."

"I didn't realise they taught radical Mazovian theory in the universities."

"Okay, so what does your reading group actually *read*?"

"I think I get the idea. Let me ask about something else."

ECHO MAKER - "Ha! As though you can call that pablum *teaching*."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "One thing you learn quickly at university is that you're not going to find a real education in any lecture hall or discussion seminar."

ECHO MAKER - "We're post-attendance, basically."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Exactly. The only worthwhile part of the so-called École normale de Revachol is the library. That's where we've made our greatest critical strides."

2. “Kim, can we arrest these kids for truancy?”

KIM KITSURAGI - "They’re not primary school delinquents, they’re university students. Attendance isn't compulsory. Besides, we’re not the skip squad."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - The Counter-Truancy Task Force (or 'skip squad') is the division of the RCM that drives around in wagons looking for delinquent minors. It's generally considered a punitive assignment for under-performing officers.

3. "Okay, so what does your reading group actually *read*?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We study all the foundational texts of Mazovian theory, of course. Just last week we finished the second volume of Puncher and Wattmann's 'Innocence of Capital'..."

ECHO MAKER - "Truly extraordinary."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "And before that we spent six weeks on 'State and Plasm'..."

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - This is fine. You can handle a list. In fact, you find the tedium strangely soothing.

+1 Morale

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We've also read Wertmüller's 'The Mega-Structure of History,' and before that, 'Reál and Reality'..."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Communist theorists love puns, in case that wasn't obvious.

Level up!

ECHO MAKER - "Abelard's 'Un Pays Infernal'..."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "The original Fizdale translation, not that watered-down revisionist garbage."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - These two deserve the Order of Honour for Bullshitting. There's no way they've actually *read* all this stuff.

ECHO MAKER - "Obviously." He snorts.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "But, of course, our *special emphasis* is on the theories of Ignus Nilsen and his followers, especially the infra-materialists."

"Wait, who are these *infra-materialists*?"

"I know who Kras Mazov is, but who is this 'Ignus Nilsen' guy?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "You're not familiar with them? It's... pretty advanced stuff. You may not be ready for it yet, gendarme." The two young men exchange skeptical side-glances.

"Okay, but then who's this 'Ignus Nilsen' guy?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Only Kras Mazov's most trusted lieutenant, the Evangelist of the Revolution, and the founding father of the People's Republic of Samara."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Legendary: Failure] - It's hard to overstate how unimpressed he is that you've never heard of this world-historical individual.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "He *also* happens to be the greatest communist theorist after Mazov himself. It was Nilsen who first postulated the existence of ideological plasm, which forms the basis of infra-materialist theory."

The young man sighs. His companion looks about furtively.

2. "Did this reading group have anything to do with the lynching?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Lynching? No. We're not an *operational* cell."

ECHO MAKER - "We think of ourselves as more of an intellectual vanguard."

"Okay, but what's your group's stance on the lynching?"

"Is your reading group affiliated with the Union somehow?"

"*Are* there any operational communists in Martinaise?" (Proceed.)

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Our stance? What, does he want to know if the SRV has established a party line on lynchings in Martinaise?" The two young men look at one another.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - The SRV refers to the People's Republic of Samara. Established as a socialist utopia by survivors of the Revolution, it has since degenerated into a bureaucratic workers' state under the decades-long rule of President Sapormat 'Sport' Knezhinisky.

ECHO MAKER - "Though historically speaking, the SRV *has supported* direct action against right-wing paramilitary squads, especially when they're doing the Indotribes' dirty work."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Good point. So as a provisional matter, I can say we support it."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Challenging: Failure] - Are they being sarcastic? You feel like you're caught in some elaborate joke labyrinth, but it's impossible to see your way through.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - It's always that way. Beneath the crust of irony there's a molten sincerity that threatens to erupt forth... You may witness it yet.

2. "Is your reading group affiliated with the Union somehow?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "No, we're an independent organisation," he says proudly. "We acknowledge and respect the Union's efforts, but our interests are more theoretical than Mr. Claire's."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - He speaks the truth.

3. "So what's your stance on crime in general?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "That's easy: Crime is simply the inevitable expression of the injustice and incoherence embedded within capitalism itself."

"It's a symptom, in other words. Not a cause." He waves his hand as though this is all there is to say on the subject of crime.

ECHO MAKER - His companion can barely suppress a yawn.

4. "*Are* there any operational communists in Martinaise?" (Proceed.)

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "No, unfortunately. The communards were hunted down and killed nearly to a man. All that's left of them are bones and old rifles."

"Right. They all got shot in the head, just like the anarchists."

"Well, that's too bad."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "The Insulindian Deluge wiped out an entire generation of communists. Afterward, they were all bulldozed into mass graves." The young man looks slightly queasy at the thought.

ECHO MAKER - His friend, though, seems oddly unmoved.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - On the contrary, he appears to be *savouring* the thought of so many people shot in the head, regardless of their beliefs.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Mark it, there's something sinister in that one.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - A moment of silence. They're waiting for you to speak.

3. "Where is the rest of the reading group?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "What do you mean? This *is* the reading group..."

"So there's just two of you?"

"Shouldn't a group have, like, more people in it?"

"Two's all you need. Me and Kim are the same way." (Turn to Kim.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Kim and *I*..." the lieutenant mutters under his breath. He scribbles something in his notebook but adds nothing else.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We're in something of a rebuilding phase."

ECHO MAKER - "Some of our former comrades didn't have the *ideological fortitude* our work demands."

"Okay, but what happened to them?"

"I've heard enough. Let's talk about something else."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Intellectual attrition is maybe the best way to describe it. Felix said he couldn't keep up with the reading on top of his classwork. And Zuzanna wanted to read texts *other than* Mazovian theory. Like novels, if you can believe it..."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Imagine, the audacity of wanting to read a novel in a reading group!

"Novels, unbelievable." (Shake your head.)

"Maybe you just haven't found the right group yet?"

ECHO MAKER - "See? Even a gendarme gets it."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We've tried recruiting new members, but unfortunately the *current intellectual climate* is pretty hostile to infra-materialist thought. These days, if you're on the left, the ascendent schools are the Gottwaldians and the Econoclards."

ECHO MAKER - "Don't forget about Maurice and the turnips."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - He sighs. "Right, then there was the whole 'turnip' debacle."

RHETORIC - Whatever this turnip business is about, one thing *is* perfectly clear: These young students have a much deeper understanding of communism than you do...

You could learn a thing or two from them, if you can convince them you're one of them.

"What's so bad about the Gottwaldians?"

"Who are the Econoclards?"

"What about Cindy, is she part of the group?"

"Did you say something about *turnips*?"

"I've heard enough. Let's talk about something else."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "They're the most depressing school of communism. They love writing long books with a patina of Mazovian theory to cover up their cheap psychologising."

ECHO MAKER - "A gang of cheap psychologists and intellectual midgets." His companion sneers. "Typical Gottwalders, in other words."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "It's okay for Uli to say that because his dad is from Gottwald."

"What's so depressing about their theories?"

"What's so bad about psychologising?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "The Gottwald School believe that intellectuals as a class are incapable of sparking revolutionary change, so all they can do is *critique* capitalism from inside itself."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - In other words, they have lost faith in their own relevance.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "That's why they spend all their time smoking cigarettes and writing long works of criticism that make you want to commit suicide."

"That sounds miserable."

"Sounds rewarding, actually."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "It *is* miserable. That's probably why they're always committing suicide."

2. "What's so bad about psychologising?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Do you think all the problems in the world can be reduced to repressed sexual urges?"

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - No, of course not. That's reductive in the extreme.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - One-thousand percent, yes.

"Probably not."

"Speaking from experience, definitely."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Well, there you have it. You're not a Gottwaldian, then."

"You see, the Gottwald School look like communists, they talk like communists, but scratch the patina and you'll see beneath that they're just depressed liberals who've read too many books."

2. "Okay, but what about the Econoclards?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "For starters, they love talking about *beans*."

"*Beans*?"

"What's wrong with beans? I like beans."

"No beans for me. Can't stand the stuff."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "That's right. Econoclards are *obsessed* with beans. They love thinking about beans, they love counting beans, but most of all, they love building models to predict how many beans there'll be *in the future*."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Nota bene: 'Econoclard' is an extra-pejorative form of the already pejorative name 'Mazovian Economists', a moderate school of Mazovianism, which advocates a gradual transition to communism through carefully managed economic modernisation rather than violent social revolution.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "They're by far the most bean-centric school of communism."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Ah yes, the much maligned bean counters, ensconced in their think-tanks and highrises, believing they can save the world through a series of incremental, assiduously technocratic reforms...

"I don't get it. Are the beans a *metaphor*?"

"But isn't it good to know how many beans there are?"

"What's wrong with making progress through moderate economic reforms?"

ECHO MAKER - "If only! They've got all the beans accounted for in their asset sheets, their quarterly budgets, their future projections. But for some reason there are never enough beans to go around, so we've just got to cut our bean rations in half..."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "... and next thing you know there are *budget cuts*, so now we've got to cut the bean rations in half *again*..."

"You see, Econoclards claim to be communists, but in reality they're just liberals with hard-ons for spreadsheets."

3. "And what about the liberals? Are they liberals, too?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Of course not. The only people who actually call themselves liberals are mouth-foaming reactionaries."

ECHO MAKER - "Basically indistinguishable from fascists. You'd need an x-ray machine to tell the difference."

4. "What about Cindy, is she part of the group?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Cindy is... how to describe her *role*..."

ECHO MAKER - "... something of an ideological auxiliary, perhaps."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Yes, that's exactly how I would put it. And naturally we support her radical counter-liberal aesthetics."

ECHO MAKER - "But she refuses to submit an essay, so we can't call her a member of the group *per se*."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "That doesn't stop her from using the room for studio space, of course."

5. "Did you say something about *turnips*?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - Another sigh. “It's an unfortunate story. You see, our ex-comrade Maurice is something of an economist...”

ECHO MAKER - “He’s studying macro- *and* micro-economics.”

KIM KITSURAGI - "Wow, a *real* intellectual, it sounds like." The lieutenant arches his eyebrows.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - “Right, so a few weeks ago we were discussing the extra-physical capabilities of the revolutionary state, and Maurice said... what were his exact words, Ulixes?"

ECHO MAKER - "It was unbelievable. He said, 'Turnips don't care if they're grown by communists, moralists, or welkin. They grow just the same'."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Basically, he was rejecting the whole foundation of infra-materialist theory."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - What is this *infra-materialist* business they keep blathering about? You've never heard of anything like it.

"Remind me what infra-materialist theory says about turnips again?"

Just go along with it.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Simply that *under suitably revolutionary conditions* crop yields naturally increase relative to non-revolutionary crops. Which Maurice somehow has the gall to deny."

ECHO MAKER - "Zuzanna said that he has been hanging out with some non-communists lately."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "For us the question boiled down to: 'If you don't even accept the basic ideas of Nilsen and infra-materialist theory, why are you in the reading group?'"

"I totally understand."

"I don't understand at all."

"So you expelled Maurice from the reading group over an argument about turnips?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Exactly. What educated person could believe that turnips grow at the same rate under capitalism *and* communism?"

ECHO MAKER - "It's a sad reflection on our educational institutions."

"So you expelled Maurice from the reading group over an argument about turnips?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Well, it wasn't so much that he was expelled..."

ECHO MAKER - "He just quit coming. We haven't seen him around for weeks."

6. "I've heard enough. Let's talk about something else."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Go ahead." The young man gives you a half-smile. His companion sniffs.

4. "What were you doing with those matchboxes just now?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - The young man frowns at the little pile of boxes on the floor.

"Nothing, just messing around until the meeting started."

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] - They're watching those matchboxes awfully intently for two guys who are just 'messing around.'

It's almost as though they were trying to create the most unstable structure they could...

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - With predictable results.

5. "Do I *know* you two from somewhere?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "I don't think so." The young man gives you a curious look. "Unless you've been hanging around the Cultural Studies faculty at the École Normale de Revachol..."

ECHO MAKER - "Perhaps he subscribes to 'La Fumée'."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - That's sarcasm. He does not expect you to subscribe to radical communist periodicals.

(Show them 'La Fumée'.) "Wait, *you* guys wrote for *this*?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "*You've* read our article?" For the first time since you've met the young man, words seem to desert him...

ECHO MAKER - "That I did not expect." His companion is blushing now, a sheepish grin on his face.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Well, don't keep us on tenterhooks! What did you think of the essay?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - The delicate egos on these boys! Even though you're just some cop they're desperate for your approval.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Hey! You're not just 'some cop', you've got highly developed critical faculties! Now's your chance to show them off.

"It was a good article. You should keep developing your ideas."

If we'd read the article *after* becoming the Art Cop, we might have had some more profound things to say.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Well, of course that's just an *initial foray* into the subject. We're hoping to return to it for a more substantial treatment next term..."

"In any case, I'm glad our piece found its audience. That's always the hope with these things, you know."

+5 XP

6. "Is the reading group accepting new members?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "We typically only accept new members once per semester. There's this whole *process*, with essays and presentations on assigned topics..." The young man turns to his companion.

"But given that we have some extra seating at the moment, I guess we could be convinced to expedite an application or two."

ECHO MAKER - "Steban, you can't be serious... for these gendarmes?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "I am serious. As materialists we've got to adapt to conditions as they are. Besides, he'll still need to pass the *interview portion* of the entrance process..." He turns back to you.

"... assuming he's even still interested, that is."

We can improve our chances on this Composure check, so let's back out of the conversation first.

7. "That's enough for tonight. Will you still be here if I have more questions?" [Leave.]

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Sure, we're here most every night." He shrugs. "Maybe we'll catch you again."

ECHO MAKER - "Sleep well, gendarme."

We can use this as an opportunity to look around the room.

Try not to think about the cracks spidering out across the floor...

"The communards didn't commit *enough* atrocities."

A rickety easel, surrounded by pots of gouache.

Cindy's, no doubt.

Could it be the *phasmid*? No, probably not.

This one says: "NO WAR BUT CLASS WAR!"

"Kind of chilly tonight, Uli."

"Don't worry, I'm sure your jacket will turn up."

This poster reads: "Under the cobblestones, communism!"

Mmmm, coffee...

At the bottom of the pot, an isle of black sludge rises from a shadowy sea.

RELFECTIVE CONSTRUCTION VEST

+1 Endurance: Safety first. -1 Reaction Speed: Impossible to miss.

A ludicrously reflective safety vest like those favoured by construction and road repair crews. Comes with a replaceable battery back. Makes you feel like a deep sea anemone.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "The gendarme returns." The young man turns to you. "What do you need?"

4. "I'm guessing these pots of gouache belong to Cindy?"

You have to be Art Cop to recognize the paint as gouache.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - He sighs. "Yeah, it's hers. She just sort of... moved it all in a few months ago."

ECHO MAKER - "She said if she's going to make truly radical art, she needs a suitably radical workspace."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "And I don't think she could afford rent at an actual studio."

"Do you like her art?"

"Now I'm wondering, what's the deal with this place?"

"Okay, let's move on."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Oh, sure. It's definitely *interesting*, I would say..."

"Hmmm, I guess you could call her latest stuff a sort of *counter-bourgeois calligraphy*. She's got a real taste for radical slogans."

ECHO MAKER - "It's too bad she hasn't developed the theoretical foundation to do truly radical work."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "I think she'll get there, though. She's still looking for a subject equal to her ambitions."

2. "Now I'm wondering, what's the deal with this place?"

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "'The deal'? At a fundamental level I guess you could call it the shattered bones of a dream crushed by capital."

LOGIC [Challenging : Success] - A feeble and hopelessly mixed metaphor.

ECHO MAKER - "That's really good, Steban. You should save that for an essay."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Thanks, Uli. When the idea is sound the words just sort of flow."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Yes, now keep developing the idea.

"Actually, I think that's a mixed metaphor."

"If this place is the shattered bones, that must make us the bone weevils."

"I heard these used to be luxury apartments. Million reál views, that sort of thing."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Mmm, yeah that's not bad."

ECHO MAKER - "Not as good as Steban's original idea, though."

3. "I heard these used to be luxury apartments. Million reál views, that sort of thing."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "That could be." He nods. "It would explain some of the more ornate detailing. But we're speaking in world-historical terms here. What this place *represents*, not what it merely *was*."

ECHO MAKER - His friend yawns, evidently bored by literal reality.

3. "Okay, let's move on."

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Go ahead." The young man gives you a half-smile. His companion sniffs.

7. [Composure - Impossible 17] Convince them you belong in the reading group.

+4 Somewhat bookish toad.

COMPOSURE [Impossible: Failure] - Is it getting warm in here? There seems to be a little pool of sweat forming in the depression of your lower back.

"Definitely not sweating, no sir. (Dab the sweat with your shirt.)"

It's because I don't do well in interviews.

COMPOSURE - Excellent work, now there's a dark handprint on the back of your shirt. Everyone will be able to see the evidence of your overactive sweat glands.

2. It's because I don't do well in interviews.

COMPOSURE - No, you're terrible at them. The thought of everyone looking at you, judging you, makes you want to heave, frankly...

-1 Morale

3. Why am I getting so worked up? They're just a couple of kids!

COMPOSURE - Let's be frank, they're probably way smarter than you. You bet they've read more books than you can even name...

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - Of course, if you're nervous it wouldn't hurt to read another book or two.

COMPOSURE - The hardest part will just be working up the nerve to ask without soiling yourself.

STEBAN, THE STUDENT COMMUNIST - "Everything alright, gendarme? You look a little green about the gills..."

8. [Leave.]

[blarrghe]

haven't promoted this story in a minute because idk I got tired of tumblr and took a sort of break. Tomorrow I will be posting ch. 14, which is halfway through the story, so it's a great time to pick up...

The Hunter The Snake and the Fox

Rating: M | Category: M/M | Words: 27 081 | Chapters 13/28

Summary:

When Magister Dorian Pavus' expedition meets unexpectedly with a clan of unhappy Dalish elves, First Taren Lavellan may be the unhappiest among them. Unhappier still to be put to the task of helping to see his quest through. This is the tale of how a fortnight in the forests of the Free Marches can change everything.

And here's a long snippet from Ch. 3 for some Drama:

A sliver of light shone briefly in from a crack in the tent, and a leather-clad elf stomped through it. The elf barked something out towards the tent flap, and before Dorian could muster more than a groan, he stomped out again. Dorian blinked a few times after the fading blur of light.

Minutes went by. Possibly hours. Dorian’s head hurt. He tugged on the binds at his wrists, bending them uncomfortably this way and that. It only seemed to tighten them, so he stopped. His head began to clear. More time passed. He attempted to count the minutes. When the elf returned again, Dorian managed a few inquiring calls for attention. Things like, “Where are the others?”, and, “damnit, I’m talking to you!” His calls went ignored.

The elf poked his head back out into the bright daylight beyond the dark tent, and shouted something in grumpy Elvhen. Another elf soon pushed through the flap, they stomped grimly forward together, and then one on either side hoisted Dorian up by the elbows. 

Dorian’s legs were half asleep and still bound, painfully tingling with each jostling step as the two elves dragged him forward. He groaned. The elf on his right barked back something he was sure was an insult. His unwilling legs were dragged on.

Dorian did his best to make his case for answers and mercy as they went. “We have no qualms with you," he pleaded, " I know Tevinter hasn’t historically been kind to your people, but really, this expedition wants nothing to do with you, so if you’d simply let us go on our way…” 

Sharp grunt. 

“You’re making a huge mistake. Kill me, and you’d be inviting a war, do you have any idea who I am?” 

Angry Elvish epithet. 

“Dorian of house Pavus,” he said proudly, “ Magister Pavus as of recently, I have a fortune, you could be handsomely rewarded and —”

Big knife.

“— and a wife! And children! Please!” 

The big knife pressed closer to his throat. There was a bandage there already. 

“Alright! So I don’t have children, or a wife, but I am engaged, and —”

Dorian was shoved through a tent flap by the elf holding the knife, who wound up at his back as his second captor pushed his unstable and bound legs down into a kneel.

“Relax, shemlin,” said a low voice. 

Thank the Maker, Dorian thought, blinking now at the woven mat he’d been forced upon, its zigzagged pattern slowly coming into view in his still foggy vision. Finally, here was someone who spoke the Trade speech. King's Tongue, they called it in the south. Crude. In Tevinter, the nobility still had its own.  

Dorian’s eyes rose from the ground to take in warmly lit canvas walls draped in soft pelts and colourful woven blankets. He knelt near a smouldering fire pit. Smoke was rising up through a narrow hole in the tent’s roof. Through its haze, in a grand and intricately carved wooden seat, sat a man. The man stood, and Dorian watched leather-wrapped feet pace forward, around, circling him. There were more seats, less grand but still intricately carved, all around the fire pit. None sat in them except for one old woman. She sat still and proud, squinting at him through the smoke. 

Dorian lifted his gaze all the way up to the face of the man who was just now finishing his pacing examination of him. An elvhen mage stood before Dorian with his staff planted firmly on the ground between them. He was not tall, but stood in towering regalness over Dorian all the same. His posture was straight, his shoulders strongly set and covered with a heavy green cloak woven through with threads of blue and gold. He wore his deep auburn hair in a long, thick braid hung over one shoulder, and he held his carved, spiralling wooden staff in both hands, emanating power. 

“You are Master Pavus ,” said the standing elf, speaking down to him. 

“Master Pavus was my father,” Dorian replied, flashing the man a winning smile, “as I am evidently your prisoner, it seems only fitting that you simply call me Dorian.” 

DAFF tags list: @warpedlegacy @rakshadow @rosella-writes @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur @ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @ir0n-angel @inquisimer @crackinglamb @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked @exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisusthewee @agentkatie @delicatefade @leggywillow @about2dance @plisuu

[anonymousredactedconfessions]

I need to rant.

I am a Sam adorer. He is easily one of my top 3.

In the Monarchal Summit, when he DOESN’T immediately cut Alexis on her shit talking when they’re alone and then comes back and starts talking to Darlin’ about how once upon a time there was something there, and he still hopes there’s some good in her? Got so mad. I love that fictional man to DEATH but if I had just been through what Darlin’ had with Alexis? (By the way, sometimes violence does solve things. By which I mean I would have loved to have decked her.)

If Sam had come up to me after all that with Alexis and started his comforts with what was basically ‘I can’t lie to you, there used to be something there and there’s probably something there that still understands one another’?

That’s great, Sam. Meanwhile she treats me like absolute shit because I had the GALL, the NERVE to treat you with respect and kindness. Because she’s jealous.

She thrusts the idea of my mortality onto me and projects the image that one day you won’t love me because I’ll be old. But please, tell me all about how you knew she was a bad person and still liked being with her because you ignored the red flags, that’s really what I needed to hear right now.

After she’s effectively called me your plaything and then said that there is no way you’ll value me for the long hall, you want to talk to me about being able to understand one another?

God. I would have stormed off, honestly.

Yeah, he said he hated her. But then followed it up by saying ‘sometimes she can be a real person and so because I told her to leave you alone she will’ NO. She will not.

I love him, and I get it’s his maker AND a strong one at that.

But PLEASE, do NOT come up to me and talk to me about how she’s a person underneath it all. She isn’t, not to me. To me she is a pest and I don’t want to even THINK her name let alone hear it from that sweet raspy southern drawl one more fuckin time.

Whew.

This is honestly ignoring context, it was just my immediate reaction. By nature, I can be petty, and I don’t take shit, and I don’t expect others who care about me to let me take it either. I get angry and I don’t play coy about it. So Alexis is an absolute delight to hate, but my beautiful vampire cowboy husband better NOT be coming to me talking about how ‘she’s a person under there trust me’. How about I just kick her shin instead 😠

Sorry for the essay. This drama is so incredibly fun to listen to, believe me. I just get way too into it.

-😈❤️‍🔥

.

[bengiyo]

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Sakae tried to work on his friendship with Soga, and we got to see Soga struggle with the phrase "Do Yara ka." Soga eventually got himself into a bind and relented to accept Sakae's help with learning how to make takoyaki after remembering that his ex wife's last wish for him was to be more accepting of help from others.

Yes, remind me that Sakae is a fitness gay every episode. I wanna see him around a bunch of other homo jocks.

Oh ho! They're going on a date!

Episode 3: Different hobbies. What to do?

Now why is Sakae dressed like this??

Hahaha Soga took them to an art class! This nerd is having so much fun and Sakae is just confused.

This is why I've wanted more adult stories in BL. Dating is difficult when you're an adult. We've sorted into our cultural tribes and it can be hard if you can't share hobbies.

Excellent smash cut to them making al ajillo with the takoyaki maker and Sakae trying not to lose it.

Ah right, Kazuyo was going to shoot her shot at Sakae.

Oh, does Kaname like her? I'm okay with this development!

I like that Kaname called Sakae out on his people pleasing tendencies.

I really hope all these other guys in the sauna are invested in Sakae's romantic drama.

Now I'm thinking about Julian and Miles playing squash in DS9.

I love that Soga realized he may have been a bit selfish with Sakae's time and immediately tried to rectify it.

This was a beautiful moment. Soga is so earnest, and Sakae received it kindly. Soga wanted to share in a hobby with Sakae, and so Sakae taught him some basics.

Oh no, Sakae. Don't confuse this woman! You are GAY!

Cannot believe they ended on Soga's ex wife calling and Kazuyo confessing. We know Sakae is gay and earnest. He's gonna let her down.

I love this little show. Decent folks trying their best for each other will always get me. I needed this show today.

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Part 2

Forever

I have seen amazing artists and content creators come and go, and some get taken out by cancellation. Whether it was true or not, I’ve seen the fellow painter and aspiring film maker be chased off respective platforms or generally scared away because of the negative effects of cancellation. They will be canceled over stupid things they did in the past close to a decade ago or over something that isn't true. And honestly, I'm sick of it. I don’t care who you cancellers are, I want to rip you apart with fangs and claws. And I'm sick all of you trolls getting what you want. 

There was one artist I knew who made the most beautiful pieces and one random asshole one day called them out for being a pedo. Were they? No, and how would they even know anyway? But everyone just jumped up and dogpiled her. I tried my hardest to intervene and tell her not to listen to what they had to say, but the damage had been done, they succeeded and chased her off. And I will never forgive them for that. Such a talented person chased off and for what? To stroke someone's ego? Because they were jealous? It doesn’t matter. This terrible rage in my stomach has been building up with every artist running away with the fear of being cancelled and I can’t take it. 

When it first began, the cancellation movement, some foresaw how bad it would be and realized that they didn’t want to face it. For example, my beloved Jenna Marbles. Who knows, maybe she was tired of the whole YouTube scene to begin with, she had been doing it for ten years after all, but she decided to do her own cancellation to free herself from someone bringing it up instead. Maybe she realized how dangerous this was and that she should just leave before it was too late, cause with 2020 and that cancelling movement on the horizon, I don’t think my girl had the strength to keep up. She did her own cancellation suicide and fucked off, escaping criticism by criticizing herself. And I was heartbroken. Still am. That it had gotten so bad that a content creator would freely air out her own dirty laundry to feed the rabid wolves and make her escape. And there were those who relished off of it. Happy she was gone. Making me sick and fueling my anger even more. 

And then there were more. Mostly men, cancelled here and there. I won't name names, but we know them. Know who they are if you followed any cancellation ever. And chased off usually over some stupid shit they said in their twenties or being accused of grooming. Which the former most of the time seems easier to bounce back from then the later. Being called a racist, homophobic, etc., can be subjective. Especially during this day and age when the internet is so unbelievably sensitive to everything because they read every word with malicious intent towards themselves specifically. But so many content creators get targeted at the height of popularity or just because they were extremely popular. It’s obvious. So well known, and the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And some if not many, y'know, don’t deserve it. Some if not many don’t deserve cancellation and I will bite with so much rage in my being on their part. I know they can probably take care of themselves, but there are so many who can’t. They can’t hold on in these seas of accusations.

And then there are those who bounce back. Many will argue that they shouldn’t, but after time many seem to have forgiven what they were canceled about or just simply don’t care. Like Mr. Logan Paul for example. The man had such a lack of sense that he filmed a dead body and posted that on Youtube. And now he is doing interviews for Mr Beast. I just find that one... Interesting? Now, I don’t know much about Logan Paul except for all his drama. I don’t care too much for him cause he’s pretty loud and that hurts my ears. Nor is his content for me. I don’t know much about him as a person at all and can’t speak on behalf of his character. I don't know if Logan Paul grew up or gained some common sense, but what I do know is that he held out. He washed off all the judgment and accusations, drama or whatever and held on. Which seems to be the only cure for cancel culture on the internet. Is to endure.

And I don't want these trolls to feel more empowered than they already do. Cause I hate these trolls and want to cave their teeth in. Or maybe expose them too. Show your face, cowards behind the screen. You accuse those who are wide out in the open of the most terrible things, at least have the balls to say it to their faces instead of hiding in your monitors.

And frankly, when has cancellation ever helped anyone? I find it very useless and it just hurts people. Maybe if it was directed at large corporations or films making ugly versions of sonic, then I could see that as impactful. But no, it usually goes after the individual which is just so stupid. Hounding them about the past and past shit they said. So idiotic, it baffles me that people still allow it. To let the trolls say they have moral superiority over you and what they say goes. Gross. And you just know that these bastards on the other side of the screen have done shit too. They’ve said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Probably worse. Made the nastiest of jokes and comments. And are just being hypocritical and immature. I know I am also not above people and stupid dark jokes and these trolls should quickly learn this too if they know what’s good for them.

And these cancellers certainly have a lot of time on their hands. They might be young. Maybe. Might be a stupid kid which if so I could expand the notion, that if it is a stupid kid, then yeah, they could be forgiven for what they've done one day as I would expect these content creators to be forgiven for the stupid shit they said in their youth one day too. But also, what they did was horrible. I would respect Forever if he actually went about suing someone, but I don’t think he can sue a child. But still, what a horrible child. If only their parents knew. That they are dismantling lives just because they find someone annoying.

But to be for real and realistic, I think this person is some sad boring unemployed troll who resents him for whatever reason and this is their way of retaliation. And with that... Forever get their ass. He is upending your life and attempted to do the same to some of your friends. Get em.

And lastly, if Forever really was a creep, which no he is not, I want to ask Quackity if he did background checks on any of these content creators? Or did he just invite them in which I could see as a major oversight. Because these creators, I feel like when inviting them into something like a Minecraft server, it’s akin to a sponsorship. It supports your project but you have to do a thorough background check to see if they are safe for stream. Which is just why I found that it doesn't make sense at all that at least Quackity wouldn't know about Forever’s past! With how rife and pungent cancel culture is now, if I was him, I'd be so on edge. Especially if it’s my passion project was on the line. And he should know what it's like, even at his young age, he should know from what he's seen. And maybe the QSMP was seen as something small at first so he didn’t make the precautions, but once QSMP was getting bigger, wouldn’t he have checked? He should have been able to as well. Some rando online found these tweets thanks to pure spite, I'm sure Quackity and co could have done some digging sooner, months earlier and have made a decision. So this, this here, makes the least sense to me out of this entire nonsensical situation. 

But hey, if Forever somehow is a freak which I can tell he’s not, then I will eat my words. But that is not today.

(Same with part 1. I will block you if I find you too annoying. My temper is short and my block button is sincerely right there.)

(But I have said what I wanted to say. There is probably more. But Goodbye for now.)

[flightlessangelwings]

Trust and Intuition Chapter 3- The Rebels

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 3.2k

Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Din, soft!Din, feelings, we learn about reader’s backstory, drama, leading up to action

Notes- This is the biggest change to this story in this rewrite. I basically re wrote this part from scratch, save for 2 little scenes (the kiss and the last exchange with Din). I also made reader’s backstory more ambiguous compared to what it was in the original. I also added smut because why not lol! Enjoy and thank you for reading!

Fic is tagged if you want to catch up on parts you missed! To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Your highness!” an older man with grey hair and a warm, kind face greeted you the moment the Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest at the rebel base on Durane.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you ran towards him with your arms wide, “Sion!” you sighed in relief as you crashed into him, both of you embracing each other tightly, “It’s been too long!” You paused as you pulled away to meet his gaze, “But I told you not to call me that. You’ve known me since before I was a queen, and that’s all I want to be to you.”

Sion grinned at you like a proud father, “You were always a queen to me even before you could walk straight,” he nudged your nose playfully, “And I’ll always be proud of the woman you grew up to be,” his gaze trailed over your shoulder to the Mandalorian and the child who made their way off the ship. Sion looked at you, and when you nodded, he made his way over to him with his hand out, “Thank you, Mando,” he greeted him, “Our transports have been down, and I wasn’t sure how we would get these kids out this time. I’m more in debt to you than you realize.”

The Mandalorian took his hand and shook it, “No debt is necessary,” he said softly as he glanced over to the children who cautiously followed behind him, “Children should always have a place where they are safe,” he glanced down at his own foundling as he spoke.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sion beamed at him before he addressed the children, “Come this way kids,” he guided them inside, “There’s food and a place to rest your heads for the night.”

The children’s faces lit up as their energy seemed to spark back at the mention of a warm meal and a safe roof over their heads. Gleefully, they bounded inside, following Sion’s lead while you and the Mandalorian tailed behind. Mando couldn’t help but notice the relief on your face as you found yourself in need of safety as well…

*

“Vero has Dria in a grip,” you spoke at the table where Sion, Mando and you gathered, “At first glance, things seem normal, but there’s more going on than anyone realizes. He’s taking children for Maker knows what, he’s hiding and destroying texts and books, he’s openly allowing stormtroopers in the palace now…” you turned to Sion with a pleading look in your eyes, “We have to do something before the Empire destroys everything Dria stands for.”

Sion sighed as he ran his hand across his face, “What can we do though?” he sounded defeated already, “He has an army. He has the Empire at his back. We number 30 at most.”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled as you dropped your head, “But I think he knows I’m the vigilante…”

Sion breathed your name as concern laced his face. He glanced over at the Mandalorian, “We’ve all lost everything at the hands of the Empire. Families. Friends. We’re all we have left.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mando said. 

Encouraged by Mando’s words, you lifted your head up and a fresh conviction was apparent in your eyes, “Everyone thinks the empire is gone, that we won,” you spoke with authority that you learned from your time as queen,  “But that’s not true, and I think you know that. They’re all around us, planting seeds that they wait patiently to grow. But it’s our job to stop that. We have to stop their weeds from taking root and growing so big that they choke us and take out our light. I’ve been fighting this nettle since I was small, so have you Sion, and I don’t plan on stopping until either they die… or I do.” 

Mando watched with his breath caught in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to think, or even what to do next. All he knew was he wanted to help you and the others. “So what’s your plan then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

All Mando wanted to do was reach out to you, but he stayed still. His eyes never left you, though. 

Sensing the tension, Sion interjected, “How about we rest for the night,” he looked at you with melancholy in his eyes, “I think we all need it especially after what you two have been through.” 

*

The Mandalorian sat alone in the little room he had been given for the night. An empty bowl sat in front of him as he gently guided his helmet back into his head. The silence echoed in the room as he sat alone with his thoughts, wondering what he should do next, and how to keep you and everyone else safe. The image of your face lingered in his mind as he let out a sigh to himself.

But a knock at his door broke Mando out of his thoughts. He quickly stood and opened the door, relieved to find you on the other side. He breathed your name as he stepped aside and allowed you in, “Is everything alright?”

A soft smirk briefly graced your face, “I came by to ask you the same thing,” you glanced over at the empty bowl, “I hope that was ok for you…”

“It’s fine,” Mando cut you off as he moved next to you.

You looked around, “And your kid? The others?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Mando replied, “Your father took all the kids to get something to eat.”

“He’s fine with them,” you reassured the Mandalorian, sensing the concern in his tone, “Sion is the closest thing I have to family left,” you thought out loud.

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted, “We’ve all lost nearly everything to the Empire. We have to hold on to all the family that we can,” you met his vizor, “Otherwise we would all be completely alone. It’s been lonely enough being married to Vero. But the rebels needed a spy on the inside… And it appeared that I was his type…” you let out a deep breath, “Sion almost had a heart attack when I told him I’d do it,” you laughed bitterly, “The sacrifices are worth it though, as king as those kids are safe,” you fired a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Even if I have to do this alone.” 

Mando reached out and squeezed your shoulder as he spoke your name, “You’re not alone. As long as I’m here, you’re not alone.” It was then he made a silent promise to himself to protect you, and he realized in that moment just how much you meant to him. He also felt a wave of anger towards Vero and what you must have gone through to remain a spy for the rebels. 

You looked at him with wide eyes and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his energy. In his touch, you could feel how he cared. You felt as though the two of you shared a special connection, and you wondered if he felt the same way. Warmth spread across your face as your thoughts turned from your past to your present.

“Do you trust me?” you asked him as you lay your hand on top of his. Nerves pulsed through your veins, but you fingered you only had this one night and it was now or never.

“Yes,” his answer came without hesitation. 

You ripped a long piece of fabric off your shirt and wrapped it tightly around your eyes. When it was secure and your vision was completely blocked, you reached up to his helmet. You could feel his gloved hands over yours as he helped you take it off. You listened as he set his helmet down.

When his hand cupped your face, you realized he took his gloves off as well and it was his bare skin against yours. You reached out and felt his chest in front of you, the beskar cold under your touch. You moved your hands up to feel his face. It was warm and you could feel scruff along his jawline. His gaze was fixed on your lips as your hands roamed over his face and into his hair.

He kept one hand on your cheek and his other securely on your waist. Slowly, he pulled you close to him and gently touched his lips to yours. It was a light kiss at first, then you deepened the kiss as you held onto his soft hair. Your tongues danced to a song without music as waves of feelings rushed from the two of you. The kiss spoke more than words could for either of you as both your and Mando’s emotions ran wild.

Reluctantly, you broke away for air, but your faces did not stray far from each other. Mando rubbed his thumb over your cheek tenderly as he studied every inch of your face. He pulled you close again as he rested his face against yours. You held onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. Even though his vision wasn’t blocked, Mando had the same fear.

It was then you heard his voice, “Din.”

“What?” Your voice was just a whisper.

“My name. It’s Din Djarin,” he repeated softly.

With this, you knew how much he trusted you, and it made you realize how much you cared about him. Din held you tightly as you both enjoyed these last few quiet moments together. You were both fully aware of what was to come, and that this may be the last time you would have a moment like this.  

Feeling a sudden sense of need, Din pulled you against him as he guided both your bodies back towards the cot that sat in the far end of the room. Trusting him fully, you didn’t resist at all, and you sighed as you felt his strong grip on you. 

“Is this ok?” Din asked in a whisper as his lips hovered over yours and his hands gripped at your clothes.

“Yes,” you answered immediately. It was more than ok. It was what you had wanted since he took your hand. And unbeknownst to you, the Mandalorian had the exact same thoughts.

You lifted your arms as he carefully stripped you of your shirt first, then his hands wandered down your body. Goosebumps erupted on your skin at the feeling of his bare hands on you, and you shivered despite feeling warm. You heard his breath hitch in his throat as he stopped and cupped your breasts and soft moans escaped both your lips.

Din then unclasped your pants while you held onto his shoulders and stepped out of them eagerly. His hands landed on your now bare hips as he guided you once more towards the cot. His grab never faltered even as he fumbled backwards onto the cot, bringing you to straddle his waist.

“Fuck,” Din breathed.

You gasped, “What is it?”

“You’re beautiful,” his hands roamed up and down your body, memorizing every inch of you before he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as you parted your lips for him and slowly rocked yourself along his stiffening cock. Even though the fabric, he felt so good underneath you, and you instantly craved more. 

“Din,” you whined as you buried your fingers in his hair, “Please… I need you.”

He groaned through gritted teeth as his cock twitched, “I’ve got you,” Din’s voice was low and full of his own need. He kept one hand on you at all times as he fumbled with his own pants, eager to free his cock.

You slipped your hand in between your bodies to help him, and when your hand brushed against his cock, you let out a soft gasp. Din moaned as a pulse was sent through his veins the moment you touched him. And it only grew as you pumped his cock slowly while your lips hovered over his.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You’re perfect,” you echoed back as you lifted your hips and felt the tip of his cock as your entrance, “Fuck… Din…”

Both of you gasped loudly as you took him inside you. Heat radiated from your bodies as you sunk down on Din’s cock slowly, and both of you clung to each other as if your lives depended on it. Perhaps it felt like they did at that moment.

Once your hips met Din’s and he was fully inside you, engulfed in your warmth, Din tightened his grip on you and slowly thrust his hips as much as he could. Rocking into you from below, Din watched as your mouth dropped open and your breasts bounced from the motion. He was mesmerized as you rocked your hips to match his rhythm, and together the two of you lost yourselves in each other. 

Moans and soft sighs escaped both your lips as you rode Din. Your hands stayed on his beskar covered chest as leverage, but you felt safe and secure in his strong grip. Behind the darkness of your blindfold, you saw stars every time his cock sheathed fully inside you and hit that spot that drove you wild.

Din groaned your name as he ran his hands up your back until he cupped the back of your head. Using the leverage, he guided you forward and crashed your lips against his once more in another heated, and this time more desperate, kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as the new angle hit every sensitive spot inside you.

“Din… I’m…”

“Me too,” he groaned your name as he gripped you harder, “Let go… Cum for me mesh’la…”

With just a few more pumps of his cock, you came with a cry against Din’s lips. Your forehead stayed firmly against his as your release triggered his own as he came hard with a growl. Din wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close as he rocked his hips against yours, riding out both your climaxes together. 

Your entire body trembled as you felt Din spill himself inside you. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you until you couldn’t take it anymore and you collapsed down onto his chest. Din immediately held you close as he groaned at the feeling of you around him.

“You alright?” he asked in a whisper as he ran his hands up and down your sides, caressing your body.

“Perfect,” you breathed as you grinned against him, comfortable in his strong embrace. 

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you laid together in your afterglow. Eventually, you rolled off of Din and you both hissed as his softening cock slid out of you. He never let you go far, though, and he settled you into his arms as you rested your head against his chest. And while both of you were comfortable and content, the tension in the air still lingered as the uncertainty of your future silently hung over your heads. 

“Din?” you broke the silence with his name.

“Hm?” he muttered back as his grip tightened instinctively. 

“Can we just stay like this for a while longer?” your voice was just a whisper.

“Yes,” Din replied in a soft tone, “As long as you want, mesh’la.” 

*

The next day brought the challenges back as you, Din and Sion met with the rest of the rebels to plan your next move. Din never left your side, and his little green child sat in his pram right next to him. Sion glanced between you and the Mandalorian as if he could sense that something happened between the two of you last night, but he chose not to say anything for the time being. As long as this warrior was willing to stay and keep you safe, he was content for now. 

“We’re at a clear disadvantage,” you said, “But there are secret tunnels under the palace that we can use to launch a surprise attack,” you pulled up a holo map of the palace layout and pointed to a shadowed part, “We would need a distraction though… Something to pull the troops away from this wing,” you gentured to the south wall.

“What do you suggest?” Sion asked. He watched over you like a worried parent, though it did not escape his notice the way the Mandalorian never strayed far from your side.

“Vero has a bounty out on the Vigilante,” the smirk in Mandalorian’s voice was apparent as the two of you shared a knowing look, “Why don’t we collect on that?”

“Absolutely not,” Sion raised his hands, “You are not going to be the bait for this. I let you become his wife and be our spy, but I am not letting you put yourself on the line like that again.” He sounded like a worried father as his brows scrunched. 

You sighed as you gave him an exasperated look, “What choice do we have, Sion?”

Silence filled the room as everyone waited for him to reply. With a heavy breath, he finally conceded, “None…” he looked down for a moment then back up at you and Mando, “But I’m coming with you then. I’m not letting you face him alone.” 

“She won’t be alone. She’ll be safe,” Mando tried to reassure him as his hand brushed against yours.

“Captain,” Sion called to one of the other men, “Let’s get a plan going. We still have some other rebels hiding on Dria, don’t we? Let’s figure out a way to get to them.” 

You couldn’t help but smile as you felt his presence at your side. It was quickly a comfort for you, and you felt more confident with the Mandalorian there. But, as the others chattered about the details of the plan, you glanced at the little one at his side. You felt a connection to the child somehow, and his big bright eyes made your heart flutter. 

You furrowed your brows as you asked, “What about the kid?” 

The child cooed happily at you in response. 

“He stays with me,” the Mandalorian said in a tone that left no room for argument.

“But Mando, it’ll be dangerous,” you protested, “Wouldn’t he be safer here with the other kids?”

“No,” his voice was firm but not harsh.

Your eyes darted around the room as if you tried to look for an answer on the walls or the floor. Everyone else drew a blank, and some looked almost afraid to go against the Mandalorian’s wishes. Then, an idea came to you, “Do you trust me?” you asked him in the same tone you used the night before. 

He looked directly at you, “Yes.”