#that explained where samson was

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

How ‘Our Flag Means Death’ Became the Funniest Show on TV

Creator and showrunner David Jenkins breaks down the new season of TV’s most adorable star-crossed pirates.

Our Flag Means Death debuted in March 2022 to respectable viewership numbers that grew. And grew. And grew some more. With each week of its 10-episode run, viewership increased, eventually tripling its original audience. The little gay pirate workplace and romantic comedy-cum-historical fantasy that could is back for a second season on Max, and fans will be glad to know that piracy power couple Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and Ed Teach, aka Blackbeard (Academy Award winner Taika Waititi) won’t be parted for long.

The first season of Our Flag Means Death introduced viewers to fictional versions of the real historical figures Stede Bonnet (aka The Gentleman Pirate) and Blackbeard, as well as their respective crews. The two captains instantly forged an unlikely connection. Stede, who decided to exorcize his midlife crisis by abandoning his family and taking to the seas, despite being at best a piracy novice, hero-worships Blackbeard and is thrilled to make his acquaintance. The fearsome Blackbeard, who among friends goes by his real first name, Ed, is taken with Stede’s commitment to enjoying the finer and frillier things in life, marveling at his new friend’s on-ship library and massive, beautiful wardrobe.

While the two captains are an odd couple, each of their crews regards the other as an entirely different species. Aboard the Revenge, Stede reads bedtime stories to his crew and encourages them to use their words when conflicts emerge, while on Blackbeard’s ship, Ed’s first mate Izzy Hands (a deliciously scowling, jealous Con O’Neill) rants that his captain is now a shell of the terrifying legend he used to be. Over time, Blackbeard’s crew begin to appreciate the healthier work-life culture on the Revenge, where there’s room for romantic and collegial dyads to form and pair off.

Of course, the path of true love never runs smooth even for a couple as invested in each other as Stede and Ed. At the end of the first season, the crews are split between ships and land, and Ed believes Stede has permanently abandoned their relationship for his original family, causing a heartbroken Ed to revert to his fearsome Kraken persona. As the second season opens, Stede is frantically trying to get back to Ed and explain that he’s all in on their relationship. Ed’s behavior has been swinging erratically from depressed to murderous, even toward Izzy, and when the two captains and crews meet again, there’s an extra twist: Stede and company have been co-opted by the far more capable and successful Chinese Pirate Queen, Zheng Yi Sao (Ruibo Qian).

On the eve of the second season’s three-episode premiere, creator and showrunner David Jenkins reflected on the series’ approach to workplace dynamics, male friendships and romance, and the character arcs he’s most excited for fans to see.

The first three episodes of the season premiere feature a bunch of breakups and reshuffling of romantic and work relationships—not just Stede and Ed. Were you chasing anything in particular, narratively, by splitting up so many dyads?

Definitely. To watch the effects of Stede and Blackbeard’s relationship reverberate through everybody's lives is so interesting. Their separation doesn’t just happen to the two of them, it’s happening to all of them, because they’re a family. Just as the breakup reverberated throughout both crews, getting back together is going to do the same thing.

That makes sense.

The goal was just being true to the character beats and finding ways to make them ring true. Oluwande (Samson Kayo) and Jim (Vico Ortiz, they/them) are friends who got romantic. It rang true to me that they’d watch each others’ lives move forward, and then come back together to find that they still care about each other, and each of them is also happy for the other person. I've seen that happen in real life a bunch of times, but I don't see that dramatized a lot. I think there should be a lot of different flavors of relationships in this show. And there's so many different pairings that you get a lot of chances to be like, “Oh, how are these two different from Stede and Ed?”

How does that relate to your interest in exploring tenderness and vulnerability in male characters? In previous interviews, you’ve referred to Our Flag Means Death as examining the burlesque of masculinity. What does it bring to your work to be exploring it over the course of many hours of storytelling?

That’s an area where Taika’s and my interests overlap a lot. There’s something so understated about his sensibility—I think some of it derives from his New Zealand accent, actually—that suits asking questions about masculinity. And it's fun to look at pirate stories, to play against that genre’s whitewashed, heteronormative conventions. Growing up as a guy, you get a lot of pressure to be just one type of a guy, the guy who refuses to feel things. Men are in terrible trouble in that way. We’re getting better about talking about feelings, but there’s so much more to cover—body dysmorphia, vulnerability, not just talking about feelings, but understanding them and having this whole range of emotions—those are always the things I want to watch.

Do you have favorites among on-screen stories that make room for a broader emotional palette?

Heat and Midnight Run are two really lovely Robert De Niro movies where characters have these very big emotional lives. It’s a similar thing with Robert Redford and Paul Newman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I like extending that. We can push it further, because there's so many different ways to be a man! Not everything has to be a shoot ’em up action thing where people don’t have feelings. A lot of men feel like they need permission to just be their weird selves, to be funny, to dress differently. Try some different things! Maybe wear a color! Put some product in your hair! Don't worry about it, it's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine.

Our Flag Means Death is not a casual show. It’s very funny and playful! But there is not one single frame of the show that plays it cool. As an artist, what’s the significance of qualities like sincerity and earnestness?

I hate coolness, it’s so ungenerous. And I like that you said that it’s not casual. I’m not a casual guy. This is a deeply uncool show. There’s something so special about seeing comedic actors like Rhys or Taika, who are so used to coming into a scene, being incredibly funny and destroying, and then leaving, having to use their earnestness, and not using their weapon of immediately diffusing it by going for a laugh. When I see that, it makes my heart leap. There’s something particularly special about seeing a comedic actor do it.

It’s really fun to watch comedic actors dispel the notion that dramatic acting is 180 degrees away from comedic acting.

Characters that call for that type of performance are a lot of what I love about Robert Altman, Christopher Guest, and Harold Ashby movies. They’re comedies, but those characters really grow and they experience pain, and the pain they feel is real. And then the funny shit that they do is even funnier because of it. Those are the things that bring me the most joy.

Tell me about Zheng Yi Sao, the Pirate Queen. She’s such a good foil for Ed and Stede—her ambition, competence, and leadership style are all so distinct from theirs.

Zheng Yi Sao is the most competent pirate captain on our show, and was the most successful pirate captain in history. She lived about 100 years apart from these fellas, and she was so successful that China had to cut her in and do a treaty with her so she would move on to some other field. She wound up making another fortune in gambling!

One thing that jumped out at me in these first three episodes of the season is how much therapy-literate dialogue is used—where did that come from?

I just think it's funny. The thing about a workplace is that they all see everything that’s going on with others, because they're all on top of each other all the time. I don't want to go l too far with it, but it’s fun that some of these characters can see that one of their friends is in a weird relationship with his boss, and then say “hey, you might want to look at that.”

Where do you think that comes from for the characters themselves?

There’s a level of care on that ship that Stede almost infected them with in the first season, and now those ideas are more alive because of how Stede built the Revenge’s culture. You can see that that spirit is still kind of alive when Jim tells the story of the wooden boy to Bang to calm him down. That’s a little bit of Stede’s kindness being alive in the world still, and of Jim needing and being able to call on it now that everything’s so dark. For them to go from an “every person for themselves” ethos to thinking “there was a time when life meant something on this ship, it doesn’t have to be this way” is interesting growth for the character, and is true to Vico as a person. There's a real kindness to how they carry themselves—they’re one of those people that just makes everybody feel safe. It’s nice to see some of those character traits bleed through to Jim.

Without getting too spoilery, what’s coming up over the rest of this season that you can’t wait for viewers to see?

I’m really excited for Izzy’s journey. Con O’Neill did such beautiful work, and getting to see where that character goes and how he grows, I think is one of the most exciting things of the season. To see where Ed and Stede’s relationship goes is gratifying—to see how they navigate each other and find, hopefully, a more mature way of being together.

Jim's relationships with Archie (Madeleine Sami) and Olu develop, too, and more broadly, the crew coming together as a new kind of family, now that Mom and Dad are getting back together. I also like that Lucius (Nathan Foad) is back, and has an angry young man thing going on that he has to process. For Lucius to go through something really harrowing and have to grow up with it is so interesting, because he had all the answers in the first season.

We can’t not talk about the mermaid sequence at the end of the second episode. How did that come about?

We really have to pick our shots on the show, so that was very storyboarded out. I knew I wanted Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work” for the scene, so that was incorporated in it. Unfortunately, Rhys had had a really bad near-drowning experience shooting in a tank before, but I didn’t know that until we were working on the stunts! But when Rhys saw the gorgeous tail, and it looked so cool and beautiful, he decided to go for it. He knew the scene was going to look awesome. So he navigated that costume, which is basically a big flipper that he needed to move his entire core to make it work, and Taika’s there with all this glue to keep his wig on underwater all day. When it’s humming and all the departments are working, everyone feels safe. It gives everyone a feeling of “let’s do it—let’s jump in!”

Speaking of jumping in, what degree of pressure did you all feel coming into the second season, knowing how high the expectations were from the show’s incredibly passionate fan base?

I don’t feel pressure from the fans, I just feel unconditional love and acceptance, and I think that the writers room feels that too. We all want it to be good, and we want the storylines to be cool. But it’s less pressure, and more just the level of freedom that it gave us, knowing somebody’s watching. It makes doing all the hard work a joy, because you know it’s going to be appreciated. Some people will have critiques, and that’s fine.

I just know that this—the fan reaction to this show—will be the honor of my career. The fan community is so kind and nice and talented—it's just a good vibe, and it’s been safe and affirming for everyone.

We’re all basking in the glow of the adoration of the show from our fanbase. It’s infectious—when we all get together, it saturates every element of the show, and it's a very special thing for all of us.

Source: The Daily Beast

[steam-beasts]

Ok, LISTEN. BWBA may have crappy writing, but it has its moments. This was one of them for me

Like, where tf did he go? He just spawned and despawned 😭

This is from “Samson’s fear of fireworks”, specifically from the bit where Cyril the Fogman is explaining how railway detonators work. It’s the way he appears and disappears that gets me. Even Topham’s looking a little concerned.

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Taken

Pairing: The Grabber x fem reader

Warning: Kidnapping, violence, possible dubcon, manipulation, bad language, toxic, NSFW, abuse, Stockholm syndrome!

A/n: Soo I started writing this story I couple years ago and never got to finish it since my old account got deleted soo Imma have my Frankenstein moment! Hope you like! Also I listen to music to help me write stories soo the song for this story particular is Put Me In a Movie-Lana Del Rey

Ps. I don’t condone anything this character does he’s a bad person like all the other slashers!

First + second person pov! Also alternating pov!

There I was running for my life in the middle of the street. No idea where I was or where I was going just knew I needed to leave. I’ve been with my boyfriend for 4 years now. He was a good man but not anymore. I still can’t wrap my head around what happened to him, all I know is he changed. Let me explain how I got in this situation, to make a long story short I’ll start at this morning.

I woke up to the sound of things being thrown about. “What are you doing?” I asked rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You are a piece of shit you know that!? I should have left you back home! You are worthless!” Your scum of a man shouted at you. “What did I do!?” He turned around and slapped you hard. “You know exactly! Hiding my shit! You are such a child” You held your cheek as you grit your teeth. “You would probably like that huh? I see how you look at any woman!” You spat at him. He completely ignored you as he found his keys. “I’m going to work don’t be a cunt.” He said slamming the door behind him. You huffed looking around at the mess he created, you two had just moved here and got settled in. You couldn’t believe that you left everything for him! Your friends and family just to be abused by him.

Later on during that night you received a call from the douchebag. “Hey I’ll be home late I gotta work overtime.” This was your chance! You could leave him, stop this madness you’ve learned to deal with and take. Well not anymore once the phone hung up you were fast on your feet packing your stuff. It wasn’t a lot you guys moved a lot and when you move a lot you lose a lot too. Your whole life could fit in a backpack and it did. After packing you decided to take a quick shower and brush your teeth. It maybe took you an hour to do everything, you were trying to be quick and thank god you were for when you put your last shoe on, your prick of a boyfriend was walking in the door. “You liar” you thought as you ran to the bathroom locking the door behind you. “Y/n! What are you doing!? Y/n!” He yelled, as he banged on the door you quickly toss your bag out the bathroom window at this point he was practically kicking in the door. But once you crawled out the window and your feet hint the ground the bathroom door gave in. You grabbed your bag and ran hearing the abusive prick scream your name.

And that’s exactly how I got here, running for what felt like miles till I saw a mysterious man and a black van. “Please help me! Please” I said getting closer to the man noticing he was walking a rather large dog. “A man is trying to hurt me! He’ll kill me if he catches me!” I practically yelled. “Okay, okay I’ll help you.. here jump in here.” The man said opening the back of his van. I knew this was sketchy but anything was better then that ex of mine. After a couple minutes I heard him yell. “Hey excuse have you seen a girl about yay high, h/c hair, e/c eyes?” He sounded out of breath as he should be for chasing me. “No I haven’t seen any girl I’ve been walking Samson here.” The man said watching the other breathless man. Hearing his footsteps fade the van door opened. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!” The man smiled. “You wanna see a magic trick?” You looked at the man finally noticing he had a top hat and dark shades on which was weird to you since it was night time. Before words left your mouth the man grabbed you and sprayed this sticky liquid in your mouth. You coughed for the taste was terrible and sung the back of your throat. Before the man pushed you back and slammed the door you managed to hit and scratch him . “H-hey! W-what did you give m-me?” You coughed out hearing a hush and the van engine turning on. Samson, the dog bark making your ears ring roughly. You fought as hard as you could but you soon blacked out.

“My neck, my fucking neck. I should snap yours for what you did to my neck.” The man growled before tossing you onto a mattress on the floor. Sitting up I looked at him the best I could, vision still blurry from whatever he gave me. Looking at my surroundings to see what I assumed was a dirty basement. “Jesus it’s covered in blood.” You looked at the man as he crouched beside you giving you a good view of his devilish mask. “It’s like I killed someone. You see that?” He huffed showing me his scratched neck then waving his fingers in my face. “Not like you can see shit.” Starring at the man you grew fearful. “I know that you’re scared but I’m not going to hurt you anymore. What I said about snapping your neck..I was angry is all you did a number in my neck.” He chuckled. “I’m not gonna hold it against you” he said in a more light tone scooting closer to you. “I guess now we’re even.” He said was he played with your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, because nothing bad is going to happen here and on that I give my word Johnny.” The man put up two fingers signaling he swore. “You like soda? Hm? I’ll tell you what imma go get you a soda and then- is that the phone? Did you hear a phone ring?” He got a bit closer to your face so close you could feel his breath if it wasn't for his emotionless mask. “I’m going to get see who it is then I’ll get you a soda and then I’ll come back and explain everything hm?” He stood up and walked to the door turning to take one last look before shutting and locking the door. Gripping the mattress, I looked around seeing this dirty basement was pretty nice. Seeing beside me a black phone, I debated on picking it up but who would I call? I asked myself. Not knowing what was in my system I thought it best to try to sleep it off so I did.

When I woke up the lights were off and the door was still shut. Looking around I was able to get a better view of my surroundings. I grasp the black phone, taking it off the hook and holding it to my ear just to easy my curiosity. "It doesn't work, not since I was a kid. Hang it up." You jumped a little at the sudden noise. Hanging up the phone you turned around to see your kidnapper. The man flipped the lights on. " I know you're scared and want to go home." You stared at the man only seeing his figure due to him not being in the line of light. "I'll take you home soon. Its just..ugh everything is fucked up. I got to be upstairs for a while somethings come up." You nodded a little. "What?" you said softly. "Nevermind what." he said in a tone. "Is it someone up there?" Walking into light you saw the mans mask, it was different he had a big creepy smile and he had a small band-aid like bandage on his neck. For some weird reason you found this mask more comforting then the emotionless one. The man growled. "No one can hear anything if the door's shut I sound proofed it myself, so if you wish to scream or yell do as much as you like, you won't bother anyone." You watched the man grab the door and began to shut it. "I-i don't have a home." The man looked at you and walked back into the room so you could see his face. " I will never make you do anything you won't..like." You backed away a bit, deciding to sit down on the mattress. You were uncomfortable to say the less but for some reason you weren't scared. The man noted your sudden change and shut the door behind him deciding it was best to leave then to keeping the conversation going with you. Once the man left you looked around the room, you found a toilet backed away in a little hall way, old rolls of carpet, and a crack in the cement. Not knowing what to do with your recent discoveries you decided it was just best to try to sleep again. It was annoying but what else did you have to do?

You swore it had been forever since your captor came back down to see you. You sat on the bed with your knees to your chest starring at the door. This isolation was killing you. You stared picking the skin around your fingernails causing them to bleed every now and again. You were anxious, did he forget about you? Were you going to starve to death in this dirty basement? Did someone catch him? Did he not what you anymore? What a minute you thought to yourself did you want him to want you? Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the door unlock and be pushed open. You sat up letting your knees go. The man walked in with a tray of food. "W-what did you put in that?" You asked as you watched the man walk towards you. "Salt and pepper." He chuckled placing the tray at the end of the mattress he sighed. "Eat it don't eat it. You're already down here, why would I need to drug you?" You were beyond starving, scooting to the end of the mattress you pulled the tray back to the spot you were just in. "Thank you." The Grabber leaned his head to the side watching you through the holes in his mask. As you began to eat the man turned to leave. You nearly choked on eggs trying to speak fast enough to catch him. "Hey! ...Stay." The man looked at you over his shoulder seeing you sitting on your knees. "Please...I don't want to be alone." Watching the man he nodded and walked towards you. You moved to the edge of a corner on the mattress so he could sit on the end, which he did. You noted that the man watched you as you ate and drunk the glass soda he put on the tray.

Once you finished you stared at the man. "What's your name?" "What's yours?" He asked uncomfortable answering the question. "Y/n" You said softly. "That's a beautiful name." You smiled a fair blush forming on your cheeks. You knew none of this was right, especially how you were feeling. Why were you okay with this? You kept asking yourself. "Why did you take me?" Asking softly the man growled a little not liking the question. "I couldn't leave you." He answered, knowing you weren't going to get any more detail you nodded. "Are you the man on the TV? Who took those boys?" You watched his face, his eyes looking for some humanly reaction, but nothing. "That wasn't me, that was someone else.." Not believing him fully you decided to not try to pull more info. "Who was that guy?" Finally asking you a question. "My ex boyfriend bf/n." "Why were you running from him?" You looked down not wanting to talk about it. "He was abusing me. Physically" The man studied your face, scooting closer to you he pushed your hair behind your ear. Looking at his eyes then the smiling mouth of his mask, without thought you reached to touch the mask but as your finger tips grazed the surface the man grabbed your hand tightly moving it away from him. You jumped a little at the sudden movement making the man huff. Letting you go the man stood and walked to the door taking the tray with him. "Wait! I'm sorry I won't do it again." You begged but the nameless man pulled the door to leaving it unlocked. Running to the door you went to open it but you hesitated, leaving the door alone you walked back to the mattress.

After that day you would only see him when he brought you food. You hated yourself for ever trying to touch his mask. He didn't talk to you and he always wore his emotionless mask. You grew to seek his attention and presence. Not knowing if it was the isolation or just the simple fact you were weirdly attracted to him. Not having no sense of time you woke up on what felt like the 50th day, laying curled in a ball watching the phone swing. "Stop it.." "Stop what?" Jumping up you looked at the man seeing he only had his mouth piece of his mask on. "What are you doing?" You said shaky, looking down at yourself just to see if anything was out of place. "I didn't touch you." You looked up at him without lifting your head. "Don't look at me like that." He said with a voice crack at the end. "I just wanted to look at you.." Feeling your breath hence, you pulled your knees to your chest. The man stood from the spot he was just crouching at and walked to you. He sat in front of you starring at you never breaking eye contact. "Your eyes are blue.." He nodded. "My name is Albert. But don't call me that." You smiled softly liking that he was opening up to you, it made you comfortable but it also made these stupid butterflies fly around your semi empty stomach. "Can I call you Al?" You knew who he was, he was The Grabber, the man all over news who took those boys, but you questioned your reality wanting to believe it wasn't him like he said. You did believe it but not in your heart. He nodded as he raised his hand to your face softly brushing his finger against your cheek, you tensed at the contact but relaxed as he continued. Slowly he moved his hand to your chin rubbing it with his thumb and index finger before he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb. Heart beating fast and loud like a drum you watched him his eyes going back and forth from your lips to your eyes.

"Al."you said breathlessly. Hushing you the man lend in and pressed the lips of his mask onto yours. So many thoughts ran through your head. Should you push him away? Kiss the cold fake lips? Or just sit there? Without thought you kissed the lips of the mask back then pulled away as he did. Albert stared at you his eyebrows raised giving him a sad look. "Al?" He stood up without a word and walked out locking the door behind him, leaving you there alone and confused.

Weeeeelllllll this is part 1 of the story! I hope you guys like it! I'm sorry it's so long but man when I get a story I just can't stop lol anywho part 2 should be up later!

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART ONE : CHAPTER ELEVEN

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: we won...we won...

warnings: angst but that's to be expected in a battle...

word count: 4.7k

author's note: and this is the last chapter to part one! thank you all for staying so long to finish and hopefully you all will continue to stay for this story well into part two! so without further ado, chapter eleven!!

AO3 | prev | next

When the morning came, the Sky People took flight. And you realized then, watching them take to the skies as if it was theirs to claim, that you had always belonged on land.

You were always meant to watch them fly, you were always meant to be the onlooker until the time came to shoot them out of the sky.

You were the hunter. They were the bids. Perhaps it was the other way around before. Then it would be fitting in this life to seek revenge, continuing the cycle until there was no more left in you. Maybe that was the meaning of life. Repeating, repeating, repeating, and repeating until there is nothing left. On this day, you would allow the cycle to continue just this one.

Maybe in your next life you’ll try something different.

Before they all took off for battle, you had been sleeping in the ship you and Trudy had arrived back at Hell’s Gate in. Trudy came back as early as she could to let you know that all the other pilots thought the ship you were in was damaged and she was moving it to have it fixed. But really she was hiding it in an empty hanger for you to later take off once you’ve finished planting the bombs.

“Thanks, Chacon.” You nod to her right after she explained the basics of controlling her Samson ship and handing you a stolen soldier’s uniform.

Trudy shrugged, “Yeah, yeah, just try to survive this, Doc. It’s gonna get ugly real soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

After the fleet took off for the battle, you waited for a while in the ship, quietly counting to ten until finally you changed into the uniform and left to work.

Fortunately for you, it was an easy maneuver around Hell’s Gate without being stopped and questioned by a random soldier since a majority of them were out in the battlefield.

The first place you set your first bomb up at was the Armor Bay. This was one of their main sources of weapons and you had no doubt they used it to their advantage in the current battle. If anything, they probably had a greater advantage over the Na’vi because of the advanced technology. Which could possibly guarantee a win.

You tried not to think about that. You had faith in Jake and the others. The Na’vi were fierce and you had no doubt that they would fight until their last breath to win their land back once and for all. And you would give them the advantages that they need by cutting the RDA off at their roots.

The branches had already grown, yes, but it won’t matter in the end when the entire tree falls.

The second bomb would be placed where the barracks, the apartments, and all the living quarters were. Third and fourth were placed in one of the communications towers that linked the main base to the others out on the battlefield.. If a couple of them were to fall, the rest would go down with it from the impact.

You saved the last four for the main building where everything took place. That was their source of communication to the fleet, their eyes on the battle to watch and cheer as their side succeeded. Entering the building was a bit difficult. You had to avoid the cameras, make sure your face wouldn’t be caught. You knew the Ops Center was the main one you wanted to hit but you couldn’t exactly just waltz in there, place the bomb, and then leave without anyone noticing.

Instead, you had to be a bit more strategic about your placement. So, you found a tunnel that led to the Operations Center and placed the sixth one in a vent. A soldier had walked by and you ducked your head down to pass him, not before snatching his radio without him noticing. The last two were placed in some of the labs.

Now you were back in Trudy’s Samson with the Key and the radio in your hands. From the radio you could hear what was going on in the battlefield as different voices came in and out, reporting updates back to the Operations Center. Everything in you made you want to push the button and get on the ship and leave them all to die, giving them no time to realize what was happening.

But there was a part of you that hesitated. There were still good people here, good people like Max Patel trying to help your side win. And then there was Quaritch’s son. He was still here somewhere in Hell’s Gate. Why the bastard kept the baby here was beyond you but it stopped you nonetheless.

In a way you didn’t owe them anything, you didn’t owe them your sympathy. But at the same time that little baby didn’t ask to be born in all of this. Didn’t ask to die because of his parents’ actions.

And because of this, it led you to bring the radio to your lips and form the next words that fell from your mouth.

“Attention Hell’s Gate. To those who are familiar with me, I need no introduction. To those who haven’t heard of me, my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. I’m gonna cut to the chase and let y’all know I’ve planted eight bombs that would go off at any second. Now, I am being merciful—even though it is the last thing any of you deserve—I will be giving you a fifteen minute head start to pack your shit up and leave Pandora for good. If you don’t, well, we’ll all meet each other in hell hopefully.”

Immediately there was static in the radio until Parker’s voice came through, “Who the hell do you think you are?! You have no authority to give any orders, much less threaten us—I need soldiers out there finding her and arresting her now!”

You sighed, “I thought you’d say that, Parker.”

Getting off the ship, you fished out the Key, fixing the settings a bit before pointing it toward the direction of the communications tower. Once you pressed the button, nothing happened for a few seconds.

In the next second, one of the towers exploded, shaking the ground beneath you. Even the sheer force of it nearly knocked you over from where you stood in the hangar. The radio glitched with voices cutting in and out, quickly losing signal with each other. And before you lost signal, you said to Parker.

“Fourteen minutes, Selfridge. Make it count.” You dropped the radio to the ground, stomped on it until it was broken into pathetic pieces, and set your watch to fourteen minutes.

You went back onto the Samson and sat there. Waiting.

A part of you knew Parker wouldn’t listen despite the display you had just shown. Hell, he might’ve been sending people out now to find the bombs and unarm them. Good thing it wasn’t designed to be unarmed. Good thing you had wasted two years of your life perfecting the perfect death trap. Good thing.

Twelve minutes.

“You are too smart to be doing this, Y/N.”

You were eleven when your mother told you this.

One of the very few conversations you did have with her. And most of the time it was her scolding you. Really, it was your own fault. At the time, you thought that acting out—especially in school—would’ve gotten her attention. Would have gotten her to pay more attention to you, would have gotten her to finally be a mother. Be there.

But instead it was always a bother, as if she was doing you a favor by taking time out of her day to pick you up. That you should be so lucky to see your own mother.

“Punching some stupid boy just because you lost your temper? I did not raise you to act so foolishly!” She scolded you while her fingers quickly moved across her phone screen.

You didn’t raise me at all, was what sat at the tip of your tongue. But it never came out. You never said anything, really.

After finishing with whatever it was that was far more important on her phone than speaking with her own child, your mother sighed exhaustedly. “You are too much sometimes…too much like him….just too much…”

You didn’t mean to be too much. All you wanted was to just be enough.

Ten minutes.

You were eight when you asked your father to teach you how to fight.

“I don’t know, kiddo.” He would respond. Though at the time, you never realized how truly tired he always looked. How numb he had become. You were still trapped in your own childlike ignorance. You were always looking at him as some type of hero when really you were just too young, too naïve, too late to see his humanity. “It takes a lot of discipline and…well, I want you to be a kid first before you start worrying about that stuff.”

“But I don’t want to be just a kid!” You’d whine. “I wanna be tough and strong like you, Dad! I want to be able to defend myself against the mean kids at school.”

“Sometimes, you just have to walk away, kid. Let it go—”

“But that doesn’t always work!” You frowned, pleadingly. “They always come back to pick on me. No matter how many times I try to ignore them, they always come back. I want to fight them, Dad! I want to show them they can’t mess with me anymore!”

You remembered pleading with him, you remembered practically begging him.

He never did though. There was never enough time with him.

It always seemed like you never had enough time with the people that you loved.

Seven minutes.

You were fourteen when Quaritch finally showed you how to fight.

After another takedown, you lay there, wincing from the sourness and the growing bruise at the side of your face. You saw through your blurred vision, your opponent standing over you. And then seconds later Quaritch appeared, shaking his head.

“You keep leaving him open to your weakness, kid. You’d be dead in seconds in a real fight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You grumbled from the floor. Eventually, you slowly sat up trying not to cringe when your side stung at your sudden movement. “I wanna go again.”

Quaritch laughed, “Child prodigy in brains yet not the brightest at times. You’re down, kid.  There is no going again.”

You shook your head stubbornly, “You taught me that giving up was the coward’s way. That they weren’t a real soldier.”

“You’re not a soldier, kid.”

“But I’m not a coward either.” You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the frown from Quaritch as you raised your fists up to your opponent again. “We’re going again. Hit me.” Your opponent glanced toward Quaritch, your jaw tightened. “Hit me!”

A smirk grew onto the man’s face, “Atta girl.” He nodded toward your opponent. “Go at it. Let’s see how long she stays standing this time.”

Five minutes.

Through one of the windows of the Samson, you spotted a few people loading onto the last of the Valkyries. It seemed some of them were heeding your warning. Perhaps Max was among them, getting the most people out that he could.

Your grip on the Key tightened. Your heart pounding against your chest. The battle was still going though. Time had to go by faster. You needed to give the others an advantage. And it was hard too because now that the communications towers were destroyed, you were left in the dark about the battle as much as the others.

All you had was fire and a prayer to Eywa.

You were never one to be religious.

Four minutes.

“You have so much anger in you.” Sylwanin told you once.

It had to have been around the time Grace’s school was still open. When you were in your avatar every chance you got. When Sylwanin was alive and well, when her kind smile was still fresh in your mind. When the children were all so lively and excited to come.

You frowned at her as the both of you walked along the path in the forest leading back to the school. “I’m not angry.”

Sylwanin hummed. “You've gotten better with our language. Sa’nok has been teaching you, yes?”

Sa’nok? Right, that was what they called Grace sometimes. What did it mean again? “Yes. I’m still rusty though…” Your mind was still on her previous comment. “Why do you think I’m angry?”

She shrugged as she knelt down toward the ground, running her fingers through the dirt. “Tsu’tey has it too. Toward the Sky People. Yours is similar to his anger.” She then looked up at you curiously. “Tell me, tsmuke. Why are you angry with your own kind?”

“Are you not?” You asked, furrowing your brows. You hugged yourself. Back then it still felt strange being in your avatar’s body. Getting used to the new height, the blue skin rather than your usual skin color, the long braid. It was still a lot to get used to.

“Of course I am. They’ve invaded my home and are determined to make it their own. It is not right.” You saw the same fierceness in her eyes that you’d see in Tsu’tey whenever he spoke of the Sky People. “But…I understand that there are good ones among the demons.” She smiled up at you. “You are good, tsmuke.”

You frowned, heart feeling heavy. “B-But I am Sky People. How can you see me as good?”

“Because you are my friend, Y/N.” Sylwanin told you in English, surprising you. “And you have good heart. Strong heart.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Sylwanin rolled her eyes before standing, ���You never do. I can not show you what you refuse to see, tsmuke.” She tugged at your arm toward the direction of where the school was. “Come, let’s go before sa’nok becomes worried.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why do you call Dr. Augustine sa’nok?”

“You don’t?”

“No… I don’t know what it means.”

Sylwanin shook her head as the two of you continued walking, “The children see her as a mother. Sa’nok.”

Oh.

Oh.

You remembered feeling warm when you learned of that. Whenever they called Grace sa’nok, you had already assumed it was some sort of term of endearment in their language. You just never knew what it meant until now.

Sa’nok. What a fitting title.

Two minutes.

You spotted the soldiers before the bullets came flying.

You dived into the back of the ship as they began shooting, making sure your mask was on straight and hadn’t gotten hit by any stray bullets. Quickly, you crawled toward the cockpit, keeping your head down whenever a bullet came too close to hitting you.

Once you reached the cockpit, you threw yourself into the pilot’s seat. Remembering what Trudy had shown you and starting the Samson.

“She’s on the ship!” You hear one of them shout from outside.

“She ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

One minute—

“Ah fuck it.” You mumbled. The Samson was off the ground and flying out of the hangar. Because you weren’t a pilot, the ship swerved a bit on the lift off, nearly running into the soldiers that were shooting at you. Fortunately, that gave you enough time to grab the Key, switch the settings back to what you had planned and pressed the button.

Quickly, you steered the ship up toward the sky.

You felt the force before you saw the orange colors rising to the sky.

From high above, you never saw the explosion but you saw the aftermath of it. There was so much smoke and fire, so much destruction. Hell’s Gate was barely recognizable. You hoped this was enough. You hoped it was all worth it.

Grace had begged you. And you intended to try. You really wanted to try. Even after all of this, even if she doubted it, even if it was dangerous. You wanted to try.

Then again, you were never one to listen to her orders. Not all of it at least.

At least it wouldn’t be your fault this time.

You saw the ship behind you. Some of it was on fire but it was still flying fine. Its guns were now pointed at you.

“Damn it.” You sighed tiredly. “You guys just won’t make this easy on me.”

The guns went blazing toward you. With every bit of your strength, you swerved the ship out of the way of the blasts. The smoke made it difficult to see the other ship which meant the ship couldn’t really see you either. But unfortunately, that didn’t stop it from shooting aimlessly.

Suddenly, the ship’s radio came to life. It was the only communications link that was still intact, but only between all the other ships, not to Hell’s Gate.

“Y/N.” Quaritch voice cut through the static radio. Your jaw tightened. “I know you can hear me.”

You swerved the ship out of the way of another round of bullets flying your way.

“That little stunt you pulled with the communications tower? Could very well get you killed so I suggest you turn yourself in before things get worse for you.”

For a moment, while trying to steer the ship away from the destruction, you wondered if he knew the extent of what you did. That he’d be this lenient with you if he had known that you were the cause of the destruction to Hell’s Gate.

There were muffled shouts and crashes you heard from his side. But it sounded further away, almost as if he was in some sort of isolated room while he talked directly to you.

His voice sounded lower, quieter when he continued, “It’s not too late for you, Y/N. Don’t be like your foolish father. Don’t get yourself killed over this. Don’t be a fucking—”

You switched the radio off, eyes welling with tears.

Stop pretending you care. Stop fucking pretending—

The right wing was suddenly hit, startling you out of your swimming thoughts. You had barely made it away from Hell’s Gate and the ship that had been shooting at you had reappeared from the smoke and was now right behind you, shooting at your ship. The glass broke from the shots and the right wing had caught fire.

You hadn’t been thinking. The other ship was at your side now and since yours was already going down you, in your last attempt, swerved your ship into theirs. Taking it down with you.

Smoke was the last thing you saw.

For the longest time, you weren’t really sure what death felt like when it came. You often wondered this when your father died. What did he feel when he knew he was going to die? What did your mother see before death had claimed her? Did Sylwanin know that she would die? Was Grace truly ready to leave?

Did they feel alone? Did they cry once they realized…?

For this you did not cry.

Instead your smile was gasoline.

And the fire followed.

The radio that connected him to you had suddenly gone dead. Miles Quaritch did not have enough time to figure out what that meant.

One of the wings on the C-21 Dragon had just been blown off by Jake Sully. Most of his men were now dying. They had only been winning seconds before. All he did know was that he had to finish this, he had to put an end to that traitor for good.

Later he would find you. Later.

Your mask had been broken before. You could’ve sworn…

The fire and dying trees surrounded your weakening vision. The heat penetrating your skin harshly.

You were dying.

Was it supposed to be this painful? You couldn’t feel your right leg…

Tsu’tey had been badly injured. A few Na’vi warriors had told Jake this soon after his fight with Quaritch. And now he and Neytiri were both running through the forest, in search of the fallen warrior.

Some of him hoped it wasn’t severe, and wasn't lethal. For your sake. Jake had watched you lose Grace, and had lost so many people before. He hoped they didn’t lose another.

But hope in war was that of a myth.

When Jake saw Tsu’tey, his chest tightened. He was bleeding badly when Jake knelt down next to him. They both knew right here right now that he wasn’t going to make it. That it was too great of a wound to survive.

“Oel ngati kameie, Jakesully.” Tsu’tey croaked upon seeing him.

Jake nodded and whispered, “I see you, brother.”

Tsu’tey breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath while holding his chest where most of the blood had come from. “A-Are The People safe?”

“Yes, yes, they’re safe.” Jake nodded reassuringly to him.

Tsu’tey winced, coughing, “I can’t….I cannot lead the People. Y-You must lead them, Jakesully.”

It felt as if the whole world now looked upon Jake Sully. This wasn’t what he expected nor really wanted. All he wanted was for them to win this war. To win against the Sky People. Jake was not fit to lead a clan…he wasn’t, right?

Jake chuckled in disbelief at the request, “I'm not officer material.”

“It is decided.” Tsu’tey insisted weakly before grabbing onto Jake’s hand, guiding it toward his knife to bring it out. “Now do the duty of Olo'eyktan.”

Jake shook his head, wanting to drop the knife from his hand right then and there. “I will not kill you—”

“It is the way!” Tsu’tey continued firmly, squeezing Jake’s hand.

But Jake continued shaking his head, “I can’t—brother—I cannot kill you…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “She will not forgive me if I do this.”

Hearing this, Neytiri frowned sadly, placing a hand on Tsu’tey’s shoulder. Jake half expected the warrior to continue and insist he do it. Half of him didn’t think Tsu’tey heard him at all when he mentioned you and how worried he was of your reaction to this. You’ve already lost so much.

But the way Tsu’tey smiled, softly and almost fondly, laid what growing fears Jake had to rest. “I know my tsmuke. You know her. She will forgive….And it is good…I will be remembered. I fought... with Toruk Makto! And we were brothers. And he... was my last shadow….” There would be no other choice then. There was no changing a dying man’s last wish. A warrior at that. And it was just as he had said, it is the way. Jake spent a long time with them to know that he could not go against it. Not after all of this. Not after all he had been taught.

There was a look of peace on Tsu’tey’s face as he lied his head back against the rock, waiting for Jake to finish it. And before Jake plunged the knife into him, he heard him quietly say to himself, a sad look suddenly falling on his face.

“Ah, I do not feel her anymore…”

Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì.

Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan was now with Eywa. Another life lost. And now the role of Olo’eyktan had fallen onto his shoulders. The People now looked to him as their leader. Toruk Makto.

But all he could think about was you.

I do not feel her anymore.

Jake raised his head, realization hitting him like a heavy wave. His chest tightening.

He looked at the others with wide eyes.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Hell’s Gate was destroyed. When Jake had led most of the clan back there to send the rest of the aliens back to their dying planet, the place was unrecognizable. There were still surviving aliens, some badly injured from the attack while others were well enough to be walked toward the shuttles that would lead them off of Pandora.

Jake had sent a few warriors out to search for you when your body was not discovered among the dead.  After Max told him what happened, what you had done, Jake didn’t really know what to think. He couldn’t think. All he wanted was the RDA off the planet and to find you safe and sound somewhere, waiting for him to find you.

You being dead wasn’t an option. He simply couldn’t imagine that. You were too strong, too unkillable in his eyes. Perhaps he was stretching his hope too thin, perhaps he had gained a bit of naivety.

But you were not dead. You were not.

Some of what was left of Hell’s Gate was salvageable. The Avatar Compound, the incubators, the main link room. All of it was untouched by you. And of course it had.

Two ships were found just a few miles outside of Hell’s Gate. Both horribly damaged. One body, too unrecognizably burnt to tell who it belonged to. Jake just hoped it didn’t belong to you.

That same night he found your avatar still at the Tree of Souls. Jake got closer to find it still lying limp there, no sign of your consciousness attached to it. Just the avatar. Empty. Even when he knelt down and held your avatar in his arms it felt nothing like you. Just cold and lifeless.

He couldn’t imagine your human body like this. He couldn’t.

All he could do was gently caress your avatar’s cheek with his thumb, wondering if he should accept defeat. Wondering if it was too late.

Wondering if you all really had very little time in the end.

“Don’t burn the damn toast, Tinkers!” Grace scolded when she joined you at the stove.

You frowned, “I’m literally not! You haven’t even given me a chance yet!”

“I told you not to leave her alone with the breakfast again.” You heard Jake mutter causing you to glare over at him. He smirked when he saw your agitated face, “Last time that happened she nearly burned the whole place down.”

“Nobody asked you, Puppet.”

“Place nice, Tinkers.”

“Yeah, play nice Tinkers.”

You scowled at Jake, trying not to ignore the way your face grew hot when he looked up at you with a big smile. It was supposed to be provoking, supposed to get on your nerves. But lately, you couldn’t help but want to return those smiles at one point.

Right now you wouldn’t. No, you were far too stubborn right now to do so.

Norm then entered, looking like had just rolled out of bed. He scrunched up his nose, “What’s burning?”

“It’s not burning!” You snapped as Jake laughed.

Grace nudged your shoulder, “Well, it will burn once you stop tryin’ to prove to them how you’re totally not a bad cook.”

“Ugh! You’re distracting me.”

“You’re supposed to have iron focus. Which is something you should be familiar with, child prodigy.” Grace smirked teasingly at you. She then nodded toward the table Jake was at, “Go sit, I’ll finish up.”

You grumbled, “You’re sure.”

“Oh definitely.”

“Fuck you.”

Grace grinned as you went and slumped down in one of the empty chairs. Jake was grinning at you, “Fuck you too, Sully.”

But the stupid grin wouldn’t wipe off his face, “Hey, don’t get all pouty. At least you didn’t burn the kitchen again.”

You rolled your eyes, “Like you could do better.”

“Probably could. How would that make you feel?”

You tried to keep glaring at him, keep your scowling mask up. But the way he titled his head at you—you’ve grown to find it cute the past couple of months—or the simple way he looked at you made your resolve falter just a bit. These days, for some reason you couldn’t remain angry or annoyed with him. Not for long at least.

“I hate you.” You mumble out, fighting back a smile.

And there was his white smile again, “Or so you keep tellin’ me.”

Norm groaned, throwing his head back, “I hate you both.”

Grace turned back to face you all, “Breakfast is ready!”

Jake held your avatar close to him. Under the eyes of the spirits he blinked away tears.

“We won, Y/N,” He whispered, pulling your face into his chest as he continued whispering, “We won…”

END OF PART ONE

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-togetherr @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari @tojigirll @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @naityelen @dumb-fawkin-bitch @raggedyoldwitch @nhemmingsf @biooiuygjjgfsrb @thatsenoughformeloll @thotd-f11 @beaniebeensbaby201 @theoriginalwife000 @3leni @23victoria

[cemeteryspider]

A Healing Touch~ Part 1

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Superpowered! Reader

Summary: Working at the Superhero Hospital under Cecil was not something you looked forward to, until Rex Sloan comes in, close to death, and you have a chance to save him in more ways than you could imagine.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, Death, Injury, and Emotional Distress

Word Count: 1139

Every day you spent at your dads work the more you wished you had just stayed home. Every day you left and shadowed your dad at the hospital for superheroes he works at. You and your dad shared a power. You were able to direct the healing process in the bodies of others, allowing broken bones to heal in a fraction of the time, shrink tumors given enough time, and so much more that you were learning by shadowing your dad.

You watch him perform routine checkups on Black Samson, surgeries on Night Boy after his tussle with Invincible, and now the biggest attack on a superhero team since the original Guardians of the Globe were killed in the fight that also took your mother's life.

There was no time to think about that when you saw all the Dupli-Kates wheeled in on a stretcher, unmoving, and most certainly not breathing. Shrinking Ray, covered in goo and blood, again not moving but with a woman on her chest performing chest compressions. Lastly, a boy with a missing left hand and a hole in the front of his skull.

His head shifted as the gurney made its sharp turns into what you knew was trauma one, while Shrinking Ray went into trauma two, and Dupli-Kate into a different room which you knew people rarely came out of.

You made a move to follow but he just shook his head and closed the door. You spent the night at the hospital because your dad spent 19 hours working on the boy in trauma one.

When he walked out of the room he put his head in his hands and sat down next to you. Explained how the treatments and the surgeries didn't fully heal him. That he had something to ask of you.

"Your healing aura will help... him. If you stay in his room while he recovers, his chance of recovery increases exponentially. You can say no if you-"

"I can do this, Dad. My first job" You sat and smiled at each other for a minute.

"You're good, you know that?" You made eye contact with him, and gave him a little smile.

"Thanks, Dad. It means a lot coming from you"

"Your mom would be so proud of the person you've become"

He escorted you to the room where the boy lay, his chest steadily rising and falling, half his skull covered in a machine, all his hair shaved. Even in this state, you saw the beauty he radiated.

Quickly you shoved the thoughts out of your head and brushed away your father's concerns of leaving you at the hospital alone. You were grown, and most of all you were ready for some responsibility. 

~~~

The next few days were a blur. You found yourself pacing the room, or the hallway just outside to get your blood flowing. Reading in the chair next to him, sometimes out loud in case he could hear you. Or asleep curled up in the chair beside his bed. Often nurses came in and asked you questions about how he was doing, and if anything had changed.

You had taken to answering these questions in as professional a manner as you could muster. Often the nurses would smile at you and tell you to hit the call button if anything changed. Your dad came in sometimes to check the healing progress and remarked how quickly he seemed to be healing.

Sometimes his friends would come by, and you excused yourself leaving the room to give them their privacy. Sometimes you would check up on your dad and his patients or go to the cafeteria to get a coffee. His friends visited a lot, with Eve, Atom Eve, visiting the most. You often wondered to yourself if they were a couple, but again shut the thoughts out of your head.

~~~

You lay on your stomach on the floor next to the bed, reading your fourth book in the past 3 days when you heard a groan from above you.

Shooting to your feet you saw who you've come to know as Rex's eyes looking around the room and trying to move his limbs. You quickly hit the call button with shaky hands to alert a nurse and stood next to him.

"Rex. You're okay. You are injured and you are in recovery. Please stay calm," You had been preparing for this in the days you spent in this room, but it made your throat tight and your hands clammy at the moment.

"Wha's happening?" which came out a little more like "wash hapin"

Nurses quickly swarmed his bedside to take vitals and look into his eyes when his hand closed around yours. He squeezed your hand as the nurses and doctors poked and prodded at his wounds, and you just stood there watching it happen.

Nurses drew blood from his arm, shined lights in his eyes, and tested reflexes. They rushed out with samples and in with pain medication. The lights were being brightened and dimmer everything made you want to turn and run, but still Rex held your hand in his. Grounding you as you were his lifeline to a hint of normalcy.

Once the doctors and nurses left he fell asleep again, and your hand loosened from his iron grip. You pulled your chair up next to his and before you could stop yourself, put your hand on top of his.

~~~

A whisper pulled you from your sleep, "Eve?"

His speech was more clear than it was just a few hours ago, and you sat up realizing that your head was resting on the hospital bed with your hand on top of his.

"Oh, no, sorry, my name's Y/n, and I've been helping you heal the past week or so" You pulled your hand away but he gently grabbed your wrist, but let go when he saw your raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

"Shit, sorry, your hand was fine there, it actually felt pretty good," You rested your hand on his again with a slight smile, "You were talking to me... when I was asleep"

You nodded your head, "Yeah, sometimes I would talk to you, and sometimes I would read to you. I figured you might get bored if you could hear me but I wasn't saying anything. Sorry if that bothered you"

"No, it was nice. Would you mind reading to me some more, ya know, until I fall asleep"

"I can do that Rex,

November 7, 1991, Dear friend, It was one of those days that I didn’t mind going to school because the weather was so pretty. The sky was overcast with clouds, and the air felt like a warm bath. I don’t think I ever felt that clean before..."

Barely audible you heard Rex mumble, "Thank you"

[womanofwords]

Creative Protesting

Miss Rivers was going through the list of names to start the school day. The classroom was unusually sparse, no thanks to the new start time of 7:30. She knew it would be a disaster, and nobody listened to her.

"I knew it. I should have skipped school," Asher said, his head on the table.

"Young man!" Miss Rivers gasped. "Would you jump off a cliff if everyone else was doing it?"

"Why is anybody jumping off any cliff?" Asher griped. Miss Rivers sighed as she continued on with the register.

"Hope I'm not late, ma'am," Samson said, waltzing in at his usual pace. The weary teacher sighed; of course Samson had arrived late to class. As usual.

And then she saw what he was wearing.

"Samson, what on earth are you doing?" his teacher asked. Heads turned to look at Samson, class weirdo and general space cadet, walking into class . . . in his pyjamas. UFO pyjamas, to be precise.

Asher burst out laughing. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"Protesting," Samson explained. "The school's new start time is so early, I didn't have time to get changed."

"Samson, this is ridiculous," Miss Rivers said, as his classmates laughed. "You need to have clothes."

"These are technically clothes."

"Real clothes."

"I checked the student handbook. There is nothing that says I can't wear my pyjamas to school." Samson smiled. "The sleepwear stays. And it will stay until the 8:30 school start time is reinstated."

"Of course it will," Miss Rivers muttered.

(PAUSE)

Surprisingly enough, Samson kept his word. He showed up to school every day in his pyjamas. He had multiple different ones, too, much to everyone's amusement. Classic blue striped ones, candy cane pyjamas, tartan pyjamas, and Harry Potter pyjamas.

It didn't help that people had begun to mimic him. His own class filled up with pyjama-wearing students fairly quickly. Some kids decided to be elaborate about it, accessorising with dressing gowns and slippers. It got to the point where Principal Winters called an assembly about it.

"It seems to me," he began, looking at the crowd of students gathered before him, "that you view this school as being a bit of a joke." Some students sniggered. "Well, it's not. Truancy, backtalk, the rising pyjama trend - it all has to stop right this minute! As a place of education, this school demands a certain level of respect from the students!"

"Really?" Samson asked. Heads turned to look at the young man wearing Smurfs pyjamas. "That seems a bit hypocritical. Why do we need to have respect for this school when this school has no respect for us?"

Principal Winters' face turned salmon pink. "Young man, you had better find a way to rephrase that," he said, his voice.

"You heard me. No respect for our free time, or our mental health. We're constantly stressed out. You literally don't even care enough to make sure we have enough time to get ready for the education we must hold so much respect for!"

"Settle down!" Principal Winters snapped, but it was too late. The students roared their approval.

This assembly had become a colossal failure.

And somehow, it was about to fail even harder.

"Anita Lead, reporting for the Daily Quarterly about a pyjama-led rebellion against school authorities," an earnest reporter said. "I'm here at a school where students are expressing their distaste at the earlier start time by turning up to school in their PJs. Here's one leaving the school." The camera turned on Samson, wearing a neck pillow and the UFO pyjamas that started the trouble in the first place. "Hey, kid! What can you tell me about the pyjama craze that's taken over the school?"

"A lot, actually. First thing you need to know is that I started it," Samson said. "This school will not give us the time we need to be prepared for the day. We aren't getting enough sleep after we're finished with all the homework we have to do, and now we get less time in the morning to prepare for the day ahead. This is a visual sign of what the establishment can expect."

"Samson Edgeley!" Principal Winters yelled.

"That concludes our time," Samson said, racing for home with Principal Winters hot on his heels.

"Follow that boy and his principal!" Anita yelled, and the cameraman gave chase.

"Stop making the school look bad with your antics!" Principal Winters yelled.

"Stop torturing us with arbitrary rules!" Samson yelled. "We're being mummified by red tape over here!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Samson stopped in his tracks. Everyone else stopped, too. "I am Samson Edgeley," he said, in between gasps. "I dare to be ridiculous. And I dare to expose the ridiculousness that is inherent inside everything and everyone!" His voice was rising in volume now. "And if that means I show up to school in my pyjamas, then so be it! Good day to you!" Samson stormed off home, about as menacing as he could look while wearing UFO pyjamas.

"This is TV gold," Anita muttered.

The day after the segment aired, the new start time was mysteriously and happily scrapped. Samson went back to wearing regular clothes, much to Miss Rivers' relief. (That relief was fleeting once you took into account how bizarre Samson's dress sense was.)

People's opinions of Samson changed too. Before, they were mostly low, with a few being mildly positive and the vast majority of people not knowing him from a hole in the wall. But after the pyjama protest, public opinion of him skyrocketed.

Pyjama Dude ruled.

[imjulia-andilikecats]

Hear Me Out

I still think about how compatible Mare and Maven's love languages were for each other (Which might also explain how they still have chemistry and the Mareven ship still active, even past the betrayal and Glass Sword).

Mare's love language is mostly Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation. Which works well with Maven, since he is touch deprived (example, blushing at Mare hugging him or him holding her wrist). Mare telling him at some point that she thought he was better than Cal (something he rarely hears, even from his mom), which boosted his self-esteem and later in the books, he would seek out Mare's affirmation. Wanting/demanding her to thank/praise him for bringing back the conscription age from 15 to 18.

Maven's Love Language on the other hand, was Words of Affirmation, Gift Giving and Acts of Service. Which Book one Mare dearly needed, someone who would listen and reassure her that she is understood and seen. Especially, when she was forced to pretend to be a lost Silver elite and still wallowing at how her mother compared her to Gisa. The other two love languages, Gift Giving and Acts of Service, is shown in King's Cage. Where Maven would give her an unreasonable amount of expensive dresses and jewels, during her imprisonment. Even the other visiting allies, questioned why she was not dressed in rags and stuffed into a dungeon. Acts of Service, is even more questionable, but it's there. With him, staying by her side after being interrogated by Samson. Asking her if she feels cold, when he saw her rub her shoulders for warmth. Even dismissing her when he saw that Larentia's snake made her uncomfortable. Which made Mare momentarily feel thankful for him (even though he is her captor).

They both have the capacity and tools to comfort and love each other. However, given how different their upbringing and goals were. They became each other's enemie, leaving them no choice but to end the other.

Maybe in another life, a universe where the Lightning Girl, is just Mare and King Maven Calore, is just Maven. A universe where they met, became good friends then quickly fell in love and somewhere, are happily married and playfully exchanging banter while they have their breakfast in their home.

[1d1195]

Harry '15-'20

I have loved this man for a lot longer than 2015 but this is when I started writing about him. Here we go.

Tea and Cuddles Story Time Little Things Meanie Kiss Me Monsters Study Date In the morning I’ll be with you Keds and Tube Socks Just the Three of Us | Just the Three of Us II | Just the Three of Us III

ER History | History II Dinner My Relationship to You Patty Cake | Patty Cake II Keep Your Head Up Spa Day Highest Heels Ankles I Don’t Feel Alone

Cinderella Thoughtful and Innocent Photograph Flirting Wonderwall Boxing Christmas I want you. Naked. In my bed. Now. Explain yourself You have to let her walk on her own eventually

I think I’m falling in love with you You lied to me! Where are my clothes? Grand Gesture What do you think you’re doing? Just leave me alone Are you even listening to me? Pictures I can’t fall asleep…will you help me? Making a wish together

Don’t let me go Do you know what time it is? What do you think you’re doing? Piggyback Rides Kiss me You’re not going anywhere* Oh my God, what happened?! I hate you Touchy feely I’m coming back for you*

Smacking your bum I think m'gonna be sick… Adoption Screaming Can I hold your hand? School teacher It’s me or the boys, you choose. Dating Harry Kissing Booth You’re bad for me*

You could’ve died Rainy Day Infinity I think you’re beautiful Best friend’s sibling Perfect Home Period Titanic Halloween

Roommates Saturday Morning Chores Love You Goodbye (Divorce AU) I Wanna Write You a Song Sex Hair Haircut Caving Dating (with Niall) Bad Boy

Hey Angel Never Enough Don’t push me away A.M. Samson Acoustic #3 Mafia First visit to England

[theluckywizard]

An Embellishment of Lore (tag game)

I think as Fanfic writers, we often add lore to our stories. It is natural for us to build upon the pillars set for us. But what about the foundations, gravel and grit? What was a piece of Lore you added to Dragon Age that wasn't pre-existing?

Thank you for the tag @moonlightheretic 🥰

I think I added the most original lore for my ~6,500 word companion/standalone fic Thirst which is a Cullen POV fic that digs into the experiences Cullen has between DA:2 Act 3 and the intervening time between Meredith's fall and joining the Inquisition. In particular, I had a Samson who was reinstated on Cullen's own recommendation and then wrote in a schism of the Kirkwall Order when lyrium supply was heavily impacted by templar-mage warring where Samson takes a huge number away to Corypheus. It also explains Cullen's scar! I also dug into Meredith's madness and how she'd been taking an insane dose of lyrium at that point (red lyrium idol/sword notwithstanding). I know Templar HCs are a hot potato in fandom, but I found it fascinating to dig into. The bureaucracy of it all, the feeling of being unable to make changes to institutions even as corruption becomes more obvious. I will caveat "original" with "I'm sure others have had these ideas before in the scheme of the last decade of fic writing" so I won't claim to be breaking ground with them, but I really had an incredible time thinking about how things might have been for Cullen as he rises in the ranks and is responsible for more and more of that particular nightmare. In canon, I believe Samson took the templars after Cullen had left for the Inquisition, but I felt this way it created a lot more tension and drama between.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

Cullen and Samson shortly before Samson leaves:

Later that evening Cullen winds down shaving at his dressing table, squinting at himself in the small, tarnished mirror that had come with his Order-issued kit a decade before. He pauses in the weak candlelight to trace a finger over the circles under his eyes, the lines that have been there for years. But Cullen has been subjecting himself to the same rationing as those in his ranks and this week’s thirst and sleeplessness wears heavily across his face. Twenty seven years old looks more like forty today. He scrapes the blade over the stretched skin under his nose as he mulls over the tense atmosphere in the mess earlier. Something is shifting. It’s just a feeling at the moment but it’s time to gather hard evidence.

A shadowy figure appears behind him in the mirror so quietly, so suddenly that the blade slips, slicing across his lip. 

He whips around with a curse, backing into his table so violently that everything on top of it rattles. Samson takes up too much space in this modest room.

“Maker’s breath— What are you doing here?” he demands, clutching his mouth while blood drips through his fingers, his eyes fixing upon his sword across the room.

“Aw, no need for the curses, golden boy. Just here for a little chat.”

His eyes are rimmed with a greasy red like someone had thrown a fistful of lye at his face and he stands tall in a way that prickles at Cullen’s skin. He quickly parses that Samson wouldn’t be rationing this week, not that it would have stopped the man from finding the substance elsewhere. Man to man it wouldn’t be a contest with Samson’s blood singing and Cullen suffering in near abstention.

Samson reaches into his pocket and shakes out a rumpled handkerchief and hands it to Cullen. Cullen can feel the depth of the cut and is in no position to refuse it. He takes it and presses it to his lip. 

“How did you get past the guards?”

Samson crosses his arms and then steps over to lean against his door frame. “You can get anything for the right price. Thought I taught you that.”

Lyrium. Of course.

“The men are thirsty,” he continues. “You could’ve gone to the Carta months ago.”

“I’m not smuggling it,” says Cullen. “The Order must be above reproach.”

Samson snorts. “Above reproach? Try leashed like a pack of starving dogs. The Chantry’s old game playing out to the logical end.”

Cullen has no answer for him.

Samson chuckles, searching the ceiling, his lips curling into an unsettling smile. “Remember the days sneaking hits behind the armory? Or remember— remember that one time in Lowtown with that one bird Cinnamon—”

Cullen would prefer to forget. “What are you doing here, Samson?”

“Easy does it. Easy. I’m here to make an offer.”

“You?”

“Cut the leash. Get out from the Chantry’s thumb once and for all.”

Cullen gapes at him from under the handkerchief. “Quit lyrium?” 

Samson laughs, a rich, knowing thing deep in his throat. “Nah. There’s no going back. I’ve been there. Only forward.”

“Forward? To where?” demands Cullen. He feels the room clenching down upon him, the air growing thin. “We’re needed here.”

Kirkwall flagged without a viscount, without its Champion, Garrett Hawke who had vanished with his sister Bethany when the violence had grown too thick. It fell to him and Guard Captain Vallen to hold it all together.

“Something greater, kid. We deserve better. Me and you and all the rest. We could be great.”

“I don’t— speak plainly, Samson.”

“Aren’t you tired of being a lapdog?” Samson gestures at Cullen’s face. “I can see how tired you are. If you ask me you’re fighting the wrong battle.”

“I have a responsibility to the Order. How I feel doesn’t matter,” says Cullen with shallow breaths, paralyzed against his dressing table. He swallows a dry mouthful of nothing, feeling it all caving in on him. “Whatever you’re up to— I could use you here. I know some part of you cares. There are some things greater than our own need.”

“You’re something else, kid, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it before.”

“Whatever happens now is on you,” says Samson. “Always been a bit too fanciful. Going to bite you in the arse some day.”

And then he is gone.

Read Thirst here!

Tagging @crackinglamb, @samseabxrn, @the-rebel-archivist, @leggywillow, @melisusthewee, @hekaerges, @oxygenforthewicked, @warpedlegacy, @monocytogenes, @nirikeehan, @delicatefade AND YOU IF YOU ARE READING THIS 🥰

[greenishghostey]

Dungeon Master meet Prop Master | part 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Drama Club!reader

Summary: The blossoming relationship between you and Eddie was still new but you were both already in too deep. Turns out that your friends love a little romance gossip too.

Warnings: I've decided that this series will be 18+ eventually, so please DO NOT engage or interact if you are underage. More fluff, friendship banter, swearing, a very vague understanding of the US education system.

Word Count: 5,236

Authors Note: So this chapter is a bit more dialogue-heavy and goes into friend group reactions to Eddie and specs' budding relationship and where it will potentially go. This was going to be the first half of one chapter but I felt it was better as a stand-alone piece.

Part 2 /// Part 4 (Coming Soon)

Friday at school was surprisingly busy, with most of your classes hitting the first assignment stage. You loved a long-winded, formulaic piece of homework as much as the next person, but your mind had been busy. Eddie kept your mind so fucking busy. Even your favourite classes were a little bit tuned out by the sound of a boyish snort, metal rings tapping a steering wheel and “specs”. You were in a near-constant state of fluster, removing your glasses to rub your eyes or pinch the bridge of your nose. Your mom had asked if you were sick while eating breakfast. She asked if it was a boy. God, she made it sound so juvenile. You were legally an adult. However, she was right on the money - not like you were going to tell her that.

You had a giggly, schoolgirl crush on a boy who was nice to you. 

But “nice to you” wasn’t doing him enough justice. He was exceptional to you. The closest thing to Eddie’s comfortable presence you could think of was Penny - the person who had been your rock since elementary school. Eddie Munson had achieved that astronomical status within, what, like, 4 hours? 

Fuck, if he actually did have a weird cult thingy going, you might just have to look into joining. Maybe he gave out welcome packages along with the Hellfire shirts. An introductory pamphlet and a complimentary goat skull or something. You could bring snacks to the ritual sacrifices. 

You had a study period before lunch and took the opportunity to be a hermit in the library, trying to power through as much homework as you could in an hour and ten minutes. 

English gave you an essay on The Crucible, which was convenient since you were already knee-deep in annotating the play for prop and set ideas. Colonial melancholy mixed with fire and brimstone was your current plan. Now you just had to add in a few notes about John Proctor’s inner demons and how Arthur Miller was, unfortunately, a “national treasure”. The usual English class spiel that Miss Samson would slap a lovely A or B on. If you found yourself feeling adventurous, you could even pepper in some gender commentary discussion points. 

Woodshop was the only assignment you couldn’t make some progress on from your little library alcove, which was a shame because you were strangely excited about it. The project was simple enough for early in the year, making a small storage box with divided sections inside and a hinged lid. But you had a potential plan for your box if everything went well. 

Eddie had a zip-lock bag to keep spare game dice in. He had shown you the polyhedral cluster fuck of colours while you helped with Hellfire redecorating. It was cute that Eddie had collected so many spare sets just in case someone forgot to bring theirs on a Friday. He explained that he tried to get a wide enough range of designs so that they would work for every class and race - whatever that meant. Such an extensive collection deserved a proper form of storage and display, so you planned to give Eddie, and his club, another donation in the form of a dice box. Originally, you were going to give the box to your mom to keep her funkiest, fanciest jewellery, but your dad beat you to the punch on her birthday. 

Mr Kennedy, your shop teacher, might even let you carve a pattern on the lid too - flames or a skull, something befitting the Hellfire vibe. Mr Ken always liked you because you were interested in his subject rather than seeing it as an easy grade for senior year credits. 

Giving Eddie a gift, regardless of how practical it would be, was maybe a little much. He had already lightly teased you for “donating” aged paper to Hellfire so they could have more immersive maps and in-game documents. But that was friendly and with good intentions - he did really want that brown paper. If he seemed apprehensive, you could easily pass the dice box off as a peace offering from the drama club. From one group of oddballs to another. 

You polished off the introductory paragraph of an essay on the Reconstruction Era. The name Ulysses had stopped looking like a real word after reading it so many times in your History textbook. The bell rang, and you heard shoes squeaking and doors slamming outside the library's silence. You and Penny always met at your locker before heading to the cafeteria, so you made your way through the halls, weaving between hoards of backpacks, denim and school spirit.

In your opinion, the lockers in Hawkins High were pretty shitty real estate. Too narrow, stupid stiff locks, and they always smelled weird. It was unlikely that they were cleaned out properly when the owners graduated. Some crumbs and a sticky stain had welcomed you in freshman year. You were playing Tetris with your textbooks when you heard your name being yelled down the emptying hallway, followed by an icy bellow of, “We need to talk, young lady!” Penny was always really good at projecting to the back of the room. It was one of the main reasons Miss Butler loved her so much. A ginger, permed head came bounding over to you at a rate of knots, skidding to an abrupt stop in her grass-stained tennis shoes.

“I didn’t do anything. You can prove nothing - Shit, are you okay?” You sniggered, watching Penny pant and lean against your open locker door. She must have bolted to you from across campus; her bangs were sticking to her pale powdered forehead. 

“Quit laughing,” she was clutching her side like she was in agony, “I ran from the fucking track field to get here as soon as possible. We need to talk. Now.” Penny straightened up, crossed her arms and fixed you with a stern look. This particular look was reserved for when you forgot to fill her in on gossip or when you stole chips from her during lunch. You hoped she had some of those little pretzel chip pieces in her bag.

“Since when did you know where the track field is?” You joked with a similarly pinched look on your face. It was a mystery as to why she seemed so miffed at you. Ben hadn’t struck out with the costume designer, Lily, again. No one in shop class had narrowly missed losing a finger. The Hawkins gossip pool was rather dry. What a shame.

Penny flapped her hands in your face, “Shush!” She snipped. It was like you’d told her she wouldn’t ever get that Oscar she always dreamed of. Like you had pissed in her cornflakes that very morning. “Munson does business out past the track field.”

Ah. Crap. You should have called her last night after dinner and told her about that. About Eddie and you. Whatever you and Eddie were. Friends? Acquaintances?

You felt your eyes widen, “Oh, forgot you were doing that today. How’d it go?” You asked innocently. As much as you wanted to play dumb, you couldn’t make it convincing. The warmth painted across your face, and your sudden interest in your locker shelf was a dead giveaway. 

“Well, a freaky little birdie asked me if I was “the friend of specs” and called me ‘Pennies’ the entire deal.” The nickname was sort of sweet. It was better than if Eddie had called her Penelope like her parents did. She would have slapped him with the weed baggie if he’d done that. 

“To be fair, a lot of people you know have glasses. Plus, he’s in our grade, even if he’s been around a while. Isn’t he in Home Ec with you?” You knew he was in that class with Penny. She talked about how out of place he looked in an apron with his hair tied back and without his heavy silver rings. Apparently, he was pretty good at cooking and could fix a jammed sewing machine in under a minute. She’d called him a “domestic demon”, in a nice way, of course. Honestly, you had started to wish you had given in to Penny trying to bribe you to take Home Ec with her. A fucking apron. 

“Yeah, and he’s Mrs Collins’ favourite. Now, stop interrupting me. How much do you think he charged me?” Penny pressed. The situation was beginning to feel like a bad cop style interrogation very quickly. You could sense where Penny was going - to be honest, you could read her like a children’s book. 

“You said it was gonna be like 30 bucks, right? Seems reasonable for illegal stuff.” For the ‘weed parties’, $30 was possibly even a bit too generous. Eddie could use a better business plan.

“Yep, that’s what Connor told me. But that’s not what happened.” 

Connor! That was his name. You had been so sure it was Keith for some reason. He looked like a Keith with his product-saturated hair and gym shorts that were too tight to be comfortable. It wasn’t even like he had anything to show off in the shorts. Now, Eddie, you could tell there was something stunning in his dark jeans. If only you’d had gym with him.

“Where are you going with this exactly, Pen? I’m hungry. All the good juice boxes are gonna be gone by now. You’ve stuck me with crappy orange.” You whined. The orange juice they had in the cafeteria was rancid. It was sickly sweet to the point of tasting like children’s medicine. Apple juice was the superior choice, but everyone in the school agreed on that too.

“He charged me 15 bucks! He smiled and was like, “ah, friend of a friend discount, don’t worry about it”.” Penny said in a mimicking voice, her eyebrows were almost in her hairline, and she was a few seconds away from shaking you down for information. 

“Oh.” 

Fuck. Well, now you would have to spill the beans about your wonderful little evening in the drama room. Part of you was itching to talk about it, and you knew that Penny wouldn’t be too judgemental of Eddie. However, you also wanted to keep it to yourself for a little longer. Hold the warmth of your meeting close to your chest and only have Eddie to share it with.

“Yeah. Oh. Firstly, when did you become chummy with Munson? Secondly, what did you do to get a 50% discount!?” 

“You wanna go scream it on the roof? Shut up. He came by the drama room yesterday, and we hit it off, I guess? He’s really sweet and gave me a ride home since it was dark out.” You said, leaning in close and tempted to slap a hand over Penny’s mouth because she was going to start shrieking eventually with this level of gossip.

“…Do we need to clean the room?” Penny grimaced, pulling away from you.

“Ugh! Jesus, Pen!” You swatted at her with your backpack. As if you would soil your beloved drama room. Eddie would have to, at least, take you on a date before you entertained that idea. Like a pay for your dinner and brush hair behind your ear before kissing you sort of date. The fact that that scenario had started to morph into a fantasy was mildly concerning, but it maintained a solid PG-13 rating.

“What? Excuse me for making assumptions based on fifty fucking percent!” Penny exclaimed. Thankfully the hallway was empty, but her voice still echoed off the rows of lockers. 

“We hung out, and that’s all. I swear on your hair.” You huffed. By swearing on Penny’s crazy, fiery mane of hair, she would know you were telling her the truth. You just really loved the hair. “What did you think I’d done anyway?”

“I dunno. Some girls say the other drug dealers around Hawkins asked them to flash their tits for a discount. Thought you might be going through a rebellious phase?” Penny wiggled her eyebrows. God, she really was gunning for you to let loose one day. “He is cute in, like, a funky way. His eyes are the size of my mom’s fancy dinner plates, though; it’s weird.”

You rolled your eyes at her, continuing to sort your locker, “Eddie’s not that kind of guy,” You stated firmly, “besides, you’d get too jealous if someone else got that much of my attention.” Easing the slight tension of the conversation with a little friendly jab. The “cute” comment wasn’t even going to be discussed or acknowledged. Penny huffed and slammed your locker closed once you gathered your lunch. 

The two of you continued the Eddie conversation. Penny needed to know every syllable that you and Eddie had said to each other. She needed to be able to visualise the interior of his van. Any speck of information was not a request but a necessity. As you had hoped, she wasn’t being judgemental in her pestering. Just being a concerned best friend. You had never expressed any real interest in a guy to her in the years you had been best friends - well, any guy that you knew in real life anyway. Robert Downey Jr in ‘Tuff Turf’ awakened something in you when you saw it during winter break. The movie wasn’t all that great, but you had learned that big brown eyes and endearing charm were “your thing”. An educational experience, if nothing else.

The “Eddie territory”, as Penny dubbed it, was new for everyone involved. No threats had been detected so far, but as you stressed to your friend, it had less than 24 hours. The one piece of information that you withheld was the promise of future Thursdays in the drama room. You were the unofficial Hellfire interior decorator now. 

The cafeteria was as you had expected, buzzing with life and smelled like really sad mac and cheese. Your eyes glanced towards the lunch counter and took note of the lack of juice. God damn it. You linked arms with Penny and started navigating your way towards the usual table - a mix of drama club juniors and seniors, their plus ones, and a few other “artsy fartsy” types who needed people to sit with. 

You slid into your usual seat quickly and swung Penny into hers with just a little more force than was necessary. That was for the implied flashing comment earlier. Subtle and immediate karma was a beautiful thing in your friendship. You dug into your sandwich, the chatter of the table fading to background noise in your mind. 

Your head was still unbelievably busy. Not even a turkey sandwich and tomato soup could put you fully back to normal. Penny nudged you with her elbow and pushed a zip-lock bag of pretzel pieces towards you. Like a little peace offering for her dramatics. But then she had to ruin it, “You only get five; I will count. My mom and sister eat them, too, so I can’t bring as many. Meaning you are on rations.” You were in the midst of your first real battle with emotions and hormones, and she was getting stingy with the goods. 

“Can I get the extra salty ones you don’t like?” You asked, blinking at her with your best puppy dog eyes. They were shit, but at least it guaranteed she would give in quickly just to make you stop. “Pleeeease, Penelope. Sweetest Penny-lope.”

Penny shuddered at the use of her full name and the silly nickname you used when you wanted something. It was like she was born as an 80-year-old woman and her parents just went with it. At least “Penny” was a cute nickname, very her. She turned her nose up at you and sighed, “Ugh! Fine, but if you take the kinda burnt ones, you’re not getting that Siouxie cassette back.” 

“Well then, you can kiss that Bon Jovi t-shirt you left in my room goodbye,” You threatened. Your fingers wiggled into the zip-lock bag to gather your pretzel rations as you and Penny dissolved into giggles and snorts. 

Lunch continued much the same after that. You and Penny tended to stay joined at the hip at the lunch table since drama kids were just strange. But it had always been like that. It was you and your beloved Penelope against the world. On the road to Broadway, or at least off-broadway, if you were being realistic. Lily, the club costume guru with the most impressive black springy coils you had ever seen, kept glancing over your shoulder, eventually meeting your gaze. 

You raised your eyebrows in question, mouth full of salty snacks, “Mmmm?” 

“Eddie Munson is, like, trying to stare through the back of your head,” Lily whispered, her blouse almost dipping into the cup of your thermos. 

You didn’t dare turn around. Not because you were embarrassed about people knowing the two of you were kind of friends, but because you would melt into the gross tiled floor if he waved. If the corner of his mouth so much as twitched into a smile, you’d flatline for a few seconds. Due to Lily’s observation, your heart picked up until it pulsed heat through your veins. God, this was the fucking pits.

Lily leaned in a little closer, her voice just above a whisper again, “Is he bothering you? Need me to go say something?” Lily Warren was quite possibly the sweetest girl in your entire grade. But, this was the one time you wouldn’t need her help when it was offered. Part of you wanted to go chat with Eddie, maybe make yourself known to his friends, like he was with yours. Minus the drug dealing, obviously. The distinct bark of his voice rang through the cafeteria, and several people at your table either grimaced, rolled their eyes or scowled in his general direction. It broke your heart to have the evidence that Eddie was like sunshine personified while most people around you loathed his existence. “If he messed with you, I swear to god.”

“No messing, I promise, but thanks, Lils. He came by the drama room yesterday for club stuff. Probably just let his eyes wander and remembered he knew me.” Your reply wasn’t entirely untrue. You didn’t think he had been staring a hole into the back of your skull like Lily had said; his gaze just tended to appear that way. “It’s just Eddie being Eddie.” You hummed, suppressing a smile. However, your heartfelt introspection was short-lived as Penny snorted into her can of Tab. 

-

“Eddie?” Jeff asked, nudging his friend in the rib, trying to pull his attention away from the other side of the cafeteria, “You good, man?” 

“Fabulous,” Eddie mumbled.

Eddie was off in a world of his own. He did that sometimes. It was similar to a robot powering down - his eyes glazed over, he sat straight as a rod and barely moved an inch. But this time, it was different; Eddie was deep in thought, putting all of his attention into a specific spot a few feet away from his seat. The drama club table. Jeff and Eddie had walked to the cafeteria together and were, surprisingly, the first at the table. The freshmen, Dustin and Mike, were probably still trying to get their bearings about the school or were still in that kiss-ass phase with teachers.

Jeff moved in his chair, positioning himself to try and catch a glimpse at what Eddie was honing in on. If it was a person, they could probably feel his stare like a ghost hanging on them. “Whatcha looking at the drama girls for?” There was a smugness in Jeff’s voice - Eddie didn’t appreciate the attitude, even if he was bringing it on himself.

“Glasses girl has a cool sweater. Orange and black are complimentary colours, ya know,” what a bullshit answer. He was losing his edge, and it was all your fault. You had him making up colour theory facts. Black and orange only worked together when it was Halloween - and on you, but that was beside the point. 

Before Jeff could start an entire interrogation, the rest of the Hellfire club members arrived. Gareth and Simon were in the middle of a discussion about which spells Simon’s Cleric, Rothgär would learn once he levelled up - the favourite option so far was Holy Aura, so he could blind enemies with Godly light. Dustin and Mike were trailing behind the older boys, having two conversations at once. One was about the upcoming campaign that evening, and the other was about how much of bitch their chemistry teacher was - Ms Wheaton was quite the battleaxe, Eddie could remember all too well. He and Loise went way back. 

Gareth was the first to notice the uncharacteristic silence from the head of the table. No all-mighty knowledge coming to weigh in on the spell discussion, no greeting, absolutely nothing. Just Eddie looking almost a touch flustered and focusing so hard on his lunch that he was going to burst a blood vessel in his eye. Soon, each of the Hellfire boys noticed Eddie being… not Eddie, expressions morphing into concern and curiosity.

“You guys want a picture or something? An autograph, maybe?” Eddie snapped, taking an aggressive bite of his slightly bruised apple, his face twisting at the sour taste - Granny Smiths, man, he needed to start buying the other green ones. 

“Dude, are you sick?” Gareth asked, “You’re being quiet, and it’s fucking weird.”

“Yeah, usually we can’t get a word in when we sit down,” Dustin pointed out, “you were kinda weird this morning, too, when you picked me up.” 

Eddie had been super weird that morning. In a good way. In a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. His mind was still going a mile a minute because of that clumsy little wave you’d given him. Eddie was a fan of dramatics; anyone within a twenty-mile radius of the guy could see that, plain and simple. But, he never thought he would be in a position where he almost swooned, like some damsel NPC in his campaigns. You being friendly and talking to him like he was a person was pretty damn good, then you had to go and call him a “sweetheart”. His hands hadn’t been that clammy since the middle school talent show before he and the guys went out on stage. 

“You been looking at funky sweater gal all day, huh?” Jeff loved every second of that lunch period. 

“You’re on thin ice, Fulton,” Eddie mumbled, shooting a glare at his friend, who was still basking in his smug glory. That was when the absolute avalanche of questions started. 

“Shit, why didn’t you say, dude! Who is she? She hot?” Gareth immediately honed in on the mention of a girl. A potentially hot girl. Christ, he needed to get laid or just go on a date - something would be better than nothing. A handhold would probably do him a world of good. 

“Since when were you actually into girls around here?” That prodding comment came from Dustin. He was craning his neck in all directions, trying to scope out the women in the room. Like he knew Eddie’s type. Eddie didn’t have a type. “Nice to him” was all the type he needed. “Is there some goth or metal girl that’s new or something?” Dustin whispered to Mike, who shrugged his lanky shoulders. Eddie had slid down in his chair; teenagers were hard work. No wonder parents complained about them all the time.

Simon, the stand-up guy that he was, had decided to busy himself with eating and reading through his campaign notes, sniggering to himself when he re-read a good joke he had made last week - “every warlock requires his war key”. 

“Si?” Eddie poked at Simon’s book, “you get first rolls tonight. Your initiative is 20 from now until 10:30.” He and Simon shared a knowing smile and nodded. Always good to conduct business with him. 

“BULLSHIT!” Mike yelled. He tried to speak with a low bite to his voice, resulting in a wavering crack. Eddie used to do the same thing, thinking it made him cool, so he couldn’t judge the kid too harshly. 

“How is that fair?!” Gareth whined, eyebrows furrowing harshly. He was still trying to scope out the object of Eddie’s interest, though. That information was a teeny tiny bit more critical than Eddie’s piece of shit, made-up rules. 

“Cause I said so and because he isn’t about to go and bug every chick in here to see if I’ve breathed near her!” Eddie barked. 

He could sort of understand Gareth foaming at the mouth. Massive virgin that he was. Jeff just lived for gossip, which explained his enjoyment of the situation. But Dustin and Mike said they had girlfriends - they had no excuses. Were they both raised in a fucking barn? “Besides, there’s no fucking point in keeping it to myself now anyway.” 

Eddie was embarrassed. Eddie never got embarrassed. Especially not in front of his brethren and the underlings. It was just like in his van again, when you were being all cute and cool without even trying. 

“Knew I could wear you down. So, what’s her name? Where’d you meeeeet?” Jeff sang, resting his chin on his palms. If he started batting his long eyelashes at Eddie, he was getting kicked off his chair. 

With your identity about to be revealed, each of the boys turned to face Eddie, eyes wide with curiosity. Their depressing cafeteria macaroni cheese was going to get so soggy.

“In the orange polka dot sweater. Big glasses. She’s the prop girl for the drama club. I went to do Hellfire set up yesterday, and she was still doing drama-y stuff,” Eddie explained, gathering his friends closer so he didn’t announce anything to others in earshot. “To make a long dick short-”

“Dude, ew.” Jeff cringed. 

“To make a long dick short! We hit it off. Like really well. She made that sick prop sword I use as The Sun Strike-“

“Made it?!” Dustin, Mike and Simon gasped. The three of them were the characters putting in the most work to find the sword. Simon’s character was a cleric for the Sun goddess who blessed it, so everything worked out very nicely.

“Quit interrupting! But yeah, that’s what I said too. She handmade all of the weapon props in that one big box. How fucking cool is that?” 

“Is she cool with us using it?” Gareth muttered, a grimace worming its way onto his face. “I asked Janie in my math class for a pen, and she looked like she wanted to slap me.”

“Nah, specs is cool. Actually, she was super psyched that we named it and made it into the legendary slayer of midnight.” Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice began to creep up his vocal cords, “The bearer of brilliant fire. The almighty-“ 

There was a giggle. A little shit type of giggle. “So she’s got a nickname already?” Dustin sniggered, cutting Eddie’s dramatics short. He was having the time of his life seeing Eddie practically swooning over you. 

“Wears glasses, aka specs. Therefore, she’s “specs”. What’s the issue?”

“Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything,” Dustin mumbled, a goofy little grin plastered across his face as he dug into his lunch. Eddie was used to all eyes being on him at the table - he thrived on the admiration and comradery that came from Hellfire. However, he was not a fan of the teasing. Sure, he would definitely be joining in if it were Jeff, who was into a girl, but this time it was him, so it made him feel flustered. It was uncomfortable being the centre of attention for a fluffy, fuzzy reason.

“Found her!” Mike whisper-yelled, shaking Gareth’s arm so he could laser focus in on you and your dotty sweater. The boys also noticed Penny, who was leaning on your shoulder with a big grin on her face. Gareth could swear he heard angels singing songs about her.

“Damn! She talked to you?” Gareth pressed. He tried to cover up a laugh since he knew Eddie would either kick him under the table or make his character’s life miserable in their session that evening.

“You’re on thin ice too now.” Eddie cursed, crossing his arms, “For your information, I also gave her a ride home. Might want to brush up on your game, Campbell.” 

“She willingly got in your shit box!?” Gareth wasn’t trying to push Eddie’s buttons, but it was almost too much fun. “Aw, she must like you.” Eddie was going to strangle the junior. However, he also wished that Gareth was right - sarcasm be damned. 

“Probably gave the poor girl a heart attack,” Jeff mumbled to Simon, trying to speak quietly under the cafeteria noise so Eddie wouldn’t blow a gasket. 

“Great to finally know what you guys think of me. Really! I’m touched.” Eddie scowled. Only a peppering of malice was in his expression; he knew everyone meant well. Plus, they were right about the van. It was well and truly a shit box. “I bare my soul to you people, and it gets thrown right in my face….” Eddie turned his attention back to his apple, which was now beginning to brown.

Dustin patted Eddie’s shoulder encouragingly. It was a sweet gesture. The teasing chatter had come to an end, but each of the guys still had a small smirk on their faces. It wasn’t every day that they were the ones able to get Eddie all riled up in that playful way that friends do. That brothers in arms do. 

“Eddie,” Dustin said with a genuine smile on his face now, “I saw a girl in that exact sweater putting a note in your locker when I went to the bathroom during History.” The sound of a chair strapping and clattering to the floor rang through the cafeteria - some cheerleaders passing by the table almost jumped out of their scrunchies.

Eddie had a general tendency to move rather sporadically and quickly. He bounced around a lot, mostly to burn off excess energy that usually struck him at around eleven every day. That being said, Eddie felt as though he was nearly breaking the sound barrier while running from the cafeteria to his locker after Dustin finished his sentence.

-

The little scrap of lined paper read, “I hope the set goes down well with your guys today. Let me know everyone’s thoughts on Thursday, please! Meet you at 3:30!” it was signed off with a small doodle of a pair of glasses. 

Eddie quickly glanced around him to make sure that the coast was clear. When it was confirmed, he started drumming his hands rapidly on his locker door. Soon, his entire body joined in on the celebration, and he was cheering through clenched teeth. No one needed to see him looking this type of ridiculous - it would ruin his long-established reputation. 

“Fuck yes, I’ve still got it!” He grinned, thrusting his fists into the air. Eddie was almost dancing his way up and down the hallway. Power sliding on his knees was actually sounding like a fantastic idea. He’d willingly take the friction burn to his kneecaps because you were meeting him on Thursday at 3:30 sharp.

Tag list: @fan-girl-97 @lunatictardis @eddiesprincess86 @kimmi-kat @strangerthings1983fan @moviefreak1205 @becca-alexa

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Can we mix numbers for the prompts? I’m really feeling 2 and 15. I don’t even care who you hurt.

Of course!! Perfect excuse to write some QUALITY Nemec, Fireball and Howzer. Thank you for this one >:]

Prompts:

"Someone get the medic. Get the medic!" "This is going to hurt, okay?"

Warning: gore/blood

Please enjoy >:]

A mission is a mission.

Howzer stood at the entrance, ready for anything. Nemec, Fireball and Rex was inside. Rex would keep them on target, Rex would get them out. All Howzer needed to do was wait, and clear their exit.

A mission is a mission, until the screaming starts. Howzer sprints in, terrified for what he'll find.

Fireball's kneeling on the floor, hyperventilating under his helmet. Beside him, Rex tries to ground the troopers, one hand gripping Fireball's shoulder, the other holding Nemec's hand tight.

And laying between them, Nemec screams. Almost wailing as he thrashes under them, sobbing and begging for them to "Get it out! Please, please get it out—!"

Then Howzer sees it. The sharp, jagged chunk of durasteel that's sticking out of his brother's side. It's dripping blood, the thick liquid black against his armour as Nemec cries.

Rex is there, whispering words of encouragement, hushing the younger clone. Nemec responds with gasped demands for the pain to stop.

Nemec's cries snap Howzer into action as he snatches his comm and shouts into it. "Samson!" He barks. "Someone get the medic. Get the medic!"

"Howzer?" Fireball looks over as the ex-captain sits down, listening for his comm. "I don't know what happened, we were just doing the data extract like normal—"

"Rex," Howzer interrupts, holding the bar steady, much to the displeasure of Nemec. "Where's our evac?"

"Two minutes." Rex grounds out, helping him as best as he can. Nemec's breath hitches, and he grips Rex's hand all the tighter, crying out.

Howzer's heart breaks. "I know," He whispers, pressing his forehead to Nemec's sweaty temple. "I know, vod, it's okay. Just a bit longer."

"Howzer," Samson's voice is clear on the other end of the comm. "We're inbound. Status?"

Howzer takes a small breath. "Nemec's down. Projectile, it's sticking out of his side," He checks Nemec over briefly. "Nothing major's been hit, just excessive bleeding."

A swear over the comm. "You need to get it out," Samson instructs. "We can stabilise him, but we can't risk infection. You need to get it out."

"Howzer?" Nemec's words slur together, sniffling as he watched the ex-captain's face twists.

A mission is a mission. Until Howzer is knelt beside his younger brother, worried he won't pull through on what needs to happen. Until he's sure he'll puke from indecision. Nemec's life is in their hands. That makes the decision for him.

He takes a deep breath, looking to Rex. "We need to take it out." Howzer explains slowly, carefully cupping the back of Nemec's sweat slicked head. "We have to take it out before the evac gets here to avoid infection."

Rex and Fireball nod, knowing what needs to happen. Nemec, despite begging for that very thing through tears moments ago, stiffens, pulling a wince from him.

"This is going to hurt, okay?" Howzer speaks gently, and Nemec nods, squeezing Rex's hand as he breathes through his nose.

"Okay." He says, trying to stay strong. Or at least, seem like he was. "Okay, ready."

He wasn't. Neither was Howzer.

He nodded to Rex and Fireball, who secured Nemec in place. Howzer grasped the jutted durasteel, and he gave a quick, harsh tug.

Nemec let out a shriek. Panicked, Rex shoved a piece of cloth into the clones mouth, watching Nemec whimper as he bit down weakly.

"I know," Howzer whispers hoarsely, gripping the durasteel tighter. "You're doing great, it's okay, one more alright? Then I'm done."

Nemec almost sobs again. "One more," Howzer promises, and with one more rough pull, the shrapnel is yanked out of Nemec's side.

Howzer threw it to the side carelessly. "Nemec?" His whisper is strained. "Nemec? Can you hear me?"

The grip in Rex's hand has gone lax, the cloth falls from Nemec's mouth. His eyes have rolled back, and his head is cushioned only by Fireball's knees.

He's pale, greying quickly. Howzer surged forward and presses his hands to the wound. The action doesn't pull any reaction from the clone beneath him.

A mission is a mission until all they can do is hold him there till the evac comes. Howzer holds him long after.

[llendrinall]

Hispanism in OFMD

Hispanic representation in OFMD is very well done. I won’t say it’s the show that does it best because there are many other shows out there, but it certainly stands out. So I thought I would write something like a primer to appreciate the good work and maybe help with fic writing.  For each episode I’m transcribing (but not translating or it will be too long) all the Spanish, as well pointing fun things.

Episode 1

Olu: “Oye, te traigo comida”.

Kudos to Samson Kayo for his correct pronunciation. Too often, actors will mangle the Spanish to the point that it is unrecognizable or they will be so focused on making it sound right that they forget it should be acted. Samson delivers the line naturally.  

Spanish is weird in how one can address another person. There is formal (usted), informal (tú), archaic (vos, os) and the Argentinian brand (vos squared). Here they use the informal “tú” which is common in modern Spanish but still shows a certain degree of familiarity. In the 18 century this form would be extremely intimate. 

Episode 2

In the diary, left page, Jim writes “me asegure que el [h]ombre que mató a mi familia pagará con sangre”. There are some spelling mistakes, mostly accents, as well as the missing h-. Lovely detail. Jim is more literate than the rest of the crew, but still miles away from Lucius. It shows that while Jim received more education than most, it’s still lacking.  (For more on literacy check this post).

Diary, right page: “Día 28 a la fuga. Debido al alto precio de mi cabeza, estoy atrapado en este disfraz, en una prisión de mi propia creación. El pecio de la venganza es muy alto. Pero aquí estoy, al borde de la cordura, sudando hasta mis supuestos cojones.” Woa, so Jim speaks of themselves with –o which can be either masculine or neutral, rather than the –a for feminine. Interesting choice, when in the same paragraph they speak of their lack of balls. 

Episode 3

Lots of things in this episode! I’m putting most of Jim’s lines together and then explaining some stuff.

Jim: “Ese bastardito caught me unawares.”; “¡Cállate hombrecito!”; “Me tienes hasta el–” (this is said while Lucius begs not to go back to the trunk, so I can’t quite catch all of it).

Jim: “She did! Estaba ahí, clarita, on Stede’s stupid fucking nose!”; “You are pushing your luck, hombrecito!”; “Jiménez. ¿Qué pasa?”

 People focus a lot on the fact that Spanish is a gendered language (like all romance languages) but this isn’t such a defining trait. What really identifies Spanish is how much it likes to use suffixes to provided nuance.

(A suffix is a morpheme added at the end of the word to change its nature. Examples in English are the –s to make a plural or –tion to make a noun). Now Spanish gets all hot over suffixes. To give a quick example, if we take “rojo” (red) we can have: rojillo (small and affectionate), rojito (even more affectionate, maybe not so small), rojazo (very big or intense, not affectionate but not derisive), rojuzco (not nice, not complete), rojucho (not nice and possibly sick), rojeras (derisive while also affectionate, somehow).

Where am I getting with this? Jim consistently refers to Lucius as “hombrecito” and “bastardito” which is a mostly affectionate diminutive. This means that Jim doesn’t consider Lucius much of a threat, but also, out of all the suffixes options -ito is not one charged with contempt, far from it.  

“Bastardo” is not that common as an insult and it comes a bit soft (pendejo o cabrón would be more appropriate and much harsher) but it would be understood by English speakers. Since Jim is a Floridian it makes sense that they would have linguistic interferences. Later, Jim calls Alfeo “pendejo” which is much stronger, so, again, Jim refers to Lucius in the softest of terms while also insulting him.

 Jim’s name is Bonifacia Jiménez. Two things about this.

The name: Bonifacia is kind of an ugly lower class name that was never in fashion. Funnily enough, the male version is way more common than the female, although still not pretty. A baby would be named Bonifacio either because it runs in the family (to honor a grandparent or parent) or because it is the saint of the day they were born. In case anyone needs Jim’s birthday: June 5th.  

The surname: Jiménez, one I two E. You can find it as “Jimenes” sometimes, but never, ever, Jiminez. Spanish culture has always been very anxious about surnames so women never, ever, change their surname. In some contexts, if they married someone important, they might use something like: Name Surname of Husband’s surname (Bonifacia Jimenez de Boodhari) but they wouldn’t drop their own family name. Children receive both surnames (Father + Mother) and in everyday life they may use just one, to shorten things, but in legal documents they will use both. This is to say that we still don’t know Jim’s full name, we are missing their mom’s.

Beautiful detail: they included the accent over the –e- in the dagger’s carved handle. Jiménez.

 Whoever though of naming Jackie’s husband “Alfeo de la Vaca” is a genius. It sounds like a Spanish name, but it is not. Alfeo is close to Alfredo, an actual name, but by shortening it they underline the sound “el feo” (the ugly one). I have never seen “de la Vaca” (of the cow) as a surname, but there is “Vaca” and “Cabeza de vaca” (Cow’s head) so it doesn’t sound wrong. Altogether, Jackie married someone called Ugly from the Cow.

 Roach has Berber inspired tattoos. All sides of the Mediterranean have been in permanent contact with each other, but especially in the 17-18th centuries there was a lot of traffic of goods and people. I don’t want to type all the historical background, but it is pretty likely that Roach is familiar with Spanish culture, either because he has been in Spanish territories or because he has met Spanish communities in Turkish/Ottoman territory. The tapas are an accurate representation (although most Spaniards would say those are “pinchos” or “raciones” rather than tapas) up to the presentation itself, like the clay dish Geraldo holds. Stede is wrong: “tapas” does not mean little plates but “lids”.

 This is very trivial, but the word “pirate” entered relatively late in the Spanish lexicon. The Spanish soldier’s line (“así tratamos a los piratas”) echoes nicely with Alma’s line, but at the time Spaniards would’ve most likely say “corsarios”.

 Bald Soldier: “Filtry scum. Anda y vete a comerte una mierda por ahí.” (Wow, Don Bald Soldier, that was crass).

Jim: “Felicidades. Cara de culo”. Jim’s choice of insults is really something.

 The Spanish captain is Nacho Vigalondo, who directed this episode.

 Episode 4

Not much Spanish in this ep.

Ed’s assertion that the Spaniards die dramatically is probably right and God is mentioned often in common speech. However, in Spain (not so in Latin American where they have some semblance of piety and respect) it is very common to say “me cago en Dios” (I poo on God). I love to think that what Ed took as cries of “I beg to God” included some “I poop on God”.

 Jim: “¿Qué te pasa?”; “Dios bendito. Look everyone…”

Buttons: “Hola”.

 Spaniards would absolutely understand some ecclesiastical Latin. Not enough for an in depth conversation, but enough to make some basic requests at least.

 Spanish man in grey shirt: “Mira.”

Spanish captain with really good outfit: “No puede ser. ¿un faro?”

Spanish man in grey shirt: “Es un faro. ¡Cambiad el rumbo!”

Someone in the background: “[la otra] vela.” (not sure about the first words)

Spanish captain with really good outfit: “Me has vuelto a ganar, Barbanegra.”

 All this is said with the Spanish accent, in contrast to Jim and Nana, who have Caribbean accents.

 Episode 5

Nothing. No Jim in this episode.

 Episode 6

Nothing. Jim is very quiet in this episode. Although, during the duel, they mimic some moves for Stede to copy. This has nothing to do with Hispanism, I just think it’s neat.

 Episode 7

So much in this ep! I am including all the lines first and then the explanations.

Jim: “¿Qué te pasa?” … “Cálmate.”

 Nana: Sí.

Jim: Nana, soy yo.

 Nana: Me gusta. ¿Es tu marido o están viviendo en pecado?

Jim: Él habla español, Nana.

Nana: Muy bien, ay, muy, muy bien.

 Nana: Eres una decepción.

Jim: La vida es la decepción. ¿No fue eso lo que me enseñaste?

 Jim’s dad: “vete, vete, vete, ay…”; “¿Puedo ayudarle?”; “Esta es nuestra tierra.”

Alfeo: “Qué buenas naranjas, eh.”

Jim’s dad: “Toma todo lo que quieras.” (Huh, Jiménez goes from formal you in the last line to informal you here. Is this why he was killed? Was Alfeo offended?)

Alfeo: ¿En serio? (stabs)

 Nana: “Vamos.”; “Adiós.”; “Lo siento, hijo. La vida es dolor.”

Olu: “La vida es dolor.”

 The siete gallos. “Ser gallito”, literally “to be a cock”, figuratively “to be cocky”. Good name for a group of bandits.

The convent.  From the habit, it seems Nana is a Benedict nun. Benedictines are supposed to stay put in their convent and be self-sufficient and independent. Their motto is “ora et labora”, pray and work. They famously make really good liquor.

Nana. Not a typical Spanish name, but it could be a nickname. Nuns used to change their names upon taking their vows so Nana can be a nickname of her old name or her nun name (like, Natividad, Nazareth or something like that). Nana may be a random murderous nun, a relative of Jim, or their actual grandmother. In Catholicism, being married and having a family is no obstacle to later becoming a nun/monk/priest.

Is Spanish Jackie Spanish? No. If Spanish Jackie existed, she was of French and Haitian descent. I don’t know why they call her Spanish either. Is it the red?

 Episode 8

Jim as priest: “Adelante, m’ijo.” (A contraction of “mi hijo” my son).

Jim: “¿En serio? ¿Geraldo?!

 Episode 9

Nothing. There is no Jim, probably because they would have murdered Badminton with one single hit. We sit sadly like Olu.

 Episode 10

Jim: “¡Carajo!” (When Lucius walks on them); “¡Vete hombrecito!”. (Aww, it’s definitely and endearment now).

 And that’s it. Overall, all of Jim’s line are thoughtfully chosen and their insults vary depending on Jim’s respect and appreciation of the person. And it is possible that Alfeo murdered Señor Jiménez because he was too familiar.

[autisticandroids]

@pingnova replied to this post:

One of the things I like the most about your interpretations of spn and destiel is that they're both "bad people" and that's interesting. I was explaining to a friend how I loved some comedies bc all of the characters are "bad people" so when the slapstick and pettiness happens back and forth I can just laugh at all of them. it goes further for me (all humans are flawed and probably seem irredeemable and disgusting to someone else, no matter what). but I have never…

…been into interpretation that relies on characters being "right" or essentially perfect and sinless. I find drama between sinless characters utterly boring and contrived. I like characters that are messy and human. its a good reminder for me about myself and makes entertaining stories. sometimes when i talk about a character friends mistake me for criticizing them because I talk about their flaws. nah, I think it's great they're assholes. they're fictional, the only..

...place I want to deal w assholes in my life. stories are just complex bad people getting tangled with other complex bad people. my fave spn character outside cas is Meg, to the shock of many. I have given up explaining it to most people lol. "but she's bad!" yeah ok I thought it was hot? and kind of funny. I don't feel like explaining rn. 😅

oh thank you! this is something i always put a lot of thought into. like, one of the things that frustrates me about fandoms generally is i think the rough edges tend to get sanded off characters. like, some characters are vilified, yes, but that happens as a result of other characters getting herofied. like, if characters we're meant to like and root for can't be mean and self-serving and destructive, then to create conflict, one must invent flat, cartoonish villains to pit them against.

actually, as a sidenote, i was talking to @spriteofmushrooms on the phone the other day and trying to come up with a working definition of "darkfic" and we ended up deciding that it seems to mean "fic where characters are allowed to have unacceptable desires and motivations." and that's not exactly what it is, darkfic is hard to pin down, and it has some stylistic and genre conventions that are its own. for example, the first church at the end of the world by @withbloodstainedclothingon is a fic i love, and a really vicious and uncomfortable and vicious character study on both dean and cas (but especially dean). it is also unabashedly darkfic, and the reason it expresses the things it wants to express about cas through cas running like a misogynistic cannibalism sex cult is because one of the conventions of darkfic is a kind of aggressive edginess. that isn't a criticism, it's just saying that had the fic been working in a different genre, the author might have chosen a different method. or another example, my fic i fold in half so easily and @twoheadedcas' fic samson went back to bed are both kind of similar in various ways. they're both attempts to take late seasons canon seriously, attempts to reconcile with the position cas is in re: dean and jack in the late seasons, and attempts to put cas through a meat grinder. and they're both, i would say, darkfic. i know for a fact i didn't really start out with ifihse intending to write darkfic, and while melanie (hiiiii) might correct me here, there's a good chance they didn't either while writing swbtb. these are just the places one is naturally led to when engaging with the late seasons seriously. but there's a big difference between ifihse and swbtb in terms of: i am, on the balance, a darkfic writer. a lot of my fic is out and out darkfic, and even when it's not it tends to contain darkfic stylistic habits. @twoheadedcas has written a bit of darkfic in their tenure, but on the balance, they mostly write non-darkfic. so if you compare ifihse to swbtb, despite their tonal similarities, and despite the fact that both were written (in my opinion) primarily as pure reactions to canon, ifihse has some of the hallmarks of being a darkfic (in particular the emphasis on cas' erotic pleasure and his discomfort/ambivalence about it; darkfic tends to be even smuttier than normal fanfics and that smut tends to be both kinkier and more inclined to play with the lines of emotional comfort and consent), while swbtb has some of the hallmarks of being a non-darkfic (the best example is dean and cas sharing a sweet almost kiss in the middle, which is absolutely a classic destiel fic thing). this is actually one of my favorite things about samson went back to bed: in darkfic that is written to be darkfic, no matter how seriously and genuinely it engages with canon and the characters, there will always be the feeling that there is a finger on the scale, tilting characters to be just a little nastier, grosser, more evil. but non-darkfic is usually skewed the other way: the characters are skewed to be more comfortable and palatable. by aligning itself with non-darkfic, samson went back to bed legitimizes the dark interpretation of canon it presents by saying "i am not skewing things to be worse. i might even be skewing things to be better. and yet we're still here." which i think is cool.

but that's kind of the crux of the thing, isn't it? most darkfic is just a twisted mirror of most non-darkfic. instead of flattening characters to be better than they are, making them paragons of virtue, it flattens them to be worse than they are, making them cartoon villains. obviously, this isn't true of all darkfic, i am a great enjoyer of darkfic and frequently write it myself. there's plenty of good darkfic out there. but if sturgeon's law applies double to fanfic, it applies triple to darkfic. and i think it's because there is this inability, in fandom, to imagine that these beloved characters could be bad people. which means that non-darkfic tends to portray them as flat heroic figures. but it also means that darkfic tends to start from the premise "haha what if (character) was EVIL" rather than recognizing the ways they already kind of are (and the ways in which they are good, as well). both non-darkfic and darkfic frequently hold this black and white mindset, it's just a lot clearer in darkfic because darkfic always sets out to engage with darkness, whereas a lot of non-darkfic is just about things other than whether characters are "good" or "bad," and even when it's about characters' morality, it's usually less contrary to the canon, so there isn't as much emphasis on it or time spent contemplating it. so it's less in your face.

but yeah. i put a lot of work into taking the characters of supernatural seriously as complex and morally suspect people. that's what's fun to me. i find the other way kinda boring. i'm glad you enjoy what i'm selling :3.

(for some supplemental reading check out this post by @astermacguffin)

[dirtytransmasc]

Graveyard Anon~!

__

In the weeks they spend searching for Sully, away from Bridgehead and General Ardmore, there's a shift.

The graveyard still hands over them like a guillotine's blade waiting to drop, but it's Spider's questions - innocent and confused, more often than not their answers leave the boy horrified and sad - that start to weigh on them heaviest.

("Why would they do that?"

It's hard to explain greed to a child that was raised without the concept of money.)

They start to question - silently - if they are on the right side.

None of them had believed in Eywa, not as humans, and their belief as recoms is tentative. They've seen the videos of the 'immune response' but after they come across the wreck of a Samson, left over from the war, and see the footage....

They can no longer ignore the presence they've felt since that moment at Hell's Gate or the ever-present feeling of being watched.

The RDA hadn't shown them footage of the battle.

_

Spider doesn't miss the shift. He says nothing, still watching and deciding, waiting for a sign.

It comes after 3 days, just 2 hours after they've gotten the order to return to Bridgehead.

Atokirina'

Dozens of them, just as the eclipse begins, float around the recoms. They aren't touching them - not yet at least - but they are there, and it is as clear a sign as any for Spider.

He waits and waits, mulling it over in his head, unsure of how to approach it. He sees that they are questioning it - their orders, their purpose, everything - but looking at Quaritch, who checks their gear in preparation for their return to Bridgehead, he isn't sure if it's enough.

Will they See?

Will Quaritch See?

Spider looks Quaritch in the eyes and sees many things.

Father

War criminal

He sees the man that took him captive, the marine. The one that destroyed Hometree, who killed Kiri's mother and so many others.

He sees the man that saved him, his father. The one who stopped his torture, tail twitching with panic and nose wrinkling at the smell of blood.

Spider decides.

"Uturu."

"Eywa's will" and the Atokirina will forever be the best trope in this fandom, I will stand by that till the day I die.

now I'm excited to see where this goes, cause it can't go awful, but it's not gonna be easy.

also if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, I little segment on the reactions to the battle footage would be *chefs kiss* cause I love seeing our little recoms going through it.

[uselessheretic]

I’m curious if you have done any research into the “Olu” short form for Oluwande being offensive. I am not a POC or from the region, so I would like to learn. I wouldn’t use it in a fan context obviously, but Olu is a name I have heard before in RL so I’m surprised it’s inappropriate and that the actors/writers didn’t know that either. I want to understand more.

So, from what I can tell "Olu shouldn't be used as a nickname" is something that originated from one fan (who is Yoruba) on Twitter that then spread out from there. The fan never actually said it was "offensive" even, but that it's not proper and they don't like the nickname. When someone brought up that they know people who use that name, the fan clarified that they, personally, have just never seen it used before.

Someone asked about this on the Yoruba subreddit where a user explained that it's not the "proper" nickname, but it's common for people in the west to use and isn't offensive.

If you google the name you even get a wikipedia page about it and a list of famous people who go by Olu

Someone on Twitter who's from the same ethnic group also talked a bit about this and how it's a very common thing in the UK and confirmed with their mom who is Nigerian

Which it's worth bringing up that Samson is, ya know, British and Nigerian and would be aware if it was an offensive nickname. I know Vico has talked about how receptive everyone was to any feedback, so I can't imagine Samson not feeling like he could speak up about it.

Like the thing that's funny about Olu as a nickname is that there isn't even much gray area here? It straight up isn't offensive, and in the context of the show it makes sense for people to use it with him. The ones who call him Olu the most are Jim and Spanish Jackie (and I think Stede calls him that once?) who are familiar with him. The show also never makes jokes about Oluwande's name, so I don't think this is a thing of "it's too hard to pronounce" because they never do that?

And I think it's a bit presumptuous for fans, who are often white or not Nigerian, to assume they know better and that they need to liberate Oluwande from the confines of his self-colonization of [checks notes] "having a nickname." I think I said this before, but the takeaway for me from learning that Wande is the proper way to shorten his name is to incorporate that into headcanons. Like, it's fine for the crew to say Olu, but if you're writing his family or someone from the same ethnic group, they would likely default to Wande.

For my own person headcanon, I honestly feel like it'd be sweet if Wande as a name was something he felt sentimental about where he wouldn't want just anyone to call him that, but it would be something his family called him, and when he gets closer and more open with Jim, they would also use it. I mean, names are incredibly personal things with meaning. It can also be an act of racism to tell a poc that they're wrong about their name and that they should be using this one instead. Which is why... we go off of what people tell us lmao because there's no reason to think that Oluwande is uncomfortable about the name and there's no reason to think this is a slip up from the writing team.

At this point in time, it's just misinformation that's being spread and that's like?? Irritating?? Like it's annoying that people keep correcting strangers and telling them to stop using the name. It's patronizing and invasive for people to assume that you have to use this name and that they're correcting an error that doesn't exist. It's just odd to to interpret racism and discomfort where it doesn't exist, changing relationships in the show and familiarity into microaggressions. It's honestly flat out disrespectful for people to @ the OFMD crew on Twitter asking for them to change the name. And it has a real life impact where people are then becoming convinced that Olu is an improper name, that people using it are only doing so to appease white people, and that it's offensive to use when there are real life people who use the name 😭

It's just... frustrating lol and I hope this stupid trend dies out eventually because there's legit no backing to it???

[foxsketch6543]

Hey Fox! I'm currently working on a Venture Bros. Iceberg video that's inspired by your iceberg chart but includes several new entries. I'm reaching out because I'm quite curious about a few of the entries you've listed and would appreciate it if you could explain them or point me to some sources. I'd be more than happy to give you credit in the video. I just want to make sure I've got everything right. The entries that I'm curious about are:

-The Monarch Was Meant To Be A One Time Villain -Phantom Limb Fixed Brock's Chest -Almost Going To Be CGI -Almost Ended In Season 4 -Master Shake Cameo In Guild Council I believe I know the answer to some of these, but I just wanted to double check with you first. Hope to hear back soon!

Hey man! 👋

@zeroomens

That’s actually cool and it’s been such an honor and I’m actually subscribed to you BTW and I watch some of your videos.

I hardly get mail often LOL XD

The show itself was pretty niche and I tried scrounging what I can on some info on The Venture Bros Art Book, rewatching bits of the show for details and stuff, the Fandom Wiki Page, 107 Facts Videos by Channel Frederator. Lots of facts on VBros can be pretty scarce as hell so I had to dig deep on research and tried using what I have.

I’ll try my best to explain some of the entries that were on the list:

During development, I remembered Baron Ünderbheit was going to be set up as a major villain until they pushed him aside in the later seasons. As for The Monarch wasn’t going to be in the first episode. In the pilot, he was actually going to be a throwaway character, until they were planning which villain to add in Dia de los Dangerous:

I’ve sorta confused it with another event where Phantom Limb treated Brock’s wounds during an attack in the mall in Hate Floats S2E2, where the contents removed were: 4 bullets, a blowgun dart, two shark’s teeth, the tip of a mayonet, a twisted paperclip, and a meager handful of buckshot.

Back when Venture Bros was in the draft phases and pitching it to Comedy Central it was planned to be rendered in CGI but wouldn’t work, Jackson Publick wanted to make it 2D to give the cartoon a comic book vibe.

Production stuff going on behind the scenes during the episode, Operation PROM, according to the wiki it said it was the last episode to be animated in World Leaders entertainment. And it was one of the show’s biggest episodes. Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer during production of the final episode in season 4 thought about the show ending there but as just a turning point and not intended to be the finale but they both were taking a break from it. (It takes a long while to make the seasons and episodes of the series)

I thought I saw an Easter Egg of Master Shake somewhere and was a false memory I had and couldn’t find anything about it, but actually found better cameos of Venture Bros in other media to make up for my goof that were real such as Invincible #58 where we see characters that look like Brock and Dr. Venture which is somehow a bit cooler.

And you see Brock Samson in an episode of Henry Danger… no I’m ain’t joking, it was in S5E33, Rumblr and you even see a bootleg version of Molotov in the background somewhere.

So far The Venture Bros fandom is pretty strong on Tumblr and Reddit, some are willing help you out with some information about some of the stuff I mentioned in the iceberg too and some might actually explain things better than I can and might correct my mistakes. *cri* ToT

That was my first iceberg and there’s a ton of flaws with the chart, in the future I’m planning on making a remake at some point it’s outdated AF and was made before the movie came out, also I’m glad you are also adding some new entries in your video too and I can’t wait to see your new video and I hope it succeeds dude!💚🌟