Crown Prince Hussein participates in a session at "Tawasol: Dialogue on Reality and Aspirations" forum held by the Crown Prince Foundation. He was accompanied by his fiancé Rawja Al Saif | April 29th, 2023

Thoughts at 650pm

I have friends who are very passionate about their culture. I have worked hard to assist them in their exploration and exercise of same. It is important to them, so that made it important to me. That is why many of you saw that I worked very hard with the Native American transfer group at UCLA as well as other groups. If they needed me to guide them through the red tape and documentation of putting on an event, or to answer general questions in a panel or 1-on-1, or even just to be a driver, or check in person at the door. If they needed it to make their event happen, I was willing to put in the time and effort... Because it was important to them.

And it was important to the people the events helped. It was important to their community, and their culture.

But I never really took the time to explore my own... and I have been thinking about that a lot.

My experiences with my culture have been almost one sidedly bad. From Hebrew school to Jewish camps, to dealing with a certain element of my family that is orthodox, the memories I have of these experiences are almost all negative. I was not put into situations where the people were like me... they did not dress like me, talk like me, sound like me, think like me, or act like me. I was an outsider.

They started speaking hebrew from birth, and knew the mishna, the talmud, the rituals and songs. They had memories attached to each, they had friends built on the experiences, they existed within the culture and helped grow it. It was practiced at home, at school, in all aspects of life.

My mother was as secular as they came. Pork Chops, shrimp, no hebrew education at all, no anything. She knew of things tangentially, but it was never practiced. My father was the same way. We didn't keep shabbos, we didn't go to shul, we didn't do much.

My paternal grandparents both escaped the pogroms and the holocaust and spoke yiddish, german, and russian as their primary languages. Their English was good though, but conversations were like many in families like that... a little of this, a little of that, a lot of the other. Zeyde was an alter kaker, their neighbor was a mamzer, my sister was full of mishigas, and the computer that never worked was always the farshtunkene machine!

I didn't know my maternal grandparents well at all. Grandpa's family came over earlier, and he went through the great depression in the US. His dad left when he was very young and he got a job with the railroads when he was barely a teenager. While they lived in the Jewish part of Detroit, it wasn't a part of their day in-day out. Grandma I know nothing about, except everyone hated her.

The thing is, my mothers sister was very frum orthodox. And I have cousins who also became either very conservative or orthodox, and we have a lot of family in Israel that have been there for generations.

But I don't really know them, or have any relationship to them besides knowing they exist.

I grew up isolated from them, from my extended family, and ultimately from my culture.

Attempts to enter, or learn more were unpleasant at best, and remain so. Be it the cultural aspect, or the religious aspect. To be frank, I doubt I could ever be religious after what I have seen and experienced throughout the world. There can be no higher power that allows such things to exist... there can be no higher power that deserves respect, love, or worship for the pain and suffering that exists because of him.

I mention this because I am currently reading Steven Pressfields "The Lion's Gate" about the Six Day war between Israel and the Arab armies, and I came across this section in which Moshe Dayan says:

Begin is one kind of Jew. Eshkol is another. I am like neither.

My experience is founded neither in Russia nor in Europe. I am a sabra. I was born here in Israel. I know nothing of the Talmud and I don’t want to know. I have no use for Yiddish. The so-called Jewish experience, which shaped my mother and father and other Diaspora Jews, the debates of the rabbis and the scholars, the interpretations of the law, to me these are angels dancing on the head of a pin. Nor do I make a religion of Zionism or socialism or the labor movement, despite all their worthy achievements.

My Bible consists of the books of the Patriarchs and the Judges. Its pages narrate the stories of Joshua and Gideon, of Saul and David and Jonathan. Say these names: Galilee, Mount Carmel, Beersheba, the Vale of Sharon. These sites are not theoretical to me. They are not a dream longed for from afar. They comprise the hills and flats that I have plowed and planted, tramped over and slumbered upon. A field at Ramat Yohanan has soaked up the last of my brother Zorik’s blood. I left my own eye in the dirt across the border with Lebanon. How many thousands have given the same and more?

The treads of a half-track rend a slope that has no name and is known to no one: Up comes an arrowhead three thousand years old. Dig again. Into the sunlight emerges a shard from the era of Joshua, the handle of a vessel from which a soldier of Israel once drank. Who was that man? He was myself.

I am that man.

and you know what? I felt that deep down. I have been immersed in other cultures... some where I wore a uniform, some where I cheered for a school or a team... but still, I see others who are "all-in" and I never quite felt that way. I am a fan of the steelers, but would I dress up or decorate everything I own in steelers stuff? Hell no. I might only watch half the games or less a year! Same with the carolina panthers! I don't even know all the players on the UCLA football team, and yet I see all of the games and I do consider myself a Bruin deep down.

But it calls back to the point ... what is my relationship to my culture? My biggest connections to it is being hated for being a Jew by so many, and not being Jewish enough by others. Like Dayan I acknowledge the worthy achievements, especially in regards to what Judaism has to offer and teach about how to be a good human being, and to do things because they're right, not out of fear of going to hell. But I am also the product of multi-generational trauma... my paternal side's traumatic events in Europe, as well as what they experienced living in the deep south as Jews in a small town in the 40s, 50s, and 60s. My maternal sides issues with racism, abandonment, and issues from the great depression. I grew up isolated, but knowing of these events to them, the way it shaped them, the way it made them act and interact, and at the same time, dealing with my own experiences of antisemitism and exclusion.

I do not know if this can be changed, or if I want it to. I do not ever see myself keeping the shabbos, or becoming a super-jew... but at my age, I have to look back and acknowledge it all.

An attack on volunteer women  19.10.2022

Yuval Abraham writes about what happened today

 Today, masked men lynched a seventy-year-old woman.  Her name is Hagar

Gefen.  They beat her with clubs until she was bloody, and hit her head with

stones.

 She is hospitalized with fractures.  I couldn't talk to her.  Jasmine, who

was there, saw everything.  She told, and my heart was beating like crazy.

 The masked ones came from a settlement called Ma'ale Amos, next to a small

village, Chisan.  This is the season of the olive harvest.  And Hagar,

together with Israeli and Palestinian volunteers, went to accompany an

elderly farmer, named Ebrahim, whose land is close to the settlement, so he

is afraid to reach it alone.

 Here is Yasmin's shocking testimony, word for word.  I backed up her words

with the testimonies of three other people who were there.

 Yasmin spoke in a voice choked with tears, and asked to ask the immigrant

for forgiveness for leaving her there, to bleed:

 "When we approached the farmer's land, there were eight settlers, boys,

with clubs. They didn't attack us, they just cursed. We passed them and saw

that they had collected all the olives and sprayed a toxic chemical on the

trees, which kills them.

 They applied it to 180 olive trees.  As a farmer, I know that this drug

starts from the leaves, moves to the trees, and then to the trunk.  and

kills everything.

 The farmer with us, Abraham, an elderly man, started crying and shouting.

I quickly started pouring water, watering the trees, to save them.  I knew

that it takes time for Sam to kill the trees.

 The eight settlers tried to expel us.  But we sang.  We didn't speak a word

to them.  We only tried to calm the farmer who did not stop crying.

 Suddenly, from the mountain, dozens, more than fifty, came down to us, and

all of them were masked, with clubs, and some of them had machetes and

knives, and there were two, I saw them with my own eyes, holding axes in

their hands.  They ran towards us and started throwing stones frantically.

without seeing eye to eye.

 We had girls with us.  14-year-old girls, and boys, and the farmer and his

elderly wife.  No one expected us to be attacked like this.  We are a group

that came to volunteer, to help farmers whose land is close to the

settlement.

 Now, Hagar, she filmed everything.  I think she thought they wouldn't

attack her.  Because she is older, seventy years old, and her skin, she does

not look Palestinian.  We were them, they dismantled Hagar with blows.  Then

they stole her phone, bag, and camera.

 I saw how they dropped her, on the rocky ground, and then beat her with

their clubs.  while they were holding her.  She really screamed.  Some of

them brought stones, and dropped them on her head, from zero distance.  They

hit her in the leg, and in the back, and in her chest mostly, repeatedly in

the chest with the goddess.  It lasts a long time and there are pictures to

prove it.

 Every time I tried to get closer, another group of them threw stones at me,

and I failed.  I saw the axes and the knives and knew that if they caught

me, they would stab me.  We were only twenty, and they were dozens, and all

young.  The farmer and his elderly wife barely escaped, and I was with them,

trying to help them.

 I feel a lot of guilt, that Hagar stayed there.  that we left her there.

She bled for a while and then an Israeli ambulance arrived."

 Settlers immediately after the event, spread unbelievable lies, messages to

the media such as: We were attacked.  Two settlers were injured.  A group of

anarchists and Arabs from the Paza organization came to do provocations.

And indeed, our media published headlines like: "Confrontation between

settlers and left-wing activists".  I am not kidding.

 I don't know if there were attackers who were injured, but if they were

injured, then it happened when they were masked, when they lynched a

seventy-year-old woman.

 Members of my generation, yes, you, who know nothing about the occupation,

or worse, know and simply let these horrors happen, day by day.  What needs

to happen for you to do something?  Why is a 70-year-old woman now lying in

a hospital disintegrated?  Do you not see what is happening around us?  How

did we create a violent regime of occupation and Jewish supremacy here?

 What have we created here?  What have we created here?  I put a link, in

response, to volunteer days of rabbis for human rights, where you can go out

and accompany Palestinian farmers.  To helicopter olives with them, to

express solidarity, for those who want to do something.  Because this is

usually how Palestinian farmers are attacked.

 Because we need to return to the same point, hundreds of people next week,

for the sake of Hagar and Michal, another volunteer, the heroines who were

injured.  I'm sorry we didn't do more. Sent from my iPhone

  על מה שהתרחש היום כותב Yuval Abraham

 היום רעולי פנים ביצעו לינץ' באישה בת שבעים. שמה הגר גפן. הם הכו אותה באלות עד זוב דם, ודפקו לה בראש אבנים.

 היא מאושפזת בבית החולים עם שברים. לא הצלחתי לדבר איתה. יסמין, שהייתה שם, ראתה הכל. היא סיפרה, והלב שלי דופק בטירוף.

 רעולי הפנים הגיעו מהתנחלות בשם מעלה עמוס, שליד כפר קטן, כיסאן. זו תקופת מסיק הזיתים. והגר, יחד עם מתנדבים ישראלים ופלסטינים, הלכה ללוות חקלאי מבוגר, בשם אברהים, שהאדמה שלו קרובה להתנחלות, ולכן הוא מפחד להגיע אליה לבד.

 הנה העדות המזעזעת של יסמין, מילה במילה. גיביתי את דבריה עם עדויות של עוד שלושה אנשים שהיו שם.

 יסמין דיברה בקול חנוק מבכי, וביקשה, לבקש מהגר, סליחה שהשאירה אותה שם, לדמם:

 "כשהתקרבנו לאדמה של החקלאי היו בה שמונה מתנחלים, נערים, עם אלות. הם לא תקפו אותנו, רק קיללו. עברנו אותם וראינו שהם גבנו את כל הזיתים וריססו חומר כימי רעיל על העצים, שהורג אותם.

 הם מרחו אותו על 180 עצי זית. אני כחקלאית יודעת, שהסם הזה מתחיל מהעלים, עובר לעצים, ואז לגזע. והורג הכל.

 החקלאי שאיתנו, אברהים, אדם מבוגר, התחיל לבכות ולצעוק. אני התחלתי מהר לשפוך מים, להשקות את העצים, כדי להציל אותם. ידעתי שלסם לוקח זמן, עד שהוא הורג את העצים.

 שמונת המתנחלים ניסו לגרש אותנו. אבל אנחנו שרנו. לא דיברנו איתם מילה. ניסינו רק להרגיע את החקלאי שלא הפסיק לבכות.

 פתאום, מההר, ירדו אלינו עשרות, יותר מחמישים, וכולם רעולי פנים, עם אלות, ולחלקם היו מאצ'טות וסכינים, והיו שניים, ראיתי אותם בעיניים שלי, שהחזיקו ביד גרזנים. הם רצו אלינו והתחילו לזרוק אבנים בטירוף. בלי לראות בעיניים.

 היו איתנו בנות. נערות בנות 14, ונערים, והחקלאי ואשתו המבוגרת. אף אחד לא ציפה שיתקפו אותנו ככה. אנחנו קבוצה שבאה להתנדב, לעזור לחקלאים שהאדמה שלהם קרובה להתנחלות.

 עכשיו, הגר, היא צילמה הכל. אני חושבת, שהיא חשבה, שהם לא יתקפו אותה. כי היא מבוגרת, בת שבעים, והעור שלה, היא לא נראית פלסטינית. אנחנו היינו הם פירקו את הגר במכות. ואז גנבו לה את הטלפון, התיק, והמצלמה.

 ראיתי איך הם הפילו אותה, על האדמה הסלעית, ואז הכו אותה עם האלות שלהם. בזמן שהחזיקו אותה. היא ממש צרחה. כמה מהם הביאו אבנים, והפילו לה על הראש, ממרחק אפס. הם הכו אותה ברגל, ובגב, ובחזה שלה בעיקר, שוב ושוב בחזה עם האלה. זה נמשך הרבה זמן ויש תמונות שמוכיחות את זה.

 כל פעם שניסיתי להתקרב, קבוצה אחרת שלהם, זרקה עלי אבנים, ולא הצלחתי. ראיתי את הגרזנים והסכינים וידעתי שאם הם יתפסו אותי, הם ידקרו אותי. אנחנו היינו רק עשרים, והם היו עשרות, וכולם צעירים. החקלאי ואשתו המבוגרת בקושי ברחו, והייתי איתם, וניסיתי לעזור להם.

 אני מרגישה הרבה אשמה, שהגר נשארה שם. שהשארנו אותה שם. היא דיממה במשך זמן ואז הגיע אמבולנס ישראלי".

 מתנחלים מיד אחרי האירוע, הפיצו שקרים בלתי-יאומנים, הודעות לתקשורת כמו: הותקפנו. שני מתיישבים נפצעו. קבוצה של אנרכיסטים וערבים מארגון פזעה הגיעו לעשות פרובוקציות. ואשכרה, בתקשורת שלנו פורסמו כותרות כמו: "עימות בין מתיישבים לפעילי שמאל". אני לא צוחק.

 אני לא יודע אם היו תוקפים שנפצעו, אבל אם הם נפצעו, אז זה קרה כשהיו רעולי פנים, כשביצעו לינץ' באישה בת שבעים.

 בני הדור שלי, כן, אתם, שלא יודעים דבר על הכיבוש, או יותר גרוע, יודעים ופשוט נותנים לזוועות האלו לקרות, יום יום. מה צריך לקרות כדי שתעשו משהו? למה אישה בת 70 שוכבת עכשיו בבית חולים מפורקת? אתם לא רואים מה קורה סביבנו? איך יצרנו פה משטר אלים של כיבוש ועליונות יהודית?

 מה יצרנו פה. מה יצרנו פה. אני שם קישור, בתגובה, לימי התנדבות של רבנים לזכויות אדם, בהם אפשר לצאת וללוות חקלאים פלסטינים. למסוק איתם זיתים, להביע סולידריות, למי שרוצה לעשות משהו. כי בדרך-כלל תוקפים ככה חקלאים פלסטינים.

 כי צריך לחזור לאותה נקודה, מאות אנשים בשבוע הבא, למען הגר ומיכל, מתנדבת נוספת, הגיבורות שנפצעו. אני מצטער שלא עשינו יותר.

 Sent from my iPhone

 Sent from my iPhone

An attack on volunteer women  19.10.2022

To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

Fic: Modes of Transportation

Tan Hands and Tan Lines Sophisticated Word Challenge 2021: exacerbate

Words: ~825 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Why are some flirts more annoying than others?

I’m belatedly going through the prompts for The Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Event 2021 to flesh out my Mormon!Klaine universe. This one takes place directly after Boundaries and won’t make much sense unless you read that first.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: A short little filler ficlet with no startling revelations. If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

________

The evening ended up being less terrible than Blaine had expected. A few branch members and the Lebanese investigators from Blaine’s first day in Ingolstadt, Samir and Nuriya, showed up a few minutes into Dolcezza’s overwhelming flirtations, and their presence tempered her behavior slightly—if only because he had a good excuse to pay less attention to her. Blaine chose the least flirtatious topic he could think of for their discussion—modes of transportation—and even though Dolcezza somehow managed to change the subject to courting etiquette in different cultures for a few minutes, Elder Hummel managed to wrangle her back into the appropriate topic.

Finally, Dolcezza and Nuriya discovered their mutual love of windsurfing—Blaine had not been expecting that—and soon Dolcezza was barely paying any attention to him at all, and instead asking Nuriya to teach her windsurfing lingo in Arabic.

Dolcezza did ask Blaine out for drinks after class, but now he was more prepared to fend her off than he had been at the beginning of the evening. He reminded her again of the rules. “We don’t date while we serve missions. It would distract us from our work.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “But you could still go out for a drink. It doesn't have to be a date. Like, my brother goes out drinking with his priest all the time, and they're obviously not dating. Here, we’ll make it a group thing!” She spun around and hollered an invitation to everyone in the room, punctuated with, “Drinks on me!”

“Drinking would also distract us,” Blaine said when she turned back to him with a triumphant smile.

She frowned. “Seriously? Are you guys not allowed to do anything fun?”

Elder Hummel came to the rescue. “Talking about modes of transportation with you guys is our idea of fun.”

“You know, that really does not help sell your religion to me,” said Dolcezza. “You two should become Catholics. We really know how to throw a party.” She reached up both hands and pinched the two elders on the cheek simultaneously.

“You’ll be proud of me, Elder Hummel,” Blaine said as they closed up the branch at the end of the evening. “I could actually tell that Dolcezza was flirting with me tonight.”

Elder Hummel stifled a laugh. “I am proud of you.” As he locked the door behind them, his expression morphed into concern. “Is she making you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, but not in a bad way.”

“Oh?” Elder Hummel looked intrigued. “You’re tempted by the fruits of Dolcezza?”

Blaine felt his cheeks heating up. “Oh, gosh, no. I just mean, it's a good opportunity for me to learn to stand up for myself. I'm not always good at that. Sometimes, I just go along with things and don’t speak up because I don't want to make anyone upset. ‘The Lord commands men not to contend with one another’ and all that, you know? But here, I kind of have to say something, or she might think she had some kind of chance with me, and that could just exacerbate her flirting. Maybe God didn't send Dolcezza so I could convert her, but so that she could convert me into a stronger person.”

“That's a nice way to look at annoying people,” Elder Hummel said wryly, and Blaine couldn't help but laugh.

The last part of their conversation kept replaying in Blaine’s mind on their bike ride home. Why was it fairly easy for Blaine to see Dolcezza as a blessing, but not Chandler?

Blaine had replayed the interaction in the sheet music store a lot over the past few days, and the more he did, the more uncomfortable he felt about it. Swooning over Elder Hummel’s voice and clothes, inviting him over for an intimate dinner—Chandler came on too strong, just like Dolcezza. Blaine didn’t have any firsthand experience with romance, but he’d learned what he liked through movies and songs. His favorite love stories were the ones that grew out of friendship, like Lois Lane and Clark Kent, or When Harry Met Sally, simmering for a long time until one day, they both finally realized that the other was the person they were born to love.

Blaine wanted a romance like that. And Elder Hummel deserved one. He deserved somebody who didn't just love him for his clothes or his looks or his voice. Chandler was like Satine’s legions of fans in Moulin Rouge! They fawned over her, but they only saw what she showed on the surface. Christian saw her whole being and loved her for it. If Elder Hummel was going to be wooed off the path he’d planned for himself, it should be by someone who loved who he was, inside and out—someone who would pray with him, and study scripture with him, and give him blessings. Someone who wanted to build a home and a family on Heavenly Father’s love.

BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

JJ

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

like

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

Any headcanons about Ever Ace and the other new A-class Evergreen ships? This totally isn’t just because I love your version of Ever Given and want more of her and her family XD

The following is an excerpt from How to Avoid Huge Ships, Or: I Never Met a Ship I Liked by Capt. John W. Trimmer (National Writers Press, 1982)

Chapter 14: The Emotional State of Ships

For most captains, the emotional state of a seagoing vessel (other than your own, of course) is often seen as irrelevant - after all, who cares if the seven hundred foot tanker about to run over you and your ketch is a nice person or not?

However, like many common beliefs in the marine industry, this is an incorrect one. The mental state of vessels is vital to continued safe navigation.

First, we must mention the obvious: An unhappy ship is a dangerous ship. Think about the last time you drove to the store while upset. Now pretend you weighed several thousand tons and required a mile and a half to stop in an emergency. I imagine your car insurance premiums might be a bit higher, no?

Then we must mention Fleets.

Allow me to explain: While this may be seen as a massively reductive statement, most large vessels (and most living machines for that matter, including commercial aircraft, railway locomotives, and even large dragline cranes) are best viewed as pack animals. When left alone to their own devices (and the growing economic benefits of 'machine autonomy' have meant that more shipping lines are allowing ships to go off by themselves!) vessels will often form a "fleet", as they call them, which substitutes for what we humans would call a joint family.

A fleet may include any number of vessels and relationship combinations, ranging from a number of single vessels who consider themselves siblings, to sets of separate married couples, and even groups of non-monogamous vessels whose conduct would make a Mormon blush. That being said, regardless of type, bonds formed in this manner are extremely strong, and will often overcome any difference between vessels - see the growing trend of former US Pacific Fleet vessels and their former Imperial Japanese Navy spouses!

Now, what does any of this have to do with the continued safety of marine navigation, I hear you ask? Well, let me put it to you in the simplest terms possible:

If you were to wrong me in some way, I might decide to take legal action against you, or I might lick my wounds and walk away. I might even go to the police if the offense were serious enough.

If you were to wrong a ship, and the offense were serious enough, they wouldn't lick their wounds, they wouldn't pursue legal action, and they most certainly would not go to the police. Most ships believe quite strongly in the merits of what could be charitably called 'extrajudicial punishment'. Most ships, if they are in such a relationship, would bring this to the attention of their fleet-mates, at which point you would not have one, but several, maybe even a dozen, extremely large and extremely angry ships going after you.

-

Of course, any discussion of the often-overlooked subject of Fleets is incomplete without at least a brief mention of the US/Canadian Great Lakes Fleet, which has managed to continuously add to their numbers through a process they call 'Lake-napping'...

-----

April, 2021 - Great Bitter Lake, Suez, Egypt

The Egyptians were insane, Given concluded. Aside from the obvious - where in the name of all that floated was she going to get nine hundred million US Dollars? - they'd actually called their Navy on her, like some kind of Triad enforcer making sure a mark didn't get away without paying.

He was a tiny ship, really - some old design that made its priorities clear, judging from his open-air flying bridge and thick hull, but the massive anti-ship missile pods on his aft deck showed he could punch well above his weight.

She'd tried speaking to him, but they didn't have a language in common - and that was impressive all on its own. From the short, clipped sentences, and badly accented Arabic, he seemed both Eastern European and decidedly unfriendly.

As the sun set on the end of the first week of what might be a very long stay in Egypt, she wondered if the line might abandon her here. The cheap fucks had already been making noise about replacing her with another, bigger ship, but Ace - still in the shipyard, but already proving herself to be just as loud and annoying as any proper 20,000+ TEU ship, bless her - had made enough noise about "not being a rebound date" that their hand had been forced.

Of course, that was all before the Egyptians decided that they wanted nine hundred million dollars, so who knows?

Another ship went by - the backlog still wasn't through, and convoys continued at all hours. This one was one from CMA CGM, and while she couldn't quite catch his name in the dark, she could absolutely catch the scathing French insults being hurled her way as he passed by.

"Je parle français, toi voilier sans hélice." She sniped at him, relishing in the startled yelp that trailed him into the night. The tugboats pulling him along laughed, and he growled at them as he moved further into the lake.

The missile boat looked at her with what might have been admiration, but it didn't stop him from keeping his guns trained on her as he changed his watch position to a spot off of her stern.

She honestly considered running - the mockery she'd get once she left Egypt might be too much.

As the next ship in line approached, she got a ping on one of the company radio frequencies.

Tuning in, her brow furrowed in confusion - now that everyone had satellite internet downlinks, internet chatrooms had become the primary communication method across the fleet. Evergreen Lines ships had all gravitated towards Discord instead of WeChat or Line, but their server had been strangely silent for most of the last week.

Opening the channel, she caught a flash of a call sign - What was Elpida doing out here? Wasn't she on the Australia run?

"Don't say a word, we've got it under control."

"You what? Who's we?"

Elpida swept past , literally - she was breaking the speed limit for this part of the lake, and had probably been doing so in the Canal too - the ropes to her tugs were taut, and judging by the Arabic screaming, they were trying to get her to slow down or at least let go. She was high in the water - her decks empty of containers - what the hell was going on?

Given was too big for the swells to affect her, but the Egyptian Navy ship wasn't, and he yelped in whatever his native language was as he rocked and rolled in Elpida's wake.

Behind her, a distant cry that sounded suspiciously like the word "Now!" rang out, followed by a deafening cacophony of foghorns.

She'd shut down her radar - because what really was the point? - and it took a worrying few seconds for the Furuno system to spin to life and return a clear result.

Or... what might be a clear result.

All hell seemed to be breaking out behind her - the convoy had broken formation and was going in what seemed like every direction possible. At least ten ships were now going berserk behind her.

The Navy ship, by far the smallest vessel out there, (except the tugs, who were fleeing for their lives, it seemed) spun around towards the main shipping lane.

Collision alarms immediately started wailing on the Canal's common channel as a very large blip on the radar screen (Who turned off their AIS transponders in the Canal?) slowly swung towards him.

The Egyptian seemed stunned for a moment - he'd drifted back into Given's range of vision, and his expression ranged between sheer horror and mildly poleaxed - before he calmed himself and stood down the ship bearing down on him.

That calm look lasted for a few minutes, but as the blip got closer and closer his confidence faded. The doors to his missile pods swung open, but his nerve broke before he could fire them, and the water around his stern frothed up into a roiling tempest as he set off at full astern.

It wasn't enough. He'd held his ground for just long enough for the other ship to reach him.

Slowly - this whole event was playing out in breathless slow motion, because nobody was actually that speedy - a bulbous bow, riding high out of the water without a load of containers, ploughed towards him. It was followed by a bowsprit, one that was so huge it looked like it could have been Given's own.

Then came the name: EVER ACE.

Then came the collision.

Ace (?!) didn't so much collide with the Egyptian ship as she drove over him. His low freeboard meant that the impact with her bulbous bow had his far side dipping into the water. Once his deck hit the swells, it acted like a giant scoop, and his keel was to the night sky within a few seconds. He'd been hit at an angle, so once he'd been pushed free, he slowly rolled back up, a much more traumatized and injured vessel than he had been a minute ago. More importantly, the water gushing out of his missile tubes meant that he was no longer a problem.

"Hey!" Ace boomed as her pilothouse drew even with Given. "Best Sea Trials Ever!"

Behind her, another ship - this one laden and looking a lot like Golden - steamed by. "Stop hanging around and get her out of here!"

"That would be my cue." Another voice called from behind her.

"Tex?" He was in Manila!

"Who else would it be?" Texas Triumph, thick Texan accent and all, steamed up. "now let's jus' get you settled up here and we'll blow this joint."

"This is a rescue?!"

"For sure pardner! We've been planning this since those highwaymen said they was keepin' ya here."

"Stop talking and get her out of here!" Golden bellowed from further up the river. It seemed like she was now intimidating some other tugboats from intervening.

"Well, ya heard 'er." Tex said. "Les' go!"

Given had been so distracted by the appearance of so many members of her family that she hadn't even noticed Tex slipping lines through her hawseholes until they went taut and she was yanked from her moorings by Tex steaming out in pursuit of Ace's retreating form.

She just barely managed to get her anchors retracted before Tex really put some power on, and began to pull her across the lake entirely.

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

Later...

The War Zone

Ever Given Escapes Custody Suez Canal Authority claims no responsibility, Egyptian Navy vessel possibly damaged. BY TYLER ROGOWAY April 17, 2021 THE WAR ZONE

📷@mahmou10_ships VIA @SUEZWATCH_EGY

SHARE TYLER ROGOWAY View Tyler Rogoway's Articles @Aviation_Intel Details remain limited at this time, but there was an incident in the Great Bitter Lake. At least one Egyptian Navy vessel has been severely damaged, and MV Ever Given, who had been held in the Great Bitter Lake by the Suez Canal Authority, has now fled the Canal into the Mediterranean Sea.

Again, details are extremely limited, but based on social media reports, marine tracking data, and radio reports, at approximately 11:47 PM Egypt Standard Time (EGY) a disturbance was reported by the Egyptian Navy craft - their identity is still unconfirmed, but images posted to social media seem to indicate that the vessel is a former Soviet Osa-class missile craft. The vessel reported that "A convoy has gone mad" and he was "under attack from multiple vessels".

While a convoy had transited the canal at that time, it is unclear if they were involved in the attack, or if one occurred at all.

We've reached out to Evergreen Lines, The Suez Canal Authority, the Egyptian Navy, and the individual ships believed to be involved, including Ever Given.

We will update this piece as more information comes available.

Contact the author: [email protected]

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Under the Moonlight P.3 (Ahkmenrah x reader)

Hey there! So It’s been a while since I updated this series, aka over a year, so please forgive me. Thank you for reading, if you do! I really enjoy this story. I’m thinking there may be one or two parts after this.

The events of the 2nd movie (Battle of the Smithsonian) have been changed, i.e. Abraham Lincoln does not crash through the window at the end. Also, it’s never mentioned how Kahmunrah knows how to speak multiple languages, which bothers me, but I didn’t care enough to create a backstory.

Also, as a reminder, bolded text is spoken in Arabic.

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Larry would never freely give the combination to Kahmunrah. The self-proclaimed “Pharaoh” had trapped his friends, sent some of history’s worst bad guys after him, and was an all-around evil bastard. Larry knew he would have to make a deal with the Pharaoh to save his friends, but he wouldn’t give him anything until he knew his friends were safe.

They stood in the centre of the room, arguing over who should hand over their half of the deal first.

Kahmunrah gave Larry an ultimatum, “How about I don't kill you right now, like I really, really want to, and I give you precisely five seconds to give me that tablet and tell me the combination?”

Kahmunrah’s newfound army entered the room at that moment, interrupting the two arguing men. In Al Capone’s hand was a little Einstein bobblehead.

“We already got the combination,” Al Capone exclaimed. “It's pi. –3.14159265.” He flicked the little Einstein, shushing him. “See, Crazy Hair here, he sang. Ho-ho-ho, did he sing! Like a canary.” He held the bobblehead up to Larry like he was showing off a prize.

“I’m sorry, Larry,” the Einstein frowned.

Sensing Larry’s distraction, Kahmunrah jerked the tablet from his arms. He threw the hourglass containing Jed, over his shoulder. “Must be a real bummer for you, Larry, knowing that all of your valiant efforts were, in the end, for naught.” He placed the tablet into his gate, beginning to press in the combination. “What a terrible disappointment you must be to yourself.”

The tablet began to glow, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Kahmunrah smirked as a quiet humming, filled the room.

“Do you hear that humming sound? Do you know what that sound is?” Ivan the Great raised his hand. “It's rhetorical.” He slowly put his hand back down as his fellow soldiers leered at him. “That is the sound of the End.” Kahmunrah began chanting in Egyptian.

As he continued chanting, the gate began to open. It started with the carved sarcophagus coming out of the stone. Then the door turned, revealing the gateway to the underworld. It was bright, and many of the people in the room found themselves shielding their eyes. The Egyptian chanting grew louder as it echoed from the open door.

“Welcome to the new, extended reign of Kahmunrah, Fifth King of Egypt and now the world! Horus, Ra, my warriors, come forth!” Egyptian warriors with bird heads emerged from the gate. “Send Larry Daley and his friends to their doom!” They surrounded Larry, attacking him as commanded.

“Halt,” a voice rang through the room, catching everyone’s attention. “The mighty Octavius has returned! I ride on the back of nature's most fearsome creature! I ride the squirrel! Forward now, my mighty steed!” He urged the squirrel forward, rushing through the feet of the soldier until he stood in front of Kahmunrah. He lifted his sword. “Do you wish to surrender honourably? Or must this end with the spilling of your blood?”

Kahmunrah turned his attention back to Larry. “This… This is your big rescue?”

Another voice rang out, catching everyone’s attention again. “Kahmunrah!”

His face fell when he saw who had interrupted him. He clenched his jaw. “You,” he pointed to a group of his underworld soldiers before gesturing to the people who had just entered, “change of plans. Kill her.”

Y/n stood at the entrance of the room, surrounded by some Egyptian soldiers and the group of New York Exhibits. Amelia Earhart had also arrived with several of the Smithsonian exhibits she and Larry had encountered that day.

Kahmunrah’s underworld soldiers approached the group, their spears aimed at Y/n.

“Stop,” she shouted, and the bird soldiers paused in shock. “I am Y/n, wife of Ahkmenrah, and Kahmunrah is no rightful king.” The birds turned to look at Kahmunrah, and everyone else, although they didn’t understand what was being said, followed their eye line. “He’s a cheat. He killed his brother, the chosen heir to the throne, just before he was to become Pharaoh. My husband, the rightful king, and my child, the future heir, are dead because of him. He is a traitor to Egypt. I ask you now, will you follow me—the once future queen of Egypt—or will you follow the traitor.”

The soldiers looked between the two Egyptian rulers. What she said had truth to it. Kahmunrah, although claiming to be the king of Egypt, had no Egyptian soldiers following him. Y/n had several Egyptian followers. After a minute of deliberation, they all came to the same conclusion. They turned their weapons to Kahmunrah.

Y/n smirked as Kahmunrah’s face morphed into fear. Larry slowly exited the circle that surrounded him and joined his friends.

Y/n stepped forward until she was face to face with Kahmunrah. “You should have known we’d never leave the tablet alone.”

“I was foolishly optimistic.”

Y/n turned to the underworld soldiers. “Your rest should never have been interrupted. Thank you for your service to the crown. You may return to the afterworld, but take this traitor with you.”

“You can’t do this, Y/n,” Kahmunrah snarled as he felt the soldiers grip his arm and pull him towards the gate. “I am a king.”

“You are a traitor, and you’ll find that although Egypt’s soldiers will never harm royalty, traitors are free game.” Y/n watched as the soldiers began dragging him to the gate and disappearing into the underworld. “They’ll do as they’re told.”

When the gate door finally closed, she grabbed the tablet and tucked it under her arm. She turned to the men that had been following Kahmunrah. In perfect English, she said, “Kahmunrah was a traitor to his own people. I suggest next time you chose a leader with more wisdom.” She smiled. “Now, I hope you will all return to whence you came in an orderly manner. I would hate to disturb the underworld a second time; they might be angry.”

The men looked at each other before quickly leaving the room.

The room was silent. Y/n looked around the room, accessing the damage her brother-by-marriage had done to the beautiful space.

Larry was in shock. He was glad she had shown up, but he had no idea who she was or what she wanted. For all he knew, she could be worse than Kahmunrah. He had heard Ahkmenrah’s name come up in the conversation between the Egyptians, but he had no idea what the context was.

The Egyptian soldiers that stood in front of the New York group went to the woman as she called them. Larry took the opportunity to talk with his friends without possibly causing them more harm by disrespecting any of the Egyptians.

“What just happened?” His eyes stayed focused on the group across the way as the woman gave them instructions, pointing to different places in the room.

“That there is Queen Y/n,” Amelia stated. “Quite the powerful lady, I’m not sure we’d have won this without her.”

“Why’d she help us?” Jedediah asked as he climbed out of the hourglass.

Y/n finished instructing her soldiers and made her way towards the group.

“She’s Ahkmenrah’s wife,” Sacagewea whispered.

Several of the exhibits bowed their head when Y/n came to stand in front of them.

“There’s no need for that,” Y/n dismissed. She smiled as she turned her attention to Larry. “Thank you for trying to keep this safe.” She gestures to the tablet in her arms.

“It was no problem, your highness.”

“Please, my name is Y/n.” Larry smiled an apology. “I must ask, though, it seems as if you have experience with the tablet. How have you come to possess it?”

Larry shrugged. “I’ve never really possessed it. It belongs to Ahkmenrah; I’ve just been trying to help protect it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Ahkmenrah?” She quickly scanned the crowd. “Is he here?”

“He’s in New York,” Jedediah said.

“I see,” Y/n said, her face falling slightly. “Then we must go there immediately.”

Larry frowned. It would be costly enough to pay for all the exhibits to return to New York. He didn’t know how much it would cost to add a mummy onto it. He thought back to his journey through the museum. He hadn’t spotted her all night. In fact, all the Egyptian exhibits that he had encountered were in the basement. Perhaps, the Smithsonian wouldn’t notice if a single mummy went missing.

They’d have to move quickly; the sun would be coming up in just a few hours. In less than ten minutes, Larry had guided all the exhibits into a plane, and they were headed back to New York.

Previous Part |

Connections 6

Chapter 6

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Grandfather hated soulmates and the entire league shared that sentiment. His Mother was glad for the fact that he did not have any soul mark. That was good he wasn’t tied to anyone; he didn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t until he was six that something changed, and he was thankful that he was alone in his room when it happened. A thought fluttered through his mind alone he instantly recognized was not his own.

An invisible bond. My soulmate will be affected by the *********** magic that affects me. They are my other half; I have to protect them.

“Tt” Damian allowed to be stated aloud. Protect me huh, as if! That was when it occurred to him I have a soulmate.

Damian bolted up and sat straight. If I have a soulmate and I just heard their thoughts. Well if this was their thoughts. Do they know mine. Damian was beginning to become infuriated with this new piece of knowledge, what struck him as odd was the fact that he felt like something was missing in the thought. It was as if that last piece could help him understand this peculiar event. In that moment, his mother came into his room.

“Damian it is time to go” His mother snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pushed this into the back of his mind. He followed his mother, and this was simply filled away in his mind under things that were useless or frustrating.

---

It wasn’t until three years later would his bond would infuriate him again. As far as he knew nothing was out of the ordinary. No one batted and eye when he already knew how to handle guns, they simply praised him for being a natural and he himself did not think of it either.

But then he had to get ready for the Lazarus Ritual. His mother came to retrieve him and then everything changed. He remembered walking behind his mother blinked and he was sitting in a large room. In his lap was a book filled with drawings. Wait what the Hell was he wearing. He looked at his hands and his skin was lighter, he was wearing a wait is this a skirt. Then he looked up and saw this thing. It was this little red blob with a black spot on its forehead between clear blue eyes. That was when he began to scowl.

The question left his lips before he could process anymore “Maza ank (What are you)?” he practically spat continuing still “Ayn anna (Where am I)?” the blob seemed to only stare in shock.

The little thing looked at him and then smiled. Why would it smile. “I’m Tikki and it is nice to meet you, soulmate to my chosen” it seemed to choose its words carefully, wait why did it respond in English. But it answered half of my question he was about to respond but this Tikki spoke again “As to where you are, I am not at liberty to say.”

He decided to shift to English as this creature seemed to speak it “What is the meaning of this soulmate to your chosen rubbish?”

“just as it sounds you are the soulmate of my chosen. You being here is a result of your bond.” He scowled and stared at the blob and it sighed. “You have an invisible bond but because your other half is my chosen you both have a bond different than anyone else’s on the planet.” He began to scowl harder if that was even possible. “this bond will only continue to grow but know that what one learns the other knows as well. I am assuming it is because of you that my chosen knows how to fight.”

This pulled at Damian’s interest they know how to fight because of me then what do I know because of them. He looked at the blob again and decided to ask “does your chosen know how to handle firearms, before today?” he half hoped he was wrong because if they did his soulmate may just be as dangerous as him if not more if this creature was anything to go off of.

It was quiet and then it nodded “yes my chosen has known how to handle firearms for years now.”

Shit. Well at least I know that they can handle themselves.

“I believe our time has come to an end. Until we meet once again soulmate of my chosen.” It spoke as he blinked and then he was standing on a balcony cliff overlooking the Lazarus pit as they took his grandfather out to his chambers. He dimly remembered his mother calling him and leaving him in his quarters. Then the memory of the ritual surfaced. It was odd he was watching it but it felt detached from himself almost like a video recording, there was no feeling just the ritual and the proceedings but he felt nothing from it.

---

Mari was going through her sketchbook talking about what she was planning for her dad, she blinked and she was walking behind a woman, her aura was deadly so she schooled her emotions and presented a blank face almost bored and then they exited the dark halls into an outcrop balcony of sorts overlooking a large cavern with a pool of bubbling acid green water on the other side.

She scanned the cave and then she noticed several people dressed in all black surrounding another man. From her vantage she saw a cruel face that was surrounded by black and white hair and beard. His eyes were the same acid green as the water and the aura around him as well. He wore a regal robe in a deep crimson accentuated by black and gold designs.

The cruel mad began to speak and she understood it as being Arabic.

“All here are to bear witness to the revitalization of the Demon Head. By the power of the Lazurus Pit…” more was said and then Marinette watched as the man took the robe off and stepped into the Pit. He completely submerged and the water glowed a sickly green and then he remerged. He put on the robe and continued to speak.

Mari knew that what she just witnessed was an abuse of the magic in the water, and she forced herself to remain impassive. She knew that everyone in the room would turn on her if she showed any emotion that would betray her. And then it hit her she knew no one and was talking with Tikki sitting in the parlor of Wayne Manor so how did she end up here. She watched as the man with cruel eyes left and she blinked again and then she saw Tikki staring at her expectantly, and she simply shook her head, Tikki looked sad and then Alfred came in.  

“Miss Mari” he tried to get her attention kneeling next to her on the couch, but she simply stared straight forwards. Everyone came into the room trying to find out why Alfred sounded frazzled.

Then she looked up and stared at Jason, she finally found her voice and asked “J… Jay… Jay-Jay why are… why are you covered in chaos magic” everyone was staring at her so she tried asking another way. “Why are you covered in magic from the Lazarus Pit?” everyone looked scared and now Mari was confused as well.

“How do you know that name, Mari?” Tikki asked her, breaking the silence.

“I” she didn’t know how to explain what just happened to her “I just heard it, I saw it, it was it was like a ritual”

“Tikki is this normal for a miraculous holder” Bruce asked looking at Tikki hoping for an answer

Tikki simply shook her head “No it isn’t. seeing the Lazarus arura is for a Ladybug, but this knowledge is not normal…” then she stopped ad gave Mari a knowing and sad smile. “Mari do you think?” Tikki didn’t have to finish the question for Mari to understand.

As Tikki asked her everything seemed to fall into place she was close to crying from fear or joy she didn’t know. “it might be, it’s the most logical.”

“What does this incur exactly?” Alfred spoke from kneeling beside Marinette.

“Her soulmate” Tikki said and that left everyone quiet once again. “Mari knows how to fight, that much you know but what you don’t is that she has never had any type of training. The same goes for several languages she has never studied, she can read a person’s body language without any difficulty, and now this.” Everyone was staring at her now almost like they knew something that she didn’t and that scared her.

Bruce kneeled down and pulled Mari into a hug. And whispered in her ear quiet enough so no one else heard but her “I’ll explain but for now it is okay to cry if your scared something must have happened for this to affect you so much”

Her eyes widened in surprise before she began to cry, and Bruce took her in his arms and together with Tikki left the parlor to her room.

---

Once they were in Mari’s room Bruce wrapped her in a blanket and sat next to her on the bed when the door opened. There stood Jason in front and right behind him were Dick and Tim, further in the hallway was probably Alfred. Bruce glared at them and they closed the door and heard several pairs of feet leave.

Bruce sighed and shared a look with Tikki before he spoke “Pixie do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?”

She shook her head no “not completely, no.”

“What do you know?” this time Tikki spoke.

“I could tell it was filled with magic. It was a pool of bubbling acid green water.”

“you said it was like a ritual can you explain” Bruce tried to keep his voice level. He had hoped to never have to explain this to Mari, Mari looked down into her lap and Tikki flew into her sights.

“He said it was a Revitalization Ritual. Something about a Demon”

He was surprised when Tikki started to speak. “The Lazarus Pit was created by a wish combining the miraculous of the Ladybug and the Black cat. The Ladybug magic allows anyone touched by the water to be revived, healed, and extends their life. It was created by the first wish. However, the Black cat’s magic breaks the soul of the person it touches, thus making them quick to anger and dangerous there is only one exception, but it is more of a rumor as it has never happened.”

Bruce asked without thinking “Can you heal someone from the pit after they come back?” If this is true we can help Jason.

“It is possible, but it would only be stated in the grimoire, and it was lost along with the peacock and Butterfly miraculous” Bruce couldn’t help the small frown but it was soon replaced by shock as little Mari hugged him.

“We will help Jay-Jay with or without magic” Bruce let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and hugged Mari.

“I know” he then looked at the girl and he now continued. “The Pit is controlled by a group called the League of Assassins and the Demon you heard of is a man by the name of Ra’s al Ghul.”

Mari looked pensive “Tall, cruel acid green eyes with black and white hair and beard” she stated as if recalling something.

Bruce just looked at her shocked “yes” he couldn’t believe this how did sweet little Mari meet such a man. “How. How do you know him?”

“I saw him during the ritual” this just brought up more questions, but all his questions died on his lips as he saw Tikki rise.

“Mari you swapped with your soulmate today” she stated it as a fact as if she knew and was confirming it. Mari nodded her head, and Tikki sighed. “I spoke with them while you were swapped it happened right before Alfred came into the room. They were direct and to the point, and I don’t think they knew that they even had a soulmate until today.”

This was news but then again knowing Ra’s despises weakness any assassin in training under him would as well. It also figures if it is an invisible bond, they are so rare that there is very little known how they interact with the soul. In this moment he knew that he would protect the little pixie in front of him wrapped up in a blanket, and he knew that her ‘Brothers’ would protect her as well.

Next

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

Taglist🐞🦇

@thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989  @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @deamonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @kawaiigiantjudgefish @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @animezodiac707 @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @inkattbi @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @ertyzeta @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16 @mochegato

How Adam Glass’s Teen Titans Run Perpetuated Racial Stereotypes

Damian Wayne/ Robin (Arabian and Chinese): 

-> In Teen Titan’s Annual #1 Damian, steran Arabian character, had a BOMB strapped to his chest. This obliviously perpetuates the Arabian suicide bomber stereotype.

It’s unfortunate, and deeply saddening considering this stereotype is infamously attached to Arabs there is even a name for it called “The Three B Syndrome.” Which according to  Mazin B. Qumsiyeh, who is a director for the American-Arab  Anti-Discrimination Committee is, “ Arabs in TV and movies are portrayed as either bombers, belly dancers, or billionaires.”  

And it is horrifying that this annual most likely went through editorial and yet was still published. 

-> During Adam Glass’s Teen Titan’s run Damian arrests criminals under his base (essentially a torture chamber) and after that doesn’t work he proceeds mind-wash criminals along with his teammates. This behavior could be looked at as terroristic, again, perpetuating harmful stereotypes about Arabians. 

Xiomara Rojas/ Crush (Half- Czarnian, raised by someone presumably latino):

-> Here I am making the assumption that Xiomara Rojas is Latina although I am pretty certain she was raised by (a) Latino(s) (assuming most likely her adoptive father is Latino). Plus “Xiomara” is a pretty common name in Spanish-speaking countries just as her last name “Rojas’ is.

-> She is portrayed as thickheaded, aggressive, dangerous, violent, and verbally aggressive which pushes the “The Chola” and “The Fiery Latina” stereotype.

-> Xiomara’s adoptive parents (David and Lisa Rojas) are portrayed druggies who are frequently running away from their crimes which are a common stereotype used against Latinx people.

->Me, personally, being Latina, I couldn’t help but feel offended by this. I talked to my mom about this and she told me, “ I don’t like her origin. Her origin is a common stereotype used against Latinos. You’ve heard it before, from Trump, that most of us are apparently drug dealers, rapists and commit crimes.”    

  Wallace West/ Kid Flash (Black): 

-> Despite being a part of the core three of the Teen Titans and being called the “moral compass” of the group, Kid Flash AKA Wallace West’s role in the Teen Titans is small. 

->  He usually is there to emotionally support other characters but like how commonly Black characters are written in media, he seems to have no aspirations of his own despite being written in The Flash as very intelligent and has been mentioned to be a prodigy engineer. Personally, it is disappointing to see that the only thing writers seem to focus on when it comes to Wallace is his romantic relationships.

Emiko Queen/ Red Arrow (Japanese): 

-> Even Red Arrow’s characterization in Teen Titans feeds into the stereotype that Asians are seen as stereotypically  “competent but cold” despite Emiko shown as the opposite in Green Arrow.  

Conclusions:

->  Arabians, black people, and Latinos tend to be portrayed in the media as associated with crime, writing the Teen Titans being involved in locking up prisoners illegally as well as mind-washing criminals just proves this comic consciously or unconsciously agrees with that sentiment.

-> It is sad that this group in the most diverse Teen Titans we’ve seen with Arabian, Latinos, Black, Japanese and Chinese members yet the worst incarnation of the Teen Titans. So much for DC preaching about diversity and representation. 

-> Damian, Wallace and Emiko are portrayed much more positively in other comics as well as shown to have development to not do things such as lock up  and/or brain-wash criminals in their basement. 

For crying out loud, Oliver Queen (Green Arrow) , Emiko’s older brother is against locking up people in prison for the reason already so much people are incarcerated. I believe Emiko would adopt that same belief. 

Wallace West knows Barry’s father was unfairly arrested in jail. HIS OWN FATHER died in priso. Wallace would also be against these actions. 

Damian’s development over since 2006 to 2018 has proven that this regression would’ve never happened, especially with such weak reasons as the events of No Justice and Black Mask blowing up his favorite restaurant. 

-> With the amount of negative stereotypes this comic should literally be shown in an example of how-not-write-about-a-diverse-group-of-characters. 

This is one reason why I made a petition against DC comics and to hold the writers and editors accountable for publishing this content despite portraying harmful stereotypes about people of color. 

I would really appreciate if you haven’t already to sign the petition and re-blog this so more people are aware. 

Also like I said, this is one reason I made this petition, so please read the petition for full context on the other side of this petition that has to do with Damian’s regression. 

The Best

This is honestly probably my favorite thing I’ve written so far.  There’s a little bit of angst at the end, but it’s not much, I promise. 

Stay safe, stay healthy, and remember to wear a mask!

Mysme Week 2020 Day Five ( @mysmeweek2020 )

Quarantine 

V/Jihyun Kim x MC 

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: You and Jihyun do the best you can, for the world and each other.

Tying the ends of your mask you made certain that it was properly tightened. It was easy for it to slip down your nose if it wasn’t right so you had to be sure. Pulling on it just a little you deemed it tight enough for your face. Checking the time on your phone a rush of panic went through you. Even though you had carefully planned out how much time you would need to get ready you were already running late. 

Leaving the bathroom you went on a quest to find your boyfriend, hopefully he had been more aware of the time than you had been and was ready to head out the door. You called out his name a couple times, to no response. With a groan you went about the apartment opening doors. 

You found Jihyun in the small home office the two of you shared. It had originally been a storage room and a place where Jihyun would work on paintings if he couldn’t go to his studio for whatever reason. However, after Quarantine went into place and you started working from home you both decided to convert it into a workspace for you. 

Jihyun stood in front of a canvas, the end of his paintbrush touching his chin. He looked to be deep in thought and concentration. He also was wearing a pair of earbuds that made it impossible to hear out of. It was no wonder he couldn’t hear you calling his name. In an attempt not to make him make a mistake on his canvas you started flailing your arms to get his attention. You must have looked silly because when Jihyun finally noticed you he started laughing. 

Pulling the earbuds out of his ears he stopped his laughter to speak to you. “Are you alright my love?” You tried to ignore the way his laughter still gave you butterflies. 

“I was trying to get you attention, you can’t hear anything with those in.” You explained. A tinge of red went to the tips of Jihyun’s ears. 

“Ah.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry.” After setting down his paintbrush he rubbed the back of his neck. Looking at him you could assume he also hadn’t been paying attention to the time. 

“Jihyun do you know what time it is?” He had a moment of confusion and looked to your computer where he could see the time. Now the red had also spread to his cheeks as he realized just how much time has passed. 

“I must have lost track of time.” He muttered, mostly to himself, pulling off his painting smock; he wiped his hands off on a spare towel he kept next to his paint pallet. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go.” Stepping aside to let him leave the room he made a beeline for the bathroom. 

While you waited you checked on everything you needed to take with the two of you. You both tried to avoid going out as much as possible but today you had a few places you needed to go. 

Before everything went into lockdown the RFA had started meeting in person once a month. Partially as a way to get everyone together but also to be able to go over party plans together. Since you were instated as the party coordinator and Jihyun returned to his position as the leader and Representative the group decided it would be a good idea to branch out and expand. Hosting more events and more often. As great as this was for your organization it also meant more meetings would need to be held to go over details. 

After lockdown began you all decided to do virtual meetings instead. It was rocky at first, Zen had to use his phone since his computer was ancient, and no matter how hard Jumin tried he could never get his webcam to work properly. The Choi twins and Yoosung were really the only members who knew what they were doing. 

During the virtual meeting a week prior you all ended up going on a tangent about the current goings on in the world. Zen vented about how he wasn’t able to work, and how Jaehee’s cafe was struggling, the twins both tended to be homebodies anyway but it wasn’t hard to see how much Saeran was struggling with his mental health, and Jumin and Yoosung just seemed rather lonely stuck at home. While the meeting had been cathartic for all of you it planted a seed in your head, a seed that you and Jihyun spent the past week growing. 

Together the two of you created care packages for every member of the RFA, each one personalized for its recipient. There were homemade treats and snacks, a personalized mask that Jihyun made, handwritten cards, and small trinkets. Skincare masks for Zen, a Steam gift card for Yoosung, a matcha tea set for Jaehee, a book and homemade cat treats for Jumin, a long cat pillow for Saeyoung, and a cookbook and aloe vera plant for Saeran. The two of you even put together a package for Vanderwood, which you would give to Saeyoung to pass on. Even if it wasn’t much you both thought it might be a nice way to cheer up your friends and let them know you were thinking of them. After finishing putting them together last night you both agreed to take them today. 

Jihyun met you in the living room wearing fresh clothes, his face mask was one he made himself, a white cotton fabric with a cactus pattern. “Ready to go?” Jihyun asked. 

“Sure am, you take half and I’ll take half?” He agreed and you both grabbed your share of packages, balancing them in your arms as you both made your way to the front door. 

Earlier in the day you both mapped out the best route to take the packages in. Everyone lived pretty scattered about so you planned it strategically. The twins lived the farthest away so you wanted to go there first, then to Jaehee who would be at the cafe doing takeout orders. Then to Zen and Yoosung who actually lived fairly close to each other, and finally to Jumin who lived in the heart of the city. 

You texted Saeyoung once you were about twenty minutes away from their place. After reuniting with his brother, the two had decided to move into a different place that was less of a doomsday bunker. The place was still pretty much a fortress but it also had windows to let in natural light, and space for Saeran to grow a garden. 

Approaching the door slowly you used the code phrase Saeyoung gave you to let you knock on the door. You may have cursed a little at having to memorize the Arabic phrase but thankfully the system didn’t seem to care that you butchered the pronunciation. 

Setting down the free packages you both kept a safe distance from the door. Saeran answered the door wearing a black face mask. Saeran you knew had a particularly weak immune system so both of the twins were completely stuck at home. You couldn’t read his expression too well but considering the raise in his eyebrows he seemed happy to see you both. 

“Our parents are here!” Saeyoung shouted once he got to the front door. Calling the two of you his parents began as a joke that had sort of evolved into a habit. It annoyed the hell out of Saeran and made you and Jihyun laugh. 

“We thought you guys could use some care packages.” You said. “There’s one for each of you.” You could see both of their eyes light up as they picked up the boxes and looked inside. 

Saeyoung looked up first. “This is so awesome!” He pulled out the long cat pillow and held it close to his chest, practically bouncing on his feet. Saeran held his little plant in his hand. 

“Thank you.” Saeran said, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t one for many words but you could tell he was happy. 

“That third one is for Vanderwood.” Jihyun said. “We don’t know where they live so could you pass it on?” Saeyoung looked down at the last package. 

“I’ll make sure it goes through the God 707 Postal Service to one Mary Vanderwood III.” Saeyoung loudly joked. Jihyun looked at Saeran who was rolling his eyes. 

“Saeran?” 

“I’ll make sure it gets to them.” Saeran answered. 

After catching up for a moment you and Jihyun said your goodbyes and got back in the car to your next destination. 

You stopped inside Jaehee’s cafe, it was a little strange seeing the chairs stacked on the tables and the marks on the floor to indicate six feet of distance. You couldn't stay long but she greeted you warmly. After opening up her package she thanked you for the treats and for the matcha kit. 

“I’ve been considering getting one of these for myself. Thank you both.” Jaehee said, you saw her place the kit next to the coffee grinder Zen gave her before she opened her cafe. She sent you off with two coffees and pastries for the both of you. She had offered it as a gift but the two of you had insisted on paying it yourself. 

Zen was next, he had been hit particularly hard by the lockdown. With all of the shows cancelled he had lost almost all his work. To try and make up for some of the lost work Saeyoung had helped set up a way for him to do livestreams. It wasn’t much but it helped Zen’s confidence and made up for some of the lost income. 

He gave a big wave to the two of you. You and Jihyun sat at the top of the steps that lead down to Zen’s basement apartment. Zen looked up to you both while he opened up his box. The snacks in his box were more healthy than the other boxes on purpose. He seemed to notice this when he thanked you. 

The three of you spent some time talking and catching up. Zen talked about the livestreams he’d been doing. He started taking song requests where people could pay him to sing whatever they wanted. You and Jihyun had both watched whenever you had the time (and maybe requested a few songs for fun). He asked you and Jihyun about your lives and careers. You were still able to work and Jihyun was still able to paint, he had even started selling more of his works to support the two of you and to donate to good causes. In truth you had never seen him more determined and motivated.  

Yoosung was next, all his classes were online now which was quite the struggle for him. It was hard to think about doing coursework when LOLOL was right there. His studio apartment was also tiny which you knew made the lockdown worse. 

His relationship with Jihyun was still fairly rough. Still it was a thousand times better than it had been in the past. He seemed genuinely happy to see the two of you, but even happier to see the package that you brought for him. His package had a lot more essential items mixed in with the treats. 

Again you could only stay for a few minutes, but you talked about his classes and how he was doing. You could see how he was deflecting from talking too much about school but you both encouraged him to do his best and offered any help you could provide. 

Jumin was the last person on your list. You both kept in good contact with him, he didn’t say it but the both of you worried about him. He had Elizabeth the 3rd to keep him company but it wasn’t enough. The penthouse was a big and lonely place when Jumin was alone like this. 

The two of you also prepared some extra treats for the security guards at Jumin’s penthouse. While he had less staff than before he still had a couple that worked for him. The security thanked you graciously and let you into Jumin’s penthouse. 

Keeping a safe distance Jumin seemed very happy to see the two of you. Jumin, kind of like Saeran wasn’t one to show a lot of outward emotion but you could see a spark in his eyes that made him look more content. 

The cat treats were hit. Considering the way to Jumin’s heart was through his cat, seeing Elizabeth the 3rd pleased was more than enough for him. He also loved the cat paw print face mask that Jihyun made special for him. 

Considering it wasn’t a safe idea to share a bottle of wine, Jumin settled for giving you a bottle to have at home. With the bottle you also made a promise to video chat soon and drink together. The two of you spent more time with Jumin than you did with any of the others. And leaving Jumin’s was by far the hardest, Jihyun dragged his feet with leaving, coming up with more conversation topics to keep you both there, to spend a little more time with his best friend. By the time you actually left there were tears you saw welling in Jihyun’s eyes. Heading back to the car you held his hand to comfort him. 

“Are you okay my love?” You asked him standing beside Jihyun’s car, he took a deep breath in and wiped his eyes. It was muffled by the mask but you heard a sniffle come from him. Before he could answer your question you brought him into a tight hug, one hand was rubbing his back and the other running through his hair. 

“I think so.” Jihyun said. “I’m sorry for getting so emotional.” 

“There’s no need to apologize Jihyun, the RFA is our family and it’s hard not being able to be around them. There’s no shame in being sad about it.” Jihyun let out a shaky sigh. You held each other for a little longer before letting each other go. Though you couldn’t see through the mask by the look in his eyes you could tell he was smiling. 

“Thank you my love, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He said holding your hands in his. “It’s probably time for us to get to the community center right?” You checked the time and nodded. You spent more time with your friends than you planned so you needed to hurry. 

At the start of the lockdown the two of you both struggled with feeling helpless about what was going on. It was overwhelming seeing the news and feeling like there was nothing you could do. Trying to find something to do to fill your time the two of you started volunteering at the nearby community center, serving meals and giving supplies to those who were struggling to keep afloat. It was only a few hours a week but it helped the both of you with feeling just the tiniest bit better. 

After signing in as volunteers and getting your temperature taken, the two of you put gloves onto your hands and got to work. Today you were both assigned to fill and hand out cups of hot soup to those who came for a hot meal. 

Working together the time seemed to go fast, you greeted each person with a smile, making small talk with some of those who came by. After a few weeks you started to recognize some of the people who came frequently being able to greet them by name. 

One of the regulars, Ji-young approached the two of you with a wave, she was an older woman who you had grown pretty fond of. And she seemed to be pretty fond of the two of you. 

“Hi Ji-young, how are you doing this evening?” You asked her. 

“Getting by, you know how it is.” She shrugged. 

“I do know, Do you want some soup?” You motioned to the pot on the hot plate next to you. 

“Always. Thank you dear.” You pulled out a cup and used a ladle to pour the soup in, taking care not to drip or spill. Adding a lid to the top of the cup Jihyun tapped your shoulder. 

“The pots are almost empty, I’ll be right back with some more.” You nodded and watched him head to the back of the center. Turning back to Ji-young she was watching him walk away. 

“You know I’ve been coming here for the past few weeks and I just keep thinking about how cute the two of you are together. I miss being that young and in love.” Watching her Ji-young had this look of nostalgia in her eye. You could feel a blush in your cheeks where your mask covered your face. 

“Thank you, Jihyun’s one of the good ones.” You smiled, it didn’t matter how much time you spent together talking about Jihyun still made you smile and blush like a middle schooler with a crush. 

“Well, he’s got a good person by his side. You two are lucky to have each other.” 

“That’s very kind, thank you.” You said. 

Jihyun returned with a big pot held with two oven mitts. You removed the empty pot from the hot plate so Jihyun could put the fresh one on. 

“Did I interrupt something here?” Jihyun asked, he seemed to notice the blush that was probably visible on your ears. 

“Nothing much dear, just talking about you.” Ji-young teased. Jihyun looked over to you with his brow raised.

“All good I promise.” You said, waving him off with a wink. Now the both of you were flushed behind your masks. Smiling, you said goodbye to Ji-young so you could fill more cups. 

The rest of the evening went by in a blur, you hadn’t even realized how tired you were until you both got back to the car and you sunk into the seat. 

“Home?” Jihyun asked.

“Home.” You confirmed. Closing your eyes to get a little bit of rest on the way home. 

The first thing the two of you did when you closed the door to your apartment was take off your masks taking in a fresh breath of air. Going to the living room, you collapsed onto the couch and turned on the TV while Jihyun went to take a shower. 

The first thing on the TV was the news, too tired to try and change it you just let it play. As much as you tried not to pay too much attention to the newscaster it was hard to ignore. The newscasters listed endless numbers of new cases and deaths, and played frustrating interviews with politicians who gave no good answers, doctors who were begging people to be safe, and of course the people who claimed that the doctors were lying. 

Listening was overwhelming but you couldn’t force yourself to stop. Shouldn’t you know what’s going on? You should be paying attention to the news, but it all just felt. 

Too much. 

“Love?” Jihyun stood in front of the bathroom door, his hair was still dripping from his shower. He approached you slowly, looking at the TV. Realizing what was going on he took the remote and shut it off leaving you both in silence. 

“I hate this Jihyun.” You said staring at your shaking hands. Jihyun kneeled down to look you in the eye and took one of your hands in his.

“I know.” He said, his voice coming out just above a whisper. 

“I miss the RFA, I miss going out, I miss the RFA parties, I miss travelling.” You said, your voice breaking. “I miss everything.”

Jihyun squeezed the hand he was holding and with his other he wiped away the tears slipping out. “I miss all those things too, but this isn’t forever. We’ll be able to do all those things again, but I know it’s hard right now.” 

“I wish I could do more, I feel so powerless.” Sobs racked your chest, you could barely see Jihyun through your teary eyes. 

“You’re doing more than enough my love.” He moved up and wrapped his arms around you holding you tight. You clung to him trying to stop your hands from shaking. “I know how easy it is to put the weight of the world on your shoulders and think you have to fix it all.” He held you tighter, his own voice breaking. “I used to think that I had to fix everything by myself, even the things I had no control over.” Slowly he leaned back so he could look you in the eyes, his thumbs brushing tears away. “But then, like an unexpected miracle from heaven, you came into my life. You taught me that I don’t have to fix everything and that I don’t have to carry my burdens alone.”  He kissed your forehead, then moved back to look at you. 

“Jihyun.” You whispered. 

“The truth is, this isn’t something you can fix by yourself. This isn’t something any of us can fix on our own.” Jihyun said. 

“Then what do we do?” You asked him. He leaned forward and enveloped you in a warm and gentle kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours. Whispering his next words. 

“We do the best we can.” You brought him into another hug. You felt yourself grow calm, now just tired, your eyelids were growing heavy. 

“I love you Jihyun. Thank you.” He rubbed your back turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you too. Why don’t we get you cleaned up and go to bed? We’ve had a busy day.” Still holding him, you nodded and let him lead you to the bathroom, holding his hand tight.

A week later you went to get your mail. Finding five packages waiting for you and Jihyun. Thank you cards, and care packages from your fellow RFA members. A smile crossed your face as you carried them all up to your apartment to open with your boyfriend. 

You, Jihyun and the rest of the RFA keep going forward. Jihyun worked with some of his fellow artists and old photography friends to do a virtual charity art show with the proceeds going to research. You and the rest of the RFA plan a socially distant RFA charity drive for those in need, partnering with C&R to gain more attention. 

You all take it day to day, one step at a time, and together,

You do the best you can. 

#32 daminette? Or #147 mari and tim bonding? Sorry, there are so many good prompts on this list I couldn't decide on just one

Of course! I’ll do both, but the Tim and Mari bonding will be under the cut. These got long.

Prompt #32 with Daminette

“Can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission?”

Marinette was severely confused and uncertain how she wound up in this situation. All she had come to the Hall of Justice to do was meet with Wonder Woman to discuss the possibility of sending letters to Hippolyta to ask her about her time with the ladybug miraculous. The last thing she expected was to be yanked into a Justice League mission by Wonder Woman herself.

The young woman was currently transformed into her new costume. The fabric around her throat, chest, and front were red with black spots like her old uniform. Her arms, and legs were completely black as was her mask. She now had wings as well, and her hair had been pulled up into a bun instead of pigtails. Marinette and Tikki had redesigned it once Marinette turned sixteen.

She was standing next to Robin, who also did not look so pleased with this series of events. The dark haired teen was glaring at Wonder Woman and Batman.

“Simple Ladybug, there is reason to believe that this anomaly is tied in with the miraculous that gives you your powers,” Wonder Woman explained. “And since you worked so well with Robin to take down Hawkmoth, we figured that the two of you would not mind pairing up for this mission.”

Robin gritted his teeth before responding, “Are you sure there is no one else who could do this mission?”

Batman went to respond, but Wonder Woman cut him off.

“Robin, I know how you feel about the League of Assassins. If there were anyone else who could do this, I’d suggest sending them,” the dark haired Amazon began. “However, after speaking with my mother, we know that only other miraculous holders can reliably sense the presence of this type of magic.”

The teen still had his arms crossed, and his posture was tense. Marinette looked at him for a moment before gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

“…I don’t like it any more than you do,” she said quietly. “But if they’re right…if the League of Assassins has somehow obtained the magic of the miraculous, it’s my duty to investigate.”

The dark haired teen knew that wasn’t what her— partner(?) — wanted to hear, but she watched him consider her words. His shoulders slumped minutely, letting her know that she’d officially won the argument.

“Fine, but we do this on my terms, Daesuqa,” he growled. “I don’t want you anywhere near Ra’s.”

Marinette smiled before replying, “Of course, mon oiseau. Introduce me to your friends?”

Robin nodded stiffly before holding out his arm to her. She looped one arm through, and he led her over to where Superboy was talking animatedly with Abuse. The young red-head looked uncomfortable and unsure how to deal with Superboy’s upbeat behavior, so Robin figured he was being merciful by introducing her to them. He knew she’d be able to deal with their ray of sunshine.

Both boys turned their attention when Robin cleared his throat. Superboy’s expression lit up before he gasped, “OHMYGOD! IT’S THE CUTIE ROBIN WAS TELLING US ABOUT!”

Robin’s expression turned particularly murderous.

“Shut. Up!” he hissed. “Don’t call her cute! We’re professionals!”

“Then why haven’t you let go of her arm yet?” Abuse asked with a smile. “Seem pretty fond of her.”

Marinette said nothing in response, giggling into her hands as Robin chased the other two boys. She already knew he liked her…or at least she really hoped he liked her.

Otherwise that dinner date next week was going to be really weird.

*Daesuqa- Arabic for Ladybug (If this is not correct, please let me know!!!!!)

*mon oiseau- French for my bird

——————————–

#147 Tim and Mari

“I don’t know how many coffees it takes to be happy, but so far, it’s not twelve.”

A dark haired man winced in sympathy before responding, “Rough time?”

“You have no idea,” she groused.

His grey-blue eyes focused on the young woman in front of him. She was around five foot tall and had a very petite stature. Her dark black hair was pulled up into a messy bun with many fly away hairs. Her bright grey eyes, with rather dark bags under them, was scanning a drawing tablet at mach speed. She was currently curled up in Damian’s chair, and Tim was rather surprised the other was letting her sit there.

Unless she was who Tim thought she was.

“You must be Marinette, right? Damian’s mentioned you,” Tim said carefully, waiting to gauge her reaction.

The little woman simply picked up her coffee cup before letting out a disappointed whine. She put the cup down and rubbed her temples. Her grey eyes then focused on him as she finally responded to his inquiry.

“Yes, I’m Marinette. Yes, I’m out of coffee. No, I have no idea where the kitchen is, and Damian’s cut me off. He said twelve cups is too much! But I need to get these commissions done!”

“I know right? They tell me that drinking six pots alone is unhealthy.”

“That’s not unhealthy, that’s just smart,” she said with a sigh. “I need coffee like a fish needs water. I’ll never stay awake long enough to finish these without it!”

Tim smiled at those words. Finally! A kindred spirit! Someone who understood that coffee was necessary to sustaining one’s life-force and productivity as he did. The young CEO looked around quickly, scanning for his brothers and Alfred.

Not seeing any of them in sight, he leaned over the side of her chair. He whispered quietly into her ear, and Marinette nearly bolted up from her seat. Her cute little face suddenly got a very serious expression on it as she made a zipping motion with her fingers against her lips.

Tim chuckled a little at how cute she was before gesturing for her to follow him. After all, they had a secret stash of coffee to get too.

The Eyes of TIFF.

Programmers for the 46th Toronto International Film Festival chat about the degrees of intensity they look for in a festival film, and help us zoom in on the gems from TIFF’s 2021 program, by genre and region.

“Intensity can be achieved in so many different ways. I know it when I feel it. You feel it in your gut.” —Cameron Bailey

It’s almost business as usual for TIFF this year. In-person events and red carpets return, but a healthy virtual program is also available for Canadian-based folk unable to travel, as the Covid-19 pandemic continues its onslaught.

TIFF co-head and artistic director Cameron Bailey has been with the festival for just over half its life, and says while some of the technology has changed in that time—“you’re no longer sitting in front of a TV monitor with VHS tapes… or waiting for 35mm prints to be spooled up and projected for you”—the “basic process of falling in love with movies” has not.

It’s a challenge, Bailey says, to winnow down the films he falls in love with for the final TIFF lineup. And even then, it is an annual challenge for film lovers tight on time to narrow down their own selections. So, ahead of the fest, Bailey joined fellow TIFF programmers for a Twitter Spaces conversation with our editor in chief Gemma Gracewood, in order to help Letterboxd members make some watchlist decisions.

Joining Bailey were Thom Powers (TIFF Docs), Peter Kuplowsky (Midnight Madness), Robyn Citizen (senior programming manager), Diana Sanchez (Special Presentations, Spain, Latin America, Portugal and the Caribbean), Diana Cadavid (International Cinema) and Nataleah Hunter-Young (Africa, “the Middle East” and the Black Diaspora).

Edited highlights of the conversation follow, so have your watchlists close at hand.

‘The Eyes of Tammy Faye’, written by Abe Sylvia and directed by Michael Showalter.

Thank you all for joining me today. You watch a lot of films as you’re going through the selection process. How does one make itself stand out to you? Cameron Bailey: For every programmer it’s going to be something different. For me, it comes down to an intangible quality of intensity. That can be emotional intensity, it can be the intensity of formal elements, the cinematography, the performances, the writing. Some sense of concentrated emotion and momentum, where you get the sense that a filmmaker is trying to find a way to distill the essence of what they’re trying to do and communicate it to an audience through all of the tools that cinema provides. That doesn’t mean the movie has to be fast-paced or have a lot of dramatic jolts, as intensity can be achieved in so many different ways. I know it when I feel it. You feel it in your gut.

What would you say are some of the performances that have struck you the most this year? CB: Jessica Chastain is the lead in a film we’re premiering called The Eyes of Tammy Faye, directed by Michael Showalter. If you were watching TV in the ’80s and ’90s, you will remember Tammy Faye Bakker, and her husband, Jim Bakker, who were TV televangelists. You couldn’t miss Tammy, as she had these giant eyes and makeup with giant eyelashes, and this is essentially her story. It’s hard to know at first that it’s Jessica Chastain underneath all of that makeup, but she gives a performance that’s not just about the exterior. It’s about a woman who is shaped by a difficult upbringing, shaped by this incredibly deep need she has for affirmation, to be on TV, to be in front of the camera, and that guides her decisions into extremes. She’s fantastic in it.

Benedict Cumberbatch is back with two films. He is the lead in Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog. It’s an understated, slow-burn performance in some ways, which he can do so well. He’s also in a film that’s on the opposite end of the dramatic spectrum, The Electrical Life of Louis Wain. It’s based on a real person, and when you watch the film you will be amazed that this person actually existed. Wain, in the early part of the twentieth century, was a prodigious painter who turned his talent towards painting thousands of cats. Cute cats, big eyed cats, fuzzy, adorable cats. He’s largely responsible for cats becoming as big as they are as domesticated pets. It’s a wild story.

I’m still recovering from watching The Power of the Dog’s trailer earlier today, and had to promise myself that I wouldn’t take up this entire time talking about Jane Campion’s obsession with hands. The Spencer trailer dropped as well, which has a lot of buzz around it. CB: Yes, Spencer is a remarkable portrait. Some of us remember Princess Diana, some of us have watched The Crown, and so have a very recent image, but this is a completely different performance that Kristen Stewart gives. She’s remarkable in it. I think everybody’s going to want to see this film.

‘Charlotte’, written by David Bezmozgis and Erik Rutherford, directed by Tahir Rana and Éric Warin.

Are there any other titles you’d like to get the buzz started for, Cameron? CB: On the animation side, I would say people should look out for a film called Charlotte, by Tahir Rana and Éric Warin. It’s a Canadian film telling a story based in World War II Europe about a woman in a Jewish family [exiled] in France during the occupation of France by the Nazis. She can feel what is coming. She decides to paint everything about her life, and her family’s life, trying to document what she feels is going to be very fragile, and what she might lose altogether.

As it turns out, before the end of the war she was taken away to a death camp by the Nazi regime, and she didn’t survive, but her paintings have survived and they were turned into a book, along with the story of her family. The animation is just gorgeous. I think that’s one that awards bodies are going to be paying attention to. It’s one of the best animated films I’ve seen in quite a while.

Thom, what are some of the documentary titles that you and the team think those awards bodies will have their eyes on? Thom Powers: A big one to pay attention to is The Rescue, by Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin, who won the Oscar for their last film, Free Solo. Their new film is looking at the Thai cave rescue [in 2018], when a group of young soccer players and their coach got trapped by monsoon floods in a cave. When we were watching the news, we were seeing the journalists reporting from outside the cave. What this film does is bring you inside that rescue using footage that’s never been seen before. Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin are masters at the documentary adventure genre, and also [at] bringing a real human side to the people involved, which they do again here.

I’ll also mention Becoming Cousteau, by Liz Garbus, and Julia, a film about Julia Child, directed by Julie Cohen and Betsy West, who made the Oscar-nominated documentary RBG a few years ago. So many of us during the pandemic had to rediscover ourselves in the kitchen, and Julia Child’s life was about making people feel more comfortable in the kitchen, which makes it a terrific film to watch at this time.

‘Saloum’, directed by Jean Luc Herbulot.

Peter, what’s a movie from this year’s Midnight Madness lineup you’d love to recommend? Peter Kuplowsky: We’ve got a lot of firsts at Midnight this year. We have Saloum, the first time a West African film has ever been in Midnight. We’ve also got Zalava, which is the first Iranian film to play in Midnight. Our opening film for Midnight Madness is Julia Ducournau’s Titane, which is playing at the Princess of Wales theater, and will be a spectacle to behold. When I’m looking for Midnight Madness, I like hearing the audience make certain noises in the room, whether that’s a gasp or screams or laughter. I feel that every note on the scale is going to be played during Titane by the audience.

Brilliant. Now, we’re going to bring in some audience questions. First up is Vincent, who says that one of their favorite films is Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face, and asks if there are any films in this year’s TIFF lineup you could recommend for a fan of that film? PK: I’ve really been encouraging people to check out the films I just mentioned, Zalava and Saloum, and I think Zalava especially would fit here, as it’s more of a horror-drama. It begins as something that is steeped in the supernatural, but as it escalates it becomes something of a pitch-black comedy while still maintaining a gravitas to it. I think it’s one of the most fascinating discoveries in the genre space this year.

CB: I’d also add Good Madam, by Jenna Bass, from South Africa. It is a chilling movie, with a bit of an Eyes Without a Face vibe. If you like that sort of approach to cinema, I think you’ll like that.

PK: Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash just won the Golden Leopard at Locarno. With a title like that, this is a film that feels like it’s going to be sort of a strictly pulp crime film, but it’s so much more. It’s deeply romantic, incredibly eclectic, and beautifully shot on 16mm film. It feels like a film that was hidden away, shot in the late ’70s or early ’80s. It’s a throwback to 1980s Hong Kong action films, while also, I can’t stress this enough, being one of the most romantic films in the festival. You’ll fall in love with this relationship while it’s also working in fight sequences and magical realism.

Nataleah, what’s something you would recommend from your TIFF selections from Africa, “the Middle East” and the Black Diaspora? Nataleah Hunter-Young: One I’d highly recommend is Costa Brava, directed by Mounia Akl, from Lebanon. Even amidst what’s going on in Lebanon right now, the film offers a beautiful and engrossing portrait of a family that includes a grandmother who’s a non-actor, but has impeccable comedic timing (that travels through the subtitles if you don’t speak Arabic).

‘Snakehead’, written and directed by Evan Leong.

Robyn, what’s a movie that surprised you most during your selections this year? Robyn Citizen: I always recommend that people check out our Discovery section because that’s where we find new talent and nurture new voices. The film that really surprised me this year was Snakehead, by Evan Jackson Leong. Some people will know him from a documentary called Linsanity, and he did another documentary about evangelism in Korea. Snakehead has been a ten-year labor of love for him. He had to do a Kickstarter for the film, which is loosely based on the life of a woman named Sister Ping, who had a human trafficking ring that was the biggest trafficking ring for about 20 years.

The film tackles what’s going on now with vulnerable populations being trafficked into America, in particular Chinatown in the US, and the main character, played by Shuya Chang, has to fight to find her daughter. It’s an exciting film, and very moving. It’s extremely tightly edited, and it looks fantastic.

We’ve got our next question here from a member who says their favorite genre is science-fiction. While Dune is at the top of their watchlist, are there any other sci-fi selections you could recommend? PK: I would recommend After Blue (Dirty Paradise), which is a perverse science-fiction by Bertrand Mandico. It reminds me a lot of the French animated film Fantastic Planet. This one is about a planet which is inhospitable to men because of the way hair grows. The plot follows a young teenage girl who accidentally unleashes a notorious criminal that she and her hairdresser mother have to stalk through the alien landscape that is full of bizarre creatures and liquids and gases. I feel it’s kind of like the inverse of Dune, and an opportunity to explore a bizarre ecosystem.

NHY: I would totally insist that this member see Neptune Frost, from Saul Williams and Anisia Uzeyman. It’s a difficult film to put into words, but I’ve been summing it up by calling it an Afro-sonic sci-fi musical.

Whoa, that sounds like a whole new subgenre. NHY: That’s just the beginning. There’s a lot to experience in this film. It’s a cosmic romance that follows an intersex hacker and a coltan miner who make their way to this kind of dream space where they connect with others as they travel through these lush mountainous regions of Rwanda and Burundi. It’s a beautiful anti-narrative that is impeccably colored and totally consuming. It’s a must-see for anybody who loves cinema.

Diana, what would you say is the best debut feature that you’ve seen among this year’s international selections? Diana Cadavid: There are so many wonderful new talents, but I think I’ll go with an Argentinian filmmaker named Agustina San Martín. Her film, To Kill the Beast, is a co-production between Argentina, Brazil and Chile, and she worked for nine years to put this all together. She started working on it when she was 21, and we were actually having a conversation yesterday about her process, and how it’s a film that deals with the growth of a woman, and female desire. There’s this idea of the beast, something that’s either from inside or from outside forces, trying to control the human mind and body. It’s a very interesting film, gorgeously shot and very atmospheric.

‘Yuni’, written by Prima Rusdi and Kamila Andini, directed by Andini.

We’ve got another question here from David, who says their favorite films are humanistic dramas, citing Hirokazu Kore-eda as one of their favorite directors. Would anybody have any recommendations for David? CB: I can recommend at least one film, called Yuni, an Indonesian film from Kamila Andini. This is a naturalist drama about a high-school girl who is one of the top students in her class, and has a great group of friends. We slowly begin to see that her life is being constrained by one man after another, and then something happens at school, which begins to narrow her possibilities for her future. She’s trying to figure out things like sexuality and romance and what she wants to do with her future, and all of these obstacles keep getting placed in her path. It’s told in a very gentle way, but very incisive as well. Each scene really matters, taking you deeper inside this girl’s life.

RC: Our senior programmer Giovanna Fulvi programmed a film called Aloners, a South Korean film by Hong Sung-eun. This is her first feature, and it’s very much a film of our time. It is about a woman who works in the gig economy at a credit-card customer-service call center. It’s a very transient existence. She doesn’t talk to anybody, she eats by herself, she doesn’t really want to associate with the people in her apartment building. One day, one of her neighbors who has tried to talk to her many times passes away, and she has to re-interrogate the way that she’s been living her life, and figure out if it’s worth starting to form some human connections.

Next up is a question from Matt Neglia, from the Next Best Picture podcast. Matt says that he’s a massive fan of epics, whether they’re three hours long or just telling an expansive story with lots of world-building. Apart from Dune, are there any other films in the lineup that you would describe as epic? CB: While Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World might not strike you on reading its synopsis as an epic, I think it actually is an emotional epic. It’s the story of a young woman who’s trying to figure out her life. Her romance with one boyfriend doesn’t quite fit the bill for her, and she begins this looking and exploring. Trier and his writer and lead actor do remarkable work, blowing open the idea of a person trying to define who they are at this turning point in their life. They make these stakes massive and they have all kinds of interesting, innovative, formal elements in [the film] as well. It’s incredibly cinematic. If you’ve seen Joachim Trier’s other films, this is kind of the conclusion of a trilogy that he’s made.

‘Listening to Kenny G’, directed by Penny Lane.

Next up, we have Sarah, who is looking for movies about music, and also some body horror. CB: We’ve got a number of great music docs this year. I have to mention Dionne Warwick, the queen of Twitter, who is the subject of Dionne Warwick: Don’t Make Me Over. It tells the story of this incredibly talented, determined and glamorous musician who broke so many barriers. She toured in the south during the Jim Crow era, making gains as a Black woman in the music industry and in the pop-music industry, not the so-called race-record or Black-music industry, which simply wasn’t done at the time. This documentary tells that story, and also shows her later work in the ’80s contributing to the fight against stigma and hysteria during the AIDS crisis.

PK: I’ll follow up Cameron by mentioning the Alanis Morissette film Jagged. We’ve also got a film about the great jazz pianist, Oscar Peterson, called Oscar Peterson: Black + White. Lastly, there’s a film about Kenny G, called Listening to Kenny G.

Diana Sanchez: For the body horror, I’d like to mention the debut film by Ruth Paxton, titled A Banquet. It’s about a young woman who insists her body is no longer her own, and is a service to a higher power. Her mother has no idea what to think. She stops eating, and her mother doesn’t know [whether] to believe her or not. I love Ruth Paxton’s work, the way she shoots the film, the way she shoots the food. It’s almost, as she refers to it, pornographic. It looks delicious and gross all at the same time.

I’d also like to flip to comedy quickly to mention Official Competition. The film stars Penélope Cruz, Antonio Banderas and Oscar Martínez. Cruz plays a filmmaker who puts together a well-known theater actor and a well-known box-office glamor guy, played by Banderas. The film speaks to the tension between high art and more popular art, testing those boundaries. It’s incredibly funny.

We’d love to squeeze a few more films out of everyone for our watchlists. Could you each recommend one film and try to sell it in ten words or less? CB: Let me try. Sundown, by Michel Franco. Tim Roth falls apart beautifully in Mexico.

TP: I’m going to go with the Mexican documentary, Comala. Filmmaker Gian Cassini explores the legacy of his father, who was a Tijuana hitman.

PK: I’ll go with Saloum, which is basically From Dusk Till Dawn in West Africa.

RC: I’m going to say The Wheel, a movie by Steve Pink. If you like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, this is like that with a younger couple in a much more humane, intimate key.

DS: I’ll say I’m Your Man, a sci-fi where Maren Eggert dates a robotic Dan Stevens.

PK: I know Diana has been recommending a film called OUT OF SYNC, about an artist who begins to experience the sound of the world going out of sync. She starts hearing sounds from the past because people and things are out of sync with their surroundings.

NHY: I’ll go with The Gravedigger’s Wife, directed by Khadar Ahmed. It showcases the horn of Africa unlike you’ve ever seen it on screen.

Finally, for Cameron: with fall coming, what is the best TIFF 2021 movie to watch under a blanket, either because it’s cozy or because you’re terrified, or both? CB: Great question, which gives me a chance to talk about Earwig, the new film by Lucile Hadžihalilović. If you’ve seen Innocence or Evolution, her two most recent films, you’re prepared in terms of tone, but you’ve not even seen Lucille make a film quite like this. It’s eerie, disturbing, hypnotic, mesmerizing. You can’t stop watching, but you’re always afraid that something awful and horrifying is about to happen… and maybe it might.

‘Night Raiders’, written and directed by Danis Goulet.

To bring it all back home, what would you say is the Canadian film of 2021? CB: It’s always hard to say, but I think in a year where we have Danis Goulet’s feature Night Raiders, that’s got to be the one. Danis has made some exceptional short films over the last few years that people might know. Her feature takes on the horrific, devastating story of residential schools and children torn from Indigenous families and put in institutions where the goal was to erase their Indigenous identity. She takes that terrible, real history that we’re grappling with right now in Canada, and turns it into a piece of speculative fiction, a kind of propulsive thriller.

By turning it into fiction rather than reality she can use all of the tools of cinema to tell a terrific story that’s exciting and has high stakes, but also has this deep resonance of a truth that we are, I hope, coming to terms with in this country.

The Toronto International Film Festival runs from September 9 to 18. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Follow TIFF on Letterboxd, and follow our Festiville HQ for regular festival updates.

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「消失的黄金」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: The Lost Gold Translations (Chapter 4-01: Seaside Ferry)

“With that Diary Notebook and the Ancient Copper Coin Necklace, we can still make him admit to his crimes even without the other murder weapons.“

*Tears of Themis Masterlist  *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

Location: Seaside Ferry 

After restraining all four targets, all the members of the Investigation Team gathered back together at the Ferry Crossing at the end of the Event.

The final winner of the Nosta Island Treasure Hunt had also been decided by this time and all the other participants filed into the finishing line one after another. Lin Dahai, Wang Xian and Tian Yu had all been sent to the Hospital first due to their injuries, and Xia Yan had handed Dong Hechuan over to the Security Personnel to keep an eye on him.

As soon as everything had been settled, we found ourselves encountering something strange.

MC: You're saying that Sang Ge has gone missing?

Sang Ge, the strange fellow we met at the Event's starting point before it started, had disappeared from the Ferry.

Staff Member: Yes. He was still sitting here 10 minutes ago muttering to himself, no one knew what he was up to.

Staff Member: Not too long ago, we heard a loud noise and thought that something had exploded, only to find the guy missing.

The staff pointed to the place where Sang Ge had been at while he spoke. There were only a few slates of rock left in his wake.

I stepped forward and observed the slates, noting how it was engraved with many Arabic Numerals of "0" and "1"...

MC: What is this? It reminds me a little of...a computer's Binary Code?

Staff Member: He was very excited before his disappearance, saying something about how he had "found the law of this world"...

Staff Member: Actually, we all thought he had a screw loose in his head, so no one dared approach him...

Lu Jinghe: Someone going missing is a serious matter. Notify the respective personnel and search the Island for him.

Lu Jinghe: Call the Police if he still can't be found by the time the Event Ends even with everyone deployed. Let the Police from Country A continue looking for him.

The guy immediately spurred into action at his instructions.

Mo Yi: This guy called Sang Ge is rather interesting. I'd love to talk to him if we ever do manage to find him.

Zuo Ran: How about we talk about the more pressing matters instead of these useless things?

Zuo Ran: Xia Yan, this sheepskin parchment probably has something to do with your mission here, am I right?

Zuo Ran: Have you located the loot that had failed to be recovered that year yet?

Xia Yan: The location where it's hidden at should be written somewhere within these riddles. Oh, didn't you guys say that you've got something like these too back in the Communication Channel?

He pointed at the piece of parchment that Zuo Ran handed him, looking at both Mo Yi and Lu Jinghe.

Lu Jinghe: Not only do I have the riddle, but I've also picked up a Stone Sculpture.

Lu Jinghe: Mo Yi, you informed us to keep an eye out for anything that might possibly be related to Egypt. This was the only thing I found.

Lu Jinghe: I see...that you've got something similar in your hands?

Mo Yi: I have a figure of Isis aside from this Stone Sculpture.

Mo Yi: The owner of this figure might very well be the second-in-command of the Robbery Gang back then.

Zuo Ran: Speaking of decorations, Wang Xian dropped a necklace when he attacked Lin Dahai in the cave.

Zuo Ran: This necklace can become evidence of Dong Hechuan having murdered Lin Dahai's father back then.

Mo Yi: I asked Wang Xian about it on the way back. He said that the necklace was something he had dug out on his first visit here.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Temporary Camp

Mo Yi: Wang Xian, why do you have that Ancient Copper Coin Necklace? Wasn't that Dong Hechuan's?

Wang Xian: I dug it out when I came here for the first time. It was in the Cave that I was injured at.

Wang Xian: There were other knick-knacks buried together with the necklace in a chest.

Wang Xian: I've seen the detailed case file pertaining to the Gold Robbery before. Thus, I knew that this Ancient Copper Coin Necklace was the murder weapon that had been used to kill Lin Dahai's father.

Wang Xian: That's why I kept the necklace, in hopes of exchanging it with the records that Dong Hechuan has of my contrabands.

Mo Yi: He didn't agree?

Wang Xian: He didn't. He said that I had no evidence to back up my claim and that the necklace was a part of his collection.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Zuo Ran: Dong Hechuan is very smart and what he said is correct. Even if the necklace was the murder weapon, we have no way to prove that it was his.

Zuo Ran: Although he removed the logo of the Robbery Gang that had been tied in with the knot, it can only prove that this is something related to the Gang and not Dong Hechuan himself.

Zuo Ran: I was initially planning on handing it over to Yan Wei so that he could run forensics on it. Otherwise...

Lu Jinghe: Now that's a coincidence. I've got a Diary from Tian Yu which I think might come in handy.

He pulled out the Diary Notebook just as he said that.

Lu Jinghe: The Diary has his name and the contents inside are all written by him. It denotes every single item in his "collection" in detail.

Lu Jinghe: Every time he kills someone, he'll number tag the murder weapon, take a photo of it and write the process of how the murder was carried out in his Diary.

Lu Jinghe: In his opinion, these are all his "contributions" as he makes his way in the world. Huh.

Xia Yan: This Diary was also mentioned in his phone call with Tian Yu.

Zuo Ran: Looking at it in this manner, does this mean that Lin Dahai's father is the 17th person he has murdered? The Ancient Copper Coin Necklace had a wooden plate with the number 17 on it.

Mo Yi: Now, we have gathered enough evidence to convict Dong Hechuan.

MC: This thing...

I took a look at Dong Hechuan's Diary while they discussed among themselves.

Among all the things denoted within, the 16th murder weapon looked to be an inconspicuous piece rope that resembled the chain of a necklace. There was an "L" shaped object made of an unknown material hanging from the rope.

MC: Take a look at this. Do you think murder weapon no.16 can be pieced together with the Isis pendent figure that Dr. Mo found?

Xia Yan: Isis is the Goddess of Life in Ancient Egyptian Mythology. Her crown is that of a throne.

Xia Yan: The throne will be simplified into an "L" shape like this one here in some circumstances, to make it easier to make.

Mo Yi: I've realized that this figure was incomplete before. So the answer was here after all...

Mo Yi: If that's so, then the second leader-in-command had died by Dong Hechuan's hand back then.

Zuo Ran: Their relationship with each other might have just been one-sided on the second-leader-in-command’s part. Dong Hechuan had planned on taking advantage of her feelings from the start.

Zuo Ran: Mo Yi, is the chest that Wang Xian dug up back then still around?

Mo Yi: I’ve asked him about it before, he said that he threw everything other than the Ancient Copper Coin Necklace.

MC: Then her death’s grievance...

Zuo Ran: According to that book, Yang Tiange wasn’t the only one who had died an unjustly death.

Zuo Ran: But don’t worry. With that Diary Notebook and the Ancient Copper Coin Necklace, we can still make him admit to his crimes even without the other murder weapons.

MC: You’re right!

Xia Yan: Thinking about it now, the internal scuffle that had taken place back then must have been caused by Dong Hechuan manipulating the second leader-in-charge’s feelings for him.

MC: That piece of scum’s plan was to kill off everyone else and take all the gold for himself.

Xia Yan: Unfortunately, Yang Tiange had failed to realize this even when she died, even going as far as to give him another hint that would bring him closer to his goal before she passed.

Lu Jinghe: Mask? You mean the Lost Gold was not actually gold, but a Golden Mask?

Xia Yan cast a glance at our surroundings, checking that there weren't anyone else around before telling us the truth behind the Great Gold Robbery.

Xia Yan: This is how it actually is.

Xia Yan: There was something else that had been together with the gold that had been stolen that year sent by the Museum of Egypt―— The Gold Mask of Anubis.

Xia Yan: The location of the gold that Dong Hechuan gave the Police back then was really where all the gold had been hidden.

Xia Yan: The only reason why it was considered as two-tenths of the total gold was because they had also added the Golden Mask and the amount it was worth into the equation.

Mo Yi: No wonder the riddle was derived from the “Book of Death”. Now this explains it.

Before we could continue to analyze all the clues that we had gathered, a staff member came, asking us to board the Ferry by Base Camp.

We had no choice but to move our entire discussion up the Ferry.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Xia Yan) | (Zuo Ran) | (Mo Yi) | (Lu Jinghe) | Next Part: (Chapter 4-02: Seaside Ferry)

A-Another one?😌😣❤️ There's days in which Sniper feels confident and talkative. They are strange days, but still, they happen. He talks, a lot compared to normal days. And talking that much leads to being flirty with Spy, instead of the other way. And this leads to flirtying fights. Who would win? 🤔 -❤️🐑

Alright, I hope this checks out. It is now 4am to me and I enjoyed writing this maybe a bit too much. ^^

The Frenchman recalled the events at the end of dinner. Through the racket of the cutlery on the plates, one of his colleagues had been particularly more talkative than usual; and thank God it wasn’t Scout.

“Did I tell you about the time I lost my parents chickens at the market?”

“You did what?” Spy asked, thinking his misheard or misunderstood. “Is this an expression in English that I’m not aware of or should I understand it literally?”

Sniper laughed and wiped his mouth.

“Nah mate, I’m bein’ serious. So, picture this, we were out on the marketplace with my parents cause obviously, it was market day and my parents bein’ farmers… Y’know, it’s a big day. But here’s the thing…”

Spy listened while eating his yoghurt, a smile on his lips.

“... They had left the truck’s keys with me and asked me to keep my eye on it while they settled out tables and stuff. So I thought to meself, alroight, why not open the truck and get the cages with the chickens out.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know, about 12 or somethin’. So yeah, I opened the back of the truck and started unloading the cages. Thing is, I hadn’t anticipated they’d be that bloody heavy. So I lifted the first one, my jacket got caught up in the lock on a second one, I tried to move it, ended up tumbling like a rock down a hill and falling!”

“Oh, it must have hurt..!” Spy chuckled. 

“The cage in my arms obviously escaped my hands and its door broke, the chickens spilled everywhere, cacklin’ as they darted off!”

Spy could hardly contain his laughter. He hunched his back and hid his face in his hand as he laughed, catching his breath in short snorts.

“How many chickens did you lose?” Spy asked, trying to calm down and catch his breath.

“That’s only a dozen between the two cages. But wait for it, wait for it!”

The kitchen had emptied meanwhile and it was only the two of them still at the table, under the light bulb. It was Sniper’s turn to wash the dishes so there was nowhere he was going until he had been done that.

“Here’s the craziest thing! I was there in the truck, covered in bruises, I had no idea what to do!”

“That’s terrible, Sniper, absolutely dreadful!” Spy was holding his sides and Sniper had joined him in the laughter.

“Oh, Lord, Spook,” The Australian put his arm on the back of Spy’s chair. “And I thought when my parents find out about it, they’d kill me for it. So I put a hand on my face and that’s when I realised I was covered in bruises, blood dripping off the cuts and scratches the chickens left. And it hit me! I got a brilliant idea!”

“What in the name of God did you think about…?” Spy leaned his head back on his friend’s arm. He raised his eyes to Sniper and the latter looked down at him. Oh that sight… Those light blue eyes, eyelids half-closed and their attention fully devoted to the Australian. Sniper loved it more than he could say. He raised his eyes to the door and saw that the door was closed.

Sniper smirked and raised a devious eyebrow.

“I won’t tell you what happened next.”

“What?!” The Frenchman straightened his back and head right away. He frowned when he saw his friend’s smile widen.

Sniper closed his arm around Spy’s arm and pulled him closer. 

“I’ll do it like Shereherazade. Y’know what she did, that sheila? It’s in the One Thousand and One Nights. The Prince or whatever married her but she knew he’d kill her the next morning cause that’s what he’d done with the previous tons of sheilas he’d slept with. So she told him the beginning of a story and stopped right before the best bit. She’d tell him the rest the next day. And then she kept on saying that, night after night, that’s how she survived!”

“I didn’t know you were familiar with the story.”

Sniper wiggled his eyebrows proudly.

“Oh but I am. You’re the only bloke with some fancy bits and bobs in his head, eh?

“Do remind me though, how was she called that princess?”

“Shereherazade or somethin’.”

“Pfffhahaha!” Spy burst out laughing, holding his sides harder.

Sniper frowned. 

“What the hell’re you laughin’ at?”

“It’s Scheherazade, or in Arabic, Sharhazad, not the nonsense you just invented!”

Sniper’s eyebrows jumped. He didn’t know his colleague could speak Arabic...

“Ooh, look at you, gettin’ clever in Arabic, eh?” Sniper tapped the tip of his friend’s nose with his index finger playfully and Spy pulled his nose with a smile. “You really are like a cat.”

“What?!”

“You’re arrogant, but deep down, you love the attention.”

“I cannot complain. But tell me, Scheherazade-who-shsoots-heads-from-far-away, what shall I do for you to finish your story, hm? And please don’t tell me I have to wait for the next night!”

“Oh no, you won’t…”Sniper’s face got even closer to the Frenchman. “Not when you’re bein’ like that.” He whispered and given his hoarse voice, it almost sounded like a growl. Spy couldn’t hide his pleasure and smirked. He looked Sniper straight the eye.

“Not when I’m like what exactly, hm? Pray explain.”

“Oh you bloody know what I mean.”

Spy’s smile widened. Their faces were a few inches apart and they could just about breath each other’s air. Both felt the thrill and the tension of it.

“Tell you what, Spook: I’ll wash the dishes and then pop to your room.”

Sniper stood up and rolled up his sleeves. The Frenchman stood up too and headed for the door.

“Will you tell me what you did with your parents’ chickens then?”

“Yeah, we’ll see!” He answered loudly before murmuring to himself “As if that’s what’s your lookin’ for…” Sniper started the tap and got on with the dishes.

Spy walked back silently towards his friend and, pushing himself to the tip of his toes, he put his hands on Sniper’s shoulders suddenly.

“Huh?!” The tall man got startled and gasped.

“You’d better tell me the end of that story and not leave me hanging like that, Bushman…!” Spy threateningly whispered down his friend’s neck, from behind.

“Oh you…!” The Australian grabbed the nearby hand towel and turned to slap Spy with it.”You scared me, I thought you were gone already! Bugger off!” 

Spy dodged the towel easily.

“What if I stayed and didn’t bugger off…?”

Sniper leapt at him with the towel in his hand, to try and slap him again, but Spy darted away faster, giggling as he saw his provoking of his friend had the intended effect.

“Tsss, bloody Spies, I swear…”

Half an hour later or so, Spy got out of the shower. He put on his bathrobe and combed his hair back. He liked it particularly when Sniper was having one of those days. It didn’t happen very often, but what a delight. He would be more talkative, share more of himself with his colleague. And it seemed to be only with him, which flattered Spy beyond what he could imagine.

As soon as he finished lacing the bathrobe belt around his waist, a knock on the door resounded. Spy put on his mask. He knew who was coming and so he opened the door, paying attention to still hide behind it, not for anyone else to see him in his bathrobe. He quickly shut the door and Sniper turned to face him.

“Been waitin’ fer me, I see?” The Australian raised a devious eyebrow as he eyed the Frenchman from his bare feet, slim legs, all the way up to his chest, his neck and his face.

“You wish…” Spy arrogantly replied and turned his back to head to the sofa. 

But it wouldn’t do for Sniper. The Australian leapt in and grabbed the only thing he could, which turned out to be the bathrobe belt. It slid out of the rings around the Frenchman’s wait and the bathrobe pans flew open.

Spy froze, his back still to the Australian. Sniper was confused, the belt in his hand, at the crossroad between two very opposite emotions. On one hand, he wanted to apologise profusely, turn on his heels and leave, but on the other hand… 

The Frenchman looked down and back up. 

“Well, this seems very unfair, Sniper.” Spy’s voice purred as he turned, holding his bathrobe closed with his arms crossed on his chest. He took the step that separated him from his taller friend and stuck himself to Sniper’s chest, holding on to his shirt collar.

Sniper saw it in Spy’s eyes. The Frenchman was asking him to not apologise, and to be honest, he didn’t want either. 

“Go on,” Sniper opened his arms left and right. “Make it even then.”

Spy’s eyes shone brighter as his pupils dilated. The Australian giggled. 

“You’re really nothin’ but a cat, Spook, you purr when you’re in a good mood.”

“And you growl, what does that make you…?”

“I’ll show you when we get fair and equal. Although, I have to say, Spook.”

The brown hat and the sleeveless jacket were on the floor already. Spy had unbuttoned the polo shirt slowly, taking the time to enjoy every moment but stopped sharp and looked up.

“To really be level, I’ll need that mask o’yours… off.”

Spy raised an eyebrow. 

“Ambitious…” He pulled the polo shirt up and removed it. “I’ll tell you what, come back more often for this, and I might.” He winked at the Australian.

“Playin’ the Sheherazade trick on me? You can’t do that!”

Spy chuckled.

“I can and watch me, I will.”

Soon, the rest of the Australian’s clothes would fall, but before that, Sniper had put his hands on Spy’s sides and what a sigh the Frenchman let out… The tall man had to bend down and kiss him right there and right then. Needless to say, the night of sleep was short.