#someone I know said he has a diverse friend group and that's how he knew

[blckwhtepersona]

Call me ignorant (because I am) but I have no idea how people just... know their sexuality.

I see it a lot of social media where people realize that they are either gay, or trans, or ace, or every color on the rainbow. Some know as young as CHILDHOOD. It seems like such a big decision/realization, yet... they just know.

Meanwhile, I feel anxious when I can't make a decision on what I'll get at the convenience store in 5 seconds.

[desiresiwant]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4k~

warnings: strong language, eventual violence, a pretty much tamed 1st chapter…for now

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my au longfic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT ->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒.

It wasn't how Deena imagined it to be the moment she stepped off the smelly bus onto the gravel sidewalk, with a packed bag hung across her shoulder and an old black suitcase covered in band stickers she used to listen to years ago.

She came a long way from Le Havre, France. Spent about seventeen hours on a plane and another two hours riding two buses to get here, stuck next to an annoying older woman spilling her lifelong secrets.

The sunny sky was touched with a gloom and many buildings looked as if they came out of the 1700s in American films with a modern touch to fit today's society. There were many interesting stores that had caught Deena's eye as she traveled down the sidewalk with no plan in mind. She enjoyed the urban touch of the city through the people and how together they were which was much different back home. Also, it was very much diverse compared to the small area she lived in.

She felt comfortable. At home.

Off the side of a group of friends passing through, Deena pulled out a picture of her beautiful mother in the arms of a man that's to be her father—Klaus Mikaelson.

Her mother was happy in this picture. They both were. In a black shirt hanging off her shoulders, ripped tights under a pair of shorts, smiling at the camera with a drink in her hand and her curly hair almost taking up half the photo. The man—her father, Klaus—sat leaned into her mother, kissing her ear with an arm thrown around her waist. He wore a basic leather jacket with dark blue jeans. Dirty blond hair, dark blue-greenish eyes, and a killer smile. The table in front of them covered in empty red cups and half-filled liquor bottles. They were both young, in college, and in love.

"I want to find him," Deena said to herself in a soft voice. "I need to find Klaus Mikaelson."

But the problem was if Deena ever found her father, she didn't know what she would tell him. She practiced what to say when meeting him, but it was all gibberish and uncompleted sentences that made no sense. She feared a lot of things about her father; him being married with kids and she would come into his perfect life and ruin the happiness he made for himself, no knowledge of his other child he had created across the globe. Or he was a dead-beat with nothing going for his life. Or he has long passed away.

But whatever truth lies in his life, she just wanted to see him. From afar, if needed. To see how he lived. And if he cared enough to know that the woman he met in this very city before she moved to France years ago, was now dead. But she selfishly wanted him to know that she existed.

...if she knew where he was. Or where to start.

The city was so big, nevertheless the state and because Deena wasn't from around—this was her second time ever in America—it was difficult for her to navigate or read the English signs she never learned. But she grew hungry and entered the nearest restaurant.

"Hey, welcome in! Take a seat anywhere," Greeted the waiter, passing by with both hands filled.

Most tables were filled as Deena searched for an empty spot.

Sensing the panicked teenager, the waiter stood before Deena after she finished serving a table. "Must be your first time here, so welcome. Just join a table with someone, anyone, but choose wisely; some people can talk more than they chew." She was picking at the older customer sitting at the counter who obviously heard what she said and sent her a squinted look with pursed lips. "That's the motto of the restaurant; To Meet A Stranger Along The Way. Eating alone doesn't mean you have to be alone. So sit anywhere and I or another waiter will be with you soon."

Deena sent the nice lady a smile. "I understand, thank you."

She pulled along her suitcase looking for a place to sit down. Most tables were occupied and many shared engaging conversations of their own that Deena didn't want to intrude, until she noticed a brunette sitting alone with a book in her hand reading quietly.

"Can I sit here?"

The girl looked up from her book and gestured towards the empty chair. "Go for it," she went back to reading.

She took off her backpack and placed it in the empty seat next to her before sitting down. The girl was young, or at least she appeared to be. Had to be around the same age, and she was very pretty.

That part Deena will keep to herself.

As if the girl felt Deena's complimenting stare, she tore away her gaze as the girl lifted her head from the book, but it was already too late since she was caught. "Have you read it?" She started. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I know right? It's for some stupid class, so the teacher's forcing us to read up to five chapters and come back to a pop quiz. Which, I know I will fail."

Both girls shared a short laughter.

"I'm Deena.” She introduced. “I'm new around here."

The waiter then came to take Deena's order while also setting down a grilled turkey sandwich with extra avocado and a side of fries for the girl. She finally placed down her book, giving thanks to the waiter before digging into her food.

The mouth-watering scent made Deena's stomach grumble. I’m so damn hungry.

"Davina," while washing down her fries with lemonade. "Not new here. But I noticed the accent. Where are you from?"

"France. More specifically, Le Havre." Deena replied. "You?"

"Born and raised. Also, don't hate me but the only place I know of France is Paris, but I'm sure Le Havre is a fun place to visit and live at."

Deena shrugged showing no offense to Davina's knowledge of France. She didn’t blame the girl since she knew nothing of the US besides New York, California, Florida, and Texas. They were normally the most talked about and the most used location in films. Also, it seemed a lot always happened in those states.

"It's cool. I actually didn't know Louisiana existed until a few days ago." Deena admitted.

"But here you are!"

She gave a small smile, agreeing. "Here I am."

Some moments later, the waiter delivered Deena's food; half cut Cuban sandwich with extra pickles and a sweet tea. She dug in without question.

Davina was a cool person to chat with. Easy-going, funny, and there was something about her energy Deena felt oddly connected to. Davina also felt an odd connection to Deena but brushed it off as she stuffed her mouth full.

There was a long list prepared for the day, but realized it was quite small and she had no starting point. I came here on a whim. With little to no planning, and childish hope.

But remembered Davina was from New Orleans. There's a possibility she might've ran into her father or seen him around somewhere. Or visited a store he owned. Or attended school with one of his kids. Or visited his grave.

"So, I was wondering since you're from around if you knew this man?" Deena wiped the oils from her fingers before reaching into her front backpack's pocket. Pulling out the photo of her mother and Klaus, she held it in front of Davina to inspect.

Davina noticeably froze upon viewing the photo. She had blinked a few times to make sure the man she saw wasn't just some random person she's misjudging but a man who was famously known throughout the streets and the supernatural world.

She pulled back from the table and picked at the grilled bread. "What do you want with him?" suddenly, she got hostile with Deena despite her pure intentions.

She knew him.

Deena sighed with relief. Davina obviously knew her father, but the cold tone she used when responding made her nervous. He must be married. With kids. Or nothing but a dead-beat. Or worse. Dead.

Deena returned the photo back into her backpack pocket with a shrug. "So you know him?"

"Yea, Klaus Mikaelson. Anyone who's done him bad or crossed his path on accident knows of him and his notorious siblings—"

"He has siblings?" Deena interjected.

"—oh yeah. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson and whoever comes back to life occasionally." She continued, slightly confusing Deena but she was happy to hear there's more than her father alive. "Terrorizing the city and the people who live within. Any person with a sense of mind would tell you to stay the hell away. You don't want anything to do with that psychotic man and his troubling siblings. His family is a curse to this city, to the communities, and they care for no one else but themselves. I'm sure the woman in that photo was killed by the hands of Klaus Mikaelson himself." She sneered.

Deena, not knowing this man nor his siblings personally, felt offended by Davina's harsh words because they were her family. And even worse, she accused her father murdering her mother. A beautiful soul who raised Deena with everything she could give her, found locked in her car with a letter admitting how unhappy she was with her life.

The smile on Deena’s face faltered to a deadpan glare as Davina bad-mouthed the family she had ties to. She noticed the change of her expression, but she thought nothing of it since she assumed she was doing good by scaring the curious French girl away from Klaus and far away from this cursed city.

Deena abruptly stood from her seat already gathering her belongings.

"W-where are you going? You haven't finished your— "

"The woman standing next to Klaus is my mother. And the man next to her, Klaus Mikaelson, is my father. And she wasn't murdered by him, she hated her life and everyone within it so she did the job herself." Deena vividly watched Davina grow with shock upon hearing Klaus was her father and was filled with sudden guilt from all she had said about her parents before. "But you are right about one thing; we are troubling. At least it keeps people away. So thanks for nothing. I'll find him my own damn self."

She wasn't sure how much the meal cost altogether and because the currency was slightly different, she left a big amount on the table which included a tip. She was out the restaurant in no time. Her head felt dizzy and she was hot all over heaving out steam, suddenly impacted by the overwhelming emotions she thought she had pushed back.

A month ago, Deena's mother passed away.

Her death made no sense. She was a cheerful woman who often hid away in her art studio painting and sketching for hours until it was time to pick Deena up from school. Students were often jealous because while other parents nagged on their child's grades and permitted curfews, Deena's mother never hovered over her shoulder about her grades and trusted Deena enough to be home within a reasonable time. And while other parents came dressed in their finest most classiest clothing for teacher conference nights or the school performances Deena was a part of, her mother came dressed straight out of a Fruits Magazine.

She was stressless, free, a kindred spirit, and an amazing mother. Sometimes Deena would forget her mother wasn't a close friend or an older sister despite having her at a young age. She was vocal about her problems and told Deena since a young age that "anger should never be placed into a bottle. Let the world hear you even if they say you scream too loud. They don't like Black girls expressing themselves in any manner if not with their heads down, so you must do it for the next little Black girl who's taking notes.".

But still, it made no sense.

The morning before she died, Deena's mother showed no signs of distress. She made banana pancakes, sent Deena off to school, and when she came home, her mother was working on a late piece for an art exhibition a friend in town invited her work to. She then left after dinner and was never seen for two days until Deena received a call from the police station. But it was questionable and she didn't understand it.

Why was she unhappy with life when she expected so much out of it? Why would she leave when she promised me the world? Why wasn’t she vocal with her depression in the same way she taught me to be vocal?

"Deena, wait!" Davina called out after placing down her half of the pay and rushed out the doors. She knew she was wrong for what she said and she felt terrible. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or bring your mother into this; I was only speaking from a personal experience which is no excuse at all. Next time, I should watch what I say. But..."

Deena kept walking. She struggled to drag her suitcase with her speed. The old wheels looked as if they were about to break off at any second, but she somehow managed to keep going.

Davina huffed annoyingly. "But I know where he is, Klaus Mikaelson," Deena halted her steps, facing the girl. "And I know where you can find him."

As Deena studied her face to find any spec of bluff hidden in her tone or written amongst her face, she saw she was telling the truth. She knew where her father currently hung around or lived, and of course, she wasn't going to question why or how she knew that kind of information.

"Where is he?" Asked Deena.

"The Abattoir. I can take you there since you might get lost. Also, you might want a travel buddy traveling in that particular area."

Deena sized the girl down. "Why? Will Klaus murder me too?"

"Again, I'm sorry about that." With her eyes narrowed, Davina apologized again. Deena still felt offended by what she said but since she genuinely felt sorry for it, about her mother at least, she decided to cut her some slack. She doesn't need an enemy on her first day in New Orleans. "Look, you're not from around and I'm sure you don't know about..."

Taking in Deena's blank stare, Davina then shook off the conversation and reached down for her suitcase. "Never mind, let's go."

Deena's hand was still on the handle, able to hold her grip from slipping it out her fingers and asked, "I don’t need your help. I can carry it myself." She tried pulling back but Davina somehow had the suitcase fully in her hands.

"It's about to break, I'm practically doing you a favor." She noticed the band stickers on her suitcase and claimed to have listened to some of them when she was thirteen.

Deena allowed her guard down and quickly followed behind Davina across the street before the main light turned green. She continued on about the particular bands she knew and who she used to stan and asked Deena about the bands she was unfamiliar with.

Somewhere during the conversation, "Thanks," it was soft but Davina caught it

She offered a soft smile. "You shouldn't thank me. I might not particularly like Klaus, but if he truly is your father, I wouldn’t live with myself by keeping you away from knowing him. At least then, hopefully, you might run away once you do."

"Is he really that bad of a man?"

Davina was quiet at her question. To her, Klaus wasn't just a bad man, he was terrible, and he almost killed her multiple times if it wasn't for Marcel having to save her. She wished she could tell Deena these things in hopes she would stay away, but no one wants to hear the bad of a man you've never met. Especially when he was your father. Family. It also wasn't her place to kill the image she might have of him.

Then she shrugged. "I will let you be the judge of that."

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. It was well kept for the most part but it was obvious this house had been through hell, Deena definitely thought Klaus was a deadbeat. This wasn't a family home, but it was a pretty big property. Maybe a rich deadbeat?

Together they stood staring up at the white doors ready to be knocked upon. Davina stared at the door with fear. Every witch sense coursing through her blood told her to turn away and run.

She knew she wasn't allowed here—that witches weren't allowed here, but she came to protect Deena.

Deena wasn't aware of the supernatural world or the fact that her father was a ruthless millennium-old psychotic hybrid, and what lies within the compound was an 'army' of hungry blood-sucking vampires who were already aware of their presence. Vampires who were too scared to leave Klaus if not slaughtered after the gruesome war against Marcel's army and enemies, and whoever they could rally up if Marcel hadn't got to them first.

Nevertheless, Davina watched her new friend lift her hand to knock on the door. Sucking in a deep breath, her knuckles were seconds away from alerting the vampires before something churned in her stomach. She quickly lowered her hand and hurried away.

"I can't do this." Deena panicked.

Davina lingered a bit longer at the door before rushing after her. "Where are you going? He's right inside." She shouted, dragging along the suitcase.

"I can't do it." She breathed heavily. "I-I don't know why I came here in the first place. And I hate myself for being curious, but I don't think I can do it. I should go home with the money I have left."

There was so much roaming through Deena's brain all at once. She thought she was ready to meet with him, but she wasn't, or at least she was convincing herself that she's not. But after losing the only family she had, Deena had grown lonely and desperate for someone to care about her and love her as much as her mother did. That's why she went through her mother's things. She trashed her mother's room, the kitchen, the attic, even her own room in the process. She didn't know what she was searching for until she discovered the letter.

It was meant to be given on her 18th birthday, a couple of months early.

But now that she was here, she didn't feel as pumped as before. Maybe she should've thought a bit longer on the idea before hopping on the next plane to New Orleans? Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself? Maybe this wasn't the right thing for her to do?

Davina grabbed Deena just as she was about to cross the street and tugged on her arm so that she was facing her. "Just breathe." She attempted to calm her down.

Deena rolled her eyes. "I am breathing."

"No, you're not. You look like you're about to pass out." Despite her annoyance, Deena forced herself to calm down. Once seeing she had, Davina narrowed her gaze before speaking. "I have no words to comfort you. Hell, I can't even comfort myself, but I can tell you, that you will regret not meeting him and him not knowing you. You have a chance that many kids don't have; I don't even know whether my dad is alive or not, but you do. And you should take it."

"I feel like I'm gonna ruin his life." Deena admitted.

Davina scoffed with a dragged 'please'.

"I'm serious. How would you feel living a life of your own for however many years and suddenly a seventeen-year-old kid comes knocking at your front door claiming to be your daughter? I would close the door in her face and continue my show!"

"If I was Klaus Mikaelson, I would be pretty damn blessed to have a kid with my blood in their veins at my doorstep. You never know."

"He must be a pretty famous man the way you speak of him."

She shrugged. "You can say that. But look," She took hold of Deena's hand. "Go meet him. Let him know who you are. And if you regret it, you can take the first plane back to Le..."

"Le Havre," she completed.

"Right. Le Havre. And I will be right here supporting you."

Davina was right. At least she had a chance to get to know her father while many don't and she shouldn't let the opportunity pass by. She sucked in a deep breath and began making her way to the white doors, but just as soon as she took her first step, she was stopped by Davina's stretched arm hitting her chest. She appeared focused, waiting for something to come.

She pushed away Davina's arm from deep within her chest, but she stopped her again.

Deena rolled her eyes with a huff. "You give me some go-for-it-speech and now you don't want me to seize the moment while I'm ready?"

"Something isn't right," Davina eased out with worry.

Deena would've guessed the brunette was another spiderman from an alternate universe the way she peered around her surroundings like a guard dog. Or spidey senses, she'd call it. She didn't see nor feel what Davina was and there was no one within their proximity when glancing around to catch what she caught, so she wasn't sure what had her on edge.

"You are right," Both girls jumped at the deep voice of a brown-skinned woman who spoke with a slight thick accent. She wore a green tank-top with dark blue jeans and she had to be around thirty years old, and she was looking at Deena as she came forward. "Something isn't right."

Despite the weird look, at least Deena knew she wasn't a stranger judging by Davina's calm expression and her tensed shoulders releasing.

She removed her arm from Deena's chest with a sigh. "Zoeè? What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I could ask you the same, harvest girl?"

Davina doesn't respond.

"I sensed someone—" Her brown eyes flickered to Deena. "—special entered the city and came runnin' soon as I could. And now that the cloaking spell has worn off and the prophecy is clear, all that I need to seal the deal is standing right in front of me."

Davina stepped in front of Deena in a protective manner once putting together two and two. "I don't know what this is about but let's not do it here. You and I both aren’t safe in this area—" merely glancing back. "—and she has nothing to do with this. This is between me and you."

Deena was clearly confused. "I'm sorry but who is this?"

"Don't matter who I am. What matters is what you gone do to our kind once the Mikaelsons find out you're alive."

Whatever happened, happen so fast that Deena was unable to process absolutely nothing. After Davina screamed out, she pushed her back and lifted her hands in a wizard-like manner before she was thrown against the building wall with no effort.

Deena followed the invisible force to the woman, Zoeè who's smiling back at her and scattered away. She would have ran after Davina, but her first instinct was to get herself to safety first and take a moment to digest what the hell just happened.

"Solem," With a flick of a wrist, Deena failed to cross the road before she found darkness and the cold ground.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read here

[exoticalmonde]

IS2 also known as Phantom & Crimson Solitaire but the Part where I learn about some of the Lore via Operator Records

This all started because I am a stupid idiot simp and have no self-control, okay?

The other day I was trying to mind my business when I was wondering who out of my Bandorio (husBandorio) squad I want to E2. It was almost an unfair match between Shalem and Mr. Nothing (whose position in the band is already shaky with Lessing and Hoderer coming eventually).

I thought to myself 'The best way to really know who I want is to see how useful they are in batte-' WRONG, I wanted to know if I vibe with them on a personal level. Which meant that I had to sit down and read their Operator Records.

And proceeded to yap about Shalem on TWTR since harlot gloves and an iridescent shine on his tail + it being cutely wrapped around his leg is the go-to if you want to impress me.

Also because I like the look of sheer exhausted, barely clinging to sanity look he gives me when I zoom in on his person.

Continue below if you want to see me cry about Shalem, the Troupe and then about the Crimson Solitaire and what it was throwing at me the last two days.

So being said, I started admiring... everything that is happening in his E2. Prior to actually reading anything I knew that Shalem has something to do with Phantom, at least something enough that he has to go and save him from IS2. I've dabbled with it before just a tiny little, never reached an ending and I still haven't as I write this.

Items of background as of yet unverified, which is really funny because I think the same goes for Phantom. Maybe I should look him up while I'm here to read side-by-side comparison.

Take note, it says Shalem works in logistics.

Both Victorian, born within a month and a bit of each other, so that's interesting. What's that? Phantom is taller?? Than shalem?? The twink black cat is taller than the black snake?

Insanity.

Oh, he's doomed. Who do I like that ISN'T infected with Oripathy??? It feels like they're all sick... But now that I look at my list, Chongyue, Ebenhol-

Okay... that leaves SilverAsh, Vigil, Lee, Tequila, Lessing they're all fine.

My head is too full of Czerny and Hoederer being Infected on a very advanced level, so it feels like my world is ending every time I start reading the Medical Analysis.

-Shalem Trust 50-

Considering Rhodes Island's operators come from all corners, races, temperaments, histories and myriad diversities of the land, there are indeed plenty who are weak with communication yet possess a kind heart, and thus HR's operators haven't had serious concern, vis-a-vis the state of Shalem's life. 

Me *handshake* Shalem Disliking mixing friend groups so we just avoid it at all cost

He's been waiting forever, waiting for his chapter's end, but he doesn't anticipate that in ten or so months, when Rhodes Island life has long since become routine, that a shadow of the past will sorrowfully arrive.

Congratulations, everybody, another sad boy has reconsidered subearthing themselves because he found a place to call home and a bed he can sleep in with both eyes closed.

-Phantom Trust 50-

When Phantom first set foot on Rhodes Island, he terrified the logistics personnel who were on duty at the time. He suddenly appeared behind one individual, standing there without a word until the person turned around to discover his presence.

IF SHALEM WORKS IN LOGISTICS WAS THIS ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT HIM???? I can't believe Shalem was stalked by Phantom for absolutely no reason and then Closure got pissed that this arrogant feline just boarded the ship without telling anybody, or anybody noticing even, until it was too late.

Talk about being a professional assassin.

Accompanying Phantom on his arrival to Rhodes Island was a person as mysterious and alluring as the night itself, someone known as 'Ms. Christine.' Through her demeanor, it was clear that she was a refined and haughty woman. No one knows whether she will remain or leave, and she is not always seen with Phantom, instead happy enough to wander around as if quietly patrolling her turf.

To this, I have only one responce

*Throws 15, 000 of those at Phantom* I HAVE THE LADY'S PERMISSION!!

-Shalem Trust 100-

After a field mission ended, Shalem noticed a phantasm behind him. He was the most brilliant of those young stars in the troupe, its leader's favorite, a crimson blood diamond, and he stared at him, naturally not seeking to reminisce. 

Oh my god I was right.

An acquainted operator informed him someone called Phantom had joined as an Operator in the past few days. Who was Phantom? Shalem knew in his heart as clear as night.

Joined like it's nobody's business.

After which Shalem just decided his anxiety is too much to handle and didn't go out of his room for a small eternity.

When he received a mission on his terminal to seek the missing Operator Phantom, Shalem believed someone to be pranking him, but after verifying high and low, he realized Phantom truly had departed Rhodes Island, and no one was more familiar with the mission objective's search area than Shalem. It was his and Phantom's home, and the beginning of their nightmares. The past had already found Shalem, and he could not choose to stay uninvolved again. He accepted the mission to search for Phantom.

Oh no, he's being sent to whatever hellhole the Troupe is situated at. That must actually be one hell of a notice to get on his terminal. Go look for the person you have been trying to avoid, with whom you were potentially raised to play an endless play because he disappeared.

How did Phantom even end up there??? I have more questions than I have answers now.

-Phantom Trust 100-

After receiving his permission, Rhodes Island conducted a series of tests aimed at targeting this ability, basically confirming that Phantom's ability to alter the shadows is related to sound. By using his throat to vocalize certain sounds, he is able to interfere with and severely damage the psyche of a living being. The more intense the emotion in the tone, the deeper the effect is, producing psychological damage that is difficult to repair or reverse.

Sweet Mouthpiece... What the actual hell?

-Shalem Trust 150-

After the flood receded, some sumptuously graceful guests entered the village. Yes, they handed people money to seek local aid; yes, they carefully selected, adopted many children who were without claim, now their parents had vanished or been lost.

I have a bad feeling about thi-

Numbering one of them was the young Shalem.

I hate this with all my life, actually.

'You are children of the arts. Now, you may rest well.' So the old butler promised, and so Shalem believed. Soon after, his life became a play. Modest and gentle was the label the troupe gave to Shalem, and ever since then, it has become his 'true personality.'

'Modest' and 'Gentle'? Explain this, then

We shan't dwell on the daily physical training and rehearsal of lines. Understudies as excellent as Phantom would be led upon stage, given verbal motivation and material reward in front of them all.

Yeah, so they did know each other and everybody hated Phantom because he was good at what he was doing. Actually terrible by definition.

The children who entered the troupe together one by one disappeared, and those left were completely changed in temperament, not a speck of the innocence of their years left visible. As they grew in years, Shalem had convinced himself to accept one fact: We were only brought into this troupe to offer our lives to the arts. If we are unable to perform... Then we have no right to live within the troupe. Whether voluntary or not, so long as you joined the troupe, the script you were given would be written long in advance. To run until your life's end.

God, Shalem... My darling...

Survival drives all to the brink, and they who ought to have worked together past these difficulties began to slaughter each other. In the end, no one escapes. Only a few uneaten slices of meat remain, scooped away by fowlbeasts, flapping their wings across the endless waters.

Is this... hinting at... cannibalism...? Again?

-Phantom Trust 150-

We can infer from our investigations that a wave of Oripathy that ripped through parts of Victoria a few years ago destroyed this troupe, and changed the trajectory of Phantom's life. He may have had a wonderful voice in the past, but as he is now, he could not be further from the stage.

I feel like I need a little more context about this. Shalem's town was flooded, but the Troupe exploded because of a wave of Oripathy? Where did it come from? Did I miss it somewhere? Obviously, this information is outdated because we know the Troupe exists in a much more bloody cult-like fashion now, but WHY? What is their point?

I can also tell you about the impressions I now have about him, but it may not be of any use to you, because there's a good chance you won't listen. But if you insist? Very well. I don't have much to say, but there is one suggestion. —Stay away from him. He's still caught in a nightmare, not fully awake yet.'

—A conversation with Schwarz

Schwarz?

This Schwarz?

Ma'amn you need to explain why you think all of that, I'm getting a little sweaty about how much people know and what they think about Phantom, because I kinda still do like him.

-Shalem trust 200-

He should have delivered that dagger to their heart, felt the spasm of their limbs, watched the light in their eyes little by little melt away. But the boy of the abyss did not do so. The weapon meant to murder instead cut the rope, and was handed to another to become a tool protective of life. And so did a meticulous production end. A play rendered a complete shambles by this boy of the abyss. A stage offered to him to prove his talent, so wasted and defiled by a conscience. Sinner, sinner! This coward, this lamentable coward. A hunter letting go its prey, presuming to still return to the castle, to report to its king. And yet he! He follows the prey's steps, disappears with it into the barrens' ends?! Let him be far from civilization, far from art, to go to that wild brink. He is fit only to be exiled.

HE ESCAPED BY TURNING ON THE TROUPE IN A MOMENT OF CONSCIOUS GUILT AND REBUTTAL!! My sweetest, tormented darling yeah, you get to stay in my husband team forever.

-Phantom Trust 200-

[Classified Log] We found the site of the incident that befell the troupe at the time.

Alright...

All the residences, facilities, and public spaces have been preserved as is, including the troupe's tents stationed in the park, just like in the records - the only thing that's missing are the residents.

Gosh, the description is like they got wiped away by Nuclear power. What in the world kind of Oripathy wave was that???

The best way to describe it is as if a piece of cake was sealed within a plastic bag, then thrown into a fervent crowd at an Iberian festival.

Someone gave their all fishussy to write this line.

What we managed to recover is pretty similar to whatever would be left in that bag afterwards. As for the portion of the data that was sent out, the path was too vague and could not be tracked.

Data sent out? Am I understanding this correct, the show was being streamed?

In order to verify the content, we played a portion of the video footage that could be considered somewhat intact. While doing so, three of the investigators present experienced degrees of psychological disturbance, so we were forced to temporarily seal off the remaining files.

What the absolute hell, so we never got to really see/hear what was happening? Was Phantom... the one to do this? Was he singing and it destroyed everything?

[Video File - Encrypted] [Encrypter - Kal'tsit] [Danger Level - 3] '■■■stage, death■■■■behind■■■loop, song■■, ■■■■end, all■begin.'

I need to ask Dr. Pinkie as soon as they wake up about this. I didn't read a lot of stuff about the game while I was playing it, only laughing at items I got.

-Shalem E2 Promotion-

When a person begins learning to perform, or takes up the profession of an actor, they bear for the rest of their life a curse: Are you doing what you would, or carrying out an endless performance?

This is not going anywhere nice.

Do you enact your true personality? Or is your false personality itself the true you? Oh, I imagine you likely can't make heads or tails anymore. Let me show you a way forth. Whether you're the bottomless boy of the abyss taking the stage, or the nobody Shalem aboard Rhodes Island. Listen to this suggestion from your old butler. Everything is a sham. You are not your own self. You were born a performance. Don't be led astray by your self. You are a role, and the role is all that you are. The role's choices are your choices. Now take the stage, performer. The time to offer yourself to art has come.

-Phantom E2 Promotion-

...

...

...

[sharpmidnight]

TSSM Pokemon Au Part 4

I watched some Pokemon videos and decided to give TSSM characters Pokemon for fun! This is also going off of @hermesserpent-stuff ‘s Spider Nephew Au. Also, there might be some people with the same Pokemon for different reasons; either they fit two people, or it’s to match with someone. I also base some of these Pokemon in different ways, from types, aesthetics, Pokedex Entries, jobs, powers, and backstories. I also won’t mind explaining my reasoning because I did a lot of research for them. Also, I tried o make sure they had diverse types, but some people might have more than 1 of the same type. Another thing is that I like to imagine that Peter and the other villains have 3 Pokemon for their civilian image and then the other 3 for their hero/villain work. 

The last thing is that I have only played up to Generation 8, and I have yet to play the other games. So my bad, if there is another Pokemon that suits them better.(let me know plz)

I will highlight their starter and their strongest. Red is their strongest, and blue is their starter. Purple is both. Any that has a * are their secret team. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

L. Thompson Lincoln/Tombstone

(Shiny) Glaceon (Ice) 

Lucario (Fighting/Steel) *

Haxorus (Dragon) 

Golisopod (Bug/Water) *

Bisharp (Dark/Steel) *

Nidoqueen (Poison/Ground) 

Tombstone was bullied as a child as he looked different than other kids. One day, he hid from others so he wouldn't get beaten up. When the bush he was hiding in started moving. He was met with a shiny Eevee hiding from its siblings for the same reason. Lonnie took it home to heal it but had to hide it from other people. When the other kids found out, they were jealous that he had found a shiny pokemon. They bullied him about it even more for different reasons (that he didn’t deserve a shiny pokemon or that he managed to find a weird Pokemon like him). Eevee was his only true friend for a while (He also thought that Robbie was his only human friend). Next, he found a Wimpod who was also hiding from others for being weak. He decided to take care of it, too. When he was walking with Robbie Roberton, they found some Nidorans, both female and male. Robbie suggested catching them since he knows they would be strong Pokemon when they evolve (Lonnie got the female one since he liked blue more. Also, Robbie just wanted another Pokemon for Lonnie so he can be more protected from those bullies). He knew he had to be tougher so others would leave him alone. He caught a Riolu to start training himself to be a better fighter. So when he got older, no one messed with him anymore. He did get shady jobs and eventually went into crime but thought of nothing of what he wanted to do in the future. It wasn’t until he was thinking about enemy gangs that he had to deal with and wishing there was a way to stop them. He then watches a Bisharp leading a group of Pawniards to hunt and gets the idea of being a mob boss. He eventually catches a Pawniard and rises in ranks. When he was almost to the top, he knew he needed one more strong Pokemon. When his men revealed some stolen Pokemon another gang had, he watched how Fraxure never backed down. He decided to keep that one and evolved it for his image as a strong trainer as a mask for L Thompson Lincoln. 

Hammerhead

Bastiodon (Rock/Steel)

Rampardos (Rock)

Grandbull (Fairy)

Garchomp (Dragon/Ground)

Sharpedo (Water/Dark)

Mawile (Steel/Fairy)

Hammerhead had a tough childhood since his father was the one who controlled the house, and he couldn’t really get any Pokemon for a while without him approving it. When his father finally let him, they were all dog Pokemon, mostly Growlithe and Houndor. Until he found a Snubull that he liked. His father was going to order him to leave the Snubull because of its look until the breeder showed him what it evolves to and said it was okay to keep it. He caught different Pokemon, but his father never approved any of them except for Gibble. When he finally had enough, he fought his father when both of his Pokemon evolved and ran away. He later joined a gang. Somewhere, he caught a Sharpedo. As he was fighting a rival gang, he got hurt really badly and was taken by a scientist. He gave him his steel skull, including a Sheildon and Cranidos, since the scientist already tested the two pokemon for their skulls and didn’t need them anymore. He joined Silvermane’s gang for a while. He and Silver Sable were dating at one point as she managed to get them to have the same pokemon since she thought it would be cute. So they both have a Malwile. They ended up breaking up, but Hammerhead kept his Malwile. Now, he works for Tombstone.

Sable Manfredi/Silver Sable 

Mawile (Steel/Fairy)

Skarmory (Steel/Flying)

Weavile (Dark/Ice)

Beautifly (Bug/Flying)

Gorebyss (Water)

Lurantis (Grass)

Sable got any Pokemon she wanted from her dad. As a child,  her first pokemon was a Wurmple because her mother had a Beautifly, and she wanted one, too. Her father asked if she wanted fully evolved pokemon so she could have it, but she wanted to evolve them herself, so he let her. Later she she managed to get a Clampearl and a Formantis as a teen. She still didn’t know what other pokemon to get later. At one point, she dated Hammerhead a few years later. She thought it would be cute to have the same pokemon together. They both caught a Malwile. Eventually, they broke up, but Sable kept her Malwile. Later, Sable was trying to figure out what to do with herself while her father was in prison. She started training and trying to figure out what she could use. She caught a Weavile for offense. Then, a Skarmory for aerial attacks and a getaway ride. 

Cameleon 

Ditto (Normal)

Zorark (Dark) 

Mr. Mime (Psychic/Fairy)

Kecleon (Normal)

Castform (Normal) (Changes Types)

Oricorio (Flying) (Changes Types)

Dewpider (Water/Bug) (Abandoned)

Dmitri Nikolaievich Smerdyakov didn’t have the best childhood growing up. Living in the household of the Kravinoff family was tough, and one of the ways he tried to impress them was his acting skills by disguising himself as someone else, inspired by watching a Ditto that they let him keep but was the only one that was allowed to. Someone noticed his talents and asked if he wanted to join his brother’s group of impersonators. He also offered him a Zorua too, if he joined. Dmitri left the house, without anyone knowing, and began his criminal career. He eventually evolved Zorua to Zororark. Although he was very picky about which pokemon to get. He then decided that he wanted Pokemon that can transform or other performing types. He caught a Kecleon for its ability to turn invisible, easier for it to escape. Mr. Mime for  Psychic moves to stop people/pokemon or when Zoroark is pretending to be something else, Mr. Mime tries to use psychic in some way that it looks like Zoroark is attacking them with the “correct” moves. Castform and Oricorio came later and used their switching types as an advantage. After a while of being alone, he heard about another criminal using theatre tricks. He hunted him down and found Quintin Beck and the Tinkerer. They decided to become a group. At one point, he managed to convince Quentin to get a Zorua (in reality he was the one who needed that Zorua and did this as an excuse because he always has one slot open when impersonating someone else and catching that pokemon just to release it.) When he wanted to impersonate Spiderman, Quentin caught him a Dewpider. When his plan failed, he told Quentin to get rid of it and decided to leave the other two to go solo. 

Extra Stuff: Hammerhead and Sable’s Malwile are on good terms so they greet each other when they see each other. It annoys the other two when they are trying to battle. 

But if Mysterio and Chameleon’s Zoroark see each other, they fight since Chameleon boasts that his pokemon is stronger.

Hammerhead’s Granbull might look tough, but when they are alone it turns into a big baby. Hammerhead believes he might have pampered it too much as a child, but he doesn’t complain that much…until it needs a bath. 

Sable grabs onto Skarmary’s leg when they are flying but Beautifly likes to get out of her ball to join them. 

Hammerhead’s pokemon likes to headbutt him for no reason (affectionate) other than they know he can take it. However, Malwile bites him even though he already told them to stop. (They won’t)

Tombstone’s Glaceon would sleep next to his desk but when it’s not wandering around it sits on his desk, watching him work. 

Tombstone’s Glaceon is curious about Peter’s Eevee, since it’s been a long time since it has been near another Eevee, but gets too close to Eevee that it gets annoyed. 

Not many people will train their own Pokemon by fighting them, but Tombstone likes to spar with his. 

Nidoqueen is the Pokemon that is mostly concerned about Tombstone’s health. She makes sure he eats and sleeps. Since she did promise Robbie that she will take care of him.

[victoriahmm]

“Sheep. I bet they don’t even know what they’re protesting for.”

I was standing next to my husband on the sidewalk, on the outskirts of a protest on Christmas Eve in Manhattan, New York, when I heard the unmistakable snarky tone of a middle aged white woman coming from behind me. My husband and I were both wearing KN-95 masks and keffiyeh, a Palestinian scarf that represents resistance. My husband held up a sign that said “End Billionaires End Genocide” in the colors of the Palestinian flag.

A few minutes later a man, also white, said “Nice mask, terrorist” to my husband.

I stood there with my blood boiling, infuriated at the racists living among us, walking next to us everyday. Sitting next to us on the train. Behind us in line in the grocery store. I knew the reality of it, but as a light skinned filipino that grew up in a rather diverse part of New Jersey, I have always had privilege. Privilege that has shielded me from the reality of racism in the United States for almost my entire life. So many people come face to face with this racism every single day; I only just started to taste it. And it tasted like shit.

Nice mask? What did that have anything to do with terrorism? Or anything to do with the ethnic cleansing we were protesting against, for that matter?

I thought back to what the first person had called us. “Sheep.”

I knew what she was implying. Herd mentality. And making fun of our masks was a needle in the same vein. As my own worst critic naturally I asked myself, am I too easily convinced by online trends? Am I the sheep?

I felt nothing like one. Far from it. In fact, I felt (still feel) horribly annoying to the people in my life. For a long time I felt like I was the only one witnessing what was happening.

First hearing about October 7th wasn’t eye-opening right away for me, shamefully. Another war I thought, one that I’d heard little about in the past. But that day while scrolling through TikTok, I heard a journalist say “Hamas is a terrorist group that kills Jews.”

Instantly I dove down a rabbit hole of research. Ethnic or religious cleansing, systemic racism, those are things that I would never turn away from. I would never turn a blind eye to any form of oppression. In my life I was trying to be more of an activist and less of a complainer. I did so privately, however, because I was afraid of being wrong, or being judged by my family and friends. I had never been very loud about my activism. Instead I armed myself with knowledge, quietly.

The more I read and the more videos I watched about the history of Israel and Palestine, the more horrified I was. I could no longer stay silent. For each mainstream news article I saw about something done by Hamas, I saw ten videos of Palestinian and Jewish people alike telling of Israel’s history of murder and destruction of Palestine for the past 75 years. History that their own families were involved in. Another Holocaust was happening, only it wasn’t happening to Jewish people, but to the people of Palestine.

I saw a video of the destruction, coming from a journalist in Gaza recording on their iphone. It was like I was on FaceTime with someone after a magnitude 8 earthquake. In hours, the feeds of all of my social media were filled with videos from the ground In Gaza.

For two months I watched atrocities committed by the Israeli Government on my Iphone. I read books written by Palestinians. I watched hour-long lectures by Noam Chomsky. I listened to recordings of James Baldwin and Kwame Ture speaking about the similarities between the Palestinian struggle and civil rights in the United States. I read books about my own family’s country of the Philippines, and how Ferdinand Marcos, the father of the current president of the Philippines, shut down nearly all of the news companies in the 1970s and imprisoned journalists so that he could control the narrative being fed to the public.

I read about the Islamic revolution in Iran, I read about Saddam Hussein, I read about George W. Bush, I read about the history of Zionism, and I read about Benjamin Netanyahu.

And yet, a blonde, thin, white woman that didn’t know me looked at me and said, “They don’t even know what they’re protesting for.”

“Do you know?” I asked her. She hurried away, frightened.

Maybe I am a sheep. A sheep living in a heard of white that finally looked in the mirror, only to realize that I’m brown.

[acerace]

...you have opened my eyes to a vast universe of VintageBeef lore that I was unaware of. I knew about the New Hermit Order, of course, and the UHC invention, and I've watched a few of his CTM things but -- I will take all the info and lore you feel like giving out because Beef is amazing and my knowledge is so small.

Vintagebeef my beloved <3

So the thing is, right, until about 2016 I only watched two (2) youtubers- Vintagebeef for Minecraft and aDrive for Pokemon (and funnily enough both of them are named Dan irl). So I've watched most of Beef's videos over the years and have a general knowledge of most of his stuff, except because it's been like a decade I don't remember where most of the lore comes from XD

The thing with him is that he doesn't do Lore tm the way other mcyters often do lore- he doesn't have an extensive RP series to draw from like Grian, doesn't have a solo world with steadily increasing amounts of lore like Etho or Zisteau, and while he's played on SMPs and been involved in storylines before it's not really the focus of his episodes unlike with Evo or Legacy or Empires

So where does that leave us?

IRL, Beef always has multiple series running at the same time. Often he's playing on an smp while doing a singleplayer, often modded, series as well as a CTM or modpack with a group of friends. For example, right now he's playing on Hermitcraft, doing weekly Pixelmon and Building a Zoo episodes, and a CTM map with Slip. And to me, this translates to one thing: Beef is an adventurer. He travels frequently- he explores a world and when he decides he's done, he leaves for the next one. That's the basis of my personal interpretation of his series and his character for my writing.

Ok so reading this back, this got extremely long and didn't explain much in the way of lore, somehow? If anyone has any additions to add please do so, I am very definitely leaving out a lot and would love to see what other lore people remember and are using for Beef! I didn’t include the Hermitcraft stuff since my memory of season 4 is blurry (his base was themed after the Martian, that much I know, and he and Iskall were buddies :D) and most of the s5 NHO lore is best watched from Bdub’s perspective from what I remember, and the only s6 stuff is a single line in Hermitgang and then the Area 77 arc with its possibility of an NHO reunion which we did not get rip. And s7 of course had the cloning machine and also the Podzol Party as the main lore. So all the original rambling is still below the cut though it is very long, and I'm gonna bullet point the main stuff here instead:

Actual canonical things:

Invented UHC and was the only survivor of the first ever uhc (Mindcrack UHC s1)

Married to an ender dragon (one of the UHCs I think), later father to a different dragon (Mindcrack season 3? I think?)

Might not have legs if you choose to take that joke as canon (Mindcrack s2)

Was a wizard (RAD)

is a zookeeper (Building a Zoo) 

Had a wife and kids (Sims in Minecraft)

Part of the Trial of the B Team court case (Mindcrack)

NHO founder, founder of the Podzol Party (Hermitcraft)

Created a cloning machine that sort of works (Hermitcraft)

Played the Forest which is I believe the first time he and Keralis played together (look up the trigger warnings for this one, it's a horror game)

Was the creator/owner of Sourceblock SMP (featuring some familiar faces if you know Legacy, Empires, or MCC) and there is literal magic from a mysterious sourceblock of water that teleports people and summons mobs and probably more stuff that I haven't seen yet since I'm still watching it myself

Things you can infer:

Good with animals (Life in the Woods, Pixelmon, Ark)

Is a car nerd (irl and all of the car games he's played)

Is a highly experienced adventurer who has traveled through dozens of worlds both vanilla and modded, across multiple dimensions (Twilight Forest, the Aether, the Betweenlands, Limbo), completed dozens of monuments, fought in blood sports, survived apocalypse after apocalypse, tamed dinosaurs, and played a lot of prop hunt and golf with your friends

If you're looking for what to watch for lore purposes, I'd say the Mindcrack UHCs and Team Canada's RAD series are pretty good, definitely Sourceblock and HC s5, plus the Diversity CTM maps and Ruins of the Mindcrackers maybe? And Mindcrack Prank Wars for the chaos and the origin of Team Canada. And if you can handle horror than the Forest is fun and if you don't do horror you can watch the Pojkband play golf or prop hunt they're hilarious I love them sm I want a Pojkband reunion So Bad 

Beef's first series was a singleplayer series in beta 1.4_01 though he had played the game extensively before that, and was a big fan of Guude, having watched his own Minecraft videos. The series was functionally a hardcore one where if he died Beef would delete the world and start again! I haven't actually Watched this series so idk if he died or how often lmao. When Guude made Mindcrack, which was btw one of the very first Minecraft SMPs, he also hosted a competition for people to join, and Beef submitted a video (which is still viewable on his channel I believe!) and won, and was added to Mindcrack in season 2 :D (fun fact, Guude said that even if Beef hadn’t won he would have added him anyway) 

Two running jokes emerged from Mindcrack- pulling a Vintagebeef and Beef doesn't have legs. The first is a reference to Beef dying of fall damage (I believe the exact instance was him trying to jump into his swimming pool and failing spectacularly) and after the incident, every time someone died of fall damage they were pulling a Vintagebeef. The second joke comes from Guude, who joked that the reason Beef wasn't going to a convention was because he didn't have legs, and then he pranked Beef's base by building a giant pair of legs at the entrance to his castle so you had to walk between them to get into the base. This joke has long since died and both Beef and Guude feel pretty bad about it iirc because there were people who genuinely thought Beef was disabled and were emailing him supportive messages and stuff oops. So if you go looking on the Salad or find old Mindcrack fics, you might see references to Beef having prosthetic legs!

Mindcrack also brought about the creation of several Player groups- Team Nancy Drew, Team Canada, and GOB to name a few relevant to Beef. Team Nancy Drew consists of Beef, Pauseunpause, Guude, and Baj, who formed to investigate a prank on one of the members but I forget who. They're named Nancy Drew after the detective! Team Canada also formed in retaliation to pranks, with it consisting of Beef, Etho, and Pause, the three Canadian members on the server (not including Adlington who moved to Canada but never joined the group). There was also a Team America who pranked them with American flags everywhere. GOB is Guude, OMGChad, and Beef, who played stuff like the Ragecraft, Pantheon, and Monstrosity ctms together but that's way down the line lol

Team Nancy Drew is also notable for inventing UHC. It was Beef's brainchild but it was the four of them who first played it! The first UHC had the four of them working to kill the dragon with no natural regen, with everyone dying but Beef, who "won" the UHC. The second uhc was still dragon focused and iirc is where Beef married the dragon? Memories are hazy but they do kill the dragon in this one I think. UHC was then revamped as a pvp event and became a regular Mindcrack game every few months, featuring most of the Mindcrackers and several special guests, including Dinnerbone, who as we know Thanos-snapped Doc's arm out of existence as a result of Doc killing him in one of them

In one of the seasons of Mindcrack, Beef invited swedish Mindcracker and good friend Anderzel to go caving with him and invented ABBA Rules caving, where the winner takes it all. ABBA Rules is a game where each ore (and also dungeon loot like nametags) is assigned a point value and the person with the most points at the end wins and gets to keep all the stuff collected from the game.

In Mindcrack season 3?, Beef punched the ender dragon in an... awkward area, so when the dragon died and left the egg behind, Guude said Beef was the father of the egg XD I don't remember if I watched s3 so I have no idea if anything Happened with this concept but *history of the world voice* you could make lore out of this!

So Team Canada has played a Lot of CTM maps (which fun fact were pretty much invented by another Mindcrack member, Vechs, with his Super Hostile series! Super Hostile has a bunch of things called "Zistonian", which are references to another Mindcrack member Zisteau, who has a very wild singleplayer series with even wilder lore but I digress). In Ruins of the Mindcrackers, they had a running joke that Beef was Etho and Pause's mom, which is a joke we can leave in the past actually /lh. They also played all the Diversity maps, Sky Factory, Terra Restore, Uncharted Territory uhhh and a couple more ctms and adventure maps! Each map kinda has its own story so in Diversity 3 for example they were trapped in a simulation? I think? Team Canada also recently played the Roguelike Adventures and Dungeons modpack, aka RAD, in which Beef was a wizard with a magic staff that could do anything from summon lightning to control hostile mobs.

Sourceblock SMP is a vanilla survival 1.14 series that ran for one season and the series starts with each of the Players being drawn to a strange sparkling water source that, once they touch it, brings them to the Sourceblock world. It also summons a giant zombie at one point. There's probably more lore for this series but like I said I haven't watched it all the way through yet 

He has a Patreon server called VintageCraft and has done a series or two on there as well, and played a few UHCs with them, so lore that how you will! 

Beef also played a few popular mods, notably Pixelmon, Life in the Woods, and Feed the Beast, with LitW being singleplayer and the other multiplayer. He's also recently played the Zoo and Wild Animals mod a lot. He did a short series with the Minecraft Comes Alive mod where he married one of the villagers and had two children, so that's canon now :D he’s played a Lot of Pixelmon starting when the mod first came out iirc (he chose Turtwig in his first series and built a Grass gym, then made a Normal gym in another series in uhh 2016) and he still plays to this day. Quite a few Hermits played on his Pixelmon servers with him, like Wels, Etho, Iskall, Stress, Slip, Zueljin, and also Guude and Phedran (a Mindcrack adjacent player and creator of the LitW modpack) and a few Mindcrackers on the older servers 

Mindcrack and friends played a lot of other games too- 7 Days to Die, Ark Survival Evolved, Unturned, to name a few, so you can pull a lot of lore out of these as well. Speaking of friends and non-Minecraft games, Beef teamed up with Pause, Keralis, and Slip (a former Hermit) to play the horror game the Forest, which saw them stuck on an island trying to survive against terrifying mutated human... things. They played it a few times as the game updated but as afaik it's the first time Beef played with Keralis and possibly Slip and since the game starts with the Player's airplane crashing, that could totally be how Beef first met them in-universe 

I... think? that’s everything I mentioned in the tags? There is probably way more stuff I’ve forgotten that stems from inside jokes and things that happen within each series, but I hope that was a) helpful and b) at least somewhat comprehensible lmao 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk. 

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.  

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves. 

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger. 

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them. 

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.  

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool. 

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds. 

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.  

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him. 

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern. 

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.” 

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug. 

But Dick still took it that way. 

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family. 

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”  

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome. 

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point. 

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence. 

[itsnothesameasitwas]

hiii! im looking for good freinds to lovers fics bc i go through them sooooo fast :/ if you have any good ones pls send them !!!

hii… sorry this took me a whole day but here some Friends to Lovers fics… all the fics I’m recommending are Larry and please be careful with the tags before start reading and leave kudos :)

ABO

♥ Promise Me You Won't Run Away by thinlines @thinlinez | 23k | E

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

♥ i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby | 19k | E

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless. The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

♥ picking up the pieces by falsegoodnight @falsegoodnight | 35k | E

“Zayn,” he murmurs, quietly but desperately.

Knowing what to do immediately, Zayn discreetly glances behind them to scan the room. “Walking over,” he says, confirming Louis’ worst fears.

“Maybe he’ll just pass by without stopping,” Louis says, glancing at the tables next to them as if hoping to find some other group of friends Harry had in high school that he could possibly want to talk to.

Eyebrow arched and lips pursed, Zayn has the nerve to look amused. “He’s looking directly at us.”

“Cause a diversion,” Louis rushes through his teeth, panic clawing up his throat. He can’t look Harry in the face again. Not yet, maybe not ever.

Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers. “It’s now or never, dear.”

- Louis returns to his hometown for the first time in ten years for his high school reunion and is faced with memories he’s long since tried to forget.

MPREG

♥ waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings | 21k | M

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

♥ you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou | 13k | NR

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

AUS

♥ our matchmaker: the fucking universe by peachloulou | 8k | E |

On your eighteenth birthday, you end up with your soulmates' name tattooed on your body. The universe works in a fairly simple way, so Louis knows Harry is his soulmate. He's got Harry's name tattooed on his ass cheek like a tramp stamp, and Harry's got the name Lou written on the inside of his wrist. Except Harry doesn't know what Louis' soulmates name is because Louis is a romantic fool, and, ever since Harry woke up with the name Lou two years after Louis, he's been a quest to find his own soulmate. Meeting after meeting.

But maybe Louis' wrong, and he and Harry are nothing more than best friends.

Or the one where the universe is annoyingly fucking complicated.

♥ Love Isn't Always on Time by softfonds @softfonds | 45k | E

Falling in love with your best friend sounds like a good idea, until he comes back from a work trip engaged to another man. A Made of Honor AU.

♥ You Might Want to Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer | 37k | M

When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

♥ Work of Magic by Bekita @justalarryblog | 34k | NR

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

♥ practice in pencil, seal it in pen by loubellies @loubellies | 16k | E

AU where drunk Harry lifts Louis up after someone says “bottoms up”. Louis blushes at Harry’s antics, flustered that his best friend knew him more than he thought. Friends to lovers with a happy ending pleaseor Harry is in love with Louis but he doesn't know.

♥ plant new seeds by glitterhaz @cloudslou | 44k | TUA

Harry nods, not trusting his words. Slowly, he crawls under the covers of his bed, all too aware that Louis is doing the same, so close to him. Initially, he faces his desk, not looking at Louis, but after a few minutes he gets uncomfortable and turns over. Now, he’s only a foot from Louis’ face, and Louis has turned around too.

He doesn’t think Louis is asleep already, and it's confirmed when Louis’ eyes blink open sleepily. Harry looks at Louis, and Louis looks at him. Really looks.

“Can you see me?” Louis whispers.

Harry doesn’t understand the question, not really, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I see you,”

**Louis works at a lonely community garden, Harry is the upstanding fraternity man who makes it all feels a little less lonely. Over the course of a semester, that is.

♥ Skin New, Hands True, My Hands All Over You by PearlyDewdrops | 44k | E

Harry designs wedding cakes, so of course meeting blissfully happy couples every day is part of his job description. Unfortunately, it's caused Harry to perpetually hope each new day is the one he'll find love, too. That is, until Harry realises everything he's ever wanted is right under his nose in the shape of his best friend, Louis.

But predictably, Harry only comes to this epiphany when Louis starts seeing someone else. And this is not a John Hughes movie as far as Harry is aware. Everyone else is pretty sure, though.

Featuring a heavy dose of pining, copious amounts of alcohol, drunk dialing that results in a situation reminiscent of Rachel Green's, a ginger cat that likes to interrupt intimate moments, and a Halloween party that changes everything.

♥ if it kills me by you_explode | 110k | M

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

♥ In This Light by exhilarated | 99k | E

Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

♥ smell the sea, feel the sky by lightswoodmagic @lightwoodsmagic | 16k | E

They’d been planning this beach trip for months, stressing around work schedules and engagement parties, trying to find the perfect place to stay in and a time where there wouldn’t be families everywhere but the weather still perfect. Louis had spent what felt like hours researching and planning, dinners with Zayn and his boyfriend at their house that just ended in looking at places and sending them to Niall. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, getting away from his job and his bullshit neighbours and the noise of the city.

It seemed ridiculous, really, that in all that time, Zayn hadn’t mentioned once that Harry was coming.

Or, Louis doesn't know how he's going to spend a week with the one person he wants and can't have. Harry proves him wrong.

♥ This Shifting Ground by zarah5 | 28k | M

University AU. In which Louis, law student, is the cheeky waiter to Harry’s dates. This is how it starts.

♥ No One Like You by myownspark | 19k | M

Dear Niall,I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

♥ across city skyline (and straight through my heart) by Halos_Boat @halohamilton | 76k | M

Louis Tomlinson meets Hollywood Heartthrob, Harry Styles when he walks into Louis' little bakery one day.

Immediately, Louis is charmed by him and Louis thinks Harry might feel the same way, given the fact that Harry has visited the bakery everyday since he'd come to town.

Until one day, Harry walks in with a boyfriend under his arm and a smile on his face.

The one where Louis owns a small bakery that's well known in his town and Harry Styles is an actor who comes to town to film a new movie. Louis is endeared by him, but that doesn’t seem to matter since Harry Styles is already taken.

♥ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | M

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

♥ Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds | 88k | NR

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

- 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

♥ Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 42k | E

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

♥ California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | M

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

—————

if you feel like you need more, don’t hesitate to ask me :)

[apenitentialprayer]

I cried the first time I went to a traditional Latin Mass.

It would have been difficult for me not to; I was an emotionally volatile 20-year-old college kid studying theology who loved the “smells and bells” that Catholicism offered—and man, there were a lot of bells and smells going on while Mozart’s “Requiem” carried the liturgy.

After that, I was hooked. A group of friends and I asked a Jesuit, the late Robert Araujo, if he would learn how to say Mass in the extraordinary form (how the pre-Vatican II traditional liturgy has been known since 2007) so we could have it on campus. He did, and a few of us were trained on how to be altar servers for it. To what I imagine was the shock and dismay of many of his brother Jesuits, we were able to celebrate the traditional Latin Mass at the Jesuit residence. To this day, one of my most-treasured books is a St. Edmund Campion Missal & Hymnal for the Traditional Latin Mass that Father Araujo gifted me.

The traditional Latin Mass (I will refer to it after this as “the Latin Mass” for simplicity’s sake, though of course the current Mass promulgated after Vatican II can be and is also celebrated in Latin) ) never became the primary form of liturgy that I attended, and eventually I stopped going to it altogether sometime after college. But it nevertheless made a significant impact on my spiritual life at a critical, impressionable point in my formation. With the news that Pope Francis has greatly restricted the celebration of the Traditional Latin Mass, I have been reflecting on what the Latin Mass gave me and my spiritual life, good and bad. First, the good: What I saw in the Latin Mass was an unparalleled reverence for the sacred. It hammered home, for the first time, that I was part of a celebration of “these sacred mysteries.” Whereas previously I had attended a lot of parishes that couldn’t bother to get their sound systems working, or that were reliant upon the whimsical improvisations of a well-meaning priest, the Latin Mass was choreographed with the care and attention to detail of a Broadway performance. This care for detail, far from seeming stuffy, instead conveyed a deep and passionate love for what was holy. And even more importantly, it invited me to join in that love by taking similar care in my own prayer and participation in the Mass. It gave me a hunger for “the beautiful,” despite my eurocentric understanding of beauty. There were no felt banners or tacky papier-mâché art in sight. To that point, when the Met Gala chose “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination” as its theme, do you think they were looking to 1970s Catholic aesthetics for inspiration? But do you know what else the Latin Mass did for me? It made me bitter and arrogant. It made me think I had the more ancient, therefore holier, therefore better way to practice my faith. I would make jokes about the “Novus Ordo” and speculate about the day the church might even do away with vernacular liturgy, considering it a failed experiment. In one example I find particularly galling and embarrassing, when I attended my regular, non-Latin Mass, instead of praying the liturgy I would actually sit there and count all the deviations from the rubrics that I could notice. I found a lot of security in the (very flawed) idea that “Catholicism is an ancient, unchanging faith. This is the most ancient, unchanging way to live it out.” It took me some time and prodding and prayer to realize that this security wasn’t in or from God, but rather about reassuring myself that I had an answer that I would never need to change (a very attractive prospect to someone whose world feels in constant flux!). We are called to faith that the truth revealed by God in Christ is eternal and unchanging, but as Pope Francis has pointed out repeatedly (like a good Jesuit spiritual director), rigidity and possessiveness about how to express that truth are not authentically free expressions of faith. One of the beautiful parts about the celebration of Mass is that it links us to the communion of the church, extending across both time and space. And the Tridentine Mass, representing more than 400 years of that celebration across history, conveys some aspects of that communion powerfully. But unfortunately, some uses of it in our time have become a point of rupture in that communion as well. A more widespread celebration of the Traditional Latin Mass was an initiative that “intended to recover the unity of an ecclesial body with diverse liturgical sensibilities,” Pope Francis explained in his letter explaining his motivations for the motu proprio “Traditionis Custodes.” However, in effect it “was exploited to widen the gaps, reinforce the divergences, and encourage disagreements that injure the Church, block her path, and expose her to the peril of division.” When I read those words, I knew it was true in my own personal spiritual life. It is a great sadness that it was exploited. And if the pope and the bishops around the world who responded to his questionnaire on this topic saw this division throughout the church, Francis was right to respond. But, you may object: I am not a smug pseudo-schismatic who hates the pope, and I love the Latin Mass! Here is the difficult thing being asked of you by the Holy Father: There are many good reasons to love the Latin Mass, but given that it has become a demonstrable cause of disunity and rancor within the church, we have to look for the gifts it gives elsewhere. Pope Francis readily admits that he agrees with Pope Benedict XVI that “in many places the prescriptions of the new Missal are not observed in celebration, but indeed come to be interpreted as an authorization for or even a requirement of creativity, which leads to almost unbearable distortions.” So, one task at hand, and a possible place of common ground for divided Catholics, is to focus on making regular Masses a bit more reverent. After all, the good things that I received from my encounter with the Traditional Latin Mass should have been available to me in the Novus Ordo, too. All good liturgy, in whatever form or language, should engender desires for the good, the true and the beautiful. But there is another, deeper and more difficult spiritual challenge here. The desires that the liturgy awakes and satisfies in us—and for some of us, the desires that the Latin Mass especially nurtured—are good, holy and necessary. But those desires also point beyond the liturgy itself. At the risk of sounding glib, what would it mean if we could find the spiritual goods that the Latin Mass taught so many in other places? What if we were able to discover a passion for beauty from our service to the poor? If we could develop a mature sense of wonder and awe from caring for creation, our common home? If I am honest, those feel like daunting questions that I don’t really know how to respond to. I only know that I think I’m being called to ask them. Answering them, I imagine, will take patience, practice and a lot of prayers—in whatever language they’re said.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 9 – Making it Official

Chapter 1     Chapter 8

“What the fuck is with all the stunts?” Red Hood griped, landing his punch on the fourth of Scarecrow’s henchmen in the last minute.  Luckily, this area of the hospital gave them enough room to maneuver.  Unluckily, the pharmacy where the rest of Scarecrow’s henchmen were barricaded had entirely glass walls.  Good to get in.  Bad for stealth.  The henchmen inside knew they were coming, but then again so did the hostages.

“What do you mean?” Nightwing asked innocently landing his triple flip on top of a henchman and using his momentum to swing into the man next to him, knocking him out as well.  He bounced from that to spin into a punch, the velocity from the spin adding force behind the punch, making it powerful enough to break the henchman’s jaw. He surreptitiously glanced at the hostages before ducking the haymaker thrown by another henchman.

“He means you’re being extremely extra right now.  Wait… oh my God!  Which one is she?” Signal exclaimed, excitedly searching the hostages while he kicked one henchman in the chest hard enough to send them into a far wall, dodging another’s punch to punch him back in his unprotected side.

“The baby mama is in there?” Red Hood cut in.  “Which one is she?”

“Hood!  Not having this conversation right now,” Nightwing reprimanded sternly.

“Oh, calm down.  All these guys are out,” Hood dismissed him.

“But the extensive amounts of surveillance cameras are not,” Nightwing hissed out.

Red Hood rolled his eyes. “Oracle?”

“On it.  Five seconds of video gone,” Oracle’s voice sounded over the coms.

“Thank you,” Nightwing sighed.

“Okay, now that that’s taken care of, let’s go save your baby mama,” Signal responded with a grin before jumping through the window at the far side of the room, as far away from the hostages as possible, tackling two of the henchmen in the process.

“Back away or I start shooting with this one,” the lead henchman growled, holding a gun to Marinette’s head.

Nightwing froze.  His eyes widened in panic.  Red Hood and Signal took note of Nightwing’s response and quickly turned from laidback to tense.  “Alright, calm down.  Think about this.  You shoot her, I shoot you,” Red Hood snarled.  “Only I won’t kill you right away.  I’ll do it slow and painfully.  One shot at a time in the most pain inducing spots possible.  Believe me when I say I know all of them.”  The henchman looked over to the other vigilantes discretely. “They won’t stop me.  I promise you.”

Signal nodded slightly to show his agreement without taking his eyes off the other five henchmen in the room.  Three of which were standing in front of the other hostages.  The other two were shoveling the last of the drugs they came for in their bags.

The lead henchman narrowed his eyes and pushed the gun harder against Marinette’s temple.  She swallowed a whimper of pain, refusing to give him that satisfaction.  “Sounds like she’s important to you then.  So it seems like as long as I have her, I have my escape,” he jeered back at Hood.

Hood growled in response, but made no move to get closer.  Marinette’s mind was reeling.  This was now a standoff and she was the keystone.  Someone had to do something.  Maybe if they could get away from the other hostages she could do something… she just needed to figure out a plan, which would be significantly easier if she was familiar with the bats and how they usually thought and acted.  She would use her nausea to throw up on him if she didn’t think he would just shoot her for it.

“Boys, grab a hostage and let’s go,” the lead hostage commanded.

Damn it!  She no longer had time.  She needed to act.  Some of those hostages wouldn’t be able to move and there were children in the group. She stuffed down her fear.  She felt nothing.  She was empty.  Except she wasn’t she had a baby now, she wasn’t just risking herself, she was risking the baby too so she couldn’t just fight and take the attention all onto herself. She needed a diversion.  She sent a furtive look to her purse on the far side of the pharmacy and made eye contact with Tikki.  She gave a slow nod and watched Tikki fly off to one of the racks of drugs.  She tensed in anticipation.  

She waited for the sound of whatever she was going to do and acted as soon as she heard it.  She only spared a second to note a rack of drugs falling over taking out one of the henchmen.  Having expected it, she recovered considerably quicker than the rest of the people in the room.  She used the lead henchman’s momentary lack of attention to grab the hand holding the gun against her head and push it past her head while twisting under his arm to shove him toward the vigilantes.  She yanked the gun out of his hand as she shoved him.

She took a second to take stock of the situation.  Four henchmen left.  All had dropped their bags of drugs to focus on getting out alive.  Two headed for the vigilantes.  One headed for the henchman under the rack, must be a friend or relative, she thought vaguely.  It was the fourth that concerned her though.  He was heading for the little girl tucked into her father’s side, probably still seeking a hostage to get away safely.  She turned the safety on the gun, or at least that’s what she hoped she did, and threw it at his head as hard as she could.  

The gun made contact, offsetting his balance.  He struggled to recover and Marinette slid into his legs in a heroically miscalculated gesture.  He fell back instead of forward and landing with his legs on Marinette.  She had enough time to curl into a ball protecting her stomach before he kicked her in anger, the impact pushed all the air out of her lungs.  She felt the pain radiate throughout her back.

“You fucking bitc…” he never got the chance to finish his insult.  Nightwing’s hand was on his throat lifting him up and away from her in an instant.  Marinette looked up in awe for a moment and scrambled back over to the other hostages to make sure they were okay.  Within a few minutes, the room was flooded with police and the henchmen had been hauled away and were getting put into police transports while the hostages were brought out into the atrium of the hospital to wait to give their statements.

Red Hood helped Marinette up gently and personally guided her out to the atrium after all the other hostages had been led out.  “Thanks for the help back there.  Impressive job keeping calm and taking advantage of the distraction.”

Marinette hummed. “Thank you guys for saving us. You were very intimidating.”

Jason hummed back. “Yeah, I’m good for that.  I’m the bad boy of the bat boy band.  Now, interesting use of a gun and all, and I’m really glad it worked, but why, and I can’t stress this enough, the fuck didn’t you just shoot him?” Hood asked bemused.

“I’ve never fired a gun. He was between me and the hostages.  If I missed, I might have hit one of the hostages.  I’m better at throwing.  I knew I wouldn’t miss if I threw it,” she shrugged, still catching her breath.  “If I couldn’t get to him after the hit, I knew one of you would.”

Red Hood nodded in contemplation.  “Solid reasoning.  I’ll go with that.  Remind me to teach you to shoot someday.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.  Next time I see you, we’ll set it up,” she said dismissively and let out a strained chuckle.  

Red Hood grinned.  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Marinette nodded slightly, her face took on a look of concentration and she started breathing deeply again.

“Woah, wait.  That’s her?” Duke exclaimed, peeking around the corner to take a look.  “Damn, you did good.”  He repositioned so he could properly size her up without being too obvious.  At which point, she promptly turned to a trash can and threw up.  He wrinkled his nose in disgust.  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

“She has really bad morning sickness.  Shut it.” Nightwing growled, handing off the last henchman to the police.  

“And that’s why I’m going to pretend like I didn’t see that,” Signal explained like he was explaining to a child.

Nightwing huffed at him and quickly moved over to check on Marinette.  He reached out to rub her back like he would normally, but pulled his arms back at the last second.  That was too familiar for him right now and she might not appreciate a stranger touching her.  Plus he didn’t know how hard the guy had hit her.  Her back might be bruised for a while.  He would have to check it out later.  “Are you alright, miss?”

“Miss,” Red Hood mocked him quietly, but made sure the coms could catch it as he followed the police cars taking the henchmen they had captured to prison.

Nightwing looked up to glare in his direction but didn’t respond.  “It’s okay.  I’m not contagious.  I’m just pregnant.”  She waved his concern away before moving toward a bench to sit.  

Nightwing helped her sit with a charming smile.  “Congratulations.  I’m sure you and your boyfriend are very excited.  But, are you alright after being held captive?  How is your back?”  His voice got nervous seeing her react by cocking her head to the side for a second before frowning and turning away.  “…Are you not?” he asked carefully.

“Hm?” she hummed in question. She looked back up at him with a confused scowl before the realization spread across her face.  “Oh!  No, yes. Yes I’m fine, or will be and I think I’ll just have bruises, nothing broken and we’re very excited.”  She gently laid her hand on her belly.  “I just realized I don’t know what we are.  We haven’t had that discussion.  Ugh.  I need to lay down for a second.  Excuse me.” She walked herself back down until she was lying flat on the bench with her eyes closed and breathing deeply.

“Of course, sorry miss,” Nightwing responded awkwardly.  He just realized he thought of her as his girlfriend, but they hadn’t discussed their relationship at all.  They knew they wanted to parent together, but not how they wanted their relationship to go or where they were.  He was fine with letting the relationship progress naturally without titles, but she might want something more concrete.

“It’s okay.  At least this suffering is productive.  I’m going to get something amazing out of it.” She offered him a weak smile without opening her eyes and returned to breathing deeply.  

He smiled gently and answered quietly.  “That’s a good way to think about it.”  He wanted to brush her hair out of her eyes and kiss her, but he reminded himself he couldn’t.  He backed off to check on the other victims, glancing back to her every few minutes. She had finally sat back up and her eyes were now open, but that hurt more.  Instead of the bright, hopeful eyes he was used to, they now looked pained.

He wanted to hold her so badly it physically hurt to hold back.  But he couldn’t do anything, not right now, not like this.  He wasn’t her boyfriend right now.  He wasn’t Dick Grayson, he was Nightwing, who she’d only just met.  The distance grated on him.  It burned his chest.  He needed to leave.  He wouldn’t be able to stay this close to her for much longer without hugging her and comforting her.  If his eyes caught on her unsettled, worried eyes one more time, he was going to slip.

He clenched his fists and set his jaw.  He had to act now.  He looked over to Signal, catching his eye and nodding to him.  Signal nodded back in understanding.  Nightwing snuck out past the police and grappled a few buildings away.  He tucked himself behind a half wall and changed back into his civilian clothes. “Hood can you please grab my stuff on your way back?” he called over the coms.

“What am I?  Your errand boy?” He groused.

“Please, Hood.”  The vulnerability in his voice was so potent, Hood felt guilty teasing him any further.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

“Thank you,” he called as he ran back to the hospital.  “Marinette!” Dick yelled pushing his way through the people standing around waiting for the police to take their statements and let them leave.

“Dick!” Marinette leapt up from her seat and ran to him, jumping into his arms.

Dick held her tightly, cradling her in his arms and stroking her hair.  He’d known she was fine.  He had just been there not a few minutes before speaking with her about her and the baby.  He knew she was fine, but holding her in his arms was different.  He hadn’t realized how fast his heart had been pounding until it started returning to a normal pace with her in his arms.

“How did you know?” she mumbled into his neck.

“You had an appointment here a little bit ago and weren’t answering your phone,” Dick explained, pulling away to check her over.  He needed to see for himself she was okay.  He patted down her arms and legs and ran his hands over her chest and belly, reassuring himself she was fine before he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

“If you wanted to feel me up, I’m sure we could find an empty office,” she smirked at him.  

He spluttered a bit and blushed.  “I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”  He pulled her back into his arms and buried his head in her neck, breathing in her scent.  He kept her in his arms for a few minutes before speaking again.  “I’m going to have to give a new answer for my favorite hero from now on,” he chuckled.

Marinette froze and pulled away, fear evident in her eyes.  “What?”

“After your heroics earlier. I have a new hero.”  He looked at her with mock awe.  She rolled her eyes and pushed his face away, but stayed firmly in his arms, still too dazed to think about what he had said.  “You’ve met the Gotham heroes now.  Ready to change your favorite?”

“I did mention the very many times Chat saved my life, right?” She reminded him with a strained voice, playing along with the attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but only just.

“But Nightwing saved your baby.  Chat can’t say that,” Dick pointed out with a grin, playing up the joke, but it had the opposite effect.  Both of their faces went slack at the comment.  She launched herself deeper into his arms as tears started falling.  He tightened his arms around her.  “I was so worried about you.”  He pulled away just far enough to cup her face and stare in her eyes.  “I was scared I wouldn’t get to see you again or you’d get hurt or lose the baby.  What were you thinking?”  

“I… I was thinking once they took them hostage, someone was going to die, maybe all of us.  I was thinking there were people who couldn’t move well no matter how much they were threatened or hit.  The henchmen weren’t going to put up with that.  And there were kids that could be easy hostages.  I couldn’t let them take them.  I had to do something.  There was an opportunity to do something and I could.  Someone had to.  The bats couldn’t without me getting hurt so it had to be me.”

Dick’s heart clenched tighter.  He understood that motivation.  They all did. That was one of the reasons they did what they did.  They couldn’t just not help if they had the ability to do so.  And he understood why it had to be her.  But at the same time, he couldn’t watch her in danger like that. His heart stopped when the henchman she hit turned to attack her.  And when the man had a gun to her head…  He laid his forehead on hers and squeezed his eyes shut.  All the panic and fear he had pushed down in order to function came to the surface and the tears started falling.  “Please don’t… please don’t do that again.  I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, either one of you.”

“Hey, hey,” she wiped away her tears to gently bring his face up to hers and give him a hopefully convincing calm look.  “It’s okay. I’m okay.  Nightwing and Signal and Red Hood were here to protect me.  I mean, how could things go wrong?”

Dick’s face fell and he held her closer because he knew exactly how it could have gone wrong. All the many ways it could have gone wrong.  He’d already envisioned all of them, every unlikely, preposterous, ridiculous way it could have gone wrong, he’d pictured it.  “Marinette, stay with me tonight.  Just to cuddle.  Just so I can know you’re okay.” He rushed to add anticipating her reaction.  “I just… I want to know you’re okay.  Just so I can feel you in my arms.  If it’s too much…”

“Okay,” she interrupted, brushing his face with gentle fingers.

“Okay?”

The hopeful look in his eyes just about broke her heart.  She didn’t think she could deny him anything when he looked at her like that.  “Okay,” she confirmed.  “I’m still a bit shaken too.  I’d like to spend the night knowing you were right there with me, protecting me.”

He crashed his lips into hers and God, he wanted to deepen it.  He wanted to taste her, but he knew he couldn’t yet, not with her nausea as bad as it was.  He settled for gently biting her bottom lip and pulling on it.  She groaned into it.  He could feel her falter like she was holding herself back from more as well. He broke the kiss instead before either of them could do something that would make her sick.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.  “Okay, let’s get you home then.  Maybe we can pick up a snack for you on the way.  You hungry?”  When she nodded, he stood up and guided her out of the hospital.  “Commissioner Gordon?”  He waited for the man to respond before continuing.  “I’m going to take my girlfriend home now.  She’s in no state to give a statement right now.”

Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow.  “She looks fine to me.”

“She just threw up and she’s getting weaker.”  Dick motioned to the trash can she had used earlier.

“Sounds like she should stay in the hospital then and get checked out,” he commented critically.

“They can’t really do much more for morning sickness than we can at home,” Dick answered quietly.

Commissioner Gordon’s eyes bulged out and he looked down to her stomach and back up.  “Ah.  Okay. Make sure my officers have your information before you leave.  And congratulations to both of you.”

Marinette smiled weakly at him but Dick gave him a wide grin.  “Thank you.  We greatly appreciate it.  And we aren’t telling people yet, for obvious reasons so if you can keep it under wraps, I’d appreciate it.”  Commissioner Gordon nodded and waved them away.

They stopped to speak with an officer on their way out to make their way to a bakery nearby before heading to Dick’s car.  As soon as they were out of earshot of the people around Marinette finally spoke up. “So… girlfriend?”

Dick grinned down at her. “I was hoping so anyway.”  He stopped and cupped her face again so their eyes could meet.  “Marinette, I’m already picturing my life with you.  I already know I want you there in my life, which I realize is crazy because it’s so fast.  At the same time I know girlfriend doesn’t sound like much considering… everything…”

“Yes!”  Marinette kissed him again.  “That sounds perfect for where we are.  And… I’m already picturing my future with you and the baby too. I like those daydreams.”  She wrapped her arms around his neck with a tired look.  “Now how far exactly is this bakery?  I’d really like to just get back to your place and curl up on the couch with my boyfriend and some delivery and watch a terrible movie.”

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to cuddle into his side and led her into the bakery they were standing outside of.  “That sounds like a perfect night with my girlfriend.”

“Hey, Marinette’s boyfriend, next time you’re going to be disgustingly cutesy, turn your coms off,” Jason grumbled into the coms.  “We don’t need more people in the family throwing up.”

Chapter 10

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123

[embywolf]

December Drabbles - Part 2

Turns out word prompts aren't enough if you don't have much creativity to back it up! I'm trying not to plan anything and see where this goes, but then I'm worried about contradicting myself later on. But it's not like it matters as I doubt it'll get read anyway so who cares if I mess it up and contradict myself? 🤣😅 Part One (if you can call it that) Part Two below the cut

The suggestions were meant to be anonymous. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t able to guess as to who had suggested what. Revali’s suggestions, for example, were really easy to identify, as was his Cucco scratch hand writing (talon writing?) but she’d never say it to his beak. As predicted his suggestions were all along the same sort of lines as ‘to never have an asinine event in the first place’ to ‘cancel ALL work parties’ along with ‘exempt Revali from having to attend these events’ (though she suspected this could of come from Link) and her personal favourite ‘if we must participate in this nonsense at least make it so that mistletoe means something opposite to kissing. A punch in the face for example.’

She quite liked that last one. Maybe not punching in the face (the lawsuits and paperwork would be a nightmare!) but something light-hearted. Such as, if you’re caught under the mistletoe your colleague must buy you a pastry from the office cafeteria. 'Hmm, maybe not the best idea, some of the gluttons in this place would never leave the mistletoe. Link, the hungry bastard that he is would probably relocate his desk or some other such tactic to gain as many tasty treats as he could.'

Maybe a diversion from mistletoe being related to kissing may be a good idea. Yes, their company was more like a group of friends working together but knowing of at least one love triangle in the office? Urbosa was loathe to poke that potential hornet’s nest, especially as she had a vested interest in one of the points of said love triangle. Zelda was her closest acquittance at the company, they were like niece and aunt. So, seeing Zelda fawn over one of her colleagues in secret was a difficult tightrope for Urbosa to navigate.

She very much wanted to use her event planning as a way to nudge Zelda and her love interest together in some sort of cliché Christmas rom com type of way. She was fairly certain that the attraction wasn’t one sided on Zelda’s part. The issue was she was a realist, she knew that things rarely worked out that way in real life. Knowing the way things tended to work around here, if Urbosa was to try and play matchmaker there was a good chance it could backfire spectacularly, especially knowing that Zelda wasn’t the only one with an eye on their mutual colleague.

Yes, maybe playing it safe and moving away from mistletoe kisses was the best idea. She couldn’t bear if it backfired and Zelda got hurt by the potential of seeing the guy she likes kissing the other interested party. She has to think about how to adapt the mistletoe. Like some form of score sheet maybe and whoever has the most strikes at the end of the month loses. That’ll hopefully stop some of the creeps in the office ruining the atmosphere and making this awkward. ‘I’m thinking of you Bozai!’ she mentally scolds. ‘The sooner he leaves, the better!’ She didn’t even want to think of what his suggestions might be.

She shudders before turning back to the boxes of decorations on her desk, hopefully someone from each department would be down soon to collect a box for their section of the office. She really didn’t want to lug all these boxes around the entire building.

[itoldsunset]

rewatching ipytm episode 2: thoughts

apologies in advance for this very messy, very long bullet scene-by-scene commentary!

summary: this was a very hard episode to watch and rewatch. the frustration with teh is real, the hurt for oh-aew is real. but the fear of change and abandonment, and the fear of admitting your own insecurities, is SO coming of age and i love that we get to see teh grappling with what happens when the idealistic vision you had for your life slowly starts to crumble.

also, this episode (and possibly the entirety of part 2) was 100% the writers' and p'meen's love letter to comm arts students/graduates, and even though i am a total outsider to that world, it really touched my heart to see the diversity of experiences and struggles reflected here.

i love that we see how much closer teh has become with jai and khim!! this doesn't translate in the subs, but i thought it was interesting how teh used respectful pronouns with them when he was a first-year and now for the most part uses rude (familiar) pronouns with them as a second-year, even though they're still technically his seniors. i think it goes to show how close they've become since he first joined the drama club.

goy was so fucking CUTE in that scene when she said "oh, lots of boys are peeking at me, i'm shy" i think i'm in love 😭 also the cinematography of that scene!!

this episode does such a great job at making you feel uncomfortable along with the characters. i hated how uncomfortable teh was at the birthday party, and i could feel how out of place he felt there.

when mangpong talks about how easy it is for celebrities to make money and teh is clearly offended by that and speaks up against it (which results in yet another awkward uncomfortable moment), i feel like he's speaking up on behalf of khim who we later realize is basically his idol and the person he identifies the most with. i feel like p'meen and the writing team are really trying to represent the lives of people who go into communication arts, especially those who go in with an interest in performing arts. and for me that scene with mangpong communicates two things: 1) the defensiveness that comes with having your chosen career path misunderstood or reduced into something that's easy money, and 2) how close-knit and protective the drama club is of each other, because teh speaking up in defense of actors to me feels like he's defending this identity they all share as people who are struggling to make it in the industry.

oh-aew is SO sweet. getting a tattoo that resembles your partner's name gives me so much anxiety, but i guess he's 19 and has always been sure of his feelings so it does make sense for him. at first glance teh's reaction really just makes it sound like he's against tattoos, drinking, all that, like he's super old-fashioned, but it's not REALLY about the tattoo and we learn that later when they have their big fight and he blows up with all the nitpicky little things he's noticed about all the ways oh-aew has changed. i thought it was so cute how au basically showed off his tattoo to open the conversation for oh-aew to show teh his tattoo though. we love a supportive friend group!!!

"this tattoo is pretty. thank you." this is teh being as genuine as he can, as someone who is seriously not in touch with his own feelings and can't understand why he's so upset at oh-aew getting a tattoo. because again it's not the tattoo itself that's the problem, but what it represents for teh, which is oh-aew's world slowly expanding to include people and things that are foreign to teh, and he worries that one day that world won't have a place for him anymore.

drunk oh-aew speaking mandarin, and teh taking care of him!!! the only fluff we got all episode and i will cherish it forever and ever, like the aquarium scene from episode one. the fact that teh brought over the stuffed animal, kissed oh-aew on the forehead, and then decided to sleep over on the floor next to him? making him kimchi jjigae? so soft!! our boy has got a lot of issues to work through but he loves oh-aew for sure.

the scene where oh-aew is receiving feedback on his performance from his professor is so... oof. the fact that his classmate got positive feedback for portraying a gay man in a way that isn't stereotypical (read: masculine? i wonder?) and the fact that oh-aew was critiqued for unsuccessfully portraying the tone and mannerisms of a man who doesn't understand gay people? it's a bit subtler than what we hear from the casting director but i swear it's the same shit. and it really doesn't surprise me at all to see oh-aew not believe in himself and his ability to perform because of it.

teh saying "both of us" and being so excited about their casting opportunity!! 😭 and also, khim being such a sweetheart and helping them get this opportunity in the first place!

the contrast with how happy oh-aew looked when the advertising professor told him he had the right answer, compared to how torn down he looked after being critiqued and told he got a C by his acting professor (in front of the whole class!!). which tbh for me is subtle commentary on how much influence professors have on students' self-confidence and whether they believe in their own ability to succeed in their field.

the commentary on sexism and homophobia in the thai entertainment industry!! khim being told she looked too old, not smart enough, not believable, honestly all coded ways of saying she didn't fit in with the beauty standard they were going for. and while khim is saying this we see oh-aew is already getting nervous, because he's already had his confidence shaken by his experiences in class. and then when we get to the scene where the casting director says he's too girly and asks him to act more manly, we see oh-aew's mood shift completely, and honestly it hurts to watch. pp did such an amazing job here because i felt it, like the way oh-aew's eyes change, and then he swallows right after, and how unsettled he sounds trying to deliver the line again after hearing that critique.

oh-aew listening to khim tell teh about how hard it's been for her to break into the industry is so impactful, because you can already tell what he's thinking. is this really worth it? do i want this enough to endure people telling me over and over again i'm not masculine enough for them? is that going to be me in the future, being rejected from hundreds of castings and still not making it?

when teh hugs khim and says "we will get through this together," it's so clear that he identifies with her struggle. teh is someone who has worked his ass off to get to where he is (remember his fight with his mom where she said he lost sleep and was getting sick from all the studying he did?), and he sees himself in khim and her passion and ambition. meanwhile, we see oh-aew really doubting whether this is the right path for him.

i love how teh immediately asked if oh-aew was okay after oh-aew told him about what the casting director said, and how teh reassured him that he liked oh-aew the way he is. it's like, he so clearly cares for oh-aew and loves him so much and sometimes knows how to show it well, and then other times just fucks it up. it's so real??

oh-aew deciding to change majors three months into it is a very oh-aew thing to do, and what i mean by that is, this is a character who is super in touch with himself and his feelings and trusts in himself to make the right decisions. he's not afraid to change his mind (remember when he was testing out his feelings for bas and teh and then turned down bas once he knew?), he's bold and goes for what he wants. and i envy that about his character so much. but it makes me sad to know that the thing that was making him nervous during this scene was the fact that he was worried about how teh would react. like he went through all that questioning and critique himself, to finally discover his answer, only to now have to worry about whether his partner will accept him.

teh, on the other hand, has had his whole life planned out since forever. he feels the need to know and control everything. he has so much fear and insecurity. and he is stubborn and doesn't believe in giving up, which he believes is what oh-aew is doing. and on top of that, he sees this as another way in which he is losing oh-aew. one more thing oh-aew has in common with his friend group that doesn't include him. one more way that he's becoming a smaller part of oh-aew's world. oh-aew looked so small in the bathtub scene and i just wanted to hold him 😔

the 8 month time skip is a little jarring because of all the things we don't get to see, but i guess it makes sense if teh has been bottling up his insecurities about their relationship that it would all blow up in everyone's face in the way that it did at the dinner scene.

it was interesting to me how teh hesitated when oh-aew texted that he would join them for dinner, like teh didn't want oh-aew to come along with his drama club. and then once oh-aew arrives at the restaurant, we see that teh isn't totally happy either. it's like as much as teh feels like an outsider in oh-aew's world, he seems to also see oh-aew as an outsider in his own world too. and when top says he wanted to get into comm arts at anantasart but he didn't get in, we see teh's expression and it's like, a reminder that he gave up that spot for oh-aew, that teh didn't pass the admissions exam either, and that oh-aew who did pass has now "given up" on it (in teh's eyes) to pursue another major. it's like teh also feels betrayed on behalf of all the performing arts kids who are struggling to make their passion into a career.

i feel like i sort of get why teh said all that shit about oh-aew at the dinner table now. i'm not excusing it at all, that was super shitty of him. but i wonder if it's like, this is a thing they deal with in the performing arts, people giving up because it's so hard to make it in the industry. and you watch your friends leave one by one, and it keeps causing more and more doubt in yourself about whether you can make it. and now that teh sees oh-aew as someone who's given up, he doesn't want that energy at the dinner table with his drama friends, like he wants to protect them from that and keep up with this "we can get through this together" mentality that he keeps saying. so it's easier for him to try to dismiss it as oh-aew's personality flaw, rather than a legitimate change in career path, because he's worried about how it might affect his own friends in the drama club. and we see how protective teh is of khim, when he says "what the fuck did you just say?" like he really shares an identity with his drama club and it's clear he thinks oh-aew doesn't understand it or belong there.

needless to say, i was extremely stressed that entire dinner scene which i think means the writers, p'meen, and the actors did an excellent job.

their fight scene was really amazingly done and i am just stunned by teh's response when oh-aew asks him "what if this is who i really am, would you not like me anymore?" and teh thinks about it for a bit, and says "maybe." that's him being genuine, he's not trying to hurt oh-aew in saying that, and we can see him internally asking himself that question. but he doesn't know the answer, because he can't even be honest with himself about why he's upset at oh-aew. so he says the first thing he thinks which is an honest "maybe," and then he immediately regrets his words, and at some point he's going to have to learn that he can't just say the first thing that comes to mind, when other people's feelings are at stake. also, the fucking piano that plays? the violin? goddamn.

khim's character is really here to teach teh, and all of us, some life lessons. she is so real. her struggles are so real. life is fucking hard, and it's not fair, and no matter how hard you work or try you can't have it all. "the conditions for our lives are not the same" holy shit yes. she wants to take care of her family and her dog, she can't just think of herself. i feel like teh, who comes from a relatively modest background but has always had hoon as a father figure to support his mom, probably doesn't feel that same burden.

teh being frustrated and going to the bridge was beautiful. the crying hug scene at the dorm was so beautiful.

i love that in the end, teh finally owns up to his own insecurities and apologizes and admits he was wrong. of course, this was after oh-aew reached out to him first. i think it's totally realistic that we see his growth happening kind of slowly, but before the series ends he's going to need to be the first one to reach out, because oh-aew can't hold all of that on his own.

the last score when they hug under the moonlight, i love it!!

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

YEEHAW IT’S MIDNIGHT WHICH MEANS IT’S AUGUST 1ST WHICH MEANS INK DEMONTH SO I CAN FINALLY POST THIS NOW:

1. Pride

Diversity win! There is not a single cishet in the hivemind of ink creatures (To their knowledge) that you slaughter on a daily basis to make yourself beautiful! AKA: Possum has a fuck ton of LBGT+ headcanons regarding the BATIM cast and is happy to use this DeMonth prompt to indulge them. (Set before the loop starts, but after Buddy Boris meets/befriends the lost ones.)

Malice flicked through the channels of her cameras, trying to find more prey in her territory, and stopped when she saw a gathering of the lost and the searching (and exactly one Boris, the most perfect one she had ever seen.) in the Heavenly toy’s lobby, their prophet was brazenly sitting on the side of the waterfall as if he did not fear the ink when he should have.

Her ears steamed with anger as she saw that group, it was far too large for her to deal with on her own and too far away from the Projectionist’s grounds for her to manage to lure him to them. But on the bright side, she could learn some important information from them, after all, with how casually the prophet was sitting and gesturing and how the other freaks in the crowd were responding, this was clearly not one of his normal sermons.

(“I still find it rather funny that almost none of us are straight and that the few straight ones among us are trans, it’s like all this time we thought we were sheep hiding away in wolves’ clothing among wolves, unaware that the “wolves” were simply other sheep in hiding as well!”)

[Funnily enough, I’d rather be a sheep than a wolf, I think it makes more sense for me to be an animal that’s helpful to others but also easily scared.] The Boris wrote on a typewriter. [Or at least, I wish I had some kind of input on what I am, but I doubt I’d make myself an animal…]

(“Speaking of which...”) The lost one next to the wolf whispered in his ear as she looked over his typing. (“How are you holding up, Buddy?”)

Instead of typing, the wolf drew himself shrugging and put a bunch of question marks around him, then stuck the drawn-on paper in his typewriter and added to it.

[It’s hard to think most of the time, Boris always seems stronger when I’m alone, but I know the Ink demon will find us if I stay with you, this hunger is driving me crazy, and I just wanna go home. But on the bright side, I don’t have to deal with periods, chest pain from binding, or people condescendingly calling me ‘Miss Lewek’ anymore.]

She turned on the sound in that room, watching them like one would watch a Tv drama, but what she heard caught her off guard.

“So as long as we’re being honest about ourselves with each other…” The lost one stood up and pointed accusingly at Sammy. “Were you and Joey and a thing all along before the machine came into the picture!?”

If she was drinking water, she would’ve spat it right back out. Sammy, with Joey?! In the latter’s dreams, maybe! Even a few of the other lost ones looked shocked at the question, the Boris even gasped loud enough for it to be audible.

“Technically yes, but not by choice, mind you.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

What the fuck indeed random lost one. The angel wished that she didn’t hear that, but now that she couldn’t unsee it, at least it made a little bit of sense in hindsight. After all, in her eyes, they were awful enough to deserve each other.

“...Why?”

“It’s just, well... somebody had to keep his eyes from wandering to the lambs- err- younger, more naive, less experienced employees, not children (to my knowledge). And at the time, I really thought that he did at least care about me beyond our work relationships, at least a little bit…  But from what I’ve seen, I believe the only things he had ever truly loved were himself, and the idealized versions he had made of other people. His ‘dream versions’ of them, if you will.”

“And this whole time, I thought he was running off with Susie with all those lunch dates! Or where the three of you all… yaknow, *together* together?”

 “Not knowingly… However I wouldn’t put it past Joey to cheat on people. As for Susie... I did like her, maybe even love her in a way, but I doubt I could ever love her in the way she wanted me to love her, and-or love her carnally. I don’t even think I could fake it like I could for Joey, she was never signing my checks and wasn’t holding that over my head so I’d be too disgusted to even try.”

Malice was almost about to march down there herself and push him into the ink, but she knew this troupe all too well, and knew that sometimes this place worked on story logic, he’s now going to say something that alters the context of that statement enough to not justify her going over there and slam dunking him into the ink.

“Now that I think of it, I don’t think that I’ve ever loved… anyone in that sense. I can’t think of a single person or situation where the idea of doing that is anything other than gross at best. In fact, there was someone who was close to me a long time ago, someone who, while I have long forgotten now, would perhaps even be what one could consider a soulmate. Even then, the mere thought of doing that with them still makes me queasy…” The prophet sighed. “I suppose I am simply meant to remain alone in religious celibacy. A relationship of that kind would interfere too much with my worship anyway.”

"Ahh fahr foehck's sake... I can't believe dat it's dis foehckin stupid..." A more lucid, absolute giant of a searcher in the back of the crowd slapped his forehead.

“It?” Malice repeated curiously. “Huh… maybe it and I had more in common than we thought.”

“You're clearly a sex-repoehlsed asexual, you doehmbass! literally everyahne who's ever been in de dark poehddles at de same time as you figured dis ooeht befahre you ded!” He shouted through cupped hands. “celibate people are people who WANT sex, boeht dahn't poehrsue it fahr variooehs reasahns, dey ARE NAHT people who are desgoehsted wit sex to de point where dey legitimately throw oehp and feel 'ahrreble after doin de nahrmal vanella stoehff! Stahp foehckin foehckin people when you're clearly naht cahmfortable wit it, and you and future partner..s? 'll be 'appier wit yooehr rahmantic poehrsuits!”

The searcher, upon realizing that he had furiously sworn at the Prophet, their leader, the one who does not fear anything within the studio, not even the deepest depths of the dark puddles, and most terrifyingly of all; the former music director, he slinked into a puddle within the crowd in fear of being the target of reawakened ancient wrath. Everybody else looked back and forth to the prophet and back at the searcher who spoke out as they remained in stunned silence, even their eavesdropper was worried for his fate, even if in her case she feared how the show would end rather than his outcome. Surprisingly, and luckily for him, the Prophet broke the tense silence by laughing in that caught-off-guard tone of it.

“While you were rather… crude about it, what you’ve said does make a lot more sense then Joey being so bad at sex that he turned me away from men altogether, even if it is funny to assume that he was.”

“A-aye… and I can't believe dat you wrahte an entire foehckin sahng abooeht it! 'ow ded you naht get fired fahr dat?!”

“Good question, I wish I could remember the answer…”

[Maybe you had blackmail on Drew?] The Boris typed out and handed to Sammy.

“Yeah, maybe because you used to be so close to him, you saw skeletons that Joey would want to keep in the closet” His lost-one friend added.

“Like HIMSELF!” A voice from the back added, making the others in the room burst into laughter.

With the tension in the room gone, the group just went back to talking about either journeys they took to become comfortable with themselves, or the various past relationships that they had, or wished they had or in some peoples’ cases, all three.

Malice continued to watch them bitterly. It was as if they had either forgotten what the outside world was like to people like them or they simply didn’t care, and she wasn’t thinking about the ink that made up their bodies. Part of her envied how freely they had talked about themselves and each other, part of her felt like she had been smacked across the face, and a third part of her felt lonely. All of them seemed so happy telling their stories and building each other up, and here she was hiding away with her own story that she had wished to bury.

However, there was no iron clad law stating that she couldn’t tell them her own story. In fact, maybe if she came out of her own cage, made Sammy understand that big part of why voicing Alice was so important to her, made sure that it understood that as the very first explicitly female character she voiced, that Alice Angel was more than a beloved character to her, that she was a part of her, the biggest symbol of her own femininity, then maybe it would recognize the error of its ways. Maybe it would see how devastating it would be to be shunted aside without notice in favor of someone newer, prettier, ‘more feminine’...

She shut off the camera and thought it over, and she made up her mind. While she still didn’t want to share her story with everyone, Sammy needed to know it. Whether the Prophet liked it or not, she was going to pay it a visit.

[entishramblings]

You Have Pretty Hair [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: so this one shot has some pieces from my fanfic (link in description) but I altered it for a legolas x reader formate cuz I figured you all would be interested because on wattpad so many users said they loved it! So if you recognize it....that’s why!!!

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is traveling with the fellowship and they end up drinking one night and Legolas has to take care of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,270

Warnings: none

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N), a young female ranger of the Dunedain and close friend of Aragorn’s, grinned when she saw a worn down sign that read: The White Lion Inn. She had chosen to accompany the fellowship on the quest to destroy the one ring, for her sword skills and healing abilities would provide useful. She had trained under Isildur’s heir for many years and was well aquatinted with the lays of the lands.

The weary members of the fellowship trudged through the door hoping for a comfortable bed, hot meal, and some quality ale. When they entered, the diverse group was immediately greeted by the sound of drunk humans and off-pitch tavern songs. Many uncertain eyes wandered across them for they had just demolished a pack of orcs so they were quite a sight to see. (Y/N) had a bloody head wound and was splashed with dark orc blood; Boromir, Aragorn, and Gimli had a handful of superficial cuts whereas Legolas was completely unscathed. Not to mention they were accompanied by a wizard and four hobbits. An interesting group indeed.

The wooden walls of the tavern were dimly lit by candles and lanterns while the room was filled with intoxicated, dirt covered travelers—not the most appealing of types. Furthermore, the stale air smelled of ale and three days old piss. But alas, it was better than the bone chilling coldness of outside and the threat of Sauron’s spies.

Gandalf suggested they get cleaned up before diving into drinking, but (Y/N) had other ideas.

She smirked at the sight before her. She loved taverns and she loved drinking. She hadn't had any alcohol since her arrival at Rivendell so she was quite deprived from the ensnaring numb sensation it provided.

The female Ranger immediately walked up to the barkeep and tossed a coin onto the counter, "One pint of the good stuff."

The bar tender glanced at the blood covered woman and raised his eyebrows, but he did not question anything for he often saw strange folk with strange business in this part of town. He plucked a glass from the shelves behind him and generously poured a tall tankard with bitter ale. He slid it across the counter towards her and she offered a quick thanks.

......

It was not long until most of the fellowship had started drinking. Gandalf, Sam, and Frodo had retired early for they were exhausted and had no interest in getting drunk. Merry, Pippin, and Gimli however had started a drinking contest while the two human men observed with laughter. Legolas only had two pints, which did absolutely nothing for him. (Y/N) on the other hand was on her 6th? 7th? She had lost track a long time ago and was completely utterly waisted.

Currently, the female ranger was on the top of the table dancing and laughing with the two hobbits (who were slightly less drunk). The three beings’ arms were locked and they were swinging around and around giggling uncontrollably. Merry and Pippin sung tavern songs terribly while accidentally kicking the bowls of peanuts to the floor with their large hairy feet. It was quite a sight, amusing to all onlookers.

Pippin nodded in Legolas's direction. The elf was sitting at the bar talking to the barkeep for he was the quiet type and preferred calm company.

"(Y/N), what do you think of Legolas?"

She stumbled and let out a loud belch before slurring out, "He's ssuper talll."

Pippin grinned, "I agree with you there as I am quite short as well! But he’s considered average if you compare him to Strider and Boromir.”

A confused look crossed the ranger's face for a moment before she giggled again.

“Oh....right....”

She then called out to Boromir sitting below her, “PASS ME ANOTHER PINT!"

The Gondorian immediately handed her another and she took a big swig from it.

With his elf hearing, Legolas listened in on the conversion. He couldn't help but smirk at the drunken stupidity of (Y/N). He observed that she had always been a carefree spirit and it seemed that alcohol brought that aspect out further. However, as soon as he heard her call for another pint he knew he needed to interfear. She was incredibly intoxicated and adding another drink to that would not be smart. Legolas left his stool and briskly walked towards the table of his friends.

(Y/N)’s grin widened when she saw the elven prince, "Legolas!"

Merry then insisted that he join their dancing and (Y/N) released another giggle, but the moment was interrupted as the female Ranger lost her footing and fell forward—off the table. She felt her body smack against something firm that smelled of pine and honey. Quite strange for something that smelled so good to be in this less than tasteful place. She squinted in puzzlement as the world around her distorted; it was upsidedown, twisted, warped.

What was going on?

Her gaze landed on bright blue eyes that stared down at her with uncertainty. That’s when the realization hit her. She was in Legolas’s arms. She frowned.....and her tunic was soaked wet? The alcohol must have spilled out of the tankard that she had been holding. She lazily examined Legolas and a giggle escaped her lips when she realized he was also covered in the ale.

(Y/N) continued to marveled at the blonde elf who was evaluated her drunken state. She laughed again. "You have muscly arms," she said with a slur.

Legolas sighed and made eye contact with Aragorn. The uncrowned king nodded, knowing exactly what Legolas was asking. They both silently agreed that (Y/N) had had enough.

“All right," the elf said as he put her down, "You're done." The last part of his sentence sounded stern, commanding, and showed that he was slightly pissed off—not that the drunk ranger could pick up on that.

Legolas didn't understand how she got so careless to drink this much while they were on a very important mission. Quite frankly, he was surprised Aragon had let it get this far as he had assumed the figure of older brother long ago; but alas, (Y/N) was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

The Elven Prince took the half filled pint from her hand and passed it to Boromir. Legolas then grabbed her arm and slightly tugged her in the opposite direction, but she reached out and snatched the unfinished pint from the Gondorian. She quickly took another big gulp before Legolas pulled the tankard from her hand once again. He firmly set it down on the table and shot Borimir a look.

The elf then pulled the grumbling ranger by her arm, more forcefully this time. He lead her to the barkeep and held her upright, "One room key please,"

The man looked at the state of the drunk woman and chuckled, "Good luck with that one."

He passed the elven prince the key and Legolas tugged (Y/N) to the crooked wooden stairs. He motioned for her to go up. She glanced at the step and let out another giddy laugh before lifting her leg. She was able to climb up a couple steps before falling back against Legolas chest. He easily caught her and held her waist until she regained some balance. She again lifted her foot but immediately stumbled. Legolas shook his head in frustration, bent down slightly, and scooped her up bridal style. He began to assend the stairs as she whined to go back for another pint. The elf’s ears turned light pink as he heard his friends snickering at the current situation he was in. He chose to ignore it; someone had to take care of her.

Legolas opened the door to the small room and sat (Y/N) down on the bed, her legs dangling off the side. He poured some water from a pitcher onto a towel and turned back to the drunk woman. He gently wiped her face with it, making sure to erase the dirt and dried blood from the outdoor adventure.

Legolas carefully began to clean the small wound on her head. He wished she would have done so earlier for an injury was not to be left untended; but alas, when she made a decision she stuck by it.

He watched as (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed and she tried to pull away from the cloth. "Cold, cold, cold," she grumbled like a child.

Legolas sighed, "(Y/N), don't make this difficult."

She groaned once more before letting out another giggle. The blonde elf raised his eyebrows in question.

"You," She slurred, "have prettyyy hair.”

She reached her hand out and grasped a handful of his blonde locks, “Can youu braid mine like that some day!?”

He chuckled, “Maybe.”

Legolas reached upward and carefully untangled her fingers from his hair for he was fearful that, in her drunk state, she would end up getting them stuck in it.

The Prince had dealt with a lot of intoxicated elves in his lifetime, but (Y/N)’s behavior was so innocent and seemed to be even more amusing. Humans—always an interesting species. He still was angry at her lack of self control when it came to drinking, but it was hard not to smile at her intoxicated actions and words.

The blue eyed elf's hands made their way to her hair. He gently pulled out the tie from the messily twisted bun, allowing her locks to cascade down her shoulders.

"(Y/N)," Legolas started.

She let out another giddy laugh.

Legolas sighed, "What is it now?"

"I thinks I had too many alcohols."

Legolas smirked at her improper grammar, "Yes, indeed you did."

She let out yet another giggle.

"(Y/N), your tunic is wet with ale and orc blood. Do you wish me to find a servant to assist you?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head while grasping onto his sleeve, "Youu just help me."

Legolas lips parted as he felt a blush creep up his neck and upon his ears. He cleared his throat, "(Y/N), I'm not su—"

The woman interrupted him, "You." She paused in attempt to gather her drunk words together, "I trustt you over some random strangeeer."

Legolas let out a nervous exhale but nodded.

He ruffled through her bag until he came across an extra black tunic. He grasped the soft fabric in his calloused hands and stood in front of her.

"Are you wearing anything under this?"

She nodded. Her words slurring as she spoke, "MHhmm, uunderrrgarments to coverr my brea—"

He interrupted her awkwardly, "(Y/N), I know how basic anatomy and clothing work."

Legolas gently took hold of the bottom of her dirty tunic and begun to pull it up and over her head, careful not to get any orc blood on her skin. He could feel his cheeks heating even more as her shirt rose; he was just grateful she was too intoxicated to notice. He gently untangled her arms from the disgusting fabric and removed it completely.

She sat on the bed with eyes closed as she begun to sway slightly. The blonde elf's gaze trailed down her body cautiously, taking in her appearance. Her undergarment encased her chest, covering what needed to be. However, it clearly accentuated the curves of her breasts and the shape of her torso. He watched as her skin and toned muscles rippled ever so slightly with small movements. She was utterly beautiful, despite her terribly drunken state. Legolas swallowed dryly. He felt the desire to touch her soft skin and inch his hands over her form crept into his mind; but he did not want that while she was intoxicated. Her well-being was his top priority. Besides, they were not courting. He doubted she even knew of his affections.

Legolas pulled the new, clean tunic over her head and assisted her in getting her arms through. He felt slightly relieved that it was over for the situation had been quite compromising.

If anyone had walked in......

If Aragorn had walked in.....

The elf’s mind wandered slightly at the thought of his friend. Strider made no move to assist Legolas with the intoxicated young woman that he had trained. It was almost as if he had let the elf take care of her on purpose.

Legolas blushed.

That cheeky bastard.

Aragorn had to have done that on purpose. Legolas remembered all the times Strider had paired him and the female Ranger to collect firewood and watch for Sauron’s enemies. The man’s twinkling eyes and mischievous looks......he definitely did this on purpose.

Legolas sighed once again before tuning back the (Y/N). He quickly pulled off her boots and then pulled back her covers. He then helped her climb into the soft comfort of the feathery bed. The Elven Prince sat on the edge of the mattress and gently ran his hand through her hair to coax her to sleep; and there he stayed watching over her.

.......

The female ranger walked down the stairs to the tavern. She was rubbing her temples and groaning with every step. Her head pounded like drums, the light blinded like white fire, and everything was just too damn loud.

She saw that most of the fellowship was all sitting around a table across the room, many of them with the same problem as her.

Legolas unexpectantly appearing near her and chuckled when she walked past him, "feeling better?"

She sent him a death glare and grumbled in response. She plopped down on the bench across from Merry and Pippin and next to Boromir.

The Gondorian nudged the female ranger, "Do you have any memory of last night?"

She groaned, "Why? What happened?"

At that moment Aragorn slid onto the bench next to (Y/N) with a big grin on his face. He spoke with a tone filled of taunting amusement, "Legolas took care of your drunk ass!”

(Y/N) groaned at that statement and put her head on the table.

Of fucking course.

[turneverybodyintopuppets]

Hi. The following is my attempt to systematically hash out the “Mr. Infodump” controversy in the TS fandom. It’s primarily for my benefit, but I’m posting it on the off chance it helps someone else who’s just as confused/dismayed as I was. I’m not attempting to argue for blind absolution (”Thomas is an angel who can do no wrong!”) or cancellation (“He’s no better than the likes of J.K. Rowling!”), just to present as intellectually honest an assessment as I can make of what happened and the degree to which the TS team is responsible.

Laconic: Thomas Sanders, a content creator on youtube, posted a skit in which a character calls an aspie-coded character “Mr. Infodump”. Several fans have expressed hurt and anger over the use of a trait associated with neurodivergence as an insult.

My own initial impression: I’m on the autism spectrum myself, and personally, “Mr. Infodump” didn’t register as offensive to me; in fact, as a huge Logan kinnie, I liked that a neurodiverse trait I see in myself was being explicitly linked to my favorite character. That said, there are many in the community who feel deeply hurt and betrayed, and it would be a) irresponsible and b) close-minded to handwave their concerns. Thus:

[Abridged version: Bolded]

Context for use of the word:

Line from Roman: “I was going for regal sophistication [in last commercial pitch], but Mr. Infodump over here [*gestures to Logan*] wasn’t cooperating.” Defensive tone, alluding to the fact that Logan’s commercial pitch included excessive product information that would leave buyers disengaged.

History: Roman regularly invents nicknames for fellow sides and employs them in a manner that can range from fond teasing to a juvenile way of insulting the side he’s presently bickering with.

Names previously directed at Logan include “Calculator watch,” “Egghead,” and “No-Funsen Honeydew… Doo.” They generally play off of Logan’s tendency toward being uptight, stereotypically nerdy, and eager to furnish the group with information in the capacity of a teacher.

In this particular instance, I doubt anyone would say the word’s use was “malicious,” but it wasn’t “affectionate” either. Roman is visibly preoccupied and defensive in the scene, throwing out a nickname offhand.

Power Dynamic: There is no imbalance of power between Logan and Roman that would indicate anything resembling a bully-victim relationship. Logan responds to the word in the same manner he does Roman’s other antics and displays no particularly hurt reaction.

In-Universe Response: No character corrects or condemns Roman’s use of the term. This may, however, be because Logan is the first to respond, armed with his own complaints about the others’ commercials.

Meta-Level Implications: The audience is not encouraged to agree with Roman’s sentiment that infodumping is a negative trait anymore than they are his other commentary on Logan via nicknames like “Egghead,” because Logan’s role in the story consistently proves it wrong; all that infodumping saved an unconscious Roman from his murder-happy brother, for one, and the audience knows it. Given the posturing and defensiveness that accompany Roman’s delivery of the line, it’s clear the creators were communicating that he was in the wrong to say it. That, and Logan will almost certainly reinforce this by verbally decimating someone in the next episode, as per usual.

I think that last point is key. People will accuse others of infodumping in a negative way IRL—I know I’ve been called far worse for failing to mask—and to pretend that such things don’t exist in fiction is misrepresenting reality. Instead, creators can and should include minority characters (race, sexuality, gender, neuroatypicality, etc.) *confronting* discrimination, dealing with it complexly, and showing both the misguided character and the audience how wrong they are. Logan resonates with me—and other aspies, I think—largely because of how he clearly struggles in dealing with the other sides’ occasional criticism of his eccentricities, but he ultimately remains committed to his identity and ideals. If the TS crew continues to write a show that reinforces the fact that his neurodivergent qualities are what make him strong—and god knows there's not much media that does this well—, they’re doing something incredibly important for us.

The issue here, then, wasn’t the show promoting ableism as a message, because its handling of the conversation here doesn’t. Rather, it was the use of a term that many consider inherently ableist as an insult. So:

“Infodump” the word:

I find this fascinating, actually—Science is discovered. Math is discovered**. Language? Language is unequivocally invented. We’ve create these words with combinations of mouth-sounds, and we’ve assigned them meaning.

But the thing is, people have different backgrounds and experiences that define both who they are and the nuances of the meaning they tie to those mouth-sounds

Basic example of varied mental prototypes: I live in the northeast USA, so when I hear the word “bird,” the first thing that pops into my head is a bluejay or robin. If you ask my friend who’s studying in Brazil, though, he’d likely think of a macaw or toucan. 

For me, “spring” = my mom’s pink zinnia garden and “chocolate” = a square of hershey melting against gooey marshmallow. This idea of memories and experience informing word-meaning mapping, of course, extends to a) more nuanced concepts and b) a more subconscious level of understanding. Poetry in particular, I think, tends to play with this to invoke the sensory experiences it does... I could infodump about translated poetry but that’s a whoooollleee other thing and I’m getting off track.

But essentially, an individual’s experience of any given word, to a degree, is subjective. Our dictionary definitions are merely approximations of a collective understanding of that mouthsound-to-meaning mapping, and we have to update those definitions as language evolves (remember when “Google” couldn’t be used as a verb?)

So, what happens if I look up “infodumping”? TVTropes tells me it’s a “type of exposition that’s particularly long and wordy”. UrbanDictionary says its “used to deposit large amounts (usually entire articles) of information in online forums without summarizing or paraphrasing the information.” I reach the resources that explain it in the context of autism and ADHD over halfway down the Google results. The word “infodumping” has quite a few circulating meanings, and the one associated with neurodivergence isn’t as visible as we’d like it to be.

From what I understand, Thomas Sanders and co. merely knew “infodumping” as the practice of talking at length about a subject, like closing a rant with a friendly “aw, sorry for infodumping on ya” and such. This was exactly how Logan opens his commercial, so they stuck it in as a—frankly, kinda feeble—nickname á la the creative genius behind “Mr. Smarty... Pants”. They had no knowledge of the term’s gravity to the autism and ADHD community, because they haven’t been exposed to settings that use that definition.

So, where does that leave us on accountability? If they’re ultimately not producing ableist content, do Thomas Sanders and his team have the responsibility to be aware of how an insult featuring this particular word might be inherently triggering to a community?

Many accounts show that the inclusion of the term caused real emotional harm and as content creators—particularly ones with a relatively young fanbase—the TS team should have taken more precautions. A more diverse staff/writing room may have caught this, given how egregious some fanders found the error. Furthermore, why shouldn’t it fall on neurotypical people in general to “educate themselves” on these issues, as in the cases of other minority groups?

That said, however, can any creative team be reasonably expected to know of any-and-all potentially triggering content? I’ve avoided speaking of Thomas Sanders’ personal character to maintain some impartiality, but a long history of promoting representation and careful content warnings does suggest a genuine commitment to self-correcting. Accepting the well-intentioned criticism of fanders—many of whom are so broken up by this precisely because of the amount of faith they place in the TS team—and taking active steps to change is ultimately the best course of action, and I, for one, will be sticking around to see the results.