#he’s so confusing and contradictory

[paper-possum-party-pal]

Meet The Narrator!

And it appears that there are two other characters to unlock in this lineup!

I’ll give you all the lore for main tsp AU once I reveal the design for the final character, but for now you get to learn about my Narrator!

The Narrator is a being known as an Informis Voxumis that has spent years observing humanity. The Narrator and other beings like him do not have natural physical forms, they’re just a voice/consciousness stretched across planes of dimensions and reality. This existence intersecting these planes can allow them to build physical forms for themselves, but it’s incredibly difficult to do so considering the matter that needs to be pieced together in a functional manner. It’s a miracle that The Narrator would eventually manage to pull it off. Informis Voxumis, or ‘Voices’ for something simpler, existed across the galaxy since near the beginning of time, but their numbers have dwindled to the point that The Narrator and his two cohorts have only interacted with each other, and while there’s still probably more out there, it’s unli they’ll ever meet. There are two more Entities similar to the Informis Voxumis that are also watching over Earth and the three Voices, but that’s a story for another day.

The Narrator’s Bio!

(The Narrators fear and disdain for humanity is completely warranted. Not only are living things, to him, gross meat things that do awful gross stuff, but intelligent mortal beings are fully capable of killing or controlling the Informis Voxumis. How? Oh I definitely totally remember how and am certainly not stalling to tell you when I figure it out)

After spending years watching humanity The Narrator begins to grow bored, and while he’s weary about interacting with any aspect of Earth, he’s become insatiably curious. The Narrator gets the clever idea (in his opinion) to create a human and place it in a little sandbox he’s created to study the idiosyncrasies of humanity.

This is the start of The Parable.

Unfortunately for The Narrator, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing and while he thinks he’s making a completely original human, he’s actually plucked the recently deceased soul of one Stanley and has begun fiddling around with it. The original Stanley is mostly lost in this process, and beyond the few remanents left of Stanley, he is nothing more than a shell of what he once was, so at first he doesn’t really do much. The Narrator then has to tweak Stanley until he can move around, understand orders, etc. This creates a new Stanley with no memories of the past beyond what the Narrator has shoved into him for his character. This new Stanley starts out curious and optimistic, but you know how the story goes by now. He loses that optimism, starts doing everything he can to go against and irritate The Narrator, and they start butting heads. This begins their on again off again friendship and rivalry.

I’m still deciding when in the timeline it happens exactly, but The Narrator eventually makes his human form, partly to prove that he’s better than humanity and that he’d make a great human. Another repressed part of him did it because he was curious and lonely, and the most repressed part of him did it because he noticed how lonely, depressed, and touch starved Stanley was becoming. He doesn’t use it for a long time after making it, he hides it and doesn’t tell Stanley, but eventually he’s given the push he needed to try it out and finally greet Stanley in person.

He is immediately punched in the face.

Stanley doesn’t apologize, which is warranted, but that’s the moment they really start over and try to get along better.

That’s one(ish?) part done. Sorry if I’ve rambled on too much or if it’s disjointed. I’m honestly not used to writing things down like this and I needed to put what I had in my head out into the world. I’ll probably write a more comprehensive document or something, maybe answer questions, idk. It probably doesn’t help that there are certain aspects of this AU that I’m still trying to develop. I’ll need to make a separate things so I can make it clear exactly what’s going on with Stanley.

One final note, my Narrator does share a human name with one of @shinakazami1 Narrator’s from her lovely Ao3 fic “Destiny Surely Likes to Play Tricks” that she made with Taking_L’s. I wanted to make sure they got proper credit, and if you haven’t read it already, you really should! I’ll be posting a link to the fic separately since this post is already long enough.

Congrats if you managed to wade through my idea speghetti, good job! And thanks for all your lovely words in my last posts, it really makes my day!

The first image but without the character shadows

[groverapologist]

i think two things can be true at once so when i say i think rick didn't plan on piper being queer until years after she was introduced and until he saw years worth of fan reception and reactions + i think piper being queer is amazing and makes complete sense for her character arc and explains a lot about the way she has acted in the books starting as early as TLH, i do not see them as contradictory or wrong.

[aerithisms]

sorry this is just me being a hater but i started watching hbomberguy's video about the doctor who 2017 christmas special bc of that post and omg his takes are incomprehensible to anyone who's actually seen this show i have no idea how they became so widely accepted (except i do and it's that the people who accepted them didn't actually watch capaldi era but anyway). i was talking in the tags of that post about how i think it's ridiculous that he complains in the sherlock video that the series 8 character arcs are written in a way where questions about the characters brought up in one episode take several episodes to reach resolution rather than being resolved in that same episode, but it gets worse! in his dedicated doctor who video he contradicts himself by complaining that the characters AREN'T allowed to grow across the season because moffat clearly personally wrote scenes into other guest writer's episodes about the series arc. supposedly this removes the time that could have been dedicated to character growth, except the series arc in question is nothing BUT character growth. that is what those scenes moffat inserted are. like imagine if kill the moon didn't have the big blow out argument at the end, because apparently that's the world hbomberguy wants to live in and thinks would make for better character writing?? the mind boggles.

[applesandbannas747]

Johanna the Mad and CS Pacat are truly masters of their crafts, and I really believe that every aspect of Fence and the symbolism we see in it is intentional. Each detail was deliberately put in–there’s a reason for everything. So why make the crests of MacRob and Lowther such a perfect match for each other if not to hint at a romance across the two teams?

They’re literally broadcasting their intention to us, I mean come on, a bird and a tree? A TREE? A place where birds find refuge?? It’s so obvious. And the only characters that make sense to feature in this titular romance are, of course, Hector and Kyle. Think about it.

[everysongineverykey]

enough of this "crowley used to be an archangel" shit. what if the only reason he managed to access classified heavenly files is cause when he was an angel he peeked at the passwords while his higher-ranking friends put them in. he did work with saraqael after all. what then. all i'm saying is that "they never change their passwords" is pretty interesting wordingggg

[witchblade]

i thought that like communication was just an issue with like big companies contracting + my own stupid job but it's also completely abysmal at hospitals apparently

[thatonegaybrit]

; do I understand every single specific of this persons queer identity ?? No. Does that mean they're invalid, lying and / or ruining my day ?? Also no.

[jazzellow]

current review of season 3 as of now

[anzuhan]

after a longwinded talk with a friend i have realized that, to an outsider, my unconditional love towards the innovades as a whole may be strange

[diluc33rpm]

astarion is so fucking funny as a character because conceptually he hits all the marks of a wet cat blorbo but in practice he's unbelievably hard to stand. i'll be on the bg3 companion guide and have to start CRYING from trying to find the shit under his section that gains approval. loses -15 points for gently suggesting we not massacre an orphanage in cold blood with the d&d equivalent of a nuclear warhead

[daydreamlng]

.

[chaoticallyfluffy]

I’ve been forced into reading Danny phantom fanfics because I’m desperate for Billy Batson content and for some reason half the stuff on ao3 is crossover stuff so I guess I like Danny phantom now?? Kind of?? I haven’t watched it and I don’t plan on it but I really like the idea of it.

Anywho,

Billy has maintained a very delicate balance of half truths and lies of ommision over the years to protect his identity as a literal child. He uses facts he learned from his patrons and his interest and knowledge in history, specifically Ancient Greece, to convince people he’s ancient.

Then one day this ghost guy joins the league claiming to be incredibly old as well except he just goes around straight up lying about stuff, saying whatever the hell he feels like about the past if it’s convenient to him or just funny. Most of it contradicts with the story Billy has been delicately weaving over the years and he’s kind of panicking.

One day he confronts the ghost guy and is like “I know your not actually ancient but I’m not a snitch, how old are you?”

And Danny kind of feels bad about pretending to be ancient in front of someone who has literally been around since at least Ancient Greece and confesses that he’s 14. Captain Marvel stares at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a big grin and transforming into a 12 year old Billy. They instantly become inseparable.

You’d think that Billy would ask Danny to stop lying all the time because it’s gonna get them caught, but no, he thinks it’s hilarious. Now whenever Danny says something absurd or directly contradictory of the actual history that Billy told them, they’re just like “oh yeah both of those happened at the same time but all the scribes were at the same spot so no one wrote about the other one and it was lost to time” or “there was a time loop for a good few years back in good old Greece so a lot of weird things happened that just didn’t stick.” Or “that did happen but only ghosts could perceive it.” Or sometimes, if they absolutely cannot get away with any other explanation, “dang must have dreamt it!”

The league is hopelessly confused and 90% sure they’re being messed with but they have no proof and if they look at the history at least MOST of the stuff they say is true so there’s really no reason to doubt it when Danny claims he once fist fought the god of time while the entirety of Rome cheered for him and placed bets, especially when Billy nods sagely and says he remembers having to clean up the space time continuum after the fight and that he lost the modern equivalent of ten bucks in the bet (he still doesn’t lie, just doesn’t disagree with the blatant dishonesty. He honestly did have to clean up the space time continuum multiple times after Danny messes with time a bit too much thanks to Clockwork + shenanigans. They make bets all the time too lol)

I think the contrast between ‘never lies’ and ‘lies all the time for funsies’ with the same motivation of ‘do the funniest thing possible at all times’ can be extremely entertaining and interesting.

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

Tag list:

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[thedawningofthehour]

On Splinter and Colors

I know we all joke about Splinter giving the red-eared slider the nickname Blue and I agree that it is indeed a peak troll dad move, but consider-

This is what we see of the baby turtles in Goyles Goyles Goyles

And this is the same picture put through a colorblind filter showing protanomaly, or red deficiency

Through deuteranomaly, green deficiency

And through protanopia, total red blindness

Yeah, makes sense why Leo might be Blue.

(there's green blindness and blue deficiency/blindness as well, but Leo's eye bananas still looked red in those)

If you haven't gotten to high school physics yet or have forgotten that lesson: we have three cones in our eyes that respond to light of different wavelengths, perceiving the color red, green, and blue respectively. All the colors you perceive are a mixture of these cones receiving light and yelling at you. (except for purple, purple's kind of weird) (as is black and white, and magenta, and-there are a lot of non-spectral colors, actually) Color blindness occurs when one or more cones is bad at its job or not working, resulting in the eye having difficulty perceiving that wavelength or not being able to see it altogether.

Now, considering he did give another child Red, he most likely can tell some shades apart. So I doubt he's completely red-blind. But it's very possible that he's red-weak or green-weak colorblind and literally saw Leo as having blue stripes as an infant, because they were in a shade he had trouble seeing.

This could also explain why he wore yellow-tinted glasses. They might have literally helped him see better by filtering everything to a wavelength he could see more comfortably at.

But, you ask, why didn't the name 'red-eared slider' tip him off? Splinter's not a native English speaker. He's fluent, but it's his second language and it is very different from his first. English is a confusing and often contradictory language, so even if he realized that red-eared was meant to refer to the markings around their ears that were red-well, what does he know? English came up with all sorts of weird, misleading names for things. The black mamba isn't actually black, goldfish can come in all sorts of colors, and there's a frog called the mountain chicken. Who is he to argue?

[eleasis20]

Astarion's Gravestone is Wrong

I know a lot of people have seen this reddit post, translating the gravestone

The redditors translation looks correct, but the actual writing on the gravestone is contradictory to the in-world calendars.

DR or Dale Reckoning, the calendar supposedly being used on the gravestone, is the most commonly used calendar in-world. It's also the calendar that states BG3 occurs in the year 1492.

But looking at the translation, there's an immediate error here - the dates suggest that Astarion was born not 200-ish years ago, but 1200-ish years ago. And the date that Astarion adds to his grave also doesn't match the present year of 1492, instead reading as 1020 years ago.

There's nothing wrong with the translation, that's the matching letters alright, but the inscription itself is incorrect.

As pointed out by another Redditor, the most likely explanation for this, is that the devs accidentally used the wrong calendar. In the Forgotten Realms (the universe BG is set in) there are multiple calendars, and DR is just the most popular one to use. Another calendar is NR or North Reckoning, which states the current year for BG3 is 460, much closer to Astarion's date of 468 than any other calendar given.

I write this because I've seen a few people claim Astarion's birth year as 1229, just adding a 1 in front of the gravestone date to make it fit the DR calendar better. But this also doesn't work as that would make him 263 as of BG3, and Astarion repeatedly says that he was Cazador's slave for around 200 years (I believe he at one point specifies under 200, but I can't remember when), not 224 years or 2 and a quarter centuries.

It would also mean that the current year for BG3 is 1468, which is contradicted by multiple texts in the game that suggest the current year is 1492.

So, if we presume that the DR was a mistake, and this is actually meant to be NR, we can translate the dates this way:

229 NR= 1261 DR

268 NR = 1300 DR

468 NR = 1500 DR

Now there's another issue, in that the present day date still doesn't match the given one of 1492. It's 8 years later in 1500.

However, given that 1300 - 1492 is 192 years, and Astarion never gives a concrete timeline outside of around 200 years, I think the last date being wrong can be considered either another slip from the dev team, or an error on Astarion's part as he carves that date himself.

So, the real dates for Astarion's timeline should be:

1261 - born.

1300 - turned into a vampire.

1492 - current date/escape from Cazador.

This still preserves him being turned at 39, but makes it so that he spent 192 years in slavery, and is 231 years old in total.

An in-universe reason for these errors could be that Astarion was originally from the Waterdeep area, where NR is more commonly used, and the Baldur's Gate carvers got confused when making his gravestone. Plus, Astarion has canonical issues with dissociation and memory loss, possibly causing him some confusion over the current year when he carves his addition.

[lurochar]

Please please Human Alastor with a bratty reader. He tells her to do one thing and she does the complete opposite, she has tried to steal his wallet multiple times, always trying to get a rise out of him just to see if she can make him loose his temper.

Brat

I hope this is to your liking, Anon

18+MDNI

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

smack

“Darling, have you learned your lesson yet? Are you ready to apologize?”

“...n-no, I didn’t… didn’t do anything wro–! Ahhh h-hah…”

smack

“Hmm, that’s the wrong answer, dearest. You’ve been getting quite out of hand lately and I’m running low on patience. Of course I’m always willing to forgive you, but you have to admit to your mistakes. Can you do that for me?”

“But you said–ah, told me I-I could–!?”

smack

“Oh, I don’t mind indulging you, you know that. That being said, this recent misbehaviour of yours is nonsensical. I have to wonder, are you doing this on purpose?”

“...”

(Your lack of answer causes Alastor to hum thoughtfully in the back of his throat and instead of striking the now burning skin of your rear, he strokes softly. You shudder visibly).

“You’ve taken my wallet numerous times in the past two weeks without the courtesy of asking me. Normally, I wouldn’t even care about a trivial matter like this.”

“A-ah, so… what– what is the proBLEM!”

smack

“Well, my lovely Doe, I’m sure you know well enough what the problem is, but I’ll be blunt since it’s evident that’s what you need right now. You are wasting money on frivolous purchases – purchases that you are not even using.”

(Alastor’s fingers grip into the back of one of your thighs. You swallow heavily).

“Whether you aren’t using these purchases so I can return them, I’m not certain. It’s still a waste of my time. Now, are you absolutely sure you have nothing at all you would like to say to me? It’s clear to you what this is about?”

“I…I wanted to–”

You tensed, waiting for the next strike, but it didn’t come and you were almost confused. Alastor had to hold back a chuckle and his proceeding groan at your cry of surprise when he pushed two of his fingers into your dripping cunt, sliding in easily with how wet you were.

You little debauched brat, enjoying what was supposed to be a punishment.

“Ah fu–”

Alastor flicks your cheek before you can finish what you start, it’s teasing and light, but he certainly doesn’t want to think he will give you a pass to utter such filthy words in these circumstances. He is the one in control right now. “Watch your language. Or do I need to gag you?”

His fingers glide smoothly in and out of you and you let out little puffs of breath, knowing that Alastor is intentionally avoiding that sweet spot inside you. It causes you to turn your head slightly so you can look Alastor straight in the eye, much to his contradictory riled amusement.

“Fuck.”

Hmm, all right then.

You gasp, not sure why you’re caught off guard when Alastor is quickly pulling you upright in his lap by the nape of your neck and then you choke, feeling his fingers leave you and you can taste yourself when they are suddenly filling your mouth, reaching dangerously close to the back of your throat that you heave a little in surprise.

“Spoiled little thing.” Alastor murmured into your ear, a husky laugh leaving him when you slowly start to suck on his fingers once you are used to the feel of them in your mouth. “So depraved you’ve become. I believe I’m starting to understand now.”

You jump and moan around his fingers when he steadies you on one of his legs, wedging his thigh between your own legs before he starts bouncing it and his pants are so very quickly soaked by your arousal.

“Well, Darling? You got what you wanted. You have my attention now. Have I been neglecting you so badly to the point you felt you had to take money from my wallet?” Alastor cooed, leaning back in the chair and observing with lustful glee as you rode his thigh on your own, drooling all over his fingers without a hint of your usual modesty. “My sweet poor girl.”

Maybe he did spend a little too much time stalking his next intended target, but of course he had to assure he didn’t get caught. 

Nothing but death could ever rip him away from you.

“But I’m still waiting. You have yet to apologize.” Alastor removes his fingers from your mouth, leaning casually against his arm as he slows his thigh and you let out a whine. “You won’t get my cock until you do.”

Fuck.

You didn’t want to apologize, even if you did feel guilty about spending money on useless things – it wasn’t an amount that would do much, if anything, to the comfortable life you and Alastor lived, but it was still an amount that Alastor would notice. 

He was the breadwinner and made much more than you did as a mere assistant in the same radio station that Alastor worked at, though he did make it clear he did not mind spending money on you should you want for anything within his means. You rarely asked for much, simply content enough with Alastor in your life.

But lately, he was absent at strange times when he wasn’t scheduled for work and gone for hours into the night, coming home only hours before dawn. He was then too tired to even converse with you for a few minutes before it all just repeated all over again.

This went on for a month.

You had enough of it.

You trusted Alastor, you trusted that he wasn’t cheating on you, trusted whatever he was doing at night and that he would tell you when he felt he could, but damn it – was it so bad to want to spend a little time loving your husband!?

“I just… wanted…” You started, grumbling under your breath. “I just wanted to spend time with you, that’s all!”

“I don’t think that’s an apology, Darling.” Alastor tutted you, pulling you tight against him and making sure you can feel him – how hard he is for you – and grinds himself against your core, earning himself a whiny little noise from you. “Tell me how sorry you are for behaving nothing more like a needy little puppy begging for attention.”

For now. You can go along with it for now.

“I-I’m sorry, Alastor, please!” You can see Alastor’s eyes lighting up with desire, something that you alone are only able to accomplish. “Please, I just wanted you. I’m sorry.” You sniffle, shuddering when a jolt of pleasure rushes through you.

Alastor reaches down to press a finger softly against your clit, rubbing slow circles on the nub. “Was that so difficult?” He asked, not expecting or receiving an answer. “But since you were a good girl and did as I asked…”

You were rather surprised when he picked your entire weight up with just one arm, lifting you up high enough off his lap so he could take off his belt and shove his pants low enough to take out his cock. He held you right over his dick, feeling the heat of your cunt and he felt himself twitch. “I will forgive you, dearest. I always will. I suppose you deserve a reward now.”

“Alastor!”

Said man grinned, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly lowered you onto his length, gritting his teeth when you clenched your walls tightly around his cockhead. “Dearest, relax. I apologize to you – it,” Alastor had to pause and take in a calming breath, “I hadn’t realized it had been this–this long.”

You were so fucking tight, unused to the stretch now and it felt like he was going to cum already at the feel of your warm slick walls squeezing him so snuggly. 

“You’re always so big.” You whimper when Alastor lowers you until his cock is fully inside you and you pant when he thumbs your clit to distract you from the discomfort. “Move. Please.”

Alastor plants his feet firmly against the ground, making sure to hold onto your waist as he finally begins to thrust up into you, finding a rhythm despite the slightly awkward positions. “Fuck! Mmm, Darling, you and your sweet cunt are perfect as always.” He crooned into your hair. “Why would you fret? You know I will always come home to you in the end.”

Your eyes are rolling back when Alastor hits that sweet spot over and over and over with each and every thrust. Tears blur your eyes and you try to swallow down the saliva before it can drool down your lips. You’re already unseemly enough, you don’t think Alastor would want to see even more depravity from you.

“Hmm, why so quiet? You were being such a brat earlier.” Alastor pinches your clit and you let out an interesting little sound he wants to hear again. So he repeats himself, pinching your clit between his fingers while making sure his cock hits that spot in your pussy with each thrust of his hips. You let out little ‘ah ah ah’ noises and while he just finds that adorable, it’s not what he wants right now.

“Ah, my lovely wife, my dearest Darling. I love you, I love everything about you, even that little naughty side of yours. You’re mine, all mine, always mine.” Alastor can feel you stiffen at his words and your walls are beginning to flutter around him. “Tell me the same. Come undone on my cock. I want to hear you.”

Stars explodes behind your eyes and your walls are clamping down on Alastor’s cock and you wail as he fucks you through your orgasm without pause. “I-I love you! Alastor, l-love you!” You slur through the aftershocks of your climax.

It’s only when you say that you love him that Alastor can reach his own end and he tenses, feeling that rush of ecstasy he can only achieve through you or murdering lowlifes as he spills inside of you. Both you and Alastor are breathing hard and Alastor wraps his arms around you and rests his head against yours.

The silence was comfortable, both content and basking in the words said for a while. Alastor does finally break the silence with a thoughtful hum. “Dearest, if you wanted my attention, surely there were better ways to go about it?”

You feel cheeky, maybe the endorphins are giving you too much of a high, but you couldn’t help but to open your mouth and make a snarky little comment.

“I am not sorry for what I did.”

Alastor glances at you sharply with a raised brow and a chilling smile slowly makes its way onto his handsome face and you know you’re in some deep shit. Why couldn’t you just keep your damn mouth shut?

“Is that so, Darling?”

You are fucked.

Literally.