#its part of why i usually want to learn to read the languages i Do read? because i hate the blurry picture lol. i want to make it clearer to

[scaredpigeons]

Deus Auri

Zhongli x reader (gn)

Word count: 1.04k (smol)

CW: sfw:) mild spoilers for Neuvillettes voice lines about Morax, he calls him Deus Auri, which is god of gold in Latin— might just be a title but any little tidbit of Morax we get I just gobble gobble up. Flirting, zhongli calls you my dear, darling, vixen. No pronouns or other gender specific language used. Some kisses and allusions of wanting more.

Enjoy!

“Deus Auri.”

You can nearly hear the crack of Zhongli’s neck as his gaze whips towards you, but you keep your gaze trained on your book as if you hadn’t seen its comical swivel in your peripherals. 

“I’m sorry my dear, could you repeat that?” He said, though there was an edge to his tone. 

“Deus Auri—God of Gold. What can you tell me about that name?” You said, index finger gliding down the edge of the book. You were no longer reading, but still kept your eyes trained on the pages to pretend like you weren’t vibrating with excitement at his reaction. 

Zhongli was naturally very stoic, a well maintained facade to those who weren’t interested in looking deeper. 

You had been plenty interested, taking one look at him and instantly knowing he was no ordinary man. 

Now the better part of half a year into your blossoming relationship, he still hadn’t outright told you, but he’d grown comfortable. 

You’d catch glimpses of his wrists, normally covered— deep onyx with veins of pure gold. Though this only happened in the safety of his home— there was a time he had to remove his gloves to help you in the kitchen, and his perfectly pale, human hands had distracted you the entire time. 

The glamor he kept up in public slipped a bit when he was more at ease. 

To the eye that was actually looking, zhongli really wasn’t subtle about who he was. 

“Well, why don’t we start with where you heard such a name?” He asked. 

“I was with the traveler last week, helping she and paimon with a commission in Fontaine.” 

You can see the minuscule wince he gives out of the corner of your eye. Just a twitch of the brows as he blinks, so graceful, but you catch it because you’re looking for it. 

“I overheard a conversation she had with a lovely gentleman over there, though I didn’t get to introduce myself. He mentioned the name when the traveler was asking him about Rex Lapis.”

You closed your book, finally turning to look at him, though you kept your gaze coyly through heavy lids, peaking demurely at him through your lashes. 

“And you know, I thought that was very strange, her asking him about Rex lapis, when she could learn anything and everything about him from our resident expert.” 

“The traveler has not visited liyue to see me in some time, darling. And I'm sure there are others who’ve studied the gods. I am not the only knowledgeable one in Teyvat.” 

“I know, I know.” You chewed on your lip a bit for effect, looking puzzled. “So who is this Deus Auri? Is it perhaps another one of Morax’s many names?” 

You looked at him expectantly, grinning as he grew more stiff in his seat beside you. A mere foot of space between you on the couch and he looked like he was ready for you to pounce on him. 

You wanted to, you have wanted to, but he so chivalrously insists upon taking it slow. 

Hand holding in the harbour. Chaste kisses good night. You wanted so badly to break through his barriers but you knew he was holding back.

“You are…” he let a puff of air through his nose. “Correct in the knowledge that Morax was known to have many different names. Unfortunately that is all I can say on the matter.” 

“So cryptic.” You squinted at him. He often shut you out when you pried like this, poking and prodding in places you know you shouldn’t be, but he was always kind and straightforward about it—so you usually dropped it as soon as he denied you. 

“Do you think he had a favourite name that he went by?” You pushed a bit more, hoping to get him to give you just one more crumb before you played your cards. It was time, you were getting tired of hiding it.

He smiled thoughtfully, relaxing into the couch once more. “I’d like to think that he enjoyed the name Rex Lapis, the name given to him by his people. I’m sure it brought him a great sense of pride.” 

You grinned, soaking in his expression and words. Knowing what you know— gods. He really was so cute sometimes. 

You open up your book, stilling your grin to prepare for what was next. 

“Really? I’d like to think Zhongli is his favourite. Retirement is a good look for him.” 

You expected denial, perhaps his neck snapping back to you like it did when you first mentioned the ancient name. 

What you didn’t expect was to be tackled to the floor, a gloved hand supporting your neck instinctively as you and your book tumbled along the floor with the blur of rich oranges and browns that took you down. 

When you finally settled, you were on your back with him looming over you, pining you to the ground. 

“You little vixen. How long have you known?” His eyes were wild, hair a mess, cheeks flushed and breathless. Disheveled.

He looked more beautiful now than you’d ever seen him before.  

“From the moment you opened your mouth.” 

He kissed his teeth in a quick tsk, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Nothing escapes you, does it? I knew I would be in trouble with you.”  

You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him back towards you. 

“And yet you kept me around regardless.” You smiled, giving him a quick, teasing peck on the lips. 

“How could I not? You have an inescapable magnetism that I am completely captured by. I’m afraid to say that you’re unraveling me even as we now speak.” 

You grinned at him, face feeling just as flush as his. 

“How much more unraveling do I need to do to get you to let down those walls you keep around you?” 

“They were gone the moment I saw that you knew the truth, my dear, you should have said something much sooner.” He tilted his head with a soft grin. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. 

“Kiss me then, you old blockhead.” 

He gave a rumble in his chest that sounded very much like a growl, and it set your nerves on fire.  

“Behave.” He said sternly. 

“No promises,” you said as you kissed him. 

[hadesrise]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄.

part one — part two

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞. the wayne family witness how you handle jason’s trauma.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. jason todd x addams!male reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. sfw content, foul language, trauma, nightmares, mentions of torture, typical addams behavior (dark, edgy, gothic, disturbing behavior), romantic, death threats, soft addams!reader, mentions of a very dark and gruesome fictional book, dealing with trauma, fluff, lots of fluff, everything’s just soft

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. can't help it, i really enjoy writing addams!reader content. honestly, it's kinda getting old but i guess this will be the last one??? or one more and then i'll end its endless cycle?? anyway, if y'all have any recommended translation apps it'll be nice to know. don't wanna trust google translate that much.

FEM ALIGNED DNI !!

“Why are you awake so early in the morning?”

Bruce’s slightly raspy morning voice interrupts the silent reading you had indulged yourself in, barely reacting at his sudden presence despite the fact you failed to notice him from how focused you were on your book.

You glanced at him only for a split second before your eyes went back to reading again, “I prefer the quietness of your manor in the morning for a quick read. Although, I must say the bright sun is such a terrible sight. It nearly burned me as soon as my consciousness awakened.” As you replied casually, Bruce took notice of how the curtains are closed completely shut to block the sunlight from entering, as if getting even a little bit of it would burn you like a vampire. Well, you did look like a vampire because of how pale and ghostly your skin is as well as the all black, gothic medieval or victorian outfit.

Bruce still wasn’t used to your unique culture, ancient speech and intimidating presence, but had learned not to be too bothered by it ever since you and Jason began visiting the Manor often. He didn’t want to waste energy by constantly reacting to any unusual traits you displayed, and he’s been successful so far. Even though he still doesn’t agree with your morals, he knew not to argue with you like before, since you’ve been nothing but respectful to him everytime you set foot in the manor.

Raising one of his eyebrows, Bruce tilts his head. “Do you always read?”

“Yes, indeed.” Came your immediate response. “Books are what defines me, Mr. Wayne. My soul is practically attached to it.”

“Is that why you always carry a book with you?” Stephanie suddenly chimes in out of nowhere with Tim behind her, curiosity plastered across her face. You nodded, glancing up to see Damian sit down on the other sofa while playing a brutal game that occasionally makes a blood splattering sound.

Bruce sighs, “And why are you all awake so early?”

Tim looks at him weirdly, “It’s already eleven o’clock. Almost lunch time, you know.” Deadpanning, he then leans in from behind to get a glimpse of what you were reading, only to cringe slightly after his eyes read a particular sentence; The flesh muscles of his legs were torn off, almost as if it had been ripped open by a lion, exposing bones with blood uncontrollably flooding out. It’s definitely one of those horror books who has unnecessary amount of gore. “What in the hell are you reading?”

“Bloodthirst by Clementine.” You sipped on a black coffee before continuing, “Wherein the main character becomes bloodthirsty for revenge after his lover had been abducted and mutilated by a group of serial killers. The sentence you’ve read is one of his acts of revenge which includes a pack of wolves.” The corner of your mouth twitched up a bit, looking up at him with that glint in your eyes. “It has a pleasantly satisfying plotline.”

Disturbed and quite freaked out, Tim exchanges eye contact with Bruce and pressed his lips together. “That is... uhm, interesting.” Amusement merely crosses your face before it instantly went back to your usual emotionless expression.

They still haven’t gotten used to the extremely calm demeanor you had because of how most of them grew up not having a quiet presence in the manor, even Cassandra wasn’t as silent as you before. You’re the only calm and fully collected person they’ve ever met, coming off as rather intimidating due to your piercing gaze, emotionless face, wiser-than-thou mind, and utmost patience. Especially the patience one, because most of them were either short-tempered or just born enraged. Sometimes, they get intimidated without you even speaking — once, you and Jason reluctantly joined them to a grand event and someone made an utterly horrible decision to insult Jason by comparing him to the “well-behaved” eldest son Dick, which resulted in you shooting them a piercing, dark, cold and harsh glare not even a second after that instantly made them freeze in spot. That look in your eyes alone made their blood run cold and face pale.

Needless to say, they regretted insulting Jason as quick as the wind blows, but that story’s for another time.

“Where’s Dick? Did he sleep at Barbara’s?” Stephanie wondered, realizing the lack of annoying presence.

“Nope!” An all too cheerful voice in the morning pipes up as Dick appeared with a big smile on his face. He quickly noticed you reading a book and approached, “Reading a dark book again? Where’s Jay?”

“There’s only an obvious answer to an already obvious question, Richard.” Retorting without sparing him a glance, you flipped the page and earned a snicker from Damian. “He will be walking down the stairs soon. Sois patient, frère.”

Dick replies an ‘okay’ before jumping on the couch Damian was sitting on, deciding to annoy his youngest brother instead. Shaking your head with the corner of your mouth twitching up only barely, you focused on reading your book again despite the peaceful silence being broken by their chattering, although it didn’t take long before you averted your gaze and stared at the ceiling, as if feeling something wrong.

Damian notices. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t speak right away. Just staring up like something was there, which also made the others look up in attempt to figure out what you were doing.

“Jason is not sleeping well,” You finally stated, not looking away from the ceiling. “Humans often radiate different energy depending on their mental state, which makes it easier to specifically identify what their current emotions or moods are. It can be felt if you concentrate enough. Jason’s energy has been much peaceful ever since I’ve tormented Joker. It is supposed to stay as that.”

“What do you feel now?” Cassandra asked worriedly, her body leaned back against the wall.

“He’s distressed.” You concluded, shutting the book close without bothering to slip a bookmark on the page, which she noticed quickly. She reads with you a lot and had never seen you close a book without bookmarking it; books are absolute treasures for you, but not as much as Jason now.

Confusion took over Tim’s face as you set your book down and drink your black coffee in one go, “How do you know?”

“There is not one thing I don’t know about Jason.” You remarked nonchalantly, like it’s how it should be. You just knew Jason well enough to understand him more than anyone else, even more than himself sometimes.

Before you could stand up from the couch, a footstep erupts from the top of the stairs and comes Jason slowly walking down, wrapped around in a blanket and thick arms hugging his body, making himself as small as possible despite his large frame. “(Y-Y/n)...?” His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he had been crying, as he stuttered and looked for you like a lost child.

You quickly got up from the couch and walked up to him when he stopped in the middle of the stairs. “Come here, darling.” Jason doesn’t hesitate to drop the blanket and wrap his arms around your neck, clinging onto you for dear life. Slipping your hands on the back of his thighs, you lifted him up with ease and returned to the couch, sitting down sideways so Jason could lay on top of you, just how he liked.

“Horrible...” Jason murmured, face buried in your chest. “Horrible, all of ‘em. It hurts. Everything hurts.”

You frown, although your face had the softest look anyone had ever seen as you gently stroke his back, still having him caged in your arms. “Terrifying dream, was it?” You asked, earning a nod.

“ ‘m scared...” Jason breathes shakily, “I’m still there... Still hurts. Too dark. Cold. He’s still laughing. Hurts, it hurts.” He blabbered, words repeating over and over again, and breath increasingly becoming rapid as panic begins to slowly build up inside him. His entire body was trembling, sobs wreck through his body.

Everyone except you was at lost for words.

Jason seemed... weak and fragile. A cracked glass that can easily break with just one touch. Had Jason been suffering like this all this time? It felt as if Bruce was bludgeoned by a brick in the form of realization, opening his eyes to how the events with Joker truly affected Jason. He was obviously and clearly traumatized (who the fuck wouldn’t be?), but this is the first time everyone had actually witnessed the trauma, considering Jason refused to be vulnerable in front of them.

“Shh... Open your eyes, chéri. Look into mine and breathe slowly,” You gently instructed, rubbing his back in a soothing manner and muttering encouragements. Jason does as he’s told and open his eyes, staring into your calm and comforting (e/c) eyes while attempting to slow down his breathing. “Doing so excellent, mon amour. Breathe in and out, slowly. Good boy. You do not have to rush yourself.” The soft tone of your voice bringing him a sense of safety.

Once he’s calmed down, you slowly hold his hand and squeeze to provide warmth, hugging him tighter with one arm. “Can you tell me where you are and who you’re with right now?”

Jason squeezed back, little tears still running down his cheeks. “T-the Wayne Manor... With—with you... A-and Bruce, and Dick... Tim... Damian... C-Cass and Steph...” His gaze focusing on your encouraging eyes, his mind slowly detached from the nightmare it was drowning itself in.

“Good boy, sweetheart.” You kissed his forehead, “Is it still dark?” Jason shakes his head. “What about coldness? Am I succeeding in warming you up?” He nods this time. You smile, running your hand through his hair. “Be not afraid, Jason. Darkness will not consume your mind forever, although it is a part of our lives. You might remain afraid of the excessive trauma for years, but being afraid of it does not mean you will be chained eternally, and neither does it mean you are weak nor easily destructible. You’ve bravely fought a war within yourself. I know you will be able to defeat the nightmare someday.”

Jason sniffles, “Do you think I’m healing?”

“Yes, very slowly, as how healing process should be.” You stroked his cheek, “Trauma comes with nightmares. It especially shows when you are doing well so it could test your strength, whether you’ll be able to overcome. But it can never defeat you; it only knows to cause pain, agony, and fear. You know love, joy, compassion, and empathy. It is what make us humans that defeats the monsters.”

He curled up against you, “Just want it to be over. I feel less like myself.”

“You are not bounded to your trauma for all eternal, chéri. It does not define who and what you are, and it certainly does not make you any less.” You softly replied. “Never doubt yourself, my love. Healing cannot be completed within a day, it takes more than few years and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Biting his lip, Jason rests his chin on your chest. “You’ll get fucking tired dealing with me. Your patience might not be able to handle it.”

“I cannot get tired of you. Not when you hate pastels too.” Jason chuckles at your joke, the mood surely lightening. “And do not speak as if you don’t know me, Jason. There is no such thing as might not be able to handle it in my vocabulary when it is you. I love you too much. If I cannot handle anything that involves you and matters about you, then my love for you will mean nothing but dishonorable. The two of us definitely have knowledge of how I would rather decapitate myself than offer you a half-hearted love.”

Jason’s heart swell as the back of his eyes sting again, tears threatening to come out. He knew how difficult it is to be with someone as much trauma as he has, which made him live in fear of you getting tired and leaving one day, even though you’ve assured him more than a hundred times. He knew he was difficult to be with even without the trauma, yet you willingly giftwrap your heart to offer to him while simultaneously providing him with the understanding he deserved. You accepted him along with his trauma. Nobody knows how special that feels.

Cassandra and Stephanie sat on the carpet near the couch where you two laid, so they could check up on Jason. The others had scooted closer as they watch you comfort him nearly expertly.

“Can still feel it, (Y/n).” Jason snuggles on your chest, “The crowbar. It’s still hitting me.”

You gently pull his hand to see his arm that was littered in autopsy scars, some little and some a bit big. Caressing them, you press a lingering kiss. “It was just a fragrance of your memory, beloved. You are safe now, I will keep you protected for as long as I am here. No crowbars.”

Jason nods and looks up at you, puckering his lips. You immediately kiss him, then pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I know he can’t touch me anymore. You already tortured him enough.” He smiled and wiped off his tears.

You pat his head and hug him closer, “Everything will be alright someday. Would you like a hot chocolate with marshmallows on top? I’ll cook you breakfast as well.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Jason whispers.

You slowly slip out from under him, making sure he’s laying down comfortably before fetching the blanket he dropped and wrapping it around him, muttering an i’ll be right back. Watching you disappear into the kitchen, Jason sighs in content and curls up on the couch, still feeling vulnerable but not worse. Stephanie smiles softly at him as Dick walks over to sit beside her, ruffling Jason’s hair.

“You’ll be fine soon, little bird.”

Jason only nodded. The first time he didn’t scoff nor bark, indicating he still can’t forget the nightmare he had.

Soon, his other brothers joined Dick while Bruce sits on the couch beside Jason, looking regretful and apologetic with a frown. Witnessing the amount of trauma Jason has to endure even after many years dropped an equal amount of realization within the family, even though they knew he was traumatized. They just didn’t know the extent to it, and seeing it unfold before them had made them realize they hadn’t been supportive or doing enough for Jason when they should’ve known how much trauma torture and murder would cause. He literally died and came back to life — it’s impossible to not carry a lifelong trauma that greatly affects his personality and attitude; the utmost rage and murderous desires he displayed before might have just been his coping mechanism until meeting you, who quickly became his comfort and calmness.

Nearly most of them had guilt written in their faces due to feeling as if they had been invalidating Jason’s trauma, especially Bruce who did not deal with the entire thing well and had failed to show Jason he cared even though he did more than the son could ever know.

Once again, you beat him to it.

“He cares about you so much, doesn’t he?” Bruce quietly and rhetorically questioned.

Jason nodded happily, “A little too much sometimes. (Y/n)’s always careful and calm, but he gets reckless when it’s about me. Like that Joker thing.” He chuckles, “He said fucker didn’t even have time to laugh.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched up only to disappear, the guilty look still staying. He breathes in and out slowly, causing Jason to look at him questioningly as Bruce avoided eye contact. “Jason, I... uh — I’m sorry. I’m sorry If you ever felt invalidated or unloved by me. I had been so focused on my morality that I failed to show you I cared for you. I really do, Jason. Just maybe not the way you were expecting me to show it.” He carefully says as to not trigger anything in his son.

Pulsing his lip, Jason shakes his head and reached out to play with Bruce’s hand. Bruce seem surprised, but let him nonetheless. “Mhm,” He hums, “It’s okay. I was just angry and hurt... You didn’t look for me enough, and there’s suddenly a new Robin, so... I thought you forgot about me. I couldn’t accept that you seemed to move on so easily.”

Bruce’s heart clenches. “That’s not true, son.”

“I can see that now. I was too bitter and angry, it made me blind.” The broken boy smiles a bit in an attempt to reassure him. “It’s not your fault I turned out like this and ruin everything, you know.” He sadly says, looking down.

The older Wayne shakes his head, “You don’t ruin everything, Jason. You were coping and still coping with what you went through. (Y/n) was right when he said healing takes time.”

Letting go of his hand, Jason instead fidgeted his own fingers now with a sad pout. A little child-like. “But you gave up on me. I know I’m difficult. It’s why you normally can’t deal with me and we always end up arguing. And I was a failure ‘cause I died easily as a Robin.” His voice was slightly high-pitched and trembling. It reminded Bruce again of a child.

Immediately shaking his head, he grasped Jason’s fidgeting hand and firmly looks at him. “You were never a failure, Jason. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You did everything you could. What I can’t forgive is that I let you die as Robin and not as Jason Todd. I can’t forgive myself for being too late to save you. It wasn’t your fault. Nothing’s your fault, son.”

He pulls him into a hug, which caused Jason to breakdown as he clings onto Bruce and cries his heart out. Embracing him tightly, Bruce kept stroking his back for comfort. The others watched silently with a sad smile, knowing both of them wanted to reconcile for a long time but was too hesitant to do so. It made them happy yet emotional at the same time, Dick and Stephanie already having tearful eyes.

“It truly feels upsetting to ruin this wonderful moment, but I’ve got to feed Jason. May I?” Your calm voice erupted, just then everyone noticing your presence standing at the side of the couch. Bruce chuckles and pulled away, sitting down on the carpet instead so you could take his place. You nodded appreciatively before taking a seat.

Jason sits up, accepting the hot chocolate from you with both hands and sipping it. You ruffle his hair gently.

“His age mentality regresses when the nightmare’s been too severe,” You explained what Bruce was wondering. “It is one of his responses to trauma. I believe it’s the inner child coming out, attempting to relive again.”

“How long?” Dick asked.

“About an hour.” You take the mug from Jason and set it on the table as you begin to cut a bite sized piece from the pancakes to feed your lover. “He has the desire of being taken cared of and I intend to fulfill it. Mother and father takes care of him once in a while when it happens in our Addams home.”

“Mom and dad takes me shopping. It’s fun.” Jason remarked, grinning.

“Shall we buy you some dead flowers, chéri? And a new gun, perhaps. Would you like that?” You caressed his cheek while feeding him with the other, Jason leaning his face on your palm.

“Yeah, I’d love that. Love you, (Y/n).”

“I adore you too, my love.” You kissed the tip of his nose, which caused him to erupt into a fit of giggles as you feed him again.

After Jason had fallen asleep peacefully on the couch, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh deeply in attempt to calm yourself down. Seeing Jason struggle with trauma is not easy, especially when he’s far too scarred mentally that it causes mental age regression. It also probably came from the fact he had never lived a peaceful life even before meeting Bruce, losing his childhood by witnessing the harsh reality at such a young age, and having to stop being a child after becoming Robin.

You had utmost patience, but when something affects Jason greatly like this, you often tend to lose calmness and be overwhelmed with rage and bloodthirst. If you could take all his pain away and those painful memories, you’ve already done it. You would give up anything for Jason to not struggle with the torment of his torture and murder — you will give up everything for him.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” Tim asked worriedly, feeling your atmosphere change.

“I wouldn’t call blood boiling with rage okay.” You muttered murderously as your dark eyes glared daggers at the carpeted floor. “Joker is already encaged and chained down within the cells of Arkham Asylum, but the aftermath of his vile actions still haunts and torments the victims who have gone through survival. Trauma is inescapable, including fear of the perpetrator. Their spirits won’t rest peacefully, alive or dead, while his existence still roam the Earth.”

The way you spat with utmost disgust and anger was now understandable, as well as your nearly inexcusable actions committed before. You witness this side of Jason more often than they do. It’s already unbearable even for them, what more for you who takes precious care of him?

Suddenly, Bruce comes to understand your morals. Why you do what you do, why you believe what you believe.

“May I ask you to take care of him while I’m out, Mr. Wayne?” You asked, voice thick, clearly grounding yourself to your humanity.

Bruce nods, for the first time. “Yes, now go do what you want to do.”

You smiled, immediately standing up and wearing your coat before rushing off the manor.

Cassandra shakes her head with a smile as Damian looked at his father with a smirk, “He might kill him, you know.”

Bruce just shrugged.

“Well,” Stephanie sighs, “Can’t stop (Y/n) from going on a rampage against the Joker. He deserves what’s coming for him anyway.”

Few hours later, Jason wakes up to the news of Arkham Asylum increasing its security due to an unknown attack against Joker that left him barely alive, and you casually reading a book with pleased and prideful look. It doesn’t take him long to figure things out and tackle you in a hug, leaving kisses all over your face.

Joker’s probably going to have nightmares about you, but he deserves what’s coming for him, doesn’t he?

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[norrizzandpia]

Lacy (Part 2) (Oscar Ending) (LN4 and OP81)

Summary: It might not be the happy ending he was expecting, but it’s a happy ending nonetheless.

Warnings: language, sexual conversations

Note: guys… this might be the most beautiful thing I have ever read and while I usually dont like to gloat, THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD GRAB THOSE TISSUES BECAUSE I WAS EVEN TEARING UP DURING THIS bro good luck to yall this is so rough

Note (part 2): ALSO this is the Oscar endgame ending, the lando ending will be published tmrw!!! I just wanted to get this one out first because i know the majority of people are waiting for the osc ending BUT ITS COMING TO THE LANDO GIRLIES I SWEAR <3

Note (part 3): also i will be posting screenshots of the anons I used for this whole storyline in a seperate post so be on the lookout for that after the lando ending comes out

There was never quiet. Quiet entailed her mind not racing with thoughts of Lando and her body to rid itself of the physical pain she was feeling. It was numbing, how hard the hurt hit her. Nothing had ever hurt her in that way. It was a sinking feeling, something that felt so incredibly serious and dark, she was too distraught to get out of bed.

The first few weeks were incredibly hard. She had a hard time eating, sleeping, and everything in between. If it hadn’t been for Lando telling Oscar to go check up on her, probably no one would have thought twice about her. The first time he saw her, the Australian quietly knocking on her door, he was terrified.

Y/n had been the first friend he made at McLaren. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Lando or his engineer, it was Y/n. Maybe it was because she was lonely herself, but the two had grown closer over the time he had been driving at McLaren, getting close enough for her to learn the real reason why he left Alpine in the way he did and him getting to understand the deep mess that was her and Lando. He never agreed with the way Lando treated her, but who was he to say anything? All he could do was sit off to the side and try to subtly comfort her when he made her feel unimportant.

Nevertheless, to walk into her apartment and see the state it was in as well as her dark eye bags and frail frame, Oscar was concerned. That morning he had coaxed her back to bed before making her breakfast, sitting with her on her mattress and making sure she ate every last bit. He had been so worried for her, he canceled his plans that day and cooked her every meal, fed her every snack, and, in between, watched the most outrageous reality TV he had ever seen.

Then, it became a routine.

He would show up at her apartment early in the morning to make breakfast with her before going on a long walk. Then, they’d come back, watch a movie and he’d have to leave, saddening, but not too much seeing as they both knew he’d be back in the night to make her dinner and lay her back in bed when she fell asleep on the couch after their reality TV show binge.

Then, somehow, feelings arose.

Oscar wasn’t sure when they developed, but one moment he was watching her laugh and thinking how happy he was to see that pretty sign of happiness on her face. After he recognized that, he continued to recognize how he always stayed late enough, no matter what time, that she fell asleep on his shoulder and he had to pick her up, wrap her in his arms, and lay her back in bed. He recognized how his hand constantly reached out for hers on walks when cars would fly so quickly past them and, for a split second, he became protective.

He wanted his feelings to stop, to not be real, because of Lando. However, the boy continued to date Luisinha even after everything that happened with Y/n, something Oscar was completely filled in on one night when Y/n began to sob to him about her inner turmoil.

It wasn’t until their feelings truly came out that Oscar realized there was no way he could push them down any longer, not when she loved him too.

It had been a peaceful Sunday night, one without the stressors of racing or work, just the two of them with full bellies glued next to each other on her couch, watching another stupid episode of Love Island.

Her head had been laying on his chest and his arms had been slung around her body, pulling her into him so unbelievably close. When a particular scene came on, the two girls and one guy yelling at each other because he had manipulated both of them into thinking he loved them both, Oscar noticed his shirt getting a bit wet. His eyes averted away from the TV, down to her, only to find her cheeks wet and her hands quickly wiping away the tears.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He whispered, hands rubbing her back gently.

She shook her head, sitting up to rest her elbows on her knees, “It’s nothing. Just their situation.”

It took him a moment to realize, but once he did, he was quick to wrap his arms back around her, “It reminds you of you and Lando.”

“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” His eyebrows furrowed at her response.

“What do you mean?”

She pulled away, eyes staring back at him deeply, “It’s just that- I feel so bad for the girl that had to go through all of that. I feel sad for the girl I was six months ago. I’ve moved on from the pain he caused, but I haven’t moved on from how broken that girl had been. She didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of that.”

He shook his head, his eyes watering at the thing he had been trying to convince her of all this time, “No, you didn’t. You never did.”

Their faces had been so close, with his arms still strongly wrapped around her and hers curled up in his chest. It was inevitable, truly, when he leaned in slightly, silently asking her if he could. When she nudged her nose against his, he let his body do the one thing he had been wishing for for as long as he had known her.

Kissing her was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was soft and needy, but greedy at the same time seeing as this had been something they both had clearly been suppressing for so long. His hands tangled in her hair, he pulled away just a bit, “I don’t think we should do this.”

She tilted her head, “Why?”

“Because of him. I mean, you’re in a fragile state. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, Oscar. You’re not. I got over what he did to me and the feelings I had for him months ago when I realized everything I ever wanted was right in front of me.”

Her eyes bore into his, inferring that he was everything she had ever wanted, yet he still seemed hesitant.

Sighing, she linked her hands around his neck, “Do you love me? Because I love you.”

Her words took the air out of his lungs, nodding vigorously, “Of course, I love you.”

Nudging her nose against his once more, “Then kiss me, Osc.”

It was the way she said his name. So gently, with so much love, that pushed him to throw caution to the wind and get his girl. He kissed her fervently, giving her everything he had, as she reciprocated every feeling. It was euphoric, the way they accepted each other, and when they had sex that night, slow and passionate, it was the exact same.

Waking up next to her, Oscar knew that he could never go back.

Lando’s opinion would never matter because the girl curled up in his chest deserved the world and the fact that Lando never saw that, well, that was on him.

—

LANDO’S POV

I had done this. I had pushed them together. I asked Oscar to check up on her because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.

Oscar’s voice rings in my head like a fucking reminder of everything I missed.

“I love her, mate. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, but me and her are going to give it a try. Whether you like it or not.” His words spit out, the image of them together the only thing in my head as he tries to break the news.

Putting on my best smile and hoping the regret doesn’t seep through, I say, “Nah, it’s good, Oscar. Have fun with her.”

He’s immediately visibly taken aback.

“That’s all you have to say?” He questions, suddenly my answer feels too informal, as if he hadn’t just taken away the one thing I’ve needed my entire life.

I nod, “Yeah, what else should I say?”

He scoffs, standing up, his demeanor shifting to something I have never seen from him, “Lando, you’re a fucking dumbass. ‘Have fun with her’? That’s fucking slimy. You talk about her like you didn’t almost cheat on your girlfriend with her. You talk about her like you didn’t take advantage of the feelings you knew she had for you. How do you not care about her?”

Standing up, I yell, “What do you want me to say?! Of fucking course, I care about her, Oscar! But, do you want me to say that to you?! You just told me you’re going to date my ex whether I liked it or not! There’s nothing to say!”

He shook his head, “First of all, she’s your ex-best friend, dickhead. Don’t get that shit twisted. You never got to love her like I do. Second of all, there should be something to say. In fact, I reckon you haven’t even apologized to her yet. Where’s the fucking apology?! You toyed with her for years and dropped her like that shit was easy. You completely ghosted her after almost telling her you loved her!”

I exhaled, so fucking tired of being reminded of the ways in which I lost her, of how I treated her. I’ll never be able to articulate it well, the shit mess I created and why, but, at least, I can understand it. I know I loved her. I know I love her. I know that will never change. And I know that I had been so stupidly confused on how in love with her I was, I pushed her away to the brink of loss.

“I’ve taken your relationship announcement well. Now, please get out of my apartment. I’m not interested in hearing another person's disappointment in the way I treated her. I hear it enough from myself.”

Oscar shook his head, keys jingling in his hand as he typed a quick message on his phone and walked to the door, “It’ll never be enough. You can’t be blamed for what you put her through enough. It’s fucking absurd you sleep at night.”

With that, he shut the door.

“I don’t sleep at night,” I mumbled.

—

THIRD PERSON POV

Oscar’s hand yanked open the driver’s seat door. Crouching down and getting in the car, he leaned over the console and kissed his girlfriend.

His hand gently on her back, she smiled, “How’d it go with him?”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her the fight he and Lando got into, simply smiling and kissing her again, “It went as well as it could.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she let out a giggle, “So, not good?”

Detaching from her and starting the ignition, he smiled, “That doesn’t concern you, love.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, looking out the window as he drove away, “I think it does considering it revolves around me.”

He laughed, his hand on her thigh, “The world doesn’t revolve around you,” He said in a singsong voice, joking along with her.

Her head reared to look at his side profile, faux astonishment, “Yes, it does.”

He glanced at her, his charming smile making her blush, “Yes, it does.”

—

LANDO’S POV

I had to find an escape somehow. I needed a way out of here. I couldn’t be here any longer and watch his hands on her, them being glued to her hips, as she laughed at his jokes and kissed his cheeks. I hate how perfect they are together. I hate how much more he makes her laugh and how much she smiles around him. I loathe how much better of a driver he is, how much everyone loves him, how much she loves him, I hate him because there’s nothing to hate about him, yet he has her, the one thing I had but stupidly lost, so I just detest the sight of him. He has everything I don’t have and more, it plagues me at night. He can give her so much more than I ever could’ve, and yet, I still find myself trying to figure out ways to get her back.

She was mine first, that should count for something right?

Nonetheless, I can’t stand it in this garage anymore. Their happiness, especially after having just broken up with Luisinha, makes me sick.

Walking the paddock, I try to spot the infamous red. Maybe Carlos can talk me out of this deep hole I’ve dug myself, maybe he can bring me back, even though no one has. The only person who could have the capability to build me back up again is her, it’s Y/n.

She’ll always be my lifeline.

I’m close to his room when I hear my name flood through the cracked door of Charles’ room.

“I just don’t understand how Lando fucked up so bad,” He says, words coming out quickly as if they had been on his tongue for so long.

Suddenly, Max’s voice pops through and the Red Bull driver says the sentence that I never wanted to hear out loud, “Yeah, exactly. It was so clear she loved him and he just threw it away because of another girl? Luisinha was sweet, but she wasn’t Y/n, and I sure as hell preferred Y/n to her. Y/n was perfect for Lando and I’m sad they didn’t work out, but have you seen how happy she is with Oscar?”

Their hurtful words continue as Charles lets out an agreeing hum, “Oh yeah. She’s been through so much, specifically with everything between her and Lando, you can tell she really loves him. You can tell he’s really good for her. I think it’s the stability and gentleness he’s showing her that makes the difference. With Lando, it was all up and down like a rollercoaster, but, with Oscar, it’s so apparent he just loves her and shows her everyday, something Lando never did.”

I feel the tears welling in my eyes as I take their analyses in.

He can’t be better for her than me. Y/n and I have always been destined for each other, how can one guy swoop in and change all of that? I will always love Y/n harder, that has to count for something.

Right?

—

It’s the expensive dates. That has to be the reason she’s so enthralled with him.

The pictures I scroll through on his Instagram of their quiet date night make me want to dig my own grave. A photo of his hand in hers; a photo of her smiling at the camera so big it looks as if he had said something sweet to her and caught her genuine reaction, a beautiful candid of a beautiful girl; a photo of them kissing in front of a fountain, her hand on his shoulder as she leans up to meet his lips.

It’s all too much.

I hate how much they mesh together and how big he makes her smile. I hate the fact that he has bigger muscles than me and a nicer car.

I hate it all.

As if to add salt in the wound, Oscar’s smiling face walks through the door, his body plopping down on the couch across from me as he sits next to Andrea and the two start talking.

“How’s Y/n?” Andrea asks, completely unaware of how sensitive I am to her name.

Oscar nods, “She’s great! I dropped her off at work this morning after we had breakfast in her apartment.”

Andrea wiggles his eyebrows, sexual innuendos on the tip of his tongue and I want someone to come take out my brain, so it could stop picturing him pleasuring her like he knows her body better than I do.

“So, you sleep at her house now?” Andrea says, chuckling.

Oscar laughs along with him as my heart tears straight down the middle, “We jump around between each other’s places. Some nights I sleep at hers, some nights she’ll sleep at mine. Really, it just depends on where we go for dinner the night before. If the place is closer to my house, then we end up there and vice versa.”

Andrea nods and smiles, oblivious to my presence, “That sounds like a good time.”

Oscar side eyes him and they both fall into a fit of giggles, Andrea waving his hands in the air as he says, “Not what I meant!”

Oscar nods, “No, I get what you mean. My mind is just dirtier now after spending so much time with her. My girlfriend is not for the pure. Every two seconds, she has some random sex joke ready.”

The words “my girlfriend” out of his mouth is what sends me over the edge.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” I say, standing up and causing a scene.

Oscar’s face hardens as he meets my position, “What’s with you?”

I shake my head, “You’re rubbing it in my face and you know it.”

He shrugs, “So, what if I am? A little guilt does you good after the shit you pulled.”

Finally, after the emotional build up, I yell, “I GET IT! I SCREWED THE FUCK UP! I UNDERSTAND I RUINED HER LIFE AND I RUINED MINE! YOU DON’T NEED TO SIT HERE AND MAKE IT KNOWN EVERY FIVE SECONDS! I CAN’T FUCKING STAND IT ANYMORE!”

Oscar fires back, “YOU DIDN’T RUIN HER FUCKING LIFE BECAUSE YOU NEVER HAD THAT HOLD ON HER. YOU FUCKING HURT HER. THAT’S IT. ALL ANYBODY EVER WANTED FROM YOU WAS AN APOLOGY AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING GET IT OUT. SO, YEAH, I’LL RUB IT IN YOUR FACE. MAYBE THAT WILL GET YOU TO REALIZE WHAT YOU LOST.”

Pushing him, “I DO KNOW WHAT I’VE LOST.”

He pushes me back, my feet stumbling when he yells, “REALLY? BECAUSE IT SURE AS HELL DOESN’T SEEM THAT WA-”

“ENOUGH.” My dad’s voice cuts through, his hands coming to rest on both of our chests.

His gaze is fiery as he levels us, “This has gone on for two long. You two are supposed to be a team. It’s not good for anyone when you fight this way. So, do everybody a favor and grow the fuck up. Act like the professional adults you are.”

The two of us seem to be scared enough to comply and, as my father walks out of the room, he stops in the threshold to turn around and stare at me.

“And, Lando?”

“Yes, dad?”

“Fucking apologize.”

—

THIRD PERSON POV

The knocking at Y/n’s door has her smiling. Feet pattering quickly against the floor, she flings it open.

“Osc! What are you doing he-” Her voice cuts off when her eyes land on Lando.

Her gaze turns icy and she closes the door slightly, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, just hear me out.”

The urgency in his voice has her sighing and opening the door, letting him in yet not letting him back into her heart.

He sets down the flowers he got her on the counter, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves swallow him whole.

“Just say it, Lando.” Her arms cross over her chest as his eyebrows furrow and he truly meets her gaze for the first time since he’s been there.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head.

“I know you love me and I know you came here to tell me that, to see if you still had a chance.” She says slowly, flashbacks of that night out on that Monaco street falling back into their brains. However, now, the tables have turned.

He nods, “Of course, I love you. I always have, Y/n. So, do I still have a chance?”

A silence falls over them as she stares at him, her eyes seemingly challenging him for whatever reason, before she exhales a breath and says, “Instead of stringing you along like you did to me so cruelly all those years, I’ll be 100% transparent with you. I do not love you anymore. I finally have found someone who cherishes every moment with me, who loves me no matter what. I don’t feel scared everyday that Oscar’s going to wake up one day and decide he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, and I know I’ll never have to be scared of that. That’s what love is, Lando. That’s what I wanted with you a year and a half ago, but you screwed that up. None of that was ever on me. You knew I loved you and instead of talking to me about it, you harbored that information, got a girlfriend, shoved it in my face, and then tried to tell me you loved me when I was at my most vulnerable. How fucking fucked up? It doesn’t matter if you’ve always loved me or if you continue to. I’ve found someone who gives me everything I’ve ever wanted and more without ever having to ask. I won’t take that for granted like you did. I never had any of that with you and I never will, which is okay because, frankly, I don’t want it with you anymore. So, I’m going to do what you should’ve done that night when I was drunk. I’m going to tell you that I don’t love you and that it’s time to move on because we both know our friendship never would’ve worked as anything more than that. You always wanted me to be your friend, there when you needed me, however you needed me. I was never going to be that for you long term and it’s crazy you ever thought I would’ve. But, that’s not the point anymore. The point is I don’t feel the same way about you and, instead of trying to cheat on the man I love the most, the man who never deserves that, I’m going to tell you to get out of my apartment because we were always destined to be over.”

Lando stands, speechless, on the other side of her kitchen table, taking in the words that completely destroyed his being.

He seems to drown in his tears as his mouth opens and closes, searching for something to say.

“How can Oscar be better than me?” He questions, the inquiry falling from his lips before he has time to realize he doesn’t want to know the answer.

Her answer is quick, “He loves me openly.”

Nodding, Lando leaves the flowers he knows are her favorite on the surface, opting to make his way toward the door as quickly as possible seeing as he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

When they reach the door, she opens it and gives him a soft smile, “I’m sorry for what you’re about to go through. It’s absolute shit, but you’ll get through it. I did. And, maybe, you’ll be as lucky as me to find your soulmate in the healing process.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.” He states, genuinely.

She smiles back at him, “Thank you.”

His tears freely fall down his face as he memorizes her face. It’s so at peace, he finally sees why Oscar is perfect for her. In the time he was with her, Lando never saw her this calm, this happy. Oscar brings out a side of her, a healthy side of her, that he never could have, something he would just have to come to terms with.

His walk back to the elevator after she gently sent him away is heavy. His chest feels constricted and his hands feel sweaty as the steel box takes him down floors. When he reaches the first one and steps out, his eyes catch the infamous papaya colors to his side. What he finds is Oscar standing, waiting for an elevator a few ways down with flowers in his hands. Her favorite ones, the ones Lando had just brought to her. His leg bounces as he eagerly waits for it to open and, when it does, he bolts into it.

No matter how hard Lando finds it to breathe, the knowledge that that is the man he leaves Y/n to is comforting.

Truly comforting.

End.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on Lacy. It truly means everything to me when it comes to the support you guys show my writing. I want to become an author, so the love helps build my confidence with the idea of showing the other, non-fanfiction works I have to publishing companies. Truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, thank you.

Tags: @cxcewg @luvrrish @f1enthusiastsstuff @loxbbg @allabouthappiness @mirrorball-6 @mineandneveryours @tpwkstiles @gaypoetsblog @itsjustkhaos @n7ytiri @eviethetheatrefreak @hood-jabi @ushygushybaby @dessxoxsworld @minkyungseokie @prettyisntprettyenough21 @what-is-happening-helpp @im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @milena2928-blog @amalialeclerc @hiraishua @scopeiguess @oosnapitskat

[in1-nutshell]

I know your on a break from requests but I don’t want to forget this one, so I’m just gonna leave it here till your back to taking requests ☺️

The butts and cons reacting to An adult buddy who is an archeologist and actively studies and learns the cybertronian language and history. A buddy who is in charge of a team that travels around the world too study history. And she has studied the cybertronian language so much that she can read and write it, she can sort of speak it aswell.

I can’t stop thinking about this, especially because I love the idea of a certain archivist (Optimus) and archeologist/historian buddy having little knowledge sharing conversations…..possibly romance 😏

But you do you boo

Tried going for a pre romantic vibe for this one. Optimus deserves a friend to just be himself around. Introvert to introvert levels of friendship. Lets see how Buddy navigates their friendship with Prime.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy the archivist and who studies Cybertronian culture with Optimus Prime

SFW, slight romantic, platonic, Human reader

Buddy was an archivist that worked alongside Agent Fowler. They met while they worked as a former spy for the government that retired that life to pursue their passion.

They met the bots with him.

“Autobots. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine that will be working with you. This is former agent Buddy.”--Fowler

“Why bring us a former agent, Agent fowler?”--Ratchet

“Because ratchet, they are in charge of learning about your culture and in charge of helping you all learn about Earth’s culture.”--Fowler

“…Are they okay?”—Bulkhead

Buddy staring intently at Optimus’s frame.

“What do you—Buddy, Buddy no—”--Fowler

Buddy locking eyes with Optimus.

Optimus locking optics on Buddy.

Both-- Introvert radar on: Potential Friend spotted.

“Well good luck with that. See you all in 5.”--Fowler

“Wait what do you mean? Agent? Agent!”--Ratchet

It was Budy’s job to get to know the giant aliens more. They would be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy learning about the bots culture. They had gotten to know the members of the misfit team through the years. Sure, it did lead to some misadventures along the way, especially when the kids came along…

“Beeep? (Buddy, can I ask you a question?)”—Bumblebee

“Sure Bee! What’s your question?”—Buddy

“Beeep bep bop? (What does ‘babygirl’ mean? I heard Miko saying that to Jack.)--Bumblebee

“… Where’s Miko?”—Buddy

Despite this, they especially hit it off with Optimus.

Buddy seemed to have awaken Orion Pax from time to time with their thirst for knowledge.

Prime and Buddy by the screens looking at Iacon records.

“By the Primes…”--Ratchet

“What is it?”--Arcee

“I think I know why Agent Fowler said, ‘good luck’.”--Ratchet

“Why? They seem to be fine? What harm is that?”—Arcee

“Do you think it’s in section 3ab part 4 sub article 15?”—Buddy

“No, maybe in section 3.4 ab part 5 sub article 16?”—Optimus

“Oh, true maybe its—“--Buddy

“There’s two of them now.”--Ratchet

The Prime is more than happy to share his planet’s culture alongside the rest of the team. But those moments are usually reserved for the two of them.

It was their thing.

Soon enough the kids and June came into the picture.

Buddy wasn’t going to lie and say it was easy to explain their job to them. But the sight on their faces when they would go in depth about a certain topic was priceless. It was always nice to have someone interested in this line of work.

“You know you can ask Bulkhead about this stuff, right?”--Buddy

“That’s right you can ask me about stuff.”--Bulkhead

“Yeah but some of the stuff you weren’t there and Buddy is pretty much a walking wiki page on Cybertronian history.”--Miko

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not? But thank?”--Buddy

“If you want history why don’t you ask Ratchet or Prime?”--Bulkhead

“I want a quick story not a university lecture.”--Miko

Now, did all this knowledge make them a bit bias about the war.

Yes, yes it did.

But Buddy wasn’t blind in the way stories go.

They secretly want the Cons input on the war and their beliefs. They have lost count of the number of times they have stood up for the bots against other humans.

The worst one came from June after she tried to take the kids away from the base and blaming the bots for letting them get hurt on their watch.

“June stop that right now!”--Buddy

“Why! They let the kids get hurt on their watch!”--June

“I understand your concern but let them off the hook a little okay!? They don’t have optics in the back of their helms you know!”--Buddy

“They still—”--June

“We are at war June! Whether you want to open your eyes to it or not! People are going to get hurt. No one can promise a safe return… no one can. So, for the love of Primus, June, shut it.”--Buddy

Optimus never saw the fury in Buddy’s eyes than in that moment. Nonetheless he is a bit grateful for them standing up while he tries to take that blame. The team does let Buddy know they appreciate them.

Buddy did get kidnapped one day by Megatron himself.

By the time the planned hostage negotiations were going to happen, Megatron had gotten a hit of nostalgia. It came in the form of his tiny hostage.

“So, you’re Megatron?”--Buddy

“Yes, I am. Now—”--Megatron

“Oh finally! You have no idea how long I’ve actually wanted to meet you.”--Buddy

“…What—”--Megatron

“I have so many questions to ask you and your cause.”--Buddy

“You want to know about the Decepticon cause?--Megatron

“Yes! I mean, I know pretty much what the autoboots have had to say, I want to know the war from your causes point of view. For example, how did it start? From what I heard, you wanted to bring a new change for your fellow Cybretronian were things were going to be better for everyone. And, not to embarrass you or anything, but I quoted some of your earlier works—”--Buddy

Megatron now looking at a smaller Orion Pax talking about his works.

“… Pax.”--Megatron

“I—what?”--Buddy

“You’re designation now is Pax.”--Megatron

“Oh I guess—”--Buddy

“Come with me Pax, I have plenty of Decepticon data pads that you can look over.”--Megatron

“Okay!”--Buddy

Megatron couldn’t bring himself to destroy the fleshy. They were an organic replica of how Orion Pax was before the war. Dare he say it, but he missed the smaller bot he once knew and grew to call brother. He can’t do it.

“Lord Megatron, may I be so bold—”--Starscream

“You may not.”--Megatron

“—as to ask you why the organic is doing with that data pad?”--Starscream

“They wanted to learn more about our cause, isn’t that right Pax?”--Megatron

“I finished with this one, may I have another one?”--Buddy

“Of course, Soundwave.”--Megatron

Soundwave passes another data pad to ‘Pax’.

“Thank you!”--Buddy

“…Did you name the organic Pax?”—Starscream

“Is that a problem Starscream?”—Megatron

“Of course not—“—Starscream

“Then silence. Come now Pax.”--Megatron

“All right then. Bye Soundwave! By Starscream!”—Buddy

“…What in the Pits…”—Starsceam

Megatron didn’t want to seem like a weakling to his army, so he decided to do the hostage video but as soon as he got what he came for, to split with Pax.

Optimus was furious to hear about Megatron’s negotiations and that he had Buddy. Everyone was angry and ready to get Buddy back. Prime is considering the possibility of cutting off more than Megatron’s arm this time around.

Everyone goes to the location where Megatron said the negotiations would be held.

Its to everyone surprise to see Buddy come out of the ground bridge with a little bit of scratches here and there.

“Buddy!”--Everyone

“Hey! How’s everyone?”--Buddy

“How did you escape?”--Ratchet

“Oh, I didn’t.”--Buddy

“You did not?”--Optimus

“No, actually I managed to strike a deal with ol’ Megs. I get to go back to you on the condition that I return to the Nemesis every month or so. And before you say anything, no details from either side.”--Buddy

“Well, we’re just happy your back.”--Bulkhead

Later…

“Hey Optimus.”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Optimus

“I didn’t know that Megatron had a soft spot for nerdy archivists.”--Buddy

“… Apparently he does.”--Optimus

“What are you guys talking about?”--Miko

“Lecture work.”--Buddy

[gothhabiba]

One thing that scares me about learning Arabic is that you have to choose a region that 'you're most interested in' and then learn the Arabic of that region. I feel like I can't, and don't want to, choose a region. I haven't ever travelled to the Arabic world, how am I supposed to choose whether I want to be able to understand the people of Morocco, Sudan or Jordan the most? It's really such a hard choice to make, especially because you have to make it relatively early on in your process of learning Arabic, if I understand right. Would you agree (as all the websites recommend) that it is best then to learn Egyptian Arabic so “everybody understands you“? I don't like this line of thinking so much because I'm coming to learn Arabic less to be understood and more to understand. It's just a hard thing for me and one that has put me off of starting to learn Arabic for a while now.

first of all phrases like "Arab world" aren't really beloved appellations, as many people in these regions are not Arabs and do not speak Arabic. many Moroccans came to speak an Arabic-derived dialect/language at home through a process of cultural conquest and may or may not consider themselves Arabs; others speak one of 3 groups of indigenous African languages. and there are also Kurds and stuff.

I can't speak for all Arabic speakers, but Egyptian Arabic is readily understood by most Moroccan Arabic speakers in part due to the fact that Egyptian teledramas and other programming is widely broadcast. a lot of Arabs (like, West Asian Arabs) make a big deal out of how incomprehensible they find Moroccan Arabic, but the thing is, part of that is probably genuine differences in the language and part of it is probably just racism (since Moroccan Arabic has been dirtied through its nature as an 'African' language yada yada)

I can tell you that I don't have much difficulty understanding Levantine, Egyptian, and Gulf speakers provided the Moroccan word I know for what they're saying is actually Arabic-derived (and not French or Tamazight or Spanish &c.). you just have to take all the vowels and half the syllables out of what they're saying and then you'll usually get it 😭

one thing that a lot of people recommend is learning Standard Arabic, and then learning a dialect from there. this approach is why you'll get people everywhere saying that Moroccan Arabic is the "hardest" dialect (that's nonsense, there's no reason for that to be true; what they mean is that it's the hardest to learn starting from a base of Standard Arabic, since it's allegedly the most different). however it's probably a good idea in general. Standard Arabic would allow you to read; to be broadly understood even if people think you sound like a newscaster; and understand most dialects once you get used to the pronunciation a little.

tl;dr: just pick something and start learning, I think you'll find that different dialects are more mutually intelligible than you might think

[hhorror-vacuii]

In my lit theory clas we discussed a certain key in which all literature (which is also a part of the gay&lesbian theory, one of the newer schools of thought in this field) could be read, and that is a so called homotext. A homotext is a text in which there is no need to have a homosexaul/romantic character appear – the most important aspect is if the figure „speaking” to us through the text is homosexual/romantic one (a figure speaking through the text is not necessarily the narrator, nor the author, but I simply do not want to turn this post into a lit theory lecture). All we need to know now is that this figure must appear to be closely woven into the text, and try to communicate with its recipients (the readers) through so called secret signs. To be able to discover this figure and its secret language we need to be extremely careful and meticulous during our readings, to try to uncover the mystery and solve what is almost a riddle. The theory of a homotext lists 5 signs we need to look for (I’m keeping the male-centric language, because it pertains to the books I’m going to discuss later):

Male body described in a peculiar manner. It means that the body might be very improtant, or described in great detail, or be the focus of the story, or be very different (extremely ugly or extremely beautiful, disfigured, unearthly, unhuman, not in keeping with the story etc. It would depend on each specific text, I imagine).

Eros and Thanatos – Love and Death – must be linked together somehow in the story.

A love triangle consisting of 2 men and 1 woman must appear. What is important (apprently) is that the men never consumate their own desires (there is no sex or love affair in the usual sense of the word) between them.

The action of the story moves at some point from a center to outskirts/peripheries. It means hiding, or abadonement, or a mystery disappearence etc.

The two men in question must share some secret reading between them – a language that only they two understand, or reading a book together, or one teaching something to the other etc. Something that pertains to reading and is specific to them only.

Because I was already in my D’Artagnan Romances insanity era by the time I was studying this, I began to look at the trilogy through the homotext lens and you might be either surprised or delighted, but the relationship between Athos and Aramis fulfils every point on that list and then some. Here goes:

1. Dumas did not really describe his characters in great detail, but he did describe some of their features, sometimes in such a great detail it comes off as a surprise to readers. Because I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why would we need all that he says about Athos’ beautiful hands, and handsome, noble face if we don’t even actually learn his name. Yet he describes the hands and nobility radiating from Athos as if his life depended on it. Aramis, on the other hand, has a bit more attention focused on his appearance, and for a reason, since he’s the pretty one. So much so that many adaptations only focus on that, because Aramis is also so many other things, but! He is described as short, strongly built and beautiful. There is also a great amount of instances of his blushing in the first book, or of his biting his lip in the third one (to say nothing of his habit of pinching his ears so that they are read, and putting his hands upwards so that they look white, or of his almond paste he uses to make himself look, again, pale and beautiful. He is extremely foused on his appearence). He is, on the whole, percieved through the way he looks to the world, which is deceptive to the readers (and his fellow characters), because while he may look angelic, his nature is decidedly more sinister. Another amazing detail – which @widevibratobitch made me aware of in her amazing tags one day – is that, being a man in a certain epoch and place, Aramis was all but required to sport a mustache; but his’ is very small and thin (and he kept it that way even when the fashion changed, it was mentioned in Twenty Years After if I recall properly), which points again in the same direction: Aramis is a man, and does a lot of typically manly things like being a soldier, being a priest and so on. But he is also feminine-coded, and in such a way that it must have been obvious to anyone who knew him: ’Aramis, you know,’ continued Athos, ‘is naturally cold, and then he is always involved in intrigues wih women.’

2. Eros and Thanatos, linked together, are what plagues Athos from the very beggining of the first book (even if we don’t know this at first, there are signs: mostly in the fact that he does not have a mistress and is a melancholy drunk etc.), and that is the easiet point to make. But there are more. First of all, they all are linked with death by profession, but only Aramis and Athos became Musketeers because they killed someone, or believed they killed someone. Their new paths in life are therefore marked by both Eros and Thanatos – the women they were besotted with and the subsequent deaths they caused. Neither of them has a lover is what we believe at first, because Athos truly does not have anyone and Aramis plainly states he is following in his footsteps (lying through his teeth, of course). There is also another thing: while in world of the novel d’Artagnan must have learned all of his friends’ true names, presumably once he became the lieutenant, the readers were kept in the dark right until the moment d’Artagnan observes the rendez-vous beetwen Aramis and madame de Longueville. We learn his christian name is Rene through her lips (Eros), and d’Artagnan’s ears (Thanatos, since that was the decisive moement in their relationship and shifted d’Artagnan from fondness to disdain); not to mention the name itself means born again, which is as much a jab at his life and profession, as a thing linking him with death (Aramis is the only one who kills with pleasure, and one could argue intrigues – at times resulting in very violent outcomes – are his pastime). I find it interesting, that in the second book (which is when the relationship between them both starts to get truly interesting) Athos likewise has begun a new life, and that new life means for him an increased acquaintance with Aramis, with whom he stayed in contact, while the contact with Porthos and d’Artagnan was either severed or lost altogether.

3. This is arguably the funniest point on that list: Aramis is a lover of Marie de Rohan, duchess de Chevreuse, ever since the beggining of the novels, which comes about very quickly, and is even a source of amusement (plus a spiritus movens) – Athos meanwhile disdains women. But in Twenty Years After we learn that he has gotten a son, and then we learn that Raoul’s moter is Marie de Chevreuse. With whom he slept because he thought she was a man at first, but that does not change the fact Marie is the woman in this equation, linking Aramis and Athos together, linking them even more than what is needed in the theory, since they both slept with her. There is also a smaller instance of Aramis repeating the very words madame de Longueville told him at the beggining of the book to Athos at the end of it (yes, it’s a political statement, but what we focus on is that Dumas chose to repeat this phrase between two lovers and put them in an exchange of two-perhaps-lovers).

4. So we all know that at the end of the first book Aramis takes some sudden trip to Lorraine and hen he up and disapears and then becomes a priest, and Athos inherits a property and leaves Paris as well, if in less mysterious circumstances. But how does this move the plot if it happens at the end of the novel? Well, in my opinion, it moves the plot to recenter it in the second book with a much richer configuration. The whole of the first book is so to speak through d’Artagnan’s gaze, and in terms of reading and getting to see the story develop it is rather constraining. Twenty Years After – not to mention this silent, 20 years long, break they took – allows the character more movement, and it creates new paths their relations ar taking. Aramis and Athos have both moved away from the capital, and it allowed them more room for growth together – which is why they are now frondists together and honestly, in no book of the three but this one is their relationship so fully developed, folly portrayed and so interesting to discover. And in terms of just Aramis, his life changing from the king’s bodyuard to a priest (so from a sort-of public life to a more private one, moving to the outskirts of the material world) is what allows them to build his character in the third volume, which resonates with Athos’ story a little bit, because his status as a bishop with realistic expectations ofbecoming a cardinal later in life moves him a little bit closer to Athos’ status as an aristocrat.

5. This one might be a stretch, but I don’t care: they are the only two of the four who speak Latin. (But also! In Twenty Years After they exchange letters d’Artagnan is not privy to – they are even kept from him on purpose – and these letters are secret, because they are rebels.)

[absolutebl]

Thai Names & BL

Why SO Weird (to Westerners)

You're looking for information on the Thai chue len.

We might say "nickname" but the actual translation is "play name." And it's what an anthropologist might call a "use name." So this is the name you go by IRL, not necessarily your legal name.

First I should say that this is a lot more common than westerns realize, even in our own past. Many Roman women, for example, we know operated under what amounts to a chue len. And it was probubly quite common among the lower classes in Ancient Egypt and Greece, too. But since the poor and females are chronically understudied there isn’t a ton of data (or written records, for that matter).

The chue len has to do in part with the history of names in Thailand, and the fact that until relatively recently most people only had a given name and a chue len, and then when government regulations went into effect mandating a last names it quickly became really complicated.

You can read a great article on Thai naming conventions here. It’s fun to learn about. I highly recommend it. And I am going to assume you did read it and now talk only about the bits left out and odd. 

The bit most BL watchers ask me about is answered in this statement: 

“Many Thai nicknames are derived from English words. They may be English sounding names (such as ‘Anna’) or more obscure words that are chosen for their meaning, e.g. Book (symbolising intelligence), Bank (symbolising wealth).”

However, like most English words used in Thai, they aren’t pronounced the way we would pronounce them. (Hell when have you ever heard an American pronounce something like a Brit, anyway?) 

One amusing example is “bur” which is Thai for “phone number.” It’s our word, but they made it... better. You can watch Dean ask for Pharm’s digits using just this one word (in the scene where he drops him off for the first time in UWMA). 

What the article doesn't say about chue len is that sometimes they are chosen for fun/silly as a baby name (like fatty) and then changed by the person themselves at any point in their life. 

You can opt to change your chue len whenever you want, since it's not a legal name. Also its not uncommon to have different ones with different groups (so one for friends, another for family, one for the public if you’re a celebrity, another for your lover). 

Daonuea (literally starnorth AKA Polaris or the Northstar) in Star in My Mind does this, he uses two: Nuea with friends, Dao with intimates.

I hope you can see how in a language where you use your OWN NAME for the I pronoun regularly, this is VERY easy to do?

Also, the article doesn’t say that a chue len can also be based on a popular band/idol/actor at the time of birth. I understand from my Thai bestie that Golf/Gulf was one of these for a while back in the 90s? I think.

Anyway, I also found Thai names odd to start, now I barely notice or register. Partly because what we read in English captions often doesn’t really sound like what’s being said.

For example, both Tine & Type sound the same to me, like Tyyyyee.

Also I amuse myself with wondering how they got that name. Like if a baby is named Bbomb - erm, did they blow out their diaper all the time? Probubly not because that’s very English culture specific, but I’m still amused. Was War a really violent child? Are all those Flukes happy accidents? Why is Gameplay called Gameplay? Was he a big gamer who chose it for himself? Or did his parents get together because of an in-game romance?

It’s fun to think about the reason, because there usually is one. 

There’s another naming convention the article doesn’t really talk about, which is all the chue lens amongst siblings often either rhyme (e.g. Win & Lin in Cupid’s Last Wish) or start with the same letter. Thai BL Kpop idol Bambam of GOT7 talks about this (he and his sibs all have B names). And also, hilariously, the fact that he actually doesn’t know his own brother’s given name because they have always just used the chue len with each other so he never had to learn it.

Some actors will take and go by (at least for a time) a more western sounding name (Phoom --> Pavel) but you’ll hear their Thai friends using their Thai name or a different chue len (much like some Korean idols). Others will go by a Thai name for in country work (Stewart --> Perth). 

There is an episode of 2022′s Safe House where GMMTV actors all talk about their use names and where they come from and their siblings names etc... but no one ever translated it and I’m a dumbass who didn’t save that ep to link, sorry.

Here on Tumblr we tend to tag actors by their chue len + given name, partly because many actors choose that as their social media handles on IG etc... 

Finally, you can watch Perth talk about some of this here on his YT channel.

from a question from @doorajar​ 

(source)

[snek-panini]

It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

[themaribatpit]

The Lost Wayne: Chapter 4

Synopsis: On the night of her parents’ anniversary, Marinette was shocked to learn that all this time, she had been the long forgotten daughter of an American businessman named Bruce.  When she is given the chance to visit him that summer, she learns that she’ll also be spending the summer with his many other children.

Rated T: Language

Ships: Gen

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! It has been a while, and not helped by the fact that I’ve been busy with life stuff. DC Boy and I take time to brainstorm, edit, proofread, and we do it together. We’ve got continuations of ongoing stories coming, plus some other ideas that have been sitting in notes apps and Google Docs for a while now. This community of people who enjoy this crossover have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we appreciate your patience as we return to trying to post fanfic chapters more regularly. - Maribat Girl

Taglist: @laurcad123, @k8s-things, @miyatalksshit, @raeuberprinzessin, @jeminiikrystal, @jjmjjktth, @tinybrie, @angelwreckedd, @talia-scar123, @maybeanalien0-0, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @timetravelassasin, @its-maemain,  @lex-am, @iloontjeboontje, 

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Next morning, Marinette walked down to an empty dining room. She awkwardly took a random seat and sat quietly for a few moments; she hoped that the family would join her for breakfast. After about 10 minutes she gave up waiting for them, “Um, Alfred?” she asked in what she assumed to be an empty room. Alfred, almost by magic, appeared before her with breakfast. 

“Good morning, Miss Marinette,” he greeted, “Today’s breakfast is an assortment of pastries and a cup of chocolat chaud.” 

“Thank you, Alfred, where is everyone?” Marinette asked as she gestured to the empty table.

“Ahem, Master Bruce is a late riser as he is usually up late. Master Dick returned late last night, so he won’t be up until later. Master Jason stayed up into the night reading, so he won’t be down for breakfast either. Master Tim has been awake for over 48 hours and I've made him rest. Miss Cassandra has left early for ballet practice, and Master Damian has fencing practice and would rather not be disturbed,” Alfred recited, his explanations prepared long beforehand. 

“Oh,” Marinette muttered, “All right then.”

“You know, every month, we all gather and chip in to help the people of Gotham. Master Dick will be going to local orphanages tomorrow. Why, Master Damian goes to the animal shelters every week. Would you like to follow me to help give food to the homeless?” Alfred offered.  Marinette blinked for a moment as she tried to picture Damian, with his usual sour scowl, being surrounded by cute animals.

“That sounds great Alfred, would…would anyone mind?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all,” Alfred said before leaving. 

Later, Marinette sat in the back of the limousine with a few baskets beside her, all filled to the brim with sandwiches made by Alfred. Her heart sank the deeper she went into Gotham City. She could never truly get used to the state of the city. “Where are we?” Marinette asked.

“Gotham City’s East End,” Alfred answered, “where most of the unfortunate souls reside.”

The car slowly came to a stop in front of a small alleyway. The entire street grew silent as everyone focused on the car. It wasn’t everyday a luxury car came to this part of Gotham, it attracted all sorts of attention. Alfred got out first and locked the car, and as he walked towards the side to open the door for Marinette, he was accosted by a man.

“Nice ride old man, wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to it.” The man spoke with a malicious glint in his eye. 

“Let’s keep this amicable, Gentlemen. Please go away.” Alfred answered monotonously.

One man drew his arm back for a punch, only for Alfred to deliver a swift kick to the groin. The man instantly collapsed and writhed on the floor. Alfred opened the door and Marinette nervously stepped out and watched the man on the floor in worry and pity. She whispered a quick apology to the man. People on the street began to gossip, was this girl the heiress to a crime family? Gossip began to die down as Alfred gave them a stern glare, and people began going about their business.

Alfred quickly collected the baskets, “Miss Marinette, please stay close.” Marinette followed Alfred through the streets until they reached a shanty town filled with children. 

Marinette gasped at the ragged children living on the streets and took an unconscious step back. Tears pricked her eyes for a moment as she saw the conditions they lived in, but this was replaced with a determination as she walked up to them and offered a sandwich. The children eyed her suspiciously, the closest one slapped her hand aside. “How stupid do you think we are?!”

Marinette froze at the hostility coming from the children, “But…I…” she stammered.

Another child shouted, “That's how they kidnapped Bob and Bill last week, two people came in dressed as the Mayor's Homeless Outreach Project. They threw Mackey through a window and even killed old man Steve.” 

Marinette began to panic as the children of Alleytown began to yell at her. "All right, that's enough," a voice behind her boomed and all the children were silent. Marinette looked back to see Jason standing behind her.

“Jason?” Marinette said in shock, “What are you doing here?”

“I just happen to be around," he said unconvincingly. He turned to the children, “She’s with me,"

“Well well, if it isn’t Jason Todd, what brings you and your friend to Alleytown?” a voice came from nearby. Marinette turned around to see a blonde woman perched on the sill of an open window with one leg crossed over the other. 

"Holly," Jason greeted plainly, "Marinette's a friend visiting from Paris. She just wants help out while she's in town." Marinette felt a twinge of shame, did Jason not refer to her as family out of contempt? She looked down at the floor, unable to meet Jason's eyes. "She's one of the good few, trust me."

Marinette looked up tentatively at Jason. She wasn't sure how to react, but here he was vouching for her to strangers. "I brought some food…" she said as she held out a sandwich.

Holly leaped off the window sill and landed in a roll, she strolled towards Marinette and picked up the sandwich offered to her. Marinette seemed a little startled by the ease with which Holly managed to do that. "Well, don't mind if I do," she said as she took a bite. Marinette nervously looked at Holly chewing, all the Alleytown kids stared too, suspicion still in their glares. "Hey, this is good. Come on and have some," she told the kids. In a split second their suspicious glares disappeared and the kids crowded around Marinette for free food. 

The children swarmed and overwhelmed Marinette, she frantically gave everyone sandwiches.

They then quickly dispersed back into hiding after taking their portion, Marinette, Jason and Alfred were then left alone. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“Would you like a lift home, Master Jason?” Alfred asked as he gestured to the limousine.

“Sure, why not?” Jason shrugged. Alfred got into the driver’s seat and Jason joined Marinette in the back. Marinette sat quietly beside Jason, refusing to make eye contact with him. Instead she preferred to stare at her feet the entire ride home.  As the car made its way back to Wayne Manor, there was a deafening silence in the back seat.  Marinette felt like her siblings simultaneously wanted nothing to do with her, and yet one of them was nice enough to vouch for her back there.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked bluntly. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Marinette snapped back.

Jason sighed and crossed his arms, “For the last two days, you looked as if someone kicked your puppy. Didn't think Gotham would make you miserable that quickly.”

“What's it to you?” Marinette asked, almost grumpily. 

“Because there's only room in that manor for one miserable person and that's usually Bruce. And it seems like you inherited Bruce’s ability to brood for days too. Now are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Did I do something wrong?" Marinette whispered, her voice slightly cracked.

Jason looked at her in confusion. "Do you even think of me as family at all?"

"Is it because I called you a friend back in Alleytown?" Jason asked, Marinette nodded.

"It's something the public isn't ready for yet, it's to protect you. The moment someone finds out, you can kiss goodbye any privacy you have." Marinette nodded slowly as she processed Jason's words. "If it makes you feel any better, you're probably the only normal kid Bruce has," Jason said offhandedly, only to suddenly grimace. He swore internally at the careless remark. Marinette perked up at Jason's comment and looked towards him curiously. "Dick, Tim and I are all orphans. Unlike those two, I grew up on the streets similar to the kids you helped back there. Eventually we were all adopted by Bruce, one way or another. Cass ran away from an abusive home, and Damian’s mom travels around a lot.” he recounted, carefully wording it with half-truths. “And even though Steph has her mom and isn’t adopted, her dad was always in and out of jail."

Tears began to form around Marinette's eyes as she listened closely to her siblings' life stories. By comparison, her mother and father cared for her all her life, she couldn't even begin to comprehend what they have all been through. 

Jason sighed and pondered what he could do to calm Marinette down. After a few moments of tolerating Marinette’s crying, he tentatively placed a hand on her head. “Still, you did good. Not many people would reach out to help the children of Alleytown. I’m sure it meant a lot to them.” 

“Thanks…”Marinette sniffed. “I just did what I felt was right.”

Jason’s face changed to one of annoyance, though he turned to look outside the window. He groaned internally, at the very least Marinette wasn’t a Robin or a superhero of any kind. He was sure the very first thing she would do would be to jump in front of a bullet out of pure selflessness. 

Early the next morning, not long before sunrise, the family sat around Batman. "I have bad news…"

"Well, that's ominous," Nightwing quipped.

"Just get on with it," said Red Robin.

"Marinette has caught the attention of Vicki Vale," Batman admitted, the entire room erupted in groans. "Quiet." Batman ordered. "Alfred and I have discussed it and we decided we should take the initiative. We have agreed to reveal Marinette but on our own terms."

Alfred spoke up, "We hope to cultivate a positive reputation for Miss Marinette and her family in Paris. Who knows what nonsense these tabloids can spew."

"So that's why you suggested to her to give food out yesterday," Red Hood summarised.

Alfred nodded, "Yes, I took photos too.”

“Any suggestions?” Batman asked.

Spoiler rubbed her chin for a few moments, being the only person in the group who actually reads tabloids of her own free will. “Why not a photo shoot? Have her look her best.” 

Alfred took out his notebook and began writing. “Not a bad idea. I was considering a debutante ball or a formal introduction at the next gala. Though, she will require etiquette lessons.”

Red Robin raised his hand stiffly, “Will there be an interview?” he asked.

Batman nodded in response, “Yes, Ms. Vale is asking for one.” 

“Then I suggest it be pre-recorded then broadcasted, or at the very least a strict script for both Marinette and Vicki to follow,” Alfred suggested.

Nightwing sighed and facepalmed, “I hate the paparazzi,” he groaned. “This is our fault for not being careful. We need to make sure her and her family’s reputation stays intact.” 

Red Hood laughed, he grabbed Nightwing by the shoulder and with his free arm waved across the space in front of them “I can see the headlines ‘Gotham's Homewrecker!’” Nightwing elbowed Red Hood in the ribs. “Come on, this is exactly the kind of shit to expect.” 

“He’s got a point,” Oracle chimed from the screen, “The Gotham Gazette can be ruthless.” 

"Then it's settled, I'll break the news to her later," said Batman.

After another quiet breakfast alone, Marinette quickly went back to her room. She curled up and sat on her bed, her knees against her chest.

"Are you okay?" Tikki asked.

"I want to trust my family, to trust my father and siblings. I want to believe in Dick, Steph and the others. It's just…been hard, especially with what we saw out there."

"Hmm, I understand how you feel. Maybe it is just your father, after all, he did mention most of the others were adopted,” Tikki remarked, “Besides, Dick, Cass and Steph seem nice."

"You might be right Tikki. Who knows, maybe the adoptions were publicity stunts,"  Marinette said.

There was a knock on her door, Tikki quickly flew into Marinette's sleeve. "May I come in?" asked Bruce from outside. Marinette slapped her hand over her mouth, worried that he heard what she just said. She shakily opened the door slightly to peer out.

Bruce gave her a polite smile, "Good morning, how are you?" 

"I'm g-good" she stammered as she opened her door to let him in. Bruce stood inside for a few quiet moments, he ran his hand through his hair nervously. This in turn made Marinette more nervous. 

Bruce broke the uncomfortable silence, "It seems, the paparazzi found out about you," Marinette's eyes widened and was about to speak before Bruce interrupted her. 

"I've decided that, if we don't have a choice, we need to make sure your introduction is flawless."  Marinette quietly nodded as she listened to her father. "Alfred will provide you the details, and he will give you lessons on etiquette. We have a photo shoot planned and you'll be formally introduced during the next gala." 

Marinette continued to nod, an awkward silence enveloped the room again. "Just be careful, gossip magazines can be ruthless. This may also affect your family," Burce said ominously.

Marinette didn't respond, she just looked down at the floor. Bruce checked his watch, "I'm sorry, I have an appointment soon. See you later,” Bruce then quickly left the room. He had hoped he conveyed the message to Marinette that all this was for her sake. 

Once he was out of earshot, Marinette slumped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. Tikki flew out and tried to console her. "I can't believe it, that jerk! Now that his secret love child has been revealed he expects me to be the perfect child? All for what? To protect his reputation?!" 

She sighed deeply, before turning on her TV, she flipped through the channels, and froze as the news came on screen. “Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” the reporter yelled as she pushed through the crowd. The cameraman followed the best he could, the camera shook as he pushed past the large group of people gathering. The view slowly came into focus and she saw her father in a fancy suit, scantily clad models on either side, his arms over their shoulders. She didn’t have the energy to be any more shocked, she could only stare at the screen blankly. Watching billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne appear before a large crowd at some party. He was chatty, sociable, flirty, he winked towards the camera with a bright smile. It was as if he was a completely different person in public. Frankly, it made Marinette feel uneasy and reaffirmed her earlier beliefs, Bruce Wayne was someone who valued his reputation above all else. And it made her sick.  The interview that followed was vapid and uninteresting, though she was amazed to see her father acting like an absolute airhead.  She stared in shock as she watched her father act like a loveable fool for the cameras, she was almost impressed by his acting. 

"Why don't you go for a walk, try to clear your mind?" Tikki suggested. Marinette signed and nodded, she got up and left her room. 

She wandered the empty halls of Wayne Manor aimlessly. She spent much of her time staring at the floor instead of its architecture. Fear began to slowly creep up as she thought what would happen when word got out, what would happen to her? Her friends? Her parents? Would an angry mob try to burn down the bakery? Just as her anxiety began to spiral she noticed a familiar pair of shiny shoes in front of her. She looked up to see Alfred in a frilly apron dusting a few portraits.

"Ah, what brings you here Miss Marinette?" asked Alfred as he worked. 

Marinette took a closer look at the portrait, some man who, from what she gathered, passed centuries ago. The entire length of the hall was decorated with portraits of serious looking men. Their stares felt judgmental, as if all her ancestors deemed her unworthy. "Uh, I just wanted to know who the people in all of these portraits are," she said.

"These are portraits of all the heads of the House of Wayne, starting all the way back to 1640 with Nathaniel Wayne," Alfred explained as he walked to the corresponding portrait. 

"The Waynes have been here for that long?"

"Indeed, the Waynes have been around since the founding of the old Gotham Town. By the way, has your father told you about your predicament?" Marinette nodded. "Good, first we should focus on your photoshoot and interview. I've arranged an appointment at the tailor's later and asked Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie to join us."

"Actually," Marinette interrupted, "I was wondering if maybe I could design my own dress for the event? In fact I did design something for Gabriel Agreste." Marinette thought this might save her from being poked and prodded by a seamstress while everyone argued over what would look best on her.

"Why, that's wonderful" Alfred said with a smile, "we can just get the fabric as well as any tools you may need. Why don't you wait for Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie in the living room?"

Alfred opened the door and ushered Marinette into the living room, she froze slightly as she saw Tim sitting on a sofa. He seemed busy as he worked on his laptop. Marinette awkwardly walked in and sat across Tim, on a different sofa. The two sat in silence until Cass and Steph walked in.

"Hiya Marinette," said Steph as she entered while Cass gave her a wave. "Ready to go shopping with us?" 

Marinette glanced over at Alfred, who gave her an encouraging nod, before walking towards them.  The two girls ushered her out of the room, waving back at Alfred behind them.

Before they walked out, Marinette said, "I was hoping to make my own clothes, I want to be a fashion designer. I even designed something for Agreste Fashion."

"What? no way, what did you design for Gabriel Agreste?" Steph asked excitedly as she sat beside Marinette.

"Sorry, wait, you designed something for Agreste Fashion?" Tim said as he looked up from his laptop.

Marinette nodded, "Yeah, it was for a competition at school. My design was featured on the front page of a magazine," She took out her phone and showed them the photos of her hat in various stages of production along with the front page with Adrien as the model. Everyone crowded around Marinette's phone to take a look at the hat she designed. "I also embroidery my signature into it, as proof of authenticity." She turned her phone upside down and lo and behold the golden etching spelled her name.

Everyone's jaws dropped, as Marinette's name was spelled clearly in the hat.  The three of them crowded around her phone screen to get a better look.  Marinette was starting to get overwhelmed from their excitement, she took a step back to try to compose herself. Lucky for her, Alfred had stepped in just in time. "Ahem, shall we make our way to the tailor's?"

Tim had decided to join their shopping trip at the last minute, Marinette sat quietly unsure as she hadn't really interacted with him other than mealtimes. Steph and Cass conversed with each other, it was more like Steph doing the talking for both of them.

"So other than fabrics, what else do you need?" Tim asked.

"Um, let's see…" Marinette thought of what she may need, she considered her budget based on the pocket money she brought with her. "Some pencils, a ruler, thread, needle…" she listed.

Tim listened intently, before turning to Alfred. "Alfred, do we have any empty rooms near Marinette's for her to work her dress?"

"Yes, Master Timothy, there is an old unused study near her bedroom," Alfred responded quickly without even taking his eyes off the road.

Shopping at the tailor's became a blur for Marinette, she was introduced to many materials, each with their own pattern. She struggled to decide which to pick as she didn't have inspiration just yet, she was a very long way away from the place in Paris where she used to sit and sketch out  her best ideas. Normally her work would be based on the materials available to her, yet this new found freedom of choice made it hard to pick a specific fabric. At Tim's suggestion, they purchased almost all the fabric available at the shop. Tim even offered to pay for it all, much to Marinette's surprise, she tried to stammer a protest that this was too much but she was cut off by the others.

Next came the tools, she asked for a simple set much like hers back home. A needle and some thread, with some basics like pencils and rulers. Just like earlier, Tim had again purchased all the tools needed, an entire sewing machine, a mannequin, tables, chairs, racks and shelves for all the fabric. 

After a long and hectic day of selecting everything she needed to make her dress, that and so much more, she sat in her new workshop in awe.  Her workshop looked like a professional tailor, in fact even better equipped than the tailor she went to earlier that day. She slowly walked around, examining each and everything in the room, Tikki quietly followed behind her. Marinette reached out to touch a piece of the fabric, vicuña wool, the world’s most expensive fabric. Beside it, a large roll of guanaco, she ran her hands through the roll of the finest wool she had ever seen. But at what cost? Perhaps this was their way of showing their support and helping her, at the same time, it felt like she was cheating her way to the top. It felt like a dream come true, she now had a studio beyond her wildest dreams. But at what cost? She now had to make a dress like her life depended on it.

[moose-mousse]

So I made an app for PROTO. Written in Kotlin and runs on Android.

Next, I want to upgrade it with a controller mode. It should work so so I simply plug a wired xbox controller into my phone with a USB OTG adaptor… and bam, the phone does all the complex wireless communication and is a battery. Meaning that besides the controller, you only need the app and… any phone. Which anyone is rather likely to have Done.

Now THAT is convenient!

( Warning, the rest of the post turned into... a few rants. ) Why Android? Well I dislike Android less than IOS

So it is it better to be crawling in front of the alter of "We are making the apocalypse happen" Google than "5 Chinese child workers died while you read this" Apple?

Not much…

I really should which over to a better open source Linux distribution… But I do not have the willpower to research which one... So on Android I stay.

Kotlin is meant to be "Java, but better/more modern/More functional programming style" (Everyone realized a few years back that the 100% Object oriented programming paradigme is stupid as hell. And we already knew that about the functional programming paradigme. The best is a mix of everything, each used when it is the best option.) And for the most part, it succeeds. Java/Kotlin compiles its code down to "bytecode", which is essentially assembler but for the Java virtual machine. The virtual machine then runs the program. Like how javascript have the browser run it instead of compiling it to the specific machine your want it to run on… It makes them easy to port…

Except in the case of Kotlin on Android... there is not a snowflakes chance in hell that you can take your entire codebase and just run it on another linux distribution, Windows or IOS…

So... you do it for the performance right? The upside of compiling directly to the machine is that it does not waste power on middle management layers… This is why C and C++ are so fast!

Except… Android is… Clunky… It relies on design ideas that require EVERY SINGLE PROGRAM AND APP ON YOUR PHONE to behave nicely (Lots of "This system only works if every single app uses it sparingly and do not screw each-other over" paradigms .). And many distributions from Motorola like mine for example comes with software YOUR ARE NOT ALLOWED TO UNINSTALL... meaning that software on your phone is ALWAYS behaving badly. Because not a single person actually owns an Android phone. You own a brick of electronics that is worthless without its OS, and google does not sell that to you or even gift it to you. You are renting it for free, forever. Same with Motorola which added a few extra modifications onto Googles Android and then gave it to me.

That way, google does not have to give any rights to its costumers. So I cannot completely control what my phone does. Because it is not my phone. It is Googles phone.

That I am allowed to use. By the good graces of our corporate god emperors

"Moose stares blankly into space trying to stop being permanently angry at hoe everyone is choosing to run the world"

… Ok that turned dark… Anywho. TLDR There is a better option for 95% of apps (Which is "A GUI that interfaces with a database") "Just write a single HTML document with internal CSS and Javascript" Usually simpler, MUCH easier and smaller… And now your app works on any computer with a browser. Meaning all of them…

I made a GUI for my parents recently that works exactly like that. Soo this post:

It was frankly a mistake of me to learn Kotlin… Even more so since It is a… awful language… Clearly good ideas then ruined by marketing department people yelling "SUPPORT EVERYTHING! AND USE ALL THE BUZZWORD TECHNOLOGY! Like… If your language FORCES you to use exceptions for normal runtime behavior "Stares at CancellationException"... dear god that is horrible...

Made EVEN WORSE by being a really complicated way to re-invent the GOTO expression… You know... The thing every programmer is taught will eat your feet if you ever think about using it because it is SO dangerous, and SO bad form to use it? Yeah. It is that, hidden is a COMPLEATLY WRONG WAY to use exceptions…

goodie… I swear to Christ, every page or two of my Kotlin notes have me ranting how I learned how something works, and that it is terrible... Blaaa. But anyway now that I know it, I try to keep it fresh in my mind and use it from time to time. Might as well. It IS possible to run certain things more effective than a web page, and you can work much more directly with the file system. It is... hard-ish to get a webpage to "load" a file automatically... But believe me, it is good that this is the case.

Anywho. How does the app work and what is the next version going to do?

PROTO is meant to be a platform I test OTHER systems on, so he is optimized for simplicity. So how you control him is sending a HTTP 1.1 message of type Text/Plain… (This is a VERY fancy sounding way of saying "A string" in network speak). The string is 6 comma separated numbers. Linear movement XYZ and angular movement XYZ.

The app is simply 5 buttons that each sends a HTTP PUT request with fixed values. Specifically 0.5/-0.5 meter/second linear (Drive back or forward) 0.2/-0.2 radians/second angular (Turn right or turn left) Or all 0 for stop

(Yes, I just formatted normal text as code to make it more readable... I think I might be more infected by programming so much than I thought...)

Aaaaaanywho. That must be enough ranting. Time to make the app

[blubberquark]

Language Models and AI Safety: Still Worrying

Previously, I have explained how modern "AI" research has painted itself into a corner, inventing the science fiction rogue AI scenario where a system is smarter than its guardrails, but can easily outwitted by humans.

Two recent examples have confirmed my hunch about AI safety of generative AI. In one well-circulated case, somebody generated a picture of an "ethnically ambiguous Homer Simpson", and in another, somebody created a picture of "baby, female, hispanic".

These incidents show that generative AI still filters prompts and outputs, instead of A) ensuring the correct behaviour during training/fine-tuning, B) manually generating, re-labelling, or pruning the training data, C) directly modifying the learned weights to affect outputs.

In general, it is not surprising that big corporations like Google and Microsoft and non-profits like OpenAI are prioritising racist language or racial composition of characters in generated images over abuse of LLMs or generative art for nefarious purposes, content farms, spam, captcha solving, or impersonation. Somebody with enough criminal energy to use ChatGPT to automatically impersonate your grandma based on your message history after he hacked the phones of tens of thousands of grandmas will be blamed for his acts. Somebody who unintentionally generates a racist picture based on an ambiguous prompt will blame the developers of the software if he's offended. Scammers could have enough money and incentives to run the models on their own machine anyway, where corporations have little recourse.

There is precedent for this. Word2vec, published in 2013, was called a "sexist algorithm" in attention-grabbing headlines, even though the bodies of such articles usually conceded that the word2vec embedding just reproduced patterns inherent in the training data: Obviously word2vec does not have any built-in gender biases, it just departs from the dictionary definitions of words like "doctor" and "nurse" and learns gendered connotations because in the training corpus doctors are more often men, and nurses are more often women. Now even that last explanation is oversimplified. The difference between "man" and "woman" is not quite the same as the difference between "male" and "female", or between "doctor" and "nurse". In the English language, "man" can mean "male person" or "human person", and "nurse" can mean "feeding a baby milk from your breast" or a kind of skilled health care worker who works under the direction and supervision of a licensed physician. Arguably, the word2vec algorithm picked up on properties of the word "nurse" that are part of the meaning of the word (at least one meaning, according tot he dictionary), not properties that are contingent on our sexist world.

I don't want to come down against "political correctness" here. I think it's good if ChatGPT doesn't tell a girl that girls can't be doctors. You have to understand that not accidentally saying something sexist or racist is a big deal, or at least Google, Facebook, Microsoft, and OpenAI all think so. OpenAI are responding to a huge incentive when they add snippets like "ethnically ambiguous" to DALL-E 3 prompts.

If this is so important, why are they re-writing prompts, then? Why are they not doing A, B, or C? Back in the days of word2vec, there was a simple but effective solution to automatically identify gendered components in the learned embedding, and zero out the difference. It's so simple you'll probably kick yourself reading it because you could have published that paper yourself without understanding how word2vec works.

I can only conclude from the behaviour of systems like DALL-E 3 that they are either using simple prompt re-writing (or a more sophisticated approach that behaves just as prompt rewriting would, and performs as badly) because prompt re-writing is the best thing they can come up with. Transformers are complex, and inscrutable. You can't just reach in there, isolate a concept like "human person", and rebalance the composition.

The bitter lesson tells us that big amorphous approaches to AI perform better and scale better than manually written expert systems, ontologies, or description logics. More unsupervised data beats less but carefully labelled data. Even when the developers of these systems have a big incentive not to reproduce a certain pattern from the data, they can't fix such a problem at the root. Their solution is instead to use a simple natural language processing system, a dumb system they can understand, and wrap it around the smart but inscrutable transformer-based language model and image generator.

What does that mean for "sleeper agent AI"? You can't really trust a model that somebody else has trained, but can you even trust a model you have trained, if you haven't carefully reviewed all the input data? Even OpenAI can't trust their own models.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi Steph!! Hope you are doing well, and otherwise, have some hugs! (you can also have hugs if you are doing well xD)

Random question, because why not: any pet peeves you have when reading something? Mine is when I see a discontinued fic that is marked "completed", learned the hard way to check for the abandoned tag hahah

Hi Lovely!

Thank you for the hugs! I could be better, but just trying my best to go day to day <3

Ooo, I like random questions, hahah! Hmmm, ooooooof this is a tough one because I don't want to sound pretentious or like a douche, because everyone has a writing preference AND not everyone can have a beta AND not everyone's first language is English, so this is VERY VERY personal and subjective... Please don't take my word as gospel.

For me, immediately, it's primarily grammar mistakes that take me RIGHT out of a story. I love grammar and spelling. Biggest one for me is – and I KNOW this is a stylistic thing, but it's the easiest thing to spot right away – are stories written in ALL lowercases and no line breaks for dialogue. It bothers the snot out of me and will pull me right out. I don't read stories if I can see the first few paragraphs beyond intros (because sometimes it IS a style choice for the intro part of a story). The story has zero capital letters starting new sentences... I don't know WHY it bothers me, but it does. Lowercase titles don't bother me, just the full story itself. BUT a lowercase title usually has me clicking warily into a story. The lowercase stories with poor line breaks is usually the no-go for me.

Following that, also grammar-wise, is if the author uses "it's" vs "its". My brain always separates contractions, so I will stop DEAD in reading to try to make sense of "the dog wagged it is tail". I can't help it, I wish I could read past it without noticing it, but I do, and I can't fix my brain from doing that. In the same vein, is if the author uses "wary" vs "weary". I know "lay" and "lie" is big for many but it's one of the few that don't bother me. Basically, if an author uses the wrong spelling of a same-but-different-word.

And finally, because I got spoiled with AO3, is improperly-tagged fics, or when an author "tumblr-tags" a fic... With the latter, it just effs up the search results, stop doing it, I don't want to read through all of it to find the 3 actual tags on a fic for the fic, Tumblr-talk in the notes of your story, that's what it's for. For the former, I've read stories that "are worried about spoilers!" so they don't tag the big triggering event in their story and I've genuinely stopped and never read stories by authors ever again because of it. I GET not wanting to spoil a story, but I don't want to be reading a fic that is progressing along as a fluff and adventure fic and then suddenly Sherlock is a serial killer.

I don't know, spoiled, first-world problems, I know. AND I DO read fics that don't have tags, but I go into those stories knowing anything-goes based on whatever it's rated. It's when a story HAS tags, that doesn't tag certain things because "spoilers" well, it defeats the purpose of having a tagging system.

Again, pretentious douchecanoe, I am, I guess.

Bleh, aside from those, really nothing else... It's all mainly grammar issues for me.

AGAIN I want to stress – since I do have a few authors who follow me – this is ALL personal and NOT everyone has these issues, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

[9w1ft]

Hi 9. I hope you are well. Your blog has been a balm for my soul in dark times, read your comments full of confidence it's like fresh air.

I would like to ask if recently or in the past, you have received unpleasant comments saying that we are wrong in what we believe in addition to adding insults, etc. How have you learned to deal with it and if at any point have they hurt you emotionally?

aw heyy thanks for saying that!

oh yeah over the years i’ve had my share of flack and insults in my inbox or maybe i’ve had an altercation here or there, and sometimes you can put a bandaid on and go about your day but usually it’s still a cut you can feel. i guess the tl;dr: would be, i think that over the years ive learned to find the right blend of environment and outlook that sets me up to have it hurt less. also i think being able to contextualize hate dismantles its power greatly.

the big thing that youve got to have the ability to laugh at yourself. this is such a wild situation to be in! embrace it. a little self deprecation goes a long way. if you let go of the need to be understood by everyone and you recognize how wild of a situation it is that we are in, and if you can laugh about it, it cures most things imo.

next you have to keep the context of the hate in mind. a lot of things i’ve had said to me just dont hurt because i know the people saying them just don’t understand what they’re talking about 😆 maybe this comes with time.. like maybe if you hang around long enough it will click, but people from different parts of the fandom are speaking from completely different languages of meaning and beliefs and so i’ll see a comment and just be like wow that’s so fascinating how this person got compelled to compose that and say it with their whole chest. couldn’t be me!

another thing is just, it has a lot to do with where we are at and what i believe or what other like minded people do. to us, we have kiiinda already reached a kaylor win condition. i know people would disagree and i get why, but to me, in the grand scheme of things, i don’t feel the need to argue or defend because we’re already there. we’ve already made it! all the rest is a bonus to me. and so what this outlook does is it makes any hate seem really really quaint. like don’t care if rude people don’t understand. why would they deserved to? 😆 they should stay right where they are.

i think hate can hurt more when you at a point where you are less confident of what you think or if you want to listen to everyone and make sense of everyone as a way to uphold ‘fairness’ or a sense of a greater community but, when you are around long enough and get a better sense of each groups’ different motivations, you come to realize that your good intentions to involve and convince everyone is a bit of a fool’s errand because at the tops of each group is a core that will never move from their position. in the end it’s just more about a personal journey, i think. and i think usually you pick a lane or a group and just stick to it and most of the drama feels different because when you stop feeling the need to litigate, hate becomes confrontation for confrontation’s sake, and then the hate stops being about you, and you can see it as a part of a bigger thing.

also one key thing… i think it’s eons easier to avoid everyday conflict on places like tumblr than on twitter. it’s easier to curate what you have on your blog and its not a very public facing platform so things are more quiet and don’t spread to the general public. this filters out a ton. and there’s less eyes on your stuff and like people can screenshot and bitch on their own space but it’s not a quote tweet so you don’t really have this sense if you’re being talked about. you can block and even block individual IP’s, or on the flip side you can monitor activity on statcounter and see patterns of where messages come from and it kind of dismantles the mystique of them. tumblr makes it a lot easier to just do your thing. it’s not always in your face. and i would have a different persona and talk differently if i was on a different platform.

and i think people in general are better at staying in their lane here than on other platforms. over the years we have all sort of found our pockets and in general we stay in them, i think! so the stuff i do get is just always worded and delivered in the same way so i know its from the same people so it’s a little bit like kramer popping in on any given episode of seinfeld. it’s just part of the routine at this point 😆

[street-corn]

January 29th, 2024 marks the 28th anniversary of the Star Trek Voyager episode "Threshold." This episode is often heralded as one of the worst episodes of Star Trek ever made and I've previously made the observation that everyone seems to dislike the episode for entirely novel reasons. While it's easy to predict that someone will dislike the episode, I find that the exact reason why can only be found by asking. Is it how it ruins established cannon? Is it the bad scientific understanding of how evolution works? Is it plot related as the crew avoids using an easy way home? Is it the poor parenting? Is it dialog and writing? Is it the lizard sex? There's usually a mix of reasons that I suspect one could use as the basis of Some Kind Of MBTI quiz.

However, rather than reveling in the episode itself, I want to address a bigger issue of how Star Trek fandom approaches its "worst ever episodes" lists that are a mere Bing search away. Too often I see episodes like Move Along Home (aka Allamaraine!) and Threshold at the top of "worst ever episodes" lists and I think its lazy or disingenuous to let these episodes dominate the conversation. Sure, the episodes are cheesy or campy, but they distract from the genuinely terrible episodes. The episodes that celebrate human rights violations, the episodes that propagate white supremacy, the episodes that teach the audience the wrong lesson, or the episodes that can cause physical discomfort to the audience. I would like to shine a light on a few of these episodes so we can properly discuss what it means to be a bad episode of Star Trek.

Tattoo Tattoo is an absolutely rotten episode. It's drizzled with misinformation and misconceptions about indigenous Americans. It states that indigenous people didn't have language, fire, and barely had any stone tool use (and implies they were too stupid to not migrate away from the cold.) So aliens, depicted as tall and strong, with blonde hair and blue eyes, taught them the basics of human civilization because there was no way this particular group of humans could figure it out on their own.

The Fight This episode is painful to watch. It's all of the worst parts about the Prophets of DS9 but without any allegory. It ruins cannon by making Boothby the Most Important Human To Ever Live. The episode, while late into the production of Voyager, continues the vision quest aspect of Chakotay, which ties it back to Tattoo. While not as offensive as other entries, it is worth putting on a list of actual bad episodes.

Cogenitor The NX-1 Enterprise meets some aliens with three genders. 98% of them are male and female but they also require a third gender to procreate, called the cogenitor. The cogenitors are kept as second class citizens. Their lives are owned by the state and their bodies are traded around to married couples that want to have children. They cannot own property, cannot vote, cannot socialize, are forbidden to become educated or literate, and are forced to wear gray drab clothing. Trip Tucker sees this and thinks its wrong. He teaches a cogenitor how to read. Unfortunately, the cogenitor uses this new skill to learn how oppressed their life is and how they are trapped in a system that cannot change, so they end their own life. Trip Tucker is treated as the villain of this episode. Gross.

Skin of Evil and Tears of the Prophets I'm bundling these episodes together because of their poor treatment of women and actresses behind the scenes. From a plot and writing perspective they do not treat their characters well. They can be summed up as "WTF moments." Behind the scenes it's extra terrible. From writing this I found out something fun and new…

Retrospect This is the episode where Tom Paris is convicted of murder and has to relive the memories of the murder over and over again. Behind the scenes, a certain producer was trying to spin that "women lie and never believe them about sexual assault allegations" while contract negotiations with Terry Farrel were going on. The plot is interesting, but the lessons the episode is trying to teach are wrong.

There are many other well known episodes that involve obvious racism and mistreatment of women, and I think they should make up the entirety of Star Trek's worst episode lists. But bundling campy and cheesy episodes like "Let He Who Is Without Sin…", "Sub Rosa", "The Way To Eden", and "Threshold" with the likes of "Code Of Honor" and "Turnabout Intruder" really confuses what it means to be a truly, awful, no good episode of television.

Anyways, let's watch some salamanders eat pepperoni pizza.

[colorfulyetsinful]

I wrote this on my phone again😀

You could tell with the amount of emojis I used, anyways

Tim is literally my favorite I never shut up about him and bc of that this list is so goddamn long. I honestly tried to be consistent but I was going off the top of my head

Enjoy and become apart of the Tim Drake cult😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim Drake hc!!! WOAH!

Nepotism baby

He’s a rich child with inheritance and basically running two separate businesses

Nepotism at its finest✨

Since he was usually on his own (due to his parent working) he used Batman and Robin as a form of escapism

Kinda lonely

He’ll talk to himself as if he was talking to Batman and Robin

Definitely ran a Batman and/or Gotham vigilante stan account on Twitter

Toxic fan **tm**

no literally, he would argue with anyone who disagreed on him that Batman was the best hero,

especially if they were Metropolis

bc why tf do they always have to involve themselves in everything Gotham🤨

Two words: Parasocial relationship

had an unhealthy obsession with Robin!Jason,

Robin!Jason saved him ONCE (1x) and it was down hill from there

Def locked himself in his room, sobbing, screaming, pulling his hair, and throwing up when Jason died.

News: Jason Todd, son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne, pronounced death! Read more to find out.

Tim: NOO!

Vaild tho,

who wasn’t crying when Jason died?

(The joker)

Wha-

He had a celebrity crush on Dick (not ship related),

no one knows about it (it’s all over his stan account that he made sure will never see the light of day),

he’s taking that secret to the grave

I say this a lot about Tim, but

Whore **tm**

have you seen his body count?!

definitely followed in Dick’s footsteps

Strange is what ppl say about him,

vaild tho,

if I had to sit next to Tim in class, I would find him strange too

Adhd coded,

why do ya think he keeps himself busy?! He literally can’t sit still

Also no insomnia,

he just suffers from chronic nightmares that keeps him from getting proper rest,

So de just decided not to sleep

“Nightmares can’t effect me if I don’t sleep”

Yeah, scarecrow has nothing on him,

poor guy’s had worse

Even after getting adopted, he never really felt part of the family,

Always feeling like he has to prove something to Bruce to stay as robin,

Which is why, when Dick had Damian be Robin, Tim felt like he had no place in the family anymore

That’s why he went a little insane

It’s cool, they’re fine now…

Speaking of insane,

Tim is like the one robin in the family I would not want to fight

Like compare to the others,

(Dick has experience form doing it for so long + mf is giggling and joking while kicking ass,

Jason is just kid with daddy issues and a gun, it’s America, been there seen it,

And Damian has both daddy and mommy issues, angain nothing really special)

Tim is just purely unhinged,

he’s got everything to prove without the care in the world what happens to him,

don’t forget his mad scientist era

What I’m trying to say is that Tim is scary and you have a better chance fighting Damian or Jason

(at least they kinda make it quick)

Ok back to silly goofy hc :D

Tim used to write Batman fanfics,

it’s true I was his screensaver

He used them all wattpad, fanfic.net, ao3, tumblr, etc

It was mostly “original character” fics, that were actually self inserts

as escapism

(He’s def taking that to the grave)

Stephanie found out about it and he was planing her “disappearance” within a rive minute timeframe

Speaking of Steph,

They cringe every time someone brings up the fact that they used to date

*hold cute picture of Steph/Tim* Awe you guys were so cute, ashamed you two broke up

Them: *gag*

He loves Steph tho, she’s his ride or die

As I mentioned in my Accent hc,

Tim knows a lot of languages bc rich kid

Him and Damian talk to each other in mandarin, mostly bc it’s a language they both know fluently

He tried to learn Arabic so Damian could feel comfortable talking to him,

(This is after the many times he’s tried to kill him, but hey what are brother’s for..?)

He couldn’t quite get the pronunciation right, and just said “fuck it we speaking mandarin”

Literally, they don’t even speak in English to each other anymore,

Like if it’s just them talk, other ppl they’ll translate or they’re talking shit

Tim and Damian actually get along,

Like it was rough at first, but living together really forces the two to get along

(Imma add more about them in a different hc)

Also Dick Grayson!!

Did I mention he had a parasocial relationship?

Yeah, Dick was not excluded from that

He knew Dick was mostly giving him the time of day bc he felt guilt about not being there enough for Jason,

But he doesn’t care

He knew what he was doing going to Dick about being Robin,

“You gotta be Robin again. Batman needs Robin”

“Idk who you are kid, but I am not wear that thing again. Plus blue is more my color. You wearing if you think it’ll help Bruce”

*Tim already at the display case* “I mean…if you insist”

Stalker

Nothing else to add to that

He’s the best to take to galas (or just to deal with high society in general) having grew up with lessons on how to be a “proper young man”

Study abroad at one point,

It was in Switzerland

Has a staring problem

Literally. Imagine just minding your business in a public area and turning to see (👁️👁️) staring death at you without blinking

Don’t worry, it’s just his adhd taking over the most part of his brain

He actually hates black coffee, but it’s the only think strong enough to have him away (so he won’t get nightmares)

He watches anime,

Specifically, shonen anime and BL (boylove)

He watches anime with Damian while arguing about the main pairing not working bc the “male love interest is obviously gay”

He wrote fanfics, you think he won’t be a shipper?

Can sing,

Like really good

Jason caught him singing in his room at like 2:30 in the morning and sent a video to the group chat

*jason sent a video*

Jason: ya see this shit😀

Everyone goes crazy bc Tim sounds so nice

The thing is, Tim never hid the fact that he can sing, just never said it out load

But if you were really pay attention to him, you could have caught him lightly singing to himself any indie or viral tiktok song while he does basic tasks

Everyone now has a mission of trying to catch him in the act,

Only Alfred and Cass knew he could sing

Bart knows about his identity before he told the team,

Bc Yk future and all

So him and Tim just naturally became closer over time as Tim could rant to Bart without worrying about his identity being blown

(More about this in another hc)

Cannon that he cross dresses

I think that’s it for now…

[bright-eyed]

I saw a post that was like "self-improvement is great but ultimately you have to accept yourself/some days you won't have the energy to read or exercise or eat healthy or whatever but you're still enough" and it got me thinking about how there's a fundamental difference between self-improvement motivated by a desire to be seen as an "improved" version of yourself in the eyes of others/for the sake of being "successful" within society, and self-improvement which is motivated by self-love. Self-improvement motivated from self-love (accepting who you are as whole even in your "unimproved" state -- to the point of not even using that sort of language) is determined, fluid, adaptable, and resilient, at least as long as that core is there. This sort of self-improvement would probably naturally focus more on things that the person actually finds joy and fulfillment in, this "improvement" really being less about changing undesirable qualities of the self and more about changing the conditions and habits of one's life so as to experience the most meaning and joy as oneself.

So like for example this sort of person might be trying to read more because they know they truly enjoy it as a process and an experience and they find meaning in it, and getting out of reading has been an act of self-abandonment, not because they feel like they have to meet certain reading goals in order to qualify as "well-read" or "intelligent" in the eyes of others, or because other people like reading so they should too. If that self-loving person doesn't actually like reading, they would only try to "improve" their reading if there were some other extraneous reason for their needing to read, like maybe it being required they read certain materials for their career, and in that way forcing themselves to do something they don't enjoy could still be motivated by self-love as it's centered around the belief that they deserve and have the ability to succeed, and they can endure challenges for the sake of their future self whom they also love.

Then I think the problem with a lot of self-improvement advice out there is obviously that you can't teach self-love, meaning all the advice is inevitably geared towards people who are trying to hit reading goals or learn other languages or exercise more or eat healthier in order to be validated by others in ways they can't validate themselves, and also usually in order to achieve some perfect life where they can escape the problems they currently have. While the loving self-improvement is fluid and resilient, this sort is hard and punishing and untenable, even if you find something that works for a short time. And after that short time it often becomes really draining and miserable for people, and then they start asking themselves why they're even doing this, and then they give up, and then they dislike themselves for giving up, and then the problem gets worse. Some people are able to keep it up for a long time, and those people can become our gurus, but that sort of self-improvement can become its own form of self-abandonment and punishment.

I don't have a proposed magical solution to this because that would be me doing exactly what those self-improvement gurus are doing, which is hurting people, but I think maybe people should get to know themselves and ask themselves some basic questions. "Why do I want this?" "Why do I feel like I need to do this?" "What would happen if I did this or that?" "Does accomplishing this goal actually represent achieving an idealized version of myself where I am loved or perfected somehow?" "What do I actually love and how do I make it a bigger part of my life?" Etc.

I feel like a good litmus test is if a goal is part of an escape fantasy then whether or not it is a meaningful or innate desire probably needs to be called into question. Also paying attention to how you feel in the moment as you're trying to engage in certain behaviors can help. People can struggle with accomplishing habits for a wide range of reasons, and struggling does not inherently mean that you don't actually like the thing and should give up, but when doing something that's meaningful to you (it's at least my opinion that) even the challenge should be mingled with some kind of satisfaction or excitement. And as usual just the slow work of learning to accept yourself and be honest about your feelings, strengths, weaknesses, desires, hatreds, passions. "Love yourself" is such a tedious dictum that it actually sorta pisses me off but unfortunately that's where we're at so. Try that idk