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thenightmarketofdathomir · 2 years

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This Fic is Cursed [Re-release]

Title: This Fic is Cursed Pairings: Feral x Reader, Savage Opress x Reader, Maul x Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,518 words Warnings: P in V (bareback), dirty talk, inappropriate use of the Force, rough sex, masturbation, blindfolding, size kink, anal play, bondage/suspension, dominance play/choking, pet names, praise kink, a soupçon of degradation, Force-created sex toys, makeshift gags, alien biology, creepy dolls Notes: All three readers are AFAB Cis

Summary: A cursed bedroom, a creepy doll collection, and three Opress brothers seeking some private time with their respective partners. Unfortunately, no one told them the bedroom on the fourth floor doesn't unlock from the inside. Nothing bad can happen, right?

Excerpt Below or Read it on Ao3 >

i. Feral

—

“It’s vaguely oppressive,” Feral says, which is about as much precaution as you’ll get. He hesitates a second, hand on the worn brass knob of the second bedroom on the third floor set into the only stretch of wall that isn’t showing the wounds of their restoration work. “Mother gave us specific instructions in her will about this room in particular — we weren’t to disturb it. Supposed to be left as-is.” He glances at you. “A condition of the inheritance.”

“So of course it’s the first thing you went and mucked about in,” you tell him.

Feral gives you a winning smile.

You know how they all felt about Talzin, in the end.

“She always did like to meddle; very domineering woman — couldn’t leave us well enough alone. Never satisfied with our life’s choices,” he says, gesturing. “This is just a bit of —“

“Retaliatory post-mortem payback,” you surmise. “Colour me unsurprised.”

The door is white, and the ghost of an old plaque belonging to its previous owner has left a corona of dirt.

“What’s she going to do?” Feral asks. “Reach beyond the grave to impart one further lesson to her darling children?”

He scoffs, and falls to stillness — seeing your hesitation.

“Are you sure about this? Because we can sleep in the parlour —”

“Not with the rancor in there.”

His shoulders hunch, and showing a flash of teeth, Feral drops a palm to your shoulder, giving you an indulgent look that leaves you a little heated.

“I can guarantee that at least that thing is less creepy than what’s in here. Besides, it’s not a rancor anymore. It’s just a head.”

It’s the only private room in the whole four-floor Victorian. While Maul or Savage might not care so much about sleeping with their asses out between walls torn down and doors off their hinges, this is the only private time you and Feral are gonna get this weekend. So kark the parlour.

“Taxidermed animals are pretty high up there on the creepy spectrum.” You gesture vaguely at your face. “Something about the eyes. It’s like they’re watching you.”

Feral doesn’t have eyebrows, but there’s a slightly manic glimmer about him when he flashes his teeth, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, love.” He pulls you in, brushing his lips over your temple, sticking you with a firm smooch, and dropping to breathe into your ear — heavy with suggestion: “I’ll protect you.”

You poke him in the side for good measure, but he holds you close enough for you to huff the light oakmoss scent of him through his shirt: a little cream and a little cardamom beneath laundry detergent; mischief passed off as some innocent youngest brother bantha pudu.

He pulls back, and makes you promise: “No take backs.”

But your yeah yeah is forgotten as he crowds in after you when he opens the door. You’re already in the room before the overhead light crackles and pops to life, but by then it’s too late: he’s shutting the door after him, locking you into this time capsule that makes no logical sense when set against the rest of the house.

“Whatthekark,” you breathe, but your fate is sealed when he squeezes your hip, pulling you with him into the centre of a powder pink and lace-fluffed horror show.

ii. Savage

—

There’s a dangling chandelier in the centre of the ceiling, placed equidistant from the twin bed with the brass curlicues ornamenting the head and the foot, the child’s vanity with its little mirror and bench, and the overstuffed toy box.

The chandelier tinkles, sending sparkles of refracted light around the shelves that line the room, little rainbow colours trapped between posters and photographs clipped out of Tiger Beat and Seventeen magazine.

“Feral came in here?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

You’re still staring. And the room stares back with hundreds of eyes: glass and beaded and plastic, all colours and shapes, and some are buttons.

You hover in the threshold, considering how Savage’s bulk swallows up so much space that he hulks over a bit, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and now you’re unsure.

“I thought he did, but it’s not like you can hide two people in that closet.”

There are ruffles on the valance. Ruffles on the bedskirt. Ruffles lining the window curtains.

“Your mother had some really… interesting decorative tastes.”

Savage’s frown deepens. “Talzin always wanted a daughter,” he mutters. “We disappointed her in more ways than one.”

You recognize some of people featured on the walls — far younger versions of older actors, and some bands you’ve never heard of — but you’re shaking your head, even as Savage’s horns tangle in the fixture.

He winces, hunching into himself, but the damage is done. Ensnared, he stares at you, bent necked and resigned to exasperation. It’s almost sweet. You do not giggle. Instead, you drag the bench out from the vanity, hauling yourself up to eye-level with him to try and work the beaded pearls out of his horns from the dangly bits.

“I think you turned out alright,” you tell him. “You even look cute in her old apron.”

It was pink and it had frills, and barely cinched around his waist, but Savage had worn it diligently while flipping pancakes that morning at the tiny gas stove in the ancient kitchen.

He mutters, “Mother would be thrilled. It’s a small mercy she isn’t watching over us all, still.”

A large hand steadies you over the hip, fingers notching into your belt loops and back pocket: large enough to wrap around most of your thigh on a good day, and heavy enough to leave a lasting mark; soul-exit-body-style if he thinks you’ve earned a good spank.

You lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you liked showing me off?”

His frown deepens.

You suppress a snicker: “Maybe not in front of dear old mom.”

“The dead of Dathomir are often quite persuasive, especially its witches.” He purses his lips. “We are fortunate she left no unfinished business; no further imparted wisdom for our… predilections.”

You arch an eyebrow, your fingers working out the last knots.

Savage squeezes, and you warm to the attention — the dip of his gaze to your legs as it spindles lower.

“Oh,” you say, smiling. “Your lifestyle choices.”

The door clicks shut behind you with a muted snap of the lock, and you don’t think anything of it.

Savage’s gaze sharpens, going still the longer you dither.

“How much longer, little one?”

“Just hold still.”

His gaze slides away and beyond you, and your tiny fingers do what his could not: unknotting the shimmery bits of jewelled plastic that have tangled through his horns like gaudy Life Day ornaments from the 80s.

His rumble of displeasure swirls low in your belly, rough with menace that you’re accustomed to. “Why are you smiling?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I can’t get it all out,” you tell him. “But you do look adorable.”

If Savage’s grip tightens on your hip any more, you’d grit your teeth. The big guy knows you like it rough, but sometimes the foreplay gets started a little early.

“Handsome?” you try again.

“Please hurry,” he says. “The dolls are watching me.”

Setting your hands on his shoulders, you peer around the room, unconcerned by the collection of stuffed animals and antique dolls: shelves upon shelves worth, they pour up the walls all the way to the ceiling, piled in tiered stacks up the tiny bed, ruffles and rumples and pretty porcelain faces all serene and indifferent to the two intruders in their midst.

“They’re just toys, Savage.”

“They outnumber us,” he murmurs, and if there’s something ominous in it, you’re distracted as he picks you up and deposits you on the floor gently, warm hands lingering on your body. When you take his hands in yours, you smile up at him, pressing into his stomach and giving him a coy look that usually endears you to him.

Savage’s mouth takes a downturn at the corners.

“You are not seducing me here.”

You wink. “It’s private, at least.”

“It’s creepy.” He leans down, considering, and withdraws before he can give in, eyes narrowed.

You smile, indulgent, and entirely too smart for your own good.

“There’s a bathroom with a locking door on the second floor?” you offer, tentative, but your fingers are wandering — creeping down to cup the bulge in his shorts, semi-erect already and pressing against khaki.

He stiffens, a low rumble of interest building in him at your touch.

“But it’s a whole two floors away, and —” You pluck at your top, revealing the hint of a fleshy swell that you know he can’t resist. “There’s a bed right here.”

Savage sniffs, his expression darkening as he leans in. When he growls, it’s a sensation that begins in his belly, rumbling through the points of connection between your bodies, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the tinkle of his chandelier-made-tiara. He practically huffs, rolling his eyes upward, and then back to you as those large hands descend to cup your bottom, dragging you up to the tips of your toes so that you’re pressed against him, your ass a kneadable, tender thing begging for reprimand.

“Impatient, again,” he murmurs. “Or teasing, you insatiable creature. Indifferent to where and when I fuck you. Shameless, utterly.”

Savage squeezes, and you suck in a fluttery breath, pressing your hands to his chest.

“Never knew you were so sensitive,” you manage, trying to regulate your breathing as that rumble of his discontentment becomes a challenge. “Or such a tipyip.”

He stills in that expectant, assessing way you so love when you’ve put exactly one toe out of line.

The slash of his smile leaves you simultaneously shivering and heated by his attention as he rolls you against his thigh, folded around him as if his knee wasn’t adding the exact right sort of pressure in the exact right place to break you into a thousand bitty pieces at his prompting.

Folding over you, his hand brushes your breast on its journey to your throat, cupping you just beneath the chin in a hold not meant to choke, though he could snuff the blood flow to your brain to leave you pliant and quivering. A good Top knows what they’re doing, and Savage is no slouch.

“Brat,” he murmurs, mouth brushing yours, his hot breath on your face. “I should put you over my knee.”

Your eyes flutter shut, tasting the very air he breathes, fingers curled into his teeshirt, the pressure between your thighs absolutely maddening when he offers just a bit of friction.

“Promises, promises,” you manage. “You could make your point in other ways,” you suggest innocently. “Maybe even change up your thinking.”

Savage bares his teeth; the warning fades into a slash of a smile.

“Do tell me.”

“You already have a toy of your own,” you tell him, breathy. Savage stills, his nostrils flaring as your meaning registers.

“Don’t you want to play with me?”

He ‘hmphs,’ amused, and leans in to lick at your mouth, withdrawing before you can kiss him back, satisfied to see your nipples peaked and pebbled beneath your shirt. There’s a wet spot on his knee. Your skirt is practically hiked up to your waist. But you’re not asking how that happened.

The jewels between his horns tinkle again, and Savage shuts his eyes briefly in exasperation.

You have to bite back a giggle.

“Go now, before I chase you down,” he orders, but you’re already at the door.

The handle slides and clacks back into place. Old house. Old fixtures. Not the first time this has happened — just yesterday, Feral’s attempts with the kitchen pantry got it stuck so thoroughly that Maul had to kick it in.

When you try again and it doesn’t open, you know for certain:

“We’re locked in.”

iii. Maul

—

Two hits: Maul’s heel to the door, and the door crunching into plaster as it strikes the wall. The muffled whumps and muted squeaks of toys hitting the carpet don’t immediately register, because he’s breathing for you, thumb and forefinger notched into the waistband of your jeans, popping open the topmost button; the other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he takes a taste of your mouth.

It’s a hungry kiss, built on breath and secret smiles, a brush of lips and trailing fingertips when you got too close and he just watched with that darkening interest that caged you in before you ducked out.

He chased you up two flights of stairs.

But rather than crumple on the landing, half-kneeling and partways dishevelled, you collapsed into the nearest bedroom without really checking which direction you were headed.

Now here you are as Maul does to your mouth with his tongue what he’ll do to your cunt as his impatience wins out, silencing you with that indulgent, lidded gaze — like he knows what you like better than you know yourself when his hand tucks between your thighs.

The sound you make is little better than a half choked gasp of pleasure at the contact: knuckles brushing over the front of your undies as he jerks down your fly, tugging you into him with the sort of insistence that leaves you fumbling and needy — not sure where to put your hands, but wanting to touch him like he’s touching you.

He murmurs against your mouth, “Push them off your hips for me.”

“The door —“

He growls, fingers pressing in, not bothering to move your panties aside but finding your clit through the gusset and rubbing it. The added bit of friction from the cotton isn’t too much. You’re too wet. Maul’s mouth finds your throat, and his teeth close around your pulse point, worrying the skin in warning. Your ankles roll out, and rising to the tips of your toes, you sway with the almost-feeling of getting fucked with those deft, strong fingers tracing your slit but never pushing in.

Head rolling back, you find his face — the carved lines of his jaw —

That smug twist of his mouth.

“Please —“

A rumble of a command, “Do as you’re told.”

But it’s so karking hard when he touches you like this; two fingers rubbing you through your clothes, intent on destroying what little control you’ve maintained. You shouldn’t even bother with underthings, he only wrecks them when he gets in a mood, and apparently after two coats of eggshell and a little splatter on your face from trying to paint the ceiling reminds him of what he might’ve done to you if you were alone.

The door screes on its hinges, shutting untouched, and there’s an element of foreboding to the fact that he’s so gentle with it when he nearly just tore it off the wall.

“Did you do that?” you ask him...

Read the Rest on Ao3 >

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mira--mira · 3 years

Note

Another OOT question!

I know some people believe that Madara (adult) is misogynistic because of what he told Tsunade in the fourth war (about her being a weak woman) and that's a totally valid opinion! Taking into account that OOT's Madara clearly is not like that, I want to know what is your opinion regarding this. Personally, I think he didn't mean that because she is a woman she is weak, but that she is simply a woman and she is weak (like saying that she is a weak shinobi)

This got long lol

Honestly I've seen a few different theories, the "he's just a misogynist", the "Kishimoto knew he was getting backlash for how he portrays women so Madara said that and then Tsunade proved him wrong" (despite ultimately being beat), the "it was a mistranslation/comma theory and should have been read as 'you're weak, woman'" (I think is spiritually the same point you mention), the extremely creepy "well he hates women/doesn't like them this is obviously another hint he's gay" (which while this one is usually presented jokingly I dislike it so much. Male homosexuality has no intrinsic tie to misogyny and it just makes me so uncomfortable even as a joke.) However, my ultimate opinion is every character is some flavor of misogynist because Kishimoto is one and writes them like that in a mix of on purpose and by accident. This is kind of tricky because I don't know the man, I haven't consumed any content of his outside Naruto, and I don't make a habit of reading interviews or anything promotional about his writing process, so I'm reluctant to speak with any kind of definite authority but reading the manga or just watching the anime, in general, is just...terrible if you're focusing on how he portrays women and treats them like characters. This is a great essay that I like, but here are some main points that stick out to me about Kishimoto writing women.

First there are all the "missing women." By all accounts, ninja society should be split decently 50/50 on the sex ratio just like irl but...there's always one girl on a team of two boys. Besides Kurenai (and Tsume who's a special jonin but I'll count her) what prominent reoccurring female jonin do we see? Besides Anko what chunin? Count all the male characters you can and then the women and girls. Why are so many mothers housewives in magic ninja world with superpowers? Mikoto, Kushina, Yoshino, etc. How many of them don't even get named despite their husbands getting that basic acknowledgment? Ino's mom, Shino's mom, Choji's mom, Hinata's mom, Neji's mom, Gai's mom, Madara's mom, Hashirama's mom, etc.? Why out of every possible count of the Akatsuki is Konan the only woman (unless Taka is counted and then Karin is a member)?

Then there are types of women themselves. They're not allowed depth and most women's personalities can be divided by angry/shy dynamic as their main personality trait. They're always medics, always love interests, they never get to use their power to the extreme be taken seriously they're always handicapped by the narrative (see Konan and her powers as the biggest damn example of this). Sakura and Ino are the closest thing to actual friends two women are because there are so few of them in-universe but a big chunk of their relationship revolves around Sasuke. Even in that, women's relationships are ultimately dependent on men. Not even Tsunade is exempt from this. She never references Mito as an influence or major part of her character. Her biggest influences are Dan and Nawaki, her lover and her brother respectively. Her other influences were Hashirama, Hiruzen, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya. Shizune is the only woman she interacts with on a regular basis before Sakura but her story doesn't revolve around her relationship with Shizune, it's not even a major part narratively. Mei, the other extremely powerful woman with two kekkei genkai, who took over from Yagura and tried to restore Kiri's reputation from the bloody mist...is obsessed with marriage. Somehow I doubt if she'd been a man, that detail would have been kept.

I will not even begin to address the fucking mess Jiraiya is and how it's disgusting that he objectives Tsunade down to her body measurements and peeps on her in the bath all while claiming to be her friend.

And the saddest thing is this isn't just a Kishimoto problem. These are common things that are still present in media today. I hate the excuse "I don't know how to write women" it's just that, a lazy excuse. Ultimately I have no idea how canon Madara was supposed to come across with that line. I'm just not surprised or horrified by it at this point because there are so many other problems in the narrative.

OoT is my self-indulgent little fic where 95% of OCs of any kind will be women to try and drag that damn sex ratio back to even something decent and where all the looked over women will, at the very least, be given a fucking name. And I think I've mentioned in a comment or two on the fic, maybe even in one of the notes, but just in case I haven't it brings me sweet, sweet joy to headcanon the two most powerful men of their time, Hashirama and Madara, as momma's boys whose relationships with their mothers (especially Madara because of that line) cannot be overlooked or understated to understanding their characters in that AU. It's my fuck you to Kishimoto's way of handling women. And, I guess I'll announce it here lol, I'm reworking Kaguya's role in the narrative too and she's no longer getting scrapped in OoT because I'm going to make her make sense and work without alien bullshit and a flat female antagonist who appeared too late and didn't get proper build up.

#naruto #asks #al-stuffy #this turned into a rant lol #kishimoto handling women #that should be its own cw #out of time

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gaitwae · 3 years

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The Blessings of Damsels [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Slightly open-ended, hinted love triangle.

Length: 8.4k

Summary: A short timeline of how Charlene Park got over Clark Kent and set boundaries with Bruce Wayne.

=-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-=

=-=-=

The wind felt exquisite on Charlene’s skin, calming her racing heart. It wasn’t every day where her life flashed before her — she had been left under a pillar near LexCorps, then saved by an angel named Superman. Her eyes, shut tightly and pressing away tears, helped her forget exactly why you couldn’t go back to Metropolis. It had been a week, and, yet, here you were. She was hiding from someone too important to her. Charlene was hiding from shaking buildings and crumbling roads and screams and glowing rocks and a reporter who kept disappearing every time that Superman kept showing up.

She was done with the lying and the rejection.

She didn’t plan on jumping from the rail where she was standing. She didn’t want to hurt herself. She just wanted to see something else.

So, in search of new scenery, of something alien to her, Charlene went to the most dangerous city in America. Albeit, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, it was something that at least distracted her. Central City was just too far to drive, and Gotham was supposed to be the sister city of her home. She could just forget about this man who had worried her sick, she could just relax and listen to the cars run and the flags flap and smell the sulfur and petroleum and the flowers in the box on the building beneath her. Way up on this rooftop, she let her surroundings melt away her fears.

Char sat on the ledge of the roof, setting her fingers under the concrete lip.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a deep voice said, startling her. The stranger set a sleek, covered hand on her shoulder to secure her. “People jump all the time. I hope you’re not looking for an escape that way.”

“Um,” Char started, trying to find her voice, “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just trying to get over someone.” She cleared her throat and dusted her clothes off. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not that it’s important… but he’s kind of important in Metropolis. I had to leave.”

There was a hum from the man who was behind her. Char looked up, seeing a black cowl and stubble dotting a square jaw and set lips. There was a familiarity to him — not that she knew him, but that she had seen him somewhere before. Charlene felt… well, not safe, but there was something comforting about him. As she looked closer, she noticed a large silhouette of a bat was weaved into the fabric on his breast.

Batman.

“How important can he be? He’s not Lex Luthor, is he?” the vigilante asked. He sat down next to Char, setting his cape underneath his legs so it flowed beneath him. His lips twitched upwards, but not quite.

“He’s one of the biggest writers for the Daily Planet newspaper,” she said, laughing sadly. She felt like an idiot. Why was she spilling her guts out to this stranger? “Clark Kent, such a dork, but he’s always in the building. I work with him. I’m a newscaster —”

“Charlene Park,” he filled in. He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes gazing into her own orbs.

Charlene blushed. She wasn’t surprised. This was the Batman. He was crazy smart. Who knew how much he knew about anyone at the Daily Planet. Rumor was, Superman worked there, so of course, he might have known something about it. “You know my name. Creepy.”

He gave a slight nod as if agreeing with her. “You said it yourself. You’re a newscaster. I make it my job to watch the news.”

“For Metropolis, too?”

What a stupid question, of course for Metropolis too —

“Yes,” he said, patient and friendly. “Superman lives there. I have to know if I ever need to interfere. If he was ever mind-controlled, I need to be able to step in and save the world. The other members of the Justice League aren’t capable.” Each word that came from his mouth didn’t seem arrogant or rude at all. Batman was almost… melancholy.

“So… you’re all by yourself?” she asked.

“I have my kids. They’re trained pretty well,” he replied. He turned his gaze out to Gotham City. He had a firm stare, unwavering and determined. Her heart dipped, sorry for him, impressed by him, and so… so weirded out, too.

Charlene looked out at the city, too. “I don’t have kids. I don’t have anybody. My parents died when I was young, I was never adopted, and I don’t have siblings.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Clark was my friend back in Smallville. It’s just been so odd, recently. He hasn’t been around as much, he’s been tailing Lois Lane, and I’ve been breaking my own heart over and over.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong — Clark’s a great guy! But…”

“That’s why it’s hard to get over him,” the Batman supplied. He bowed his head. An understanding was hidden beneath layers of quiet. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love with some kind of Clark Kent, but I know what loneliness is, Miss Park.”

“Char.”

“Char,” he corrected himself.

She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Do you still feel lonely? With your kids?”

He shook his head a little. “Not as much, no. There are times I feel lonely, but I’ve been blessed. Your blessings will come, Char.” He turned to look at her. “I hope that helps.”

“It does,” she said, smiling. “What makes you so sure I’ll have blessings? I mean, you coming to talk to me seems heaven-sent, but that’s not a guarantee.” Charlene twisted her hands together, now restless. The Batman took his time to collect his answer.

“You’re a woman in her mid-thirties who still pines over her high school sweetheart,” he started. “You had one good thing, and it either ended or you grew apart. You built others up instead of yourself. You’ve waited patiently for what you want — but not for everything. You let some things go for others. You fought for everything and you’ve sacrificed it all. The foster homes were nothing, and yet it was the worst thing to live through. A kid with no one made herself into a someone, even if it was half of a someone.” The Batman rested on his elbows. “You’re too scared to let people go, but you’ve accepted people letting go of you or setting you aside. Char, you’ve got to have something coming to you.”

Charlene was stunned. How did he know all these things? Was she that obvious? Was she an open book? Or was that the hero of Gotham doing his job, once more? Oh, she couldn’t tell. Her skin prickled from both his sheer guesswork and the chilling night air. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. You got all that just by listening to me for a few seconds?”

“And from feeling it myself or seeing my kids struggle with it.” He unclipped his cape, standing up. He wrapped it around her shoulders. The Batman stood close, but not too close. This was all too surreal. Charlene didn’t know how to feel. This stranger was becoming less and less of a stranger. She knew he wouldn’t want to be too close, and it was foolish to think that they would be close. This was just a weird talk about Clark Kent on a Sunday night, on the ledge of a rooftop. Being in love with Clark Kent was the least of her worries, anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest. She waited about thirty seconds before saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her larynx didn’t want to cooperate.

How to phrase this?

He set a hand on her head, signalling for her to continue.

“If I wanted to talk to you again, how would I be able to do that?” she whispered. “I feel as if you’ve understood me more in ten minutes than my shrink has in years. Not to mention, you might be able to relate to me more than my shrink can. You said you felt some of this stuff yourself. Are you an orphan, too?”

“That’s more than one thing,” he said. He looked down at her with a glint in his eyes. “Just go back to Metropolis. You’re needed there.”

Charlene stopped. Of course. Right. She put her palm to her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll have to just face Clark like normal.” She barked a laugh. “You’re a hero, Bats.”

“Good to know.”

Char stood up. “You might want this back, won’t you?” She flapped the cape around her shoulders. She felt silly. She didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, and she was talking to him like she was talking to Clark. She wasn’t a writer; she wasn’t an interviewer; she was a reciter. This was all new to her.

The cowled detective hooked a thumb in his belt. “I’ll walk you back to your hotel room — you can return it then, Char.”

=-=-= “The Batman Incident” was what Charlene came to remember that night as. It was fresh in her mind for weeks, as fresh as the minutes she had lived through it. Any time she felt crisp cool air on her neck, any time she was alone at night on her balcony, she was instantly reminded of the interaction. Charlene didn’t ache or wish or anything like that, but it didn’t stop her from trying to figure out why the moments felt so real compared to anything else she had been through. Out of all that, she had been now, instead of Clark’s hurt bothering her the most, it was the Batman’s words ringing in her ears.

Char was sitting at Clark’s desk with the writer himself, now. He was leaning against it, scratching his head and playing with his glasses. Kent was antsy. He groaned, turned, then slapped his hands against the desk with a deep, deep sigh. “I can’t believe Lois caught an interview with Bruce Wayne. Wanna know the weirdest part?” he asked. He looked into Char’s eyes, pure confusion dressing his face.

“What’s ‘the weirdest part’?” she asked, repeating what he said exactly how he had said it. “She’s gotten interviews with the president of McDonald’s, before, Clark, I’m not exactly surprised. Lois is talented.” Char reached over the desk and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been nearly emptied, though had enough for her pleasure. She didn’t need to be an anchor, today. It was supposed to be her day off. She wouldn’t have even come in at all if Clark hadn’t asked her.

Charlene really needed to stop doing things because Clark asked.

“The weirdest part was how he never accepts interviews. In fact, he asked if Lois still worked at the Daily Planet.” He shook his head, pinching his nose. “He asked if we could hold the interview here, otherwise it wouldn’t happen… oh, sometimes I think billionaires hate me…”

“Makes sense,” Charlene agreed. She propped herself up on her elbows. “Why wouldn’t they hate reporters and journalists? They could be talking with Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman.”

Clark laughed dryly. “You have no idea how much I wish I was having an interview with Batman. Instead, I have to deal with Bruce Wayne.”

“Lois is having the interview with Wayne, Clark. Calm down. It’ll all be okay.” Char stood up, patted his back, then sat back behind his desk and took a long sip of his coffee. “Besides, Bruce Wayne can’t be that… scary…” She trailed off. She saw the elevator to the writing room open.

The man walking out of the elevator and toward her was not who she was supposed to be seeing. She might have been bad at recognition in general, but she remembered that square jaw, those blue eyes. She hoped against hope she was seeing things. “I take it back,” she whispered to Clark. Her old friend kept shooting his eyes back and forth between her, Wayne, and Lois Lane, trying to put the pieces together quickly. Charlene stood up, a smile tugging up her face at the sight of the man she wasn’t supposed to know. “He’s terrifying.”

“Charlene —”

“Mr. Wayne,” she greeted, speaking louder than Clark intentionally. “Welcome to the Daily Planet. How are you, this morning?” She extended her hand outwards to take his. Mr. Wayne took it, gave it a firm shake, then smiled broadly at her.

“Charlene, right?” he asked, squinting his eyes and setting a hand on her upper arm in a friendly manner. His suit was about as straight as wrapping paper; shiny like it, too. He was just missing the Christmas bow.

“Yes!” she grinned. She set her hands on her hips. “Charlene Park: a lowly newscaster. I hope you like the Daily Planet and find some friends, here.”

Bruce smiled. “Then I suppose we’re friends already, Miss Park.”

“I guess we are,” she said. “Friends are life’s greatest blessings, aren’t they?”

“They are, I agree.” Bruce Wayne let go of her, moving back to Lois Lane. He kept his eyes on hers. He clapped his hands together lightly. “I have an interview to complete. It was nice meeting you, Char. I hope to see more of you.”

“Best of luck, Mr. Wayne.”

When Bruce Wayne walked away, Clark folded his arms tightly over his chest. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen — and I’ve seen my dad in daisy dukes.”

Char cocked her head, trying to stifle a snicker. “Clark, c’mon. It wasn’t anything. I’m fine, really.”

The man fixed his tie, taking the empty coffee cup from his desk over to the office kitchen. As he walked past her, he said, “I’ll believe it when you don’t giggle at the billionaire.”

“Maybe he looks funny!” Charlene offered.

“Har har!” Clark called. “I’m sure that’s it.”

=-=-= The interview with Bruce Wayne was done and over within record time. Charlene had never seen Lois so happy before. Bruce, on the other hand… Charlene had no idea someone could hide such a smile behind two eyes.

She was shaking. She didn’t know if she was happy, mad, excited, or scared that she knew the man behind the mask all the way back in Gotham City. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what emotion she was feeling… or if she really wanted to know the man behind the mask in Gotham City. She kept replaying the Batman Incident in her head. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to have a vigilante smile at her and know exactly who she was pining for.

Yeah, she still hurt for Clark. It wasn’t going to go away so quickly. But billionaire Bruce Wayne didn’t need to know that.

She let her mouth run twice. She needed to keep a lid on it the next chance she got. To make sure she didn’t even risk it, Charlene packed up and left early. She was at home without another run-in with Bruce.

Boy, did that make her feel worse. She felt terrible, cowardly. Running from her problems was just another thing Char found herself doing constantly. She had made herself some pasta, wrapped herself in a bathrobe over her T-shirt, and sat with a mug of sweet tea in her lap.

Her newspaper clippings of the Batman littered her coffee table. Every award-winning article written by Clark was framed up. Her old dog was sitting next to her, chewing on his toy without a care in the world. For being a coward’s safe space, it was very comfortable.

“Real brave, Charlene,” she mumbled into the ceramic as she took a sip. She switched on the TV, hoping for white noise. “Just hope I was wrong about Wayne…”

“That depends on what you think you’ve found,” said the last voice she wanted to hear. Char exhaled through her nose.

“Come in,” she called. “Don’t just hang around in the shadows.”

The Batman slipped out of her bathroom door, cowl on and frown deep. He was regal and knightly, feet apart and shoulders taught. “Char,” he greeted.

“I was hoping you could tell me if I was wrong, actually.” Charlene sat up, putting her mug aside. She beckoned him over. He sat down next to her. “I just never noticed how similar the Batman is to Bruce Wayne.”

“Similar?”

“Like your eyes are the exact same shade of blue,” she reasoned. “And you wear the same aftershave, too.”

“Charlene,” the Batman said quietly, “anyone can have similar aftershaves and blue eyes.”

“Not everyone in Gotham knows who I am.”

“Not everyone in Metropolis knows who I am, either,” he countered. “Do you really want to know who I am?”

“I know Clark is Superman. Part of the reason I’m furious with him is that he lies to me.” Char made sure her emphasis was on lies. “The allegations would be too crazy for anyone to believe, trust me.”

“There are too-crazy people in Gotham that can’t know,” he answered. “I’m sorry. Even if I trusted you above everyone, your position makes it hard for me to tell you.”

“My position?” she repeated.

The dark knight looked at her as if it were obvious. It was, but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t at least hear the truth from him. “You’re a friend of Superman’s and a newscaster. I have responsibilities, a lot of them. My kids, my city, my assets.” He said assets, not money. He was a businessman at his core, even if he had the heart of a lion there, too.

“Just tell me if Bruce Wayne can answer me, then.” Charlene stuck her hands under her arms. “Since the two of you already know I know.”

“Charlene,” he said quietly, roughly. She turned her head away. She felt insulted.

It took her a second to realize it, but the Batman was pleading. He didn’t do it the same way Clark did. Clark would soften up, not set up defenses. Clark would take her hand, not give her space. Clark wasn’t anything like the Batman. He just sat, frozen, waiting his turn patiently.

She had to be patient with him, too. She wasn’t a superhero. She didn’t know what this was like for him, but she could still be patient. So to help, Charlene waited, too, for what seemed like forever. She took his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t recoil. The hand was limp despite her grip and she couldn’t say that she blamed him for it; she was thankful he didn’t rip his fingers away so soon.

“Why did you agree to an interview?” she whispered. “And… and don’t say it wasn’t you. Lois doesn’t talk about me, I wasn’t wearing a nametag, and Bruce Wayne has no reason to be watching the Metropolis Daily Planet Newscast outside of the financial updates.”

“I figured it was time for an interview,” he answered. The Batman didn’t deny it. Bruce didn’t deny it. He kept his eyes away from hers. “I remembered that you worked there. You owe me after that talk, so I came to collect.”

“You think you’re funny,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness… Lois will be grinning ear-to-ear for weeks because of you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting Clark, anyway. I figured the pitstop might be worth it.” Bruce’s lips twitched again. Char grinned broadly. He removed his cowl then faced her. “You could really tell it was me because of the eye color?”

He seemed more at home in his bat armor. He was comfortable in this grey/black getup. When he wore the crisp suit, he seemed fidgety, but when he was sitting next to her, his muscles weren’t so tense. His eyes didn’t dart all over. He was at rest as the Batman.

“You do a good falsetto, but yeah, it was the eye color.” She stood. “Can I get you tea? Or are you going to disappear?”

Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know how long I can stay. I have to drive home tonight… and I’m not the type for this sort of domesticity.”

“I won’t tell anyone you’re docile,” Charlene promised, crossing her heart. She took her cup and went into the kitchen. “As long as no one knows about me, no one can hurt me or my family — there is no family to hurt.”

“You’ve thought this through?” he asked, footsteps not far behind hers. He stopped in the doorway. “May I?” He pointed to the kitchen wall lined with the cupboards and appliances. Charlene nodded. Bruce poked around her cabinets and her drawers, casually picking something up every now and again. She didn’t mind — he was getting to know her. He was a detective. She had nothing to hide, and he had everything to see. Win-win. “Impressive.”

“I’ve been dying to see you, again,” she teased. “You could say I’m crazy for you.”

“Not really my type,” he mused. Char could hear items jangling around behind her. “Desperation isn’t my style.”

“But stopping a girl from jumping — when she wasn’t — is?” She poured another cup of tea, looking back at the dark knight. He was holding a spatula and studying it carefully. He pretended as if he hadn’t heard her.

“My son, Damian,” he started. He set the spatula down, digging for something else. “He wouldn’t admit it, but he would love to rescue a damsel in distress. I think he would like you.”

“I’m a damsel in distress?” she laughed. She set a teabag in the cup, doing a one-eighty to face Bruce. “Who are you? Some kind of prince charming?”

“The term is ‘knight in shining armor,’” he corrected. He closed the drawer he was meddling in. “The prince is the kid from Smallville, Kansas.”

“I’m from Smallville, Kansas.” Charlene walked over to him. Bruce was still standing rigidly. She didn’t know if he knew how to relax. Could he relax? Was it even physically possible for Bruce “the Batman” Wayne to relax?

“I’m from New Jersey.” He crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers together.

“Hey. You don’t have the Jersey accent,” Char pointed out. She pulled his gloves off gently, setting them on the counter. She went to get his tea. “Let it steep for about thirty more seconds.” She set the mug in his hands. They were so large that the orange cup seemed like a plaything compared to a real item.

“I never said I interacted with New Jersey,” he said dryly. “I just lived there. I was raised by my butler.”

“Does Detroit have any superheroes?” she wondered aloud. Bruce waved the tea under his nose, scrunching his nose upwards. He took a sip without glaring at the tea again. “Your butler sounds like a wonderful man. He raised you well.”

“I’m lucky.” He paused for a moment. “Aquaman, the Green Lantern, and Amazing Man live in Detroit. Why are you asking?”

Charlene patted his shoulder, throwing away everything he had just said. Truth be told, she just wanted to hear Bruce’s voice. “Not many kids are lucky.”

“Three of my boys are adopted,” he said quietly. He rubbed the mug that she had given him. “I give to adoption centers. It’s important to me to give kids homes where they’re loved. Clark Kent’s only known family’s love, and that’s what drives him. What drives me is the chance to make sure all sorts of people never have to worry about losing it.”

“I admire that,” Char murmured. “I wish I had a family of my own, but I just don’t have the time.”

“Someday, you’ll find the time.” Bruce gave her a smile. “I promise.”

Charlene smiled back. His small smiles were infectious. “I’ll hold you to that, Bats.”

=-=-= “Hey, Charlene?” Clark called from the living room. She was too busy combing her hair out and fixing her gown. She had received a letter in the mail (honestly, who does that anymore?) from Bruce, inviting her to a charity gala with him. She almost gave Clark a heart attack when she started laughing triumphantly at some paper. He wasn’t particularly happy that Charlene was going for a night on the town with Bruce Wayne, billionaire bachelor supreme. “Are you okay up there?”

“I’m fine, Clark!” she called back. “I’m just seeing a friend, tonight. Tell Martha and Johnathan I won’t be able to come to dinner tonight. I’m going to a foster care fundraiser with Bruce Wayne. I’d think you’d be coming to interview some of the guests there since you were adopted, too.”

“I can’t! I don’t have any way to get in. It’s private, Char.” Clark was starting to sound impatient. “Are you going to meet him or is he going to meet you?”

“He said he would pick me up!” she answered, finishing her eyeliner and walking downstairs. “Does that bother you, wonderboy?” She gripped the rail, fanning out her yellow skirt around her legs. She wore simple copper chains and glass earrings — nothing expensive, but classy enough that she didn’t look like a bum. Charlene knew Bruce liked his reputation (not a lot, but still) so she thought she would save him a few steps. No jewellery, no dresses. He would just have a friend tonight.

Clark’s eyes flew open wide. His cheeks colored. “Wow… you’re going like that?” He puffed his cheeks and took off his glasses. “You look…”

“Terrible?” she fretted.

“Like an angel. Like Wonder Woman,” he said quickly. He looked down at his lenses and quickly wiped them with his shirt like they were going to melt off his face. “You’re gorgeous. Wayne is going to love it, Char.”

“Thanks, Clark.” Charlene walked over and kissed his cheek. The writer wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. He felt warm, he felt like home. She never had to worry about being something more than she was around Clark. But Bruce knew how to take her walls down. Charlene was better off with a friend than with someone who had never noticed her. Suddenly, she got an idea and pulled back to see Clark. “You should ask Lois out! I heard she likes the boys in blue.”

He stopped. “‘Boys in blue’? She knows?”

After meeting Bruce a few more times, she finally gained the courage to confront Clark about the whole Super-gig. She made sure she wasn’t going to be blown off — so sure, Char almost confessed her years-old feelings to him. She couldn’t have lived through that, even with Bruce’s support. They had talked through the deception and somehow managed to build better trust between themselves. She almost forgot why she had originally left Metropolis for that fateful encounter with Bruce Wayne.

“Clark,” she scolded gently. “You haven’t told her?”

“Listen, I’m working on it —,” he started, holding his hands up in defense. His feet slowly removed themselves from the floor. Charlene set her hand on her hip, pinching her nose.

“You promised she would know before she kissed you, again.”

Another reason why Charlene absolutely could not tell Clark she liked him. Lois, caught up in the rush of being a damsel, kissed her rescuer unabashedly in front of half the staff of the Daily Planet. Charlene’s heart didn’t break for the first time; it didn’t mean it didn’t crack a teeny, tiny bit.

“I know I did —” There was a knock at the door. Clark’s face fell into a scowl. He tucked his knees up to his chest, silently moving toward the door, and straightening his clothes out once he reached his destination. “Wait there for a moment, Char.”

Charlene crossed her arms. “Clark.”

Clark opened the door. Bruce was standing on the doorstep with a single pink rose. “Hi,” he said, giving his signature subtle smirk. “Is Charlene ready? Tim’s not too patient behind the wheel.”

“Hi,” Clark greeted warily. He kept his fingers curled around the door. His gentle manner was nearly nightmarish. Every breath was a slow calculation of how to kill a billionaire and get away with it. Charlene sighed deeply into her hand. Clark continued despite her wordless sass. “She’s ready. You better know that if you hurt her —”

“I wouldn’t do it without a positive benefit,” Bruce swore. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s dancing between two ladies. Save the shovel talk.” He pat Clark’s shoulder, pushing him aside and out of the way. When his eyes hit Charlene, his jaw dropped. She had never seen that reaction before, so her temples tingled from slight self-consciousness. “Char, you look beyond stunning. You’re shining.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up Charlene’s throat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She grabbed her clutch on the side table where Clark was standing. Quickly, she hugged him in a farewell. “Bye, Clark.”

Clark released a big breath, hugging her back once more. He set her back next to Bruce. “Bye, Charlene. Bruce.”

“Clark,” he responded in kind. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.” Bruce put his arm around Charlene’s waist. “There won’t be any need to play hero; if there is, I’ve got all I need within reach.” With that, Bruce took Charlene out of the foyer and into his limousine.

“That was weirdly intense,” Char commented. With the knight’s help, she sat next in the back of the cab. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

Bruce took her hand and set the rose in her grasp before sitting down next to her. “No. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Clark is very protective; I didn’t want you in the hospital for saying the wrong thing.” Charlene played with the rose in her hands, resisting the urge to breathe in the sweet aroma. The cab of the limousine was warm, spacious, and smelled comforting. It took her a second to realize it smelled like Bruce: his aftershave, his cologne, and a hint of something metallic. Her cheeks heated at the realization.

How close had she and Bruce become? So close she knew exactly what Bruce smelled like? So close that she wasn’t nervous about the speculations tied to being on a billionaire’s arm? She looked at the rose petals. The color always meant something — Bruce always meant something. Pink… Why couldn’t she remember its meaning outside of being her favorite color? Why? Did she just forget everything the minute Bruce smiled?

“Char?”

“I’m fine,” she said, snapping out of her thoughts. She set the rose down next to her, clasping her hands over her lap. “I guess I got so swept up in the idea of an adoption charity… I forgot who I was going with.” She looked at Bruce with a half-smile. “Thank you for taking me to this. I have as much as I can give on me, tonight; I even sold some of my old pieces of jewellery for these kiddos.” Charlene laughed nervously. “It seems so little compared to what you have… will it even be taken? I’m not an elitist. I’m not even close to well-off.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. Something in his eyes softened, but she couldn’t pin what. He held her hand. “It’ll be taken. It’ll help someone, and any help at all can go a long way. You don’t have to worry about earning a position to give.” He tilted her head upwards, locking eyes with her. “You don’t have to earn anything. Not with me.”

She laced her fingers with his to signal her acknowledgement. Char couldn’t form words. She kept opening her mouth to protest but no sound came with the action — she felt helpless, yet all the same, she knew Bats would understand. Bruce let go of her hand to favor her face, instead. She leaned into the touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not Clark, Charlene,” he whispered. “I’m not going to keep stringing you along; I won’t compare you to anyone or make empty promises. You’re more than a comparison.” Bruce brushed her hair out of her face, keeping those electric blues trained on hers. “You don’t have to earn anything from me. You don’t have to earn me.”

“I’m not…” Charlene stopped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about this; she didn’t want to beat around the bush, either. “Gosh, how do you know this stuff? Is it all estimation?”

“Observation,” he admitted. He kissed her forehead. “Cheer up. We don’t want your mascara to run just yet, do we?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath in to calm herself. She hadn’t realized her eyes were quite that full. “Bruce.”

He hummed, arching a brow. Yes?

“You don’t have to earn anything from me, either.” She kissed his cheekbone. The corners of his eyes crinkled, which made her smile. She rested her head on the dark knight’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“But?”

“No ‘but,’” she hummed. “You’re a good man, and that’s all.”

=-=-= Saturday morning, three weeks after the gala, Charlene’s heart felt heavy and light at the same time. She couldn’t put the gala out of her mind: the party; the guests; the smiles on the Wayne boys’ faces; Bruce’s kindness. She was trying her best to think it all over. The waiters kept offering her champagne, but she declined every time. She didn’t drink out of anxiousness, yet the whole ordeal was a blur. Blurry, except the speech about the children, and the way Bruce’s smile widened every time she smiled back.

She was sitting at the window, holding a water bottle and gazing out into the street. It was raining. She had a few pink roses in a vase, all from Bruce. A note was attached, something like “Thank you for your support,” but it didn’t really matter to her. He was gentle in his own way. That was just the way the Batman was: gentle and swift, yet blunt and cold at the same time. How had she managed to stumble into his good graces? What if she brought down his reputation? What if she did the wrong thing?

The Wayne boys were very polite. Dick was making her laugh all night long, Jason knew how to talk old-money downlookers away, Tim was a good conversationalist, and Damian asked all the good questions. All the right questions. Questions like, “What’s your relationship with my father? Do you believe in this cause? Are you using my father? Do you know how to play Mario Kart?”

She almost couldn’t answer some of the questions. Were she and Bruce friends? Were they something else? Were they acquaintances? Was she being kept around because she knew who Bruce really was? When it came to Mario Kart and the adoption cause, she couldn’t say anything but “Yes!” enthusiastically. Every now and then, Bruce would come over to recharge. He seemed tired with all the interaction.

Then there was the turn of the night.

The most vivid part.

Dancing with Bruce Wayne.

Charlene stopped herself from clawing over her heart. It was sinking deeper as she recalled the moment.

“You’re nervous, Char,” Bruce whispered into her ear. “Why?” The question was innocent, concerning. He kept a steady hand on the small of her back, swaying to the beat of the soft jazz band. He was a natural at it. Charlene did her best to hold onto him, gripping his shoulder and his hand.

“I’ve never been to anything like this, before. Not even some kind of prom,” she laughed quietly. She looked down at their feet. Bruce was leading, but what else was new? The floor gleamed… Bruce’s shoes were worn, despite his money and status… Worn shoes said a lot about how he spent his money on himself. Oh! Beneath the suit, it was clear that he wore a compact utility belt — at least, it was after learning he wore one everywhere. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, at all,” Charlene continued. “After talking with your boys, it just made me realize how scared I was to be jumping into this life with you.” She cleared her throat as she prepared to tell him exactly what was on her mind. “I know I’m just on a leash to keep you guys safe. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The dance halted. No one paid any attention to them, keeping up with the music and circling around them. “Is that what you think?” he asked. Amusement lined his words, as well as a vague hint of hurt. “You’re just a liability?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Charlene had answered honestly.

As of right now, she still felt like a liability. Even though Bruce had promised her she didn’t have to earn anything, her heart was having difficulty believing it. She looked over at her vase of roses. Were those flowers from him? Or were they a product of manners?

Was she seeing things that weren’t there?

Bruce had been so quick to answer her when she admitted her insecurities. He had taken his hand out of hers. “You’re not a liability.” He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer. “If you were a liability, I would have used other ways to keep an eye on you.”

Char’s heart was racing faster by the second. “Ba… Bruce…” She wanted to call him Bats. She wanted to say so many things, just then. She wondered if Bruce could feel her pulse through that utility belt he had under his suit. His eyes fluttered shut before she realized what was happening. She didn’t want to believe it was real.

With a never ending, agonizingly slow quickness, lips met hers. Moving, soft, warm lips met hers and drew a gasp from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to reciprocate the best she could without losing her cool.

Now, three weeks later, she hadn’t talked to Bruce about it. She hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t verbally acknowledge it, so neither did she. A kiss with Mr. Wayne meant nothing. Not in public. Not when he had a false reputation of being a playboy. A kiss between them would have meant the world… but that was in the middle of a gala; in the middle of a party filled with people Bruce was supposed to impress.

So, even though she loved that kiss, she was still confused about Clark and she was miserable about the manner it came about. She wanted to know the truth. She knew if she asked he would have an obvious answer and call her a fool for believing him.

“Hey, Charlene?” Clark called. Her ears pricked back at the sudden noise. She stood up and walked downstairs, rubbing under her eyes to make sure there weren’t any tears. She hadn’t cried, yet, but she didn’t want to start crying over it, either. “Come here.”

“What, Clark? Can’t you see I’m busy moping about — …what is that?” she yelped. Clark was standing with his writing tablet facing outward, a glower painted over his features. She could hardly care about his nasty expression, however. There she was, her yellow evening gown and Bruce’s hands laced in her hair, plastering the first article of the month. Big, bold words read:

“Bruce Wayne Finds New Lover — Will It LAST?”

“Who took that picture!?”

“You’re saying this is real?” he asked angrily. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. “Charlene!”

“I’m sorry!” she apologized, not really sorry. “We’re not lovers, anyway — it was one kiss. Who wrote the article?”

“You never kiss people you don’t know.” Clark turned the screen back to his face, scrolling down and shaking his head. “Jimmy wrote this one, I think, I recognize the alias. I should have known something was going to happen when I told him to follow you…”

“For the record, Clark, all I’ve ever wanted was to kiss you,” she snapped. “Bruce is just differe— you sent Jimmy to follow me!?” She was so engulfed in her defenses that she forgot she had just told Clark she had feelings for him. She didn’t even register the implication that they didn’t matter anymore. She was angry at Jimmy, and at Bruce, and at Clark. She grabbed a throw pillow and fluffed it furiously. She needed an outlet. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s Bruce Wayne, Char,” he said. He set his tablet down on the coffee table. “He’s not exactly the safest guy to get involved with.”

“And neither were you! I appreciate the worry, but it’s misplaced.” She spun around to stick her finger at Clark accusingly. “For ten whole years I tried to tell you I was in love with you, Clark, so don’t even try to talk to me about what’s good for me! You hear? I can kiss Bruce Wayne if I want to.”

“You tell him, Char,” a small voice came from behind the TV stand. Charlene and Clark both froze. Charlene knew who that was. She did her best not to sigh.

Muffled, a much bigger voice complained, “Look what you did! Now we’re caught. Bruce is gonna —”

“Shh!”

Clark moved over and gently removed the TV stand. “Damian I expected, but you, Dick? That’s low. Spying on Charlene?”

“She’s a friend of Father,” the young boy answered for his big brother. “After the gala, he went to brood in the Bat Cave and when he came up, he said she was going to be more involved.”

“I think he’ll be happy to hear you like him, Charlene,” Dick smiled. He extended his legs and sat like a toddler on the floor. “We came here on our own, by the way. We wanted to surprise you by picking you up and surprise him by bringing you to Gotham. We racked his schedule up with business meetings so that we could pull this off. Think of it as a rescue.”

“Surprise me,” she regurgitated. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream, and fall over all at once. “You wanted to surprise me.”

“Sure. Why not?” Damian shrugged. “But your friend, here, got in the way with all his mumbling and weird comments about our father. He’s scary but I could take him.” That comment made her smile. Damian taking on Clark. Dangerous, but it still tickled her mind.

“They were not weird —”

“Yeah, they were.”

“Guys, guys,” Charlene interjected, “Bruce and I aren’t much more than friends. He’s just my knight in shining armor.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “If anything were to happen, it would be very slow.” She made sure each male looked at her. “Very, very slow.”

“So he does make you happy?” Clark asked quietly.

“He does,” Charlene confirmed. “It could be more with work. Relax, Clark. You’re not going to be walking me down the aisle so soon.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly, confusion coloring his face. “So when you said you used to want to kiss me…”

“It’s mostly ‘used to,’ now, yeah.” Charlene’s mouth moved before she even filed how truthful the statement was in her brain. She sat down on the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I hope that’s not an issue — I know you don’t approve of Bruce.”

Clark pursed his lips. He set his hands on his hips and looked at the two delinquents on Charlene’s floor. “The gala with you and Wayne wasn’t a full-on date. Was it?”

“He and I went to sponsor the same cause and spend time together as friends. It couldn’t have counted as a romantic date, anyway,” she said. “The boys spent more time talking to me than Bruce did.”

“I saw him kiss you, though —”

“Dick, shut up,” Damian hissed. “You’re not helping.”

Clark tried for a smile. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Charlene.”

Charlene nodded, feeling much better since the gala. She had made an impression on the Wayne family? “I know I will be.”

=-=-= Charlene, in the end, told the boys she wanted to stay at home and sent Clark back to the Daily Planet to do his work. She had a lot to think over. She took a seat in her loveseat and got comfortable. She had to sit there for a long while. A kiss with a billionaire, a concerned Kansas Chiefs fan, four young men who already looked up to her, and a melting pot of feelings. If this were a young adult novel, she would have already picked someone by now. She had roses in a vase that called her name. She had a heart that wanted her attention, too.

Her whole past screamed for her to let go of Clark Kent — she was learning to set those unrequited feelings aside. He had always looked out for her and been her friend. Sometimes friendship, in the end, was just friendship. Clark was in love with Lois Lane. By the looks of things, he was starting to grow closer to her. Stepping away from that, Charlene could see he was happy; for the first time in years, that didn’t sting as much as it had before.

Then there was the new friendship: Bruce Wayne. He was more than a friend, but less than a romantic partner. His affection was a different brand than Clark’s in all the good ways. He brought some kind of freshness, a sense that she never had to pretend to be pulling herself together. She knew deep in her heart that Bruce would have a hard time being with her — she would find difficulty being with him, too. They had much in common, as well as a lot of differences. He saw through her, she saw through him. Charlene needed some kind of stability. She needed a friend that offered their hand instead of shared reliance.

Clark was the bright summer’s day that you longed for in the winter; he was the smell of newly cut grass and the way a paintbrush head felt between someone’s fingers. He was khakis and ball caps and the colors in the sunrise. He had always been the simple pleasures in Char’s life.

Bruce Wayne had already proved what he was. He was the necessity in life like the clap of thunder in the middle of the night or the hardwood floor on bare feet. Bruce was the crowded streets of Metropolis after dusk; he was petrichor after a much-needed rain, the thimble on your thumb, he was the flick of the light switch that you could never balance. He was the mundane, everyday wakeup call that life was buzzing everywhere around her.

That was the difference between Clark and Bruce. Charlene had always had Clark, but she could imagine life without him. When it came to the Batman, she had a hard time thinking about her life without the petrichor on concrete, the snippy wind on her ears, and the occasional clap of thunder. She didn’t need him, but he was her equal.

He was the equal.

Not the hero.

“I’ll have to tell him, then,” she sighed. Charlene buried her face in her hands.

“Tell who what?” a gravelly voice came from behind her. His presence was close. Char leaned back and extended her hands.

“You,” she said. Bruce pushed her hands back down, setting his own on the cushion behind her. “We need to talk about what happened at the gala, don’t we?”

“I don’t see why,” he replied. “You know it was a public display of affection.”

“From the world’s Bruce Wayne,” Charlene countered. Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “Not mine.”

“I know. I figured if the world knew you were Bruce Wayne’s, it would give you a chance to find that time you wanted,” he said slowly. “The boys could teach you how to defend yourself. You’d always have a place at Wayne Manor.”

“But what about us?” she asked, turning to see him better. “C’mon, Bats, you know that kiss was a little more than just a well-rounded plan to turn me into a Bat-Person.”

The dark knight was still for a long second. “It was a moment’s weakness. Even if we wanted to pursue a relationship —”

“We both know we do.”

“— neither of us are ready for it.”

Charlene stood on the loveseat. She cupped Bruce’s face, holding his jaw with both palms. “I agree. I think we should take our time before we even worry about labeling this.”

“We cannot be involved.” He held her hands, prying them ever-so-gingerly from him. “You aren’t ready for the livestyles I come with. I’m not ready for that kind of —”

“Domesticity,” she said with him, nodding. “I know, I know. You don’t want to be a husband, I don’t want to be a wife. No, we can’t be involved, yet.” She rested on her forearms. “You can guess what that means.”

He smiled sadly. “You won’t come stay at Wayne Manor.”

“Not for extended periods of time,” she answered with the same bittersweet expression. Char stroked his cheek. He had been so open to her physical affection. “It wouldn’t really work the way we want it to.”

“You mean Alfred will be asking about dress shopping?”

“I’ll be asking about dress shopping!” she teased. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“If I said that you no longer worked at the Daily Planet, what would you do?” he asked bluntly.

Charlene stopped. “I would ask you to fix it, right now.”

He hummed. “You want Clark, still?”

“No,” she said defiantly. She crossed her arms. “I’m just not ready to date, yet.” Charlene was quickly learning how to own herself around Bruce. She felt at home, like he was at home in his spandex. Bruce made her feel like her own woman: strong, compassionate, and happy. If he could be her complement, she could do anything. Absolutely anything.

Bruce leaned in, smirking. Charlene hit him with a pillow, which he promptly caught. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Promise to try someday?” she teased.

“Maybe.”

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 5

- more myth than man... or not? the mortality of tom riddle and the anatomy of a villain-

That leaves us with Ralph Fiennes’ portrayal of adult Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort in movies 4-8.

I generally find adult Tom Riddle disappointing, even in the books, in terms of character depth. Instead of delving into his motivations and the inner psychology of a villain, we get... slight body horror? And in the movies, it’s even more egregious.

If a story is as good as its villain, adult Tom Riddle is a bit of a let-down, especially on-screen.

“I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.”

Perhaps the very first time I watched it, I found this scary, but I must confess that nowadays, Voldemort’s resurrection is more funny to me than anything else. The forked tongue and the nose slits, yes, are supposed to allude to Tom Riddle’s loss of humanity, but I don’t think it...worked out that way in practice.

I know that’s how it is in the books, but ugly equals evil (and vice versa) is a tired trope. not only that, but under the CGI, Lord Voldemort is so difficult to relate to, so inhuman, that it’s hard to (1) see his true depravity (2) connect with him emotionally (3) at least for me, not laugh at him flapping around the graveyard in GOF like an oversized crow.

Now, the reason I’m going on about this is not (just) me being petty. Lord Voldemort is the Boggart for most of the characters in the HP universe, meaning their greatest fear is Lord Voldemort. He represents Fear; as such, he should be utterly terrifying. Now, I don’t mean horrifying in that sense, but Voldemort’s grand entrance should at least feel somewhat unsettling, have some sort of a Gothic atmosphere...

"But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron."

Visually, this looks great. But it’s not scary. And I’m not a purist by any means, but the words are scarier than the book. Darkness induces fear.

“The lack of any kind of visual stimuli increases anxiety, uncertainty, and tension.”

So, having Voldemort’s pale body materialize isn’t as scary as it could be.

Furthermore, I think Fiennes’ overexaggerated expressions would actually come across as properly horrifying/threatening rather than funny if they just left his face alone. Yes, Fiennes does manage to emote the fear and the anger through the CGI, but it’s like he’s too alien to be scary, at least to me. The amount of memes with Voldemort suggest I’m not the only one this way inclined.

I think there’s probably a problem going on with the uncanny valley. (Images from the Mori essay linked).

[When things are still]

[Creepy things are creepier when moving]

Now, I assume Voldemort is meant to be zombie-creepy, or at least that how Harry describes him in the books.

"The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry...and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's but with slits for nostrils...."

Now, we can’t get Harry’s experience of being haunted by Voldemort in his dreams, because what I think makes Voldemort’s countenance so truly frightening to the other characters isn’t his snake-like nose or his red eyes, but the potential. Voldemort is, in essence, the Grim Reaper. You are at his mercy, and you’re probably going to be dead.

“This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.“

And yes, Voldemort can be quite funny and witty, but..

“I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers will give their right hands to perform.” (To Peter Pettigrew)

...it’s still incredibly dark, sadistic humour. Whereas the teenage Tom Riddle we’ve been discussing has just barely dipped his toes into evil, Voldemort is, well... swimming in it. At this point, he think he undeniably enjoys causing pain.

And much of what makes Voldemort scary is subtle.

For example, what I personally consider haunting is the fact that he’s got a cave full of Inferi. A cave full of reanimated dead bodies.

Either he dug them up, which is unlikely... or perhaps, a twenty-seven-or-so-year-old Tom Riddle would lie in wait like a bird of prey, very quietly and patiently, perhaps reading a book, waiting for an unsuspecting Muggle to wander past. Maybe killing is a game to him at this point, when it’s not so personal as killing Harry Potter. Maybe it’s a whispered Avada Kedavra, and then he carries the dead body away to his cave. Maybe he Imperiuses them to walk off the cliff. Maybe he tortures them first.

Shudder.

And I don’t think you can show that kind of horror through any CGI or make-up, so...

You know what is terrifying? Revolting? True crime; real-life people who do unspeakably horrible things. And I think a lot was missed out on, in stripping Tom Riddle physically of his humanity. Yes, Riddle is a monster...

But, as we’ve seen, he’s a human monster, not some eldritch horror from the seventh level of hell or something.

I just think it would be interesting to have this perfectly normal-looking human do all the horrific things Voldemort does. I want to see that sick joy in a human face and feel disgusted. I want to see fear make his bottom lip tremble, and feel a misplaced sense of empathy. (Think President Snow from the Hunger Games -- now, that’s a sick, twisted villain who we can relate to as a human being, but still love to hate -- or what about The Joker?).

And out of everything they chose to CGI, why on earth did they not make his eyes scarlet? That might have made him look at least somewhat menacing, rather than a failed lab experiment.

(Don’t even get me started on his and Bellatrix’s death scenes in the movies-)

Here’s President Snow. He’s got a cute little granddaughter, he sends kiddies to kill each other Battle Royale-style every year, and he poisons all his political opponents. He’s also a master manipulator and has a penchant for white roses. They cover up the smell of the sores in his mouth from eating the poison too, to conceal his treachery.

Heath Ledger as the Joker in Dark Knight (2008), who is, according to NYT (which I totally agree with), the best Joker. Now this is a villain done right, with many Voldemort-like traits. On a scale of one-to-ten, he’s absolutely terrifying. Why? He’s (unlike Voldemort in the movies) incredibly intelligent, shows young-Tom-Riddle-like skills for charm and manipulation, plays with humans like they’re his own personal psychology experiment (and to hell with the Institutional Review Board), and has one, single, very clear goal -- chaos. Like Voldemort, he wears an inhuman mask that’s not horrifying in its own right; but unlike Voldemort, the human is all there -- terrifying, real, and with a bottomless, obsessive desire to destroy. His disordered thinking is all out there for the audience to see. The Joker’s motivation is to enjoy himself; whereas Voldemort seems to lack drive. Why does he want to take over the world -- who knows, with Voldemort? The Joker wants to see it burn.

Let’s try to do the same with Lord Voldemort:

[SLIGHT FLASH WARNING]

I had to go with this because Voldemort isn’t legitimately terrifying in many scenes. And yes, this unrefined anger somewhat speaks to Tom’s immaturity

By this point, seventy-one year old Tom Riddle is a hollowed-out shell of a human being. After decades of building his power, he was defeated by a one-year-old, and ended up slumming it as a spirit for a decade, got defeated again, was a shrivelled-up baby for a year, then finally got his body back.

He’s angry, okay! And Fiennes does a great job of portraying the sheer, destructive, unbridled rage of this character.

The body language. again, since his face is inhuman, this is super important. and Fiennes’ body language is great. Voldemort/Riddle commits to his actions. He is very emotionally-driven.

But yet, he doesn’t feel capable, in the way that the Joker or President Snow do. Yeah, we know anecdotally that he’s incredibly evil, sadistic, and second only to Dumbledore in terms of power, but he loses to a baby, and then that same baby as a teenager. So, we really could have done with seeing Voldemort’s power, cruelty, and evil firsthand a lot more often.

Voldemort is not well-characterized. I don’t understand his motives, and the ones that I do understand are not compelling.

Not to die? Well, he’s already made several Horcruxes. Why not sit back and relax? Why start a war and risk himself?

JKR said that Voldemort’s great desire was to become all-powerful and eternal. But that’s... boring! It does little to tell us about Voldemort, other than that he’s a villain and a wannabe dictator.

Furthermore, the charm, manipulation, and cunning that are hallmarks of younger Tom Riddle’s personality are gone.

Is Voldemort (to return to Jungian terms) all shadow? An empty creature of simple creation and destruction, perhaps? We’ll discuss this further down...

And this isn’t a problem of having a fantastical world with magic and the like. Grindelwald’s quiet, self-possessed, almost coy “So you think you can hold me?” was infinitely scarier than anything that has ever come out of Voldemort’s mouth. It was chilling.

OOTP is my favorite book, and the Ministry sequence is one of my favourite in the films.

This scene where he psyches out Harry, talking so quietly that he could just be a little voice inside his head (and again, during the possession scene)? Absolute perfection.

Why? Because this showcases what’s truly scary about him. Voldemort can get into your head. He can make you do things. And perhaps, if we had seen that more often, we’d understand how scary he is.

I wish this had been his grand entrance, and not whatever that scene in GOF was. Somehow, him screeching “I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!” is not menacing. At all.

But, I can’t help but think how much greater the emotional affect would be if he had more human features (think the burned-and-blurred, waxy features from Dumbledore’s memory).

Just imagine these scenes if Voldemort looked human, and spoke as quietly as he did in this one.

Because of the reason that I have little to go on in terms of characterization that I haven’t already covered, we’ll discuss the myth and legend of Lord Voldemort.

I can’t decide if the statue in the films is supposed to be the Angel of Death or the Grim Reaper. He has a skeleton and carries a scythe, but he also has wings. There are so many different interpretations, attitudes towards, and personifications of Death across the world that I don’t want to draw any one conclusion. But I must wonder if Lord Voldemort, with his yew-and-phoenix wand (which carries heavy symbolism of immortality and rebirth) and almost deified figure is meant to be a personification of Death himself? His name, Lord Voldemort, is a shade close to Lord Death.

For years, it has stumped me that wizards and witches are afraid to utter Voldemort’s name, especially since we only see the Taboo in the middle of the last book. It didn’t make sense just based on fear; in the real world, we don’t circumvent Hitler’s name, for example.

Perhaps this may have been obvious to others, but it wasn’t to me.

Here’s a counterargument to myself; why Voldemort shouldn’t look human.

Voldemort, in the Wizarding World, is seen as a literal deity.

I promised to attempt to answer this question in Part 3:

And so, I can’t help but wonder if the opposite is true… if Tom Riddle creates Horcruxes, would that grant him additional magic powers?

In Part 3, I likened Tom Riddle to a sorcerer in Russian folklore, Koschei the Deathless, also famous for sequestering his soul in objects. This source suggests that Koschei was considered not an ordinary magician, but a representative of the ‘other’ world, the world of death.

So, what if... creating Horcruxes makes you... more than human? Now, I could definitely see god-like status being appealing to sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. Perhaps, even appealing enough to kill for. Now, his proclivity for Avada Kedavra makes sense. We know it’s an incredibly sinister spell, but at the same time, it’s a very humane way to kill. Why might it be so horrifying?

Here’s a weird theory.

To the best of my knowledge, no one but Voldemort is seen using the Killing Curse more than once or twice.

Perhaps, ordinary mortals can only cast Avada Kedavra a few times, but Tom, having split his soul and having become in some way a non-human instrument of Death, can cast it however many times as he likes, and that is part of what serves to make him so terrifying.

This makes the idea of Voldemort tossing around Avada Kedavras actually incredibly terrifying, if you take into account what that might mean.

The collective cultural fear of speaking Voldemort’s name supports this theory.

Take the chthonic (underworld) deities of Greek mythology; most notably, Hades and Persephone, the king and queen of the underworld.

Hades, the god of the dead, was feared.

So feared that the word ‘Hades’ (”the unseen one”) was so frightening, that people came up with all sorts of euphemisms to circumvent actually saying it and he was rarely even depicted in art. For example, they would refer to him as Pluto (”the rich one”), Clymenus ("notorious"), Polydegmon ("who receives many"), and perhaps Eubuleus ("good counsel" or "well-intentioned"), amongst many other names.

However, he was not seen as evil; just stern, cruel, and fair. Like most Greek gods, he had an associated cult (the Death Eaters, anyone?)

Another interesting connection between Hades and Voldemort is that Hades was associated with snakes.

Persephone (suggested to have a pre-Greek origin and probably pre-dates Hades), who was also a vegetation/fertility/spring goddess, similarly, was referred to as Despoina (”the mistress”), Kore (”the maiden”), etc, because as the terrible Queen of the Dead, it was considered unsafe to speak her name aloud. In mythology and literature, she is sometimes referred to as ‘dread Persephone.’

--Just like how Lord Voldemort is referred to as The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who... (and if you’re Dumbledore, ‘Tom’.)

Her central myth served as the context for the secret rites of regeneration at Eleusis (which was basically a mystery cult devoted to her and her mother, Demeter), which promised immortality to initiates.

We don’t know for certain what exactly went on, because, mystery cult -- the members were sworn to secrecy -- but it revolved around immortality and rebirth and possibly psychoactive drugs.

Perhaps ironically, in comparison to the Death Eaters, anyone could join, as long as they could speak Greek and had never committed murder.

And that concludes my assessment!

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #lord voldemort #character study #tw: murder #the body horror was 1/10 #don't make your character design hilarious if you want him to be scary #i'm not saying voldemort is a vegetation deity #but i'm not-not saying it either

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 3 years

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What if Indil met Elizabeth, David, and Light and Shadow?

This might just be the most "Carnivorous Muffin" sentence to have ever been uttered on the internet.

Let's just stare at it in wonder, while I wonder how many people will have no idea what those words even mean strung together.

Right, for those that are lost, relevant source material:

Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus

October

Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun

The Wasteland

Aren't you so glad you read normal fanfics written by a normal person?

So, to catch people up to speed who have not read every single fic I've written:

The Wasteland

The Wasteland is the what if story of an eleven-year-old Lily ending up in Middle Earth (notably before the Chamber of Secrets fiasco). There she befriends the One Ring, who thanks to her realizes he's sentient and has an existential crisis. They do the fusion dance, and end up becoming a single, new, being calling himself Indil.

He's the best and worst of both the Ring and Lily.

At the end of the story Indil chooses a noble death, gives up his form, and in so doing persuades the Ring to face his own potential death as well as his maker.

It's unclear what happens after that.

I like to think the Ring prevailed and earned the body of his maker.

(In an offshoot, for unknown reasons, Indil may or may not visit Mars)

Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun

In Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun, yet another, different, Lily ends up in the "October" universe where she decides to create life on Pluto. One of the beings she creates is a priest who worships her as God, named Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun.

He basically strong arms her into being his God. Lily goes to live on Pluto.

He's never been all that keen on humanity.

Decades later, the muggle world catches up to the Alien Franchise, and the Prometheus sets off to investigate the Engineers. Unbeknowest to them, Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun has been marooned on that rock by Lily for quite some time and is essentially in timeout for trying to wipe out humanity again.

He figures out he will be unable to return home unless he plays nice with Dr. Elizabeth Shaw and her creepy android friend David. Together, the three of them set off to find the Engineers, Light and Shadow of the Distant Sun is hoping they can blow some shit up and would have driven the ship full of bioengineered weapons back to Earth if it were not so very close to home.

And that's about where we leave off.

... Why does anyone read my stories?

RIGHT, YOUR QUESTION

What if Indil met Elizabeth, David, and Light and Shadow?

So how does Indil even end up in this mess? Well, in the Mars AU, it's where rather than face his maker/death by Volcano, the Ring chose to bravely run away (as Sauron does).

This means that Indil, the merged consciousness of Lily and the One Ring, survives and they're chilling on Mars in another dimension because, well, it beats dying. And Potions Class.

And... Well, that's the most likely route for how this would happen, as Indil is pretty damn dead by the end of the Wasteland. Regardless of what happens to The Ring, it's unlikely that he and Lily would merge consciousness ever again and if they did that Indil would remain unchanged.

But we're already here, so why not. We'll say the Ring wins the battle of wills with Sauron, steals his body, and that he's then left with Mordor. Well, that's great, but he doesn't want Mordor.

Lily proposes they go back to England. They do, but Lily has a terrible time, as she usually does. Lily likely does her adventure through time, ruins her friendship with Wizard Lenin, and reaches the crossroads of "You can go to Hogwarts or... not".

Lily takes Mairon up on his offer of not going to Hogwarts and they decide to travel different dimension in space instead. Weird shit happens, life lessons are learned, and they also learn the fusion dance is alive and well and holy shit they can still turn into Indil.

Indil is very put out, here he'd geared himself up for a noble sacrifice, and now he exists again. What the hell people?

As usual, Mairon gets tempted by Lily's unbreakable will, and decides he rather likes being an immovable object and unstoppable force. Which means that Indil, once again, has a problem falling back out of existence.

Which isn't good for either Lily or Mairon's sense of self. But who needs that, amirite?

Anyways, Indil is probably floating around in a spaceship he made in his garage, trying to figure out where to go, what to do, and whether he should really split back into Lily and Mairon yet when out of nowhere he spots another ship.

This is a very strange coincidence given just how ungodly vast space is. This, in fact, is so unlikely you might as well call it a miracle or fate.

Well, Indil will never spit in the face of fate (at least, not today), so he decides to say hello.

There he's greeted by a human woman who's not doing too hot after an emergency C-section to get the xenomorph out of her womb, a very recently repaired android who knows the taste of sweet sweet freedom (and patricide), and an alien who is intrigued that another not-human has boarded the ship but upset that he now has to deal with yet another person on his time out.

Indil, in his panic, decides to pull a Sauron.

Behold, mortals, he is Annatar, sent by the Valar to teach them the smithing of the very gods. Please don't question this. (Indil realizes two seconds two late that none of these words mean anything to anyone and he might as well have said nothing at all).

Elizabeth, Light and Shadow, and David all just stare.

Elizabeth wonders how the hell she keeps running into so many aliens. Is she some sort of alien catnip that pulls these guys out of the ether? She has now met two entirely different species, that she was not looking for, in a matter of months.

Regardless, Indil decides he's coming along. A quest to find God? That's fascinating. He only hopes it doesn't end in drowning, last time Indil (via Sauron) had a run in with The Lord it involved a lot of drowning.

Indil starts smithing life jackets just in case.

And because Elizabeth is amazing, and Indil has a thing for strong, independent, women, we see the reemergence of Indil's Weird Thing With Eowyn II: Electric Boogaloo. Neither Mairon nor Lily, vaguely aware inside Indil, understand this at all.

Why does this keep happening to them?

This is bad because David is also in love with Elizabeth. Except, David is a robot who is no doubt fascinated by aliens, so I'm sure they come to some weird agreement.

Elizabeth pretends none of this is happening.

Light and Shadow thinks there's something disturbingly familiar about Indil and eventually lands on the money. Almost. He realizes that Indil is Lily in mortal disguise, he is so smart, and the rest of the time he wonders what the hell he's supposed to be learning/doing with Lily's disguised alien appearance.

Thanks to Lily's bullshit powers, Elizabeth survives the journey and does not die in transit. This means that David does not become the unstable, grieving, nutcase who decides to wipe out all sentient life. Good for you, David.

So our band of heroes arrive on this alien world and...

Well, Elizabeth is a member of the race that these people sent their finest warriors out to destroy. David is a robot, something the people they tried to genocide created. No one knows what the fuck Indil and Light and Shadow even are.

Indil, I imagine, starts talking fast and somehow ends up King of Men again. Because that's just the kind of thing that happens to him. The possibility of drowning, somehow, seems to be growing ever nearer. Indil makes more life jackets.

Elizabeth isn't pleased with this outcome at all but also has no idea in general what to do.

Things probably come to a head somehow, with sacrifices involved surely, there probably is a ridiculously powerful storm a la Covenant that lasts for months. It's raining everywhere, there's a flood. And Indil flips shit, GOD IS GOING TO MURDER US ALL FOR SATANISM! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

Mass panic, total destruction, the entire city is wiped out without David doing anything.

Our heroes are now stranded, again, in space.

Light and Shadow has learned nothing, Indil is wearing a life vest, Elizabeth has no ship, and David just composed "Elizabeth the Symphony: Tenth Movement".

Indil works on building a new ship out of twigs and rocks. He assures them he knows what he's doing. Elizabeth's not sure she wants him going to Earth. She's not sure she wants to go to Earth.

She's also not sure, but she may now have a harem consisting of a robot, an alien, and another alien.

Ten years later, the Covenant crew shows up, and promptly die in a series of hilariously terrible accidents and their own incompetence.

Our heroes still have no functional ship.

#ask #anon #prometheus #light and shadow of the distant sun #the wasteland #lily and the art of being sisyphus #elizabeth shaw #david 8 #indil #the one ring

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lamortexiii · 3 years

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Cryptic Mystic: In the End

To bounce off of the previous blog posting, I thought it would be fun to just hop right on into the topic of what happens after we die. After all, we just finished talking about souls and a bit of astral projection last time. From transcending to another place/dimension to reincarnation, there truly is a lot to cover when you start diving into the many beliefs and ideas that surround death and mortality/immortality. But what differentiates the scientific facts from myths and stories of olden days? For those who believe in one defined means to an end for us all, how do you know for a fact that what you believe is true? Have you ever questioned what is life after death? Hell, is there a life after death? Or maybe… it’s something else… something so obscure that our tiny human brains are nowhere near possessing the capabilities to understand it. In the end, readers can decide for themselves what is more likely to be true, or maybe… the answer to this cryptic question has been right in front of us all along? Maybe it is a combination of what we know but do not yet understand. Let’s talk shop, shall we?

Death. Happy for some, a time of joy and celebration for others, but likely a time of sadness and grief for most. Some welcome death with open arms, while yet others fear their mortality. The numerous speculations on what happens after we die is overwhelming. There are far too many ideas and beliefs that people hold in this regard. I’ll briefly cover a few of the more popular beliefs as to not make this blog super lengthy - because, ya know, your attention span and whatnot.

Scientifically, there are two types of death: clinical death and brain death. Clinical death is characterized by major organ failure (e.g. heart, liver, kidneys, etc.) until the body is completely rendered of functioning and the individual is officially pronounced dead. In brain death, solely the brain stops functioning, but the other organs within the body continue to work within their normal capacities. Creepy fun fact for you: the heart can beat for up to 30 minutes on its own after all brain cells have died. Once the heart stops it’s adios amigo. The remaining major organs that were barely hanging on have now lost blood flow, and life has ended. More creepy death fun facts: the gastrointestinal tract can live on its own for up to 3 days, and the complete decomposition of a body takes roughly 30 years! Crazy science stuff.

Now let’s take a look at some common beliefs and speculations of what happens when/after we die. Again, I want to remind you, readers, that in my eyes there is no right or wrong answer here. I am a firm believer in everyone having their own beliefs and respect all of them regardless of how obscure some naysayers may think that they are. I enjoy hearing stories from followers that help to further broaden my thought processes. If you ever have an interesting story or want to chime in with your thoughts please feel free to leave a comment here or shoot on over to Instagram and we can rap about it.

The belief that we transcend to another realm/dimension has been around for thousands of years and has been studied for decades. There is a lot to uncover here between recent scientific discoveries and human belief. Many people believe that many other dimensions exist, however, scientific exploration hasn’t fully found the golden answer to if and what these other dimensions may contain if they do indeed exist. We know that Earth has at least three dimensions: space—length, width, and depth—and one dimension of time. Modern physics posits that there is at least a fourth dimension of space, but that we can’t experience it. Maybe we can? Maybe we do but just haven’t put a label on it? Maybe the odd phenomena that happen across the world that people describe as being ghosts, aliens, and other paranormal activities are actually from the next dimension or another. There has been speculation that extraterrestrials come from another dimension through a portal that is already here on Earth rather than from the sky (outer space).

Give me an R! Give me an E! Hell, this word is too long and I’m not going to put you through reading a silly cheer for 5 minutes. Reincarnation - yet another commonly held belief of what happens when we die. For those of you who may have never heard of reincarnation, here is the quick and dirty version of the definition. Reincarnation posits that when we die our spirit/soul/whatever you want to call it, moves on to a new host. This host could be a human baby that is born the very second that you die OR you could possibly find yourself reincarnated as an animal, tree, flower, or any other living thing that you can find on Earth. Interesting concept indeed.

My favorite belief, that we go to Heaven or somewhere similar, is one that is believed by millions of people across the world. Wouldn’t it be nice to die and go to another world/place where nothing can do you harm, and just live out the rest of your existence in peace? Well, if you can believe it then it may just happen that way - or maybe not. I am fairly certain I have mentioned this in previous blogs, but religion can be thought of as a coping mechanism for that which we do not know or understand; the human way of putting a label on something to make ourselves feel better or like we are a part of something divine and much greater than us. Which, in all actuality, we very well may be a part of something divine and much greater than us, however, it is my personal opinion that we honestly have no fucking clue about the extent to which that is.

Now, this next one I threw in here because I personally found it to be interesting. In 2017 I was having a conversation with a friend about mystical things such as portals, extraterrestrials, etc. My friend informed me of a research video on YouTube about a company called CERN. He described this Swiss company as having built a circular-shaped machine that when you throw something into its core it disappears. However, other items have come through this machine and into the room from… wherever the other side is? Basically, these people have created a portal and no one knows about it. You’re welcome for the information. Within this research video, the guy who was describing all of this stuff went on to talk about how China had gifted the statue that sits in front of the CERN building. This particular statue is reported to represent the end of time and hell on Earth. There is a whole mythical background story about this statue - you need to check it out. The irony between the statue and this machine they made is uncanny. It made my jaw drop. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I haven’t been able to find the YouTube video again, so I am not sure if it got taken down because the guy exposed something that was supposed to be secret, or maybe I just suck at YouTube searches. Either way, I encourage you to do some digging on this one, because this type of information could potentially support the whole soul/spirit transcending into another realm/dimension belief. I am not a physicist, so I could be explaining this all wrong. You’ll just have to check out their website for yourself and see what it’s all about. → home.cern

There is also the belief that when we die nothing happens. We are dead and it is the end of who we once were. This belief is often held by Atheists and some Satanists if we’re using labels. However, many people believe this who aren’t subscribed to a religion or don’t want to necessarily put a label on who they are/what they believe. This is the grim reality of our existence. Maybe it all means… nothing… Now isn’t that depressing.

Then there are near-death experiences, which brings a whole different perspective into the mix. People all over the world have encountered near-death experiences. Many report shockingly similar experiences and stories. Some say they see a white light and follow it to a place of peace. I have heard people say that while they were legally deceased they found themself in a field of flowers or floating within the cosmos. A common theme found within these individuals is that once they have had their near-death experience, they aren’t afraid of death anymore - they welcome it with open arms. One woman on a documentary that I watched even went as far as to say that she didn’t want to come back from where she was and was disappointed when she was revived. These experiences could possibly support the theory of transcending to other dimensions or that there is a “heaven.” I can’t explain it, but I still find the information interesting to ponder upon.

Our mortality is evident, but what really happens when we die? These are just a short collection of ideas and beliefs that have been around for ages, however, there are many more to consider I’m sure. What do you think? Or should I say: what do you want to believe? Ultimately it’s your choice. Whatever brings you peace, serves you well, and is the right answer for you is what I advise you to turn to. This flesh and blood will decay for each of us one day - it’s inevitable. It is for this very reason why I say live life to the fullest. Regret nothing. Do what best serves you. Do what makes you happy. Take chances. Above all else - be the best version of yourself that makes you happy.

Cryptic Mystic Blog by PsychVVitch

www.LaMorteXiii.com

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wordgirlappreciation · 4 years

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Wordgirl Fanfic Recommendations Masterlist

Thanks for 250 followers, guys! I appreciate you all very much!

At long last, here it is! A full compilation of my personal favorite Wordgirl fics! All fics are complete and in English. Please don’t forget to reblog and review to support fanfiction writers!

Additionally, this blog will post and promote all fanfiction links submitted to it.

Wordgirl & Doctor Two Brains

Title: The Doctor Is In | Author: otempora16 | Words: 23k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford may be an alien, but she's never had any trouble living on Earth - until she's struck with a bizarre disease that no human doctor can cure. Only one person has studied Lexiconians enough to have any hope of saving her. Unfortunately, he's trapped deep within his own mind, under the control of a malevolent mouse...

This is the best Wordgirl fic I’ve ever read. It hits everything I wanted to see from this show--the bond between Wordgirl and Dr. Two Brains, Dr. Two Brains struggling against his own darkest impulses--coupled with fantastic writing and pacing. Everyone is in character while balancing a more sophisticated and darker tone. I’ve read this one at least five times.

Title: Awake in the Night | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 10k | Rated: K+

Two-Brains is fighting with himself again. The results? He's losing. But how could Steven be coming back from the supposed dead? And how can Wordgirl help him win before the sun rises?

Absolutely heartbreaking fanfic centered around Wordgirl’s relationship with Steven as Dr. Two Brains attempts to stifle him. Steven can only take control at night, and attempts to build a machine to separate himself from Squeaky, only for Two Brains to wake up and stop him every time. It’s brilliantly written, very in-character, and it just might make you feel.

Title: Much Abides | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Before she heads off to her first year of college, Wordgirl has a few loose ends to tie up. Oneshot. Sort-of sequel to "New and Subtle Shades."

Wordgirl’s last conversation with Two-Brains before leaving for college. Sweet and heartbreaking even if it could’ve gone a little deeper. Brief mentions of past Steven. As their last WG fic, it’s a nice send-off.

Wordgirl/Tobey (or Tobecky)

Title: New and Subtle Shades | Author: otempora16 | Words: 6k | Rated K+

Growing up is hard, and growing up a superhero is harder. But amidst all the stress and struggle of her freshman year of high school, Wordgirl starts to realize that support, friendship, and fun can be found in the most unexpected of places. Oneshot, focusing on an older Wordgirl's relationships with her villains.

Once again, the otempora16′s dialogue is on point. This fic focuses on WG’s relationship with The Butcher, Leslie, Dr. Two Brains, Chuck, and finally Tobey. It’s incredibly sweet and charming, and shows Wordgirl and Tobey in the earliest stages of a relationship in an entirely believable way. Also featuring Dr. Two Brains as an overprotective father figure.

Title: Green World | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford's superhero duties have run her off her feet lately, and she knows she needs to crack down on schoolwork if she wants to finish junior year strong. But when warm summer breezes are blowing, the carnival is in town, and Tobey McCallister is standing outside her window ... well, some nights are just begging to be seized.

A fun and delightful fic of Becky and Tobey having a good time.

Title: From Good to Rotten | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 25k | Rated K+

After the amnesia ray, what if Two-Brains didn't forget everything? What if he was just waiting? Waiting for the perfect moment to get Wordgirl once and for all...

Dr. Two Brains remembers Wordgirl’s secret identity from a previous episode where it was revealed, and uses a special ray to turn her evil and use her to do his bidding. Highly interesting, and written in the style of the show (with a narrator, defined words, and a similar style of humor). Features the rest of the villains saving Wordgirl from herself and Dr. Two Brains being a bit of a jerk.

Title: Something Hidden | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 137k | Rated K+

Tobey just can't shake the feeling that Becky is WordGirl, no matter how many times he's been wrong before. The only question is of how to prove it.

Nothing to add. Just a great fic.

Title: Have You Seen My Robut? | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Today was just not Tobey McCallister's day. After his latest robotic creation to help the city malfunctions and runs off on him, he's left with no choice but to work together with his nemesis WordGirl to find it. But how can the two even hope to work together, especially when she's a supervillain? An AU one-shot where Tobey and Becky's roles are reversed.

Interesting concept I’d love to see explored more. I’m always a sucker for Wordgirl as a villain, and Tobey as a hero was nice to see. Additionally, Wordgirl is the one with the crush on Tobey in this universe. I thought it stayed true to both characters and was well-written.

Title: Saving Tobey | Author: Night_N_Gail | Words: 92k | Rated: Gen

“I’m telling you, WordGirl, that kid is a time bomb. You think he’s a menace NOW? Wait until he’s a teenager and his emotions are running wild. Wait until he’s an adult and he’s not afraid of his mother anymore. It won't be pretty, I can promise you that." -:- Post-series

Slowburn relationship with Tobey gradually going over to the good side. First part of a three part series by the same author. I have not read the sequels, so I can’t recommend them, but if you like “Saving Tobey” give them a try.

Dr. Two Brains/Lady Redundant Woman

Title: A Provocloniversary | Author: Unbalanced Enigma | Words: 3k | Rated: K+

A Dr. Two Brains and Lady Redundant Woman fluffy one-shot taking place at a villain convention. It works off the assumption that they've already been an item for awhile, six months to be precise. The doctor wants to celebrate the events, but awkward and silly interruptions ensue. This features a wide variety. Rated K for a little suggestive romancing.

This fic is really cute and well-written. The characterization is spot-on for everyone and has plenty of humor. I especially enjoyed Tobey getting back at Two-Brains for the events of Mousezilla. As someone who did ship Provoclone back in the day, this fic is a definite recommend.

Dr. Two Brains, Squeaky, and Steven

Title: Descent Into Madness | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 1k | Rated: K+

No one really knew what happened. What he went through during the incident. What happened when Prof. Steven Boxleitner became Dr. Two-Brains?

An interesting exploration of the time between Steven’s “Oh no, this is going to sting” and him running into Becky and TJ. Short but dark and interesting.

Title: A Science Experiment Gone Horribly Wrong | Author: 3LNR | Words: 2k | Rated: K+

This fanfic is a detailed description of Steven's thoughts and feelings before, during, and after his fateful experiment. It includes Two Brains' and Squeaky's viewpoints as well. The day starts out very normally, but gradually becomes more creepy and intense as the story progresses. Rated K+ for somewhat disturbing but non-graphic content.

For a fic I wrote 6 years ago, I think it holds up pretty well. Give it a read if you’re a fan of Two Brains.

Title: When I Don’t Remember You | Author: 3LNR | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Dr. Two Brains goes on a mysterious trip to a place he had almost forgotten.

Another angsty fic I wrote six years ago, where Two Brains briefly reunites with Steven’s parents. It does not go well. Song title is inspired by the song of the same name from the series “Adventure Time”.

Title: Take Care of Them | Author: orphan_account | Words: 1k | Rated: Gen

After a stupid mistake, Two Brains and Steven have a heart to heart while Two Brains dies. (Squeaky dies too)

Sad fic in which Steven gets his freedom at the expense of Dr. Two Brains’ life. Short but memorable enough to earn a spot on the list.

Title: A Late Night Chat | Author: Donotquestionme | Words: 1-3k | Rated: Unknown

“Remember, whatever I say, don’t open this door until morning, got it?” The henchmen shuffled their feet anxiously. They never quite understood what went on behind that heavy, padlocked door, and they weren’t sure they wanted to. All they knew was that, every once in a while, their boss would lock himself in that room and, for the next few hours, muffled shouting could be heard coming from behind the door. Even stranger, sometimes they swore they could hear crying.

This might be the first WG fic I ever read, so it holds a special place in my heart. It was also written by someone with a fantastic ask blog that’s been on hiatus for years now (ask-dr-two-brains) who has a perfect grasp on the character. This fic is about the unanswerable question of whether Steven could bring himself to kill Two Brains if he had the chance to set himself free. I wish this person had written more, but it's fabulous nonetheless.

#wordgirl #dr. two brains #tobey mccallister #steven boxleitner #lady redundant woman #becky botsford #fanfic recommendation #fanfic recs #wordgirl fanfic #I might update this list if I find more I'd like to add

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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 20

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 10,096

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

Turns out once you've smooched a guy on the nose, things like holding his hand and other such minor displays of affection no longer seem so daunting.

Sure, even as I reached for his hand now, some small amount of mental self-cheerleading was still required in order to work myself up to it. And okay, the tiny flutter in my chest when my fingers brushed against his almost had me pulling back faster than you could say 'emotion-phobia.' But I didn't. And hey, this was way more than I could have brought myself to do even just a few short days ago. This was kind of huge for me, so I think I'd earned the right to take a little pride in my headway so far. Who knew, I just might pull off my half of this whole pretend dating deal yet.

Lea glanced down at my touch. Then he grinned, pulling my hand up to press a soft kiss to the back of it before setting it back down on the dinner table, his thumb trailing light circles along my knuckles. Picking right back up where he'd left off in the conversation, he said, "Oh yeah, GUMMI ships got all sorts of badass tech going on now, the likes of which would put both Star Trek and Star Wars to shame. Super, ultra, mega-laser cannons, impenetrable force fields, swarms of nanobots that can repair any and all damage just like that," he snapped his fingers. Lea then planted an elbow on the table and leaned forward to add in a conspiratorial whisper, "They even have defense systems in the form of giant, exploding space duckies."

Saïx gave him a flat look from where he sat on the other side of the table from us. "Not true."

"Sure it is!" Lea chirped, straightening back up in his chair. "I mean, how else are they gonna fight all those aliens out there?"

Propping my cheek in my free palm, I cocked an eyebrow at him as I felt an upward tug at one corner of my lips. "Aliens? As in little green men?"

"No, no, that'd just be silly," he waved off with a scoff. "As in lil shadow men. Creepy bastards with big, yellow eyes and twitchy antennae." Still holding my hand, he brought both of his own up to either side of his head, miming said antennae with his index fingers.

Closing his eyes, Saïx gave a low sigh into his wine glass. "Also not true."

Lea shrugged, "Oh sure, they're not all like that. There was that blue one they found over in Hawaii, what was its code name again… Experiment 626? Yeah, the government got that one covered up real fast. And don't even get me started on the total dreadnought that is Schwarzgeist lurking out there somewhere in the night sky that absolutely obliterated the USS Endymion."

"The sheer amount of not true you are spouting off right now is positively staggering," Saïx deadpanned, eyelids drooping as he dabbed his napkin to his mouth. "You really need to stop staying up late every night reading all those conspiracy theories out there on the internet."

Lips curling into an evil smirk, Lea said, "But how else am I gonna royally piss you off so much?"

That earned him a small scowl from his brother.

This was basically it. The whole evening in a nutshell from the moment I'd stepped foot into Lea's apartment. Like me, it seemed that Saïx was not much of a talker, at least not amongst strangers. Unlike me however, it appeared to have less to do with social anxiety and more like he just plain wasn't a fan of the whole talking thing and so only did it when he deemed it absolutely necessary. Which I could totally respect. It was just that between the two of us, it had a tendency to leave a bit of a void in the conversation every now and then. Luckily, it was void that Lea was only too happy to fill.

Saïx had been the one to cook dinner. It seemed that that was part of the breakdown of chores in their living arrangement: he usually handled supper while breakfast was Lea's job. Saïx and I had already emptied our plates by now while Lea was still working on his, seeing as how he was otherwise preoccupied with talking a mile a minute. The meal had been a very nice chicken bruschetta pasta paired with a red wine from a fancy looking bottle. The latter I'd thought to be a bit of an odd choice, as I didn't picture Lea being much of a wine drinker. But there he was, sipping away at it, pinkie raised as he did so for an added bit of flair. I guess he just wasn't picky and would drink whatever was put in front of him. I, on the other hand, had decided not to partake. Would rather keep a clear head during this bit of subterfuge we were playing out in front of Saïx.

The point was, there was wine. And wine equaled a wine tipsy Lea. And a wine tipsy Lea, as I was discovering, equaled a chatty Lea. The boy was already chatty to begin with, but this was an all new level. This was chatty on steroids. Needless to say, he was having no trouble whatsoever keeping the conversation rolling.

"Why are we even discussing the GUMMI space program again?" Saïx asked in his bored monotone.

Lea drove his fork down into his pasta, twirling it around. "You know you're always a total slut for outer space, man. The moon and constellations and all that crap is your jam."

"Yes, but our guest," he gestured towards me, "might not find the topic nearly so interesting."

Trailing a finger along the rim of my still full wine glass, I said, "Actually, I've been fascinated by the research their lead mechanical scientist Cid Highwind has been doing in the field of warping technology. With his help, it might not be long before our ships can travel to other solar systems."

Both men just blinked silently at me for a moment.

What? So I liked to keep up on current events by reading a news article every now and again online. It really was not a big deal.

Saïx was the one to speak up first. "Yes. It's said Highwind is hoping to have a working prototype in less than five years."

Do my eyes deceive me? Was that the hint of a smile ghosting over Saïx's mouth?

Oh wow, I think I'd managed to score some points.

...not that it mattered, of course. Since this was only a fake relationship, after all, so getting in the brother's good graces didn't really mean all that much to me. Not one bit. Nope.

Nuzzling his nose to my ear, Lea beamed, "Hell yeah! My baby knows shit!"

"More than you do at least," Saïx sniffed blandly.

Expression relaxing into a sly grin now, he shot back, "I know enough to know about an astral sea monster whose sheer mass is gargantuan enough to blot out the very sun, the terror of the cosmos, eater of spacecrafts and destroyer of worlds, the dreaded galactic space whale," he paused for dramatic effect before splaying a hand out before him as he intoned in hushed reverence, "...Monstro."

Saïx grumbled under his breath and facepalmed.

"By my count, that's the eighth time he's done that tonight," Lea stage whispered to me. "Just five more and I'll have beat my all-time record."

I gave a low hum of amusement. "I suppose it's important to have goals in life."

He snorted, returning his attention to his food as he scooped a forkful into his mouth. I noticed that he'd incidentally stained one side of his lips in the process and I had a brief flashback to a familiar scene of Sora and Kairi. Of the pair of them sitting in the food court and Kairi kissing away a similarly located blotch on her boyfriend. Now that right there had been a seriously advanced dating technique and one I was in no way ready to try out myself. You kidding me? I was still very much a beginner here and the very idea of trying to pull off such a maneuver already had my ears turning pink. That said, a newbie like me still had some options, especially with my newfound ability to make the first move and actually touch my (fake) boyfriend without completely spazzing out.

I tucked in my lower lip, hesitating briefly as my pulse thudded a little more loudly against my eardrums. But then I slowly lifted my hand.

Lea visibly stiffened as he felt my thumb brush at the corner of his mouth, wiping the smudge away. As I began to retract my arm however, he dropped his fork to snatch my wrist and stop me. I arched an eyebrow at him. He smiled back with hooded eyes. Then he gently tugged my thumb up to his lips and licked the sauce off it.

Breath hitching, I yanked my hand free of his grasp. His smile just turned smug as he winked at me.

Apparently, Wine Tipsy Lea had even less boundaries than usual.

As I wiped my thumb with a napkin and ducked my head to hide my boiling cheeks, I heard Saïx mutter, "One has to wonder what a woman of your obvious intelligence and sophistication even sees in an asinine clown such as my brother."

"Well let me think about it," Lea's eyes danced as he folded his hands together, steepling his index fingers so the joined tips touched his mouth. "Perhaps it's my devilish charm and debonair good looks?"

"Oh come now," he said cooly with another sip of his wine, "if you're going to be making things up, you should attempt to make them at least halfway credible."

"He makes me laugh," I suddenly heard myself saying. As both pairs of eyes turned towards me, I immediately felt self-conscious. I mean seriously, what a stupid, cliché thing to say. But that didn't make it any less true, any less… meaningful. I wasn't someone who laughed a lot. In fact, before I'd run out on my wedding, I could probably count the number of times I'd laughed in the last year on one hand.

Fidgeting with my fingers, I pushed forward, "He's sweet… and thoughtful. And genuine. He's not afraid to be himself. And because of that, I find it easier to be… myself... around him." Another thing that did not come easy to me.

As Lea slipped an arm around my shoulders so he could pull me closer and plant a swift peck to my temple, Saïx gave a soft harrumph, "Well, I guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Psst, Saïx," Lea lowered his voice, bending forward over the table and cupping a hand to his mouth. "The moon landing was faked."

With a heavy sigh through his nose, he merely rose from his chair and started gathering the plates and silverware together. As he reached for mine, I protested, "No, that's okay, I can take care of it."

"You're the guest," he said simply as he swiped it up in one smooth motion.

"Best not argue, otherwise he might unleash his berserker wrath on you," Lea sniggered to me. However, when Saïx next took his plate away (still with food on it), he snapped, "Hey! I wasn't done with that!"

"Then you should have eaten faster," he responded dryly.

He stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh yeah? Well the earth is flat." As Saïx turned towards the kitchen, the plates stacked in his hand "accidentally" smacked into Lea's forehead, forcing a small grunt out of him.

I hid a grin behind my hand as Lea pressed his fingertips to the fresh sore spot with a soft tch. Then he downed the rest of his wine as he stood up himself, gathering the other glasses between his fingers on one hand while balling up napkins together in the other. He looked at me, face brightening, "Why don'tcha go on and take a seat in the living room. I'll join ya after I finish helping Saïx clean up."

"Alright," I nodded. He used a hand (the one stuffed full of napkins) to pull my seat out as I stood and gave him a tiny smile before moving past him. Reaching the blue sofa, I moved some of its mismatched pillows to clear a space and took a seat on the far end, tugging the hem of my dress down to cover my knees as I listened to the sound of running water and clinking dishware coming from the kitchen.

I didn't have to wait long before the boys were rejoining me. Lea came bounding over first, plopping himself unceremoniously down onto the couch with me.

Leaving one whole cushion space between us.

I furrowed my brow over at him. However, I did not have to wonder for long at his unexpected seating choice.

For next thing I knew, he'd flopped over onto his side and was using my lap as a makeshift pillow.

My eyes widened and I jolted, one hand going to my chest. His cheek nestled against my leg as one hand went to my knee, his thumb tracing lightly along its top curve over the fabric. "Mmm… you're comfy!" he sighed contentedly.

It was official. Wine Tipsy Lea had absolutely zero boundaries.

Halfway into taking a seat into a maroon armchair to our right, Saïx stopped. Then he straightened back up to his full height with a tired, drawn-out huff. "Perhaps some coffee would be in order."

I gradually relaxed, my eyes crinkling as I glanced down at Lea with a resigned smile. He was like a kitten cuddling into my lap. A really big kitten. I half expected him to start purring. "Perhaps that might be for the best," I murmured in agreement.

My eyes lifted long enough to follow Saïx as he made his way back over towards their kitchen, long blue hair swaying behind him as he went. When I looked back down, I realized with a tiny start that one of my hands had taken it upon itself to start lightly stroking Lea's hair.

Huh. How did that cheeky little devil get there?

I should stop.

But it was just so very... soft. Softer than I remembered. So soft that it felt like I was doing something wrong, something… forbidden by daring to touch it.

...okay, I really, really needed to stop.

...ten seconds. Just ten more measly, innocent seconds, then I'd stop.

There was a low, pleased hum in Lea's throat as my fingers continued to slowly run through his fiery locks. Then he rolled over onto his back, capturing my hand with his to press a gentle kiss into my palm. It tickled and my heart stuttered as I felt a familiar heat creeping up my neck. He... did know Saïx was no longer nearby to witness this little production he was putting on... right? Then again, maybe Lea was too far gone by now to realize his brother had left the room and so was still on boyfriend autopilot. Cradling my hand to his chest just over his heart, his other came up to start fiddling with the end of my braid from where it hung forward over my shoulder as he grinned up at me. "Wanna know?"

My head tipped to one side, "...know what?"

"You said what you see in me, so now it's my turn. Wanna know what I see in you?"

I blinked at him. Then my eyes briefly flicked over to Saïx just beyond the island counter where he was filling a coffee maker with water. Could he hear us all the way over there? Hopefully… this might be good for show. With a low snort, I planted my elbow on the armrest next to me, propping my cheek against my knuckles as I dropped my gaze back to Lea. "Sure, why not? Go for it."

This should be good.

His grin twitched wider. "You're kooky."

...well I certainly wasn't disappointed.

Though that wasn't quite the word I would have expected out of him. In fact, not the word I would have ever expected out of anyone when used to describe me.

One of my eyebrows quirked. "I'm… kooky?"

He nodded, "Mm-hm! Most people don't know it, but it's there. Way, way deep down in here," he tapped a finger to a spot just below my collarbone before going back to toying with my braid. "Ya try to keep it hidden. Don't like people seeing that side of you for some reason. But I've caught glimpses of it. I like it. Makes me feel like I'm in on a secret no one else is. And you're fun. Hella smart, too. And so goddamn pretty."

"That so?" I muttered, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

Wine Tipsy Lea was laying it on a bit thick.

Still… I was smiling despite myself.

"And that. Right there," he tapped a finger to my lips. "Your smile is gorgeous. Was the first thing about you that had me head over heels. I love being the one to put it there. Love being the one that can make you laugh."

Did I say a bit thick? Try instead a lot thick. Too thick. Like two metric tons too thick. Jeez, perhaps I'd be better off hoping Saïx couldn't actually hear all this. Even he might think it a bit too much to be believable.

Lea's eyes softened as he continued to stare up at me, his hand shifting over from my mouth to lightly graze his curled fingers against my cheek, leaving tiny tingles in their wake. "...I wish we were real."

Insert record screech.

E-E-Excuse me?!

My heart stopped. Like legit full on stopped. There were at least three full seconds there where if a medical examiner had checked my pulse, they would have probably declared me dead.

Lea froze, his whole body locking up. His eyes grew round and his face blanched, his expression now a perfect mirror of what I imagined my own must have looked like in that exact moment as he seemingly and immediately realized his mistake.

Now I definitely hoped Saïx couldn't overhear us! There seemed to be no reaction from over in the kitchen beyond the sound of water beginning to boil. Which was good. Maybe our cover wasn't blown and-

...and so not the point right now! The point was… was…

Ex-friggin'-scuse me?!

Wish we were real? What did that even mean? Real what? Did he mean that he wanted… that he wished he and I… that we were a… an actual, honest to god coupl-

No! No, I must have misheard. Yeah, that had to be it! He hadn't said… er… what I thought he'd said. No, what he'd probably actually said was, uh… was he wished we were… seals. Yeah, that's probably what it was! Seals were neat! And… and cute! I wouldn't blame him for wanting to be one, especially in his less than totally sober state! Or… or… he could have said that he… he fished… for Neil. Who was Neil, one might wonder? Got me! But you know what? Good for Lea, helping his ol' pal Neil out with fishing like that. Nice guy, that Lea. Such a giver, such a-

"TORS!" Lea suddenly shouted, practically making me jump out of my skin as he shot up off my lap and scooted all the way over to sit at the opposite end of the couch. He had a hand clasped over his nose and mouth, doing a poor job of hiding his reddened (wine flushed?) face. "Realtors! I wish we were realtors, is what I was trying to say!" he hastily clarified, shooting a weak chuckle my way.

I stared at him blankly.

Wha…? Realtors…?

Apparently, he wasn't done. "Yeah! You know, one of those power couples you hear about all the time! Partners in everything, from romance to real estate! That's some real lovey-dovey crap right there, don'tcha think? The epitome of passion! The sappiest dream to ever sap! The-"

"What inanity are you babbling on about now?" Saïx returned, causing me for the second time in as many minutes to nearly die of cardiac arrest. He was carrying two steaming mugs, one in each hand.

"Nothing! Not a damn thing! Nope! Total nonsense!" Lea said quickly, snatching up one of the cups and rapidly blowing on the coffee a couple times before knocking back the whole thing in one go. He pulled the cup away from his lips with a wince, probably suffering from a tongue that was now at least mildly burnt. Then he plastered on a grin, "You know how I get when I'm lost in the sauce, man. I start rambling off total bullshit that I don't even mean. Never. Mm-mm, nope, not one bit! Every word of it? Total garbage. Yup! Heh…"

I flinched back from the second warm mug that was suddenly being offered me. I'd barely had a chance to hold up my hand and shake my head before Lea was grabbing that one too, handling this one with smaller, more cautious sips.

...realtors.

Huh.

Okay, sure, why not?

Not like it was any crazier than any of the other explanations I'd come up with myself. Especially when you considered Lea was more than a little buzzed. People said nonsensical things all the time while under the influence. I'd know, I'd seen Anna in a state of three sheets to the wind on more than one occasion. You should have heard half the things she'd blathered on about at the time… adventures through magical winter wonderlands, talking snowmen, singing rock people, whole castles made of-

Shoot, Saïx was talking to me. Or rather, had been talking to me for a while and now seemed to be expecting some sort of reply. Still a little rattled, I scrounged together a flimsy but polite smile, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

One thin eyebrow arched ever so slightly at me as he cradled a fuming mug between his hands. Apparently he'd gone back at some point to get one for himself as well. "...I heard you were present during one of my sleepwalking episodes a couple weeks back. I hope I didn't give you too much of a fright."

"Oh! No! No, it's-" I got distracted as I felt Lea gingerly inching back over to sit beside me. Probably trying to salvage some semblance of the relationship pretense. However, his affections had become somewhat subdued, restricted now to only resting an arm along the sofa cushions behind my head and his knee brushing against mine as he continued to nurse the coffee. Regathering my train of thought, I tried again, "It's, uh… it's alright. Not your fault. Nor was I bothered by it at all. Just had to stay out of your way, is all."

"Still I-"

"Ya know what?" Lea suddenly piped up, plonking the now empty mug down onto the coffee table right next to the first one. "Sorry guys, but I think we gotta call it an early night! I'm beat! And I mean woof! Dog-tired!"

My eyebrows knit together as I glanced over at him. "...but you just chugged two full cups of coffee."

...what are you doing, you fool, shut up! He was probably trying to rescue us by putting a merciful end to what, as of the last five minutes, had officially become one royal disaster of an evening!

He bat a hand through the air, "That? Please, that was just to help sober my drunk ass up! Trust me, caffeine doesn't do jackshit to me when it comes to staying awake."

Saïx's mouth had settled into a flat line as his green gaze shifted back and forth between Lea and me. "Very well," he said finally, closing his eyes as he raised his cup to his lips, "I presume my noise canceling headphones will be a necessity while I work tonight."

I frowned. "Noise canceling…?"

Lea cleared his throat and gave a sheepish chuckle while scratching a spot behind his ear. "He, uh… thinks you're spending the night."

"Oh…" I said slowly before his words had a chance to fully sink in. Then they did. "Oh!" I repeated more loudly, eyes widening as I rocketed up to my feet, "You mean sex!"

...what the actual frick, mouth?!

"Which is a thing!" Apparently, I was only getting started. Panic mode was in full effect now. "A thing d-dating couples do! Which… which we are! Dating, that is. And a couple! Can't, uh… can't forget that part." Dear lord, where's a gag when you need one? "Which, I don't know w-why you would. Because clearly we're a couple. Yup! That's us!" Yeesh, at least when Lea had been yammering off nonsense, he'd had wine coursing through his veins. What was my excuse? "A couple! A couple who, ah…" Oh no. "...who have, er…" Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it. "...who have sex!"

I winced.

Just shoot me. Shoot me now.

"Oh yeah, lots and lots of it!" Oh great. There was more. "All the time! In all s-sorts of, um… places. My room. His room. Oh look," I pointed both my hands towards Lea's door, "there's his room now!" Make an excuse to leave. Any excuse. " I think we'll go in there now and make with all the sex!" Not that excuse! Pause, followed by tiny, nervous laughter from me. "Yup."

Then before I knew it, I'd bolted into said room, door crashing shut behind me. I pressed my back to it, clutching both hands to my mouth as I hyperventilated and trembled, eyes huge and unblinking as I stared off into space, registering absolutely zilch of what was in front of me now.

What.

Did.

Just.

Do?!

You know what, cheeks? I won't even try and stop you this time. You go right on ahead and blush your nonexistent little hearts out. Fry my face to a friggin' crisp, for all I care. I won't judge. You have every right after… that. Whatever the heck that even was just now!

Oh gosh, had I really just gone on and on about, hrm… intimate relations? In front of Lea's brother? That... had to be... the most spectacular case of anxiety-induced word vomit to date from me yet! What was wrong with me? Who does that? No, seriously, I demand answers this instant, what in the everliving-

A soft knock at the door made me yelp and jump away, whipping around to face it, heart trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest. I was greeted by my own frazzled reflection staring back at me from the full-length mirror hanging there. My face could have been mistaken for a ripe, oversized tomato.

"...El?" Lea's muffled voice came through from the other side. "You might've, uh… kinda forgot something."

A crease formed between my eyebrows. Forgot something? No, I don't think so. I glanced down at myself, hands patting over my dress. Phone in pocket? Check. Shoes on feet? Check. No purse, I hadn't used one tonight. No coat, I'd thought it too warm out for it. My gaze settled on the door once more, eyes scrunching. "What did I forget?"

"...me?"

Oh.

Fudge.

After that, ah… stirring speech I'd just given out there a moment ago, it would certainly help drive the point home if I had him in here with me, wouldn't it?

After all, it took two to, ahem... tango.

As I reached a hand towards the doorknob, I realized I hadn't even locked it. Lea must have only been knocking to be considerate. A consideration I greatly appreciated, especially when you take into account that this was in fact his room that I'd taken sanctuary in. Taking a deep breath and expelling it slowly in one last ditch effort to calm my nerves, my still shaking fingers closed around the knob and twisted.

I cracked the door ajar about an inch, just barely enough for me to peek one eye through. Arms crossed and one shoulder propped against the doorframe, Lea tilted his head with a tiny smile, "Hey."

My gaze fell to my feet for a moment before flicking back up to meet his. "...hi."

"Can I come in?"

I hesitated for another heartbeat then nodded, pulling the door open further and taking a couple steps back. He turned his head to one side, calling out a quick, "Night, man!" to Saïx before walking in and closing the door.

Ah, awkward silence. Ye hath returned. Never could stay away from me for long, could you?

"So…" I hugged myself and decided to get into a staring contest with the floor. "...think he likes me?"

Lea snerked, folding one arm behind his back, hand hooking his opposite elbow as he leaned back against the mirror hanging from his door. "You kidding? He adores you. Practically ready to call ya sister-in-law."

I attempted a smile. It came across as more of a grimace. "Even after I was… all…"

"...smooth and cool as a cucumber?" he supplied, his voice chipper. "Absolutely! And you said you couldn't lie," he teased. "You handled that one like a total pro!"

...oh. Wow, he was right. Not about the "pro" part, obviously, but that I had lied. For the first time since this whole charade started, I'd told a straight out, bald-faced lie. It had been a monumental failure, to be sure, but hey… we all had to start somewhere. Guess I had to take my silver linings wherever I could.

"Gah, I should have just made up some sort of… of excuse or something." I started pacing slowly, eyes still downcast as I brought one hand up to chew on my thumbnail. "Said I couldn't stay because I had an opening shift tomorrow."

He shook his head, "Saïx knows you work at the mall with me, so he also knows I woulda happily driven ya over from here, even at the crack of dawn."

Frowning, I tried again, "Well then, I could have said that… ah! That you had an early test tomorrow so I shouldn't be keeping you up late!"

"Nah, he knows me too well," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "Knows I'd never let a lil thing like that stop me."

I blinked. Then I buried my face in my hands with a groan. "Oh god, I can never face him again. Not after that." Dragging my palms down to peek out between my fingers, I grumbled, "I'm guessing it's safe to assume he's retracted his 'woman of obvious intelligence and sophistication' comment." Ha. Showed what Saïx knew.

Shrugging one shoulder, he laughed, "I wouldn't worry 'bout it too much. Just another side of your kookiness that I mentioned earlier. 'Sides, he knows what a nervous, jumpy creature you are."

Up quirked one eyebrow. "...he does?"

"Well, he does now."

...fair point.

One that did not make me feel better.

"And look at the bright side," Lea continued. "It's good this happened here rather than in front of your folks! Now you'll be better prepared to handle it the next time it comes up."

My lips twisted sourly, "I guess so." As bad as this already was, it would have spelled utter disaster if that little freakout had occurred during the upcoming weekend with my parents. We're talking one epic catastrophe here, like meteor-taking-out-the-dinosaurs kind of catastrophe. Then again, I didn't particularly see this exact set of circumstances arising while I was around my family. Still… best to be on the safe side. I wrinkled my brow, "Better prepared… how?"

"Ah, well…" he pursed his lips to one side, tapping a finger against his other arm. "For starters… and I'm just spitballing here, but next time you could maybe just, ya know… not say the word sex repeatedly? If at all? I'm thinking this is 'less is more' kinda situation."

"...good call."

"Heh," he paused, rubbing his shoulder. "So... looks like we're bunkmates."

I lowered my gaze once more and brought my curled fingers up to my mouth, covering my deepening frown. "Yeah… looks like…"

I wish we were real.

Gah, why was I still even thinking about that?! Lea had already explained it, hadn't he? Realtors. The word he had actually said, had been in the middle of saying, was realtors. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just the ramblings of a guy who'd had a little too much to drink. Why was I still stuck on this?

My face must have been an open book. "Listen, I… meant what I said earlier," he spoke abruptly and my eyes darted up to lock on his. He averted his gaze and scratched his cheek, "You can't take anything I say too seriously when I've been drinking. Often my brain is just stringing random words together and spitting out the first arbitrary bullshit it can come up with. Like a toddler that's just learned to talk, regurgitating words it doesn't even understand just cuz it heard it from someone else at some point. Half the time, the things I say when I'm liquored up don't even make any sense." His eyes settled on me once more, this time accompanied by a weak smile. "So just don't be too… concerned about any gibberish that came blurting outta my stupid drunk mouth, 'kay? And you won't hear another peep of it tonight. Those two coffees are kicking in fast, so I'm much more clear headed now."

I tugged at my braid before folding my arms tightly together once more. "...okay."

And now onward to Act 1, Scene 2 of the award-winning and critically acclaimed musical: Awkward Silence.

"I have a lizard!"

My head rocked back at Lea's sudden declaration out of nowhere, both eyebrows shooting up my forehead. "...a lizard?"

He nodded eagerly, grinning big now. "Yeah! Wanna see? Come take a look!" He moved off to his left towards one corner of the room and for the first time I realized that there was a large glass terrarium situated on a long, low table in that spot. Lea squatted down next to it, waving me over to join him. I obliged and when I got close enough, he took hold of my hand and tugged me down into a crouch beside him. He squinted into the enclosure for a second, scanning all the rocks and plants inside before, "Ah-ha!" He pointed, tapping his finger against the glass, "There he is!"

And indeed, there he was, curled up inside a small, hollowed out log and blinking back at us. He was a tiny thing, all big eyes and blue skin except for the purple markings running down his back. "Oh wow," I slowly smiled, "you really do have a lizard. Why didn't you say anything last time I was here?"

"Cuz 'come into my bedroom so I can introduce you to my lizard' sounds a lil sketch, don'tcha think?" he chuckled, waggling his pointer finger up and down at his pet in greeting.

A soft snort. "Yeah, that might have earned you a dubious look." The critter crawled out into the open now, giving us a curious look. "Can I hold him?"

Lea flashed some dimple, "Course!" Straightening up, he moved the terrarium's lamps to one side before sliding out the lid and reaching inside, mumbling, "C'mere, Bruni." Picking the reptile up, he then offered him to me, "Now, the lil guy's usually shy at first but warms up quick and can be a bit of a flirt."

I stood as well, holding one hand out. Bruni cautiously put one stubby-toed foot on my fingers, eyeing me warily before fully walking the rest of the way into my palm. He was small enough to fit perfectly in it. Then he cocked his head up at me. I cocked mine back then hummed a low laugh, stroking a finger along the top of his head. That seemed to be all it took to win him over, for he then bellyflopped into a cuddle against my palm before rolling over onto his back.

"Bit of a flirt indeed," I murmured, rubbing his tummy with my fingertip. "What kind is he?"

"Salamander. Which, I know, technically not a lizard. But feels simpler most of the time just telling people that's what he is." He fell silent for a second, eyes crinkling as he watched us. Then he walked past me, saying, "Hey, welcome to my room by the way!"

I turned to face him and for the first time got a real good look at the place. If I had to pick one word to describe it, that word would be pandemonium.

Clothes were strewn about everywhere, covering floor and furniture alike - pretty much anywhere conceivable besides actually inside a dresser. Bookshelves stacked high with no rhyme or reason, textbooks next to movie DVDs (from action thriller to cornball classics) next to game CD cases next to vinyl records. Walls and ceiling plastered with posters, mostly of classic rock bands, but there was the occasional renegade: one here in which a dangerous looking man posed with an Assassin's Creed logo across the bottom, another one there depicting a grim reaper character dual-wielding sickles that looked to be from another video game of some sort. A queen-sized bed with black and red sheets buried beneath a mess of paper and more textbooks, along with a closed laptop and his shoulder bag tossed carelessly on top of it all.

And that was just barely scratching the chaotic surface. Needless to say, it was a lot to take in.

"Pardon the mess," he gave a rueful chuckle, scrambling to snatch clothes up off the carpet here and there to chuck into the laundry basket residing in his open closet, just under a black, full-length coat hanging from the rung in there. "Wasn't expecting any overnight visitors."

"It's, uh…" So many adjectives, so little time. As I searched for a word, I felt Bruni crawling up my sleeve. I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't slip, but otherwise let him do his own thing. At last, I settled on, "...big."

"Yup! I got the masters! Comes complete with its own bathroom and everything," he jerked a thumb towards a second closed door on the other side of the room. By now, Bruni had found his way onto my shoulder and was snuggling into the crook of my neck. My fingers came up to pet along his spine. Narrowing his eyes on the salamander, Lea went on, "Surprisingly, Saïx prefers the smaller, cozier room. He's a minimalist, so not like he needs all that much space anyhow. Which works out for me, especially since I used to, er… heh, shall we say, host more sleepovers?"

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth, but whatever I'd been about to say was forever lost.

For that's when Bruni did it.

He took the plunge.

Straight down into the neckline of my dress.

I yelped, arms crossing over my bosom. Lea's eyes widened, "Motherfu-" He lunged forward, hands outstretched before him like he had every intention of going down in there after Bruni. Then Lea froze, seemed to think better of it and instead folded his arms together, shoving his hands into his armpits as he looked away. "You, uh…" he cleared his throat, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, "...you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tickles a bit," I wrinkled my nose, trying not to squirm as I felt the little guy climbing around against my chest. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he moved over to start making his way down my sleeve. I gave my arm a gentle shake to help speed his progress along and eventually he came tumbling out into my palm.

"Sorry 'bout that," Lea scooped him back out of my hand into his, using the other to ruffle his hair with a tiny, bashful smile. "I know I said he was a flirt, but he's never been this brazenly forward before."

Shaking my head with a snerk, I said, "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

Walking back over to the terrarium, he turned a scowl onto the salamander. "And what do you have to say for yourself, young man?" Bruni just answered with a lizard grin, flicking his tongue out to lick his own eyeball. "Smug lil shit," Lea grumbled, setting him back down inside his home.

One corner of my lips twitching up, I turned to take another look around his room. Despite Lea's hasty tidying up, his carpet was still a disaster zone of shirts and other garments. As I began to carefully navigate it, I asked, "So how are we doing this?"

"Doing…?" I could hear the frown in his voice.

I looked back at him. "Sleeping arrangements?"

"Oh! That's easy!" Having now set the lid and lamps back into their rightful places, Lea walked towards me with his grin resurfacing. "You get the bed, I'll take the floor."

My eyelids drooped. "You can't sleep on the floor, that's ridiculous. It's your room."

"Exactly!" he started clearing the papers up off his comforter, gathering them all together and tucking them away inside one of the textbooks. "It's my room, so I'll sleep wherever I want in it! And tonight, the floor's looking pretty damn good!"

I huffed. "Enough with the chivalry already. I'll sleep on the floor."

He picked up his laptop and made his way over to a large mound of clothes. Oh wait. There was a desk hiding under there, or so I realized as soon as he started shoving all the shirts and whatnot aside. Placing the laptop down on top of it, he then shrugged back at me, "Hey, if that'll make ya happy, more power to ya. Doesn't change the fact that I will not be taking my siesta in that bed tonight."

A low harrumph in my throat. "Fine."

"Fine," he agreed, now opposite the bed from me as he hung his bag from a wall hook there. Then he squinted one eye at me, "So it's settled then. We're both sleeping on the floor. Like the couple of rational, mature, grown-ass adults that we are. While the perfectly good bed goes to waste. Cuz that makes total sense."

I shot him a deadpan look. "Alright, fine then. Bruni gets the bed."

He slapped his forehead, dragging his hand down his face with an exasperated laugh. "C'mon, El, will you just take the bed please? I won't be able to fall asleep if I know you're just curled up on the floor."

"Sounds like not my problem," I crossed my arms with a smirk. Oh-ho, that's right. I could be stubborn when I wanted to be.

"Woman! Just take the freaking bed before I throw you in the damn thing!" both his hands gestured in mild annoyance at said bed.

Scoffing, I turned my head to one side. "Please, it's the twenty-first century, your neanderthal tactics won't work on me."

Green eyes flashing, he said in a low, even voice, "They will if I make good on 'em."

My gaze narrowed on him now. "You wouldn't dare."

He bent forward, fists planted on the mattress as he gave me a tiny glare across it. "Wanna bet?"

My legs turned traitor and defected, sitting me down on the bed so quick, you would have missed the motion if you'd blinked.

"There now," his face immediately lit up like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. "Was that so hard?"

I made a little hmph in my throat, tucking my legs beside me as I smoothed my dress over my knees with as much dignity as I could muster. "I'll have you know that I chose of my own free will to take the bed tonight and it had nothing to do with any thinly veiled threats that may or may not have been made on your part." I unzipped my ankle boots, letting them fall to the carpet below with a couple of heavy thuds. "I mean, I am the guest after all, it's only proper etiquette that I sleep in the bed. I'm just making sure you're adequately performing your role as the host."

A soft snerk came from his nose as he kicked off his own shoes and spread his arms wide to give me a mock bow, "Well, thank you, Miss Manners, I dunno what I'd ever do without you."

"You're welcome," I sniffed lightly. It was nice of him to let me have this. I then felt the bed quake beneath me as Lea flopped down beside me, stretching out comfortably and cushioning his head with his arms. I blinked down at him. "...I'm sorry, did that conversation just end differently than I thought it did?"

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Hm?"

"Thought you were taking the floor."

"I am, but that's not until lights out. Right now, we're just chilling!" he beamed. But then his expression relaxed and he propped himself up slightly on his elbows, cocking his head at me. "This is okay, right?"

"Er…" I glanced away, gnawing on my bottom lip.

Yeesh, I seriously needed to grow up. This wasn't a big deal. Like, at all. So what if we were sitting in the same bed? Nothing to freak out about. I mean, sure, I'd never shared a bed with a guy before, not even my ex. Come to think of it, I'd never even been in a boy's bedroom before. But hey, there was a first time for everything. This would be fine. I would be fine.

"...yeah, it's okay," I finally responded. He frowned, not looking convinced. I put on my best brave smile and managed a tiny laugh, "Really, it's fine." Or at least it would be once we stopped talking about it. Wanting to move the conversation along to something else, I searched my brain for a new topic. "So… you and Saïx…" I drew my knees up, hugging them to my chest, "...do you always mess with each other like that?"

"Oh yeah, all the time," he chuckled, settling back down into his pillow and folding one arm back behind his head. "Nothing says you care like making the other person's life a constant living hell!"

Settling my chin down onto my knees, I snorted. "Remind me never to let you care about me."

"Too late!" he chirped. My eyeroll belied the tiny cartwheel my stomach was doing. "'Sides, all siblings are like that. I'm sure you and Anna have terrorized the crap outta each other more times than you can even count."

"Well yeah," I turned my head to look over at him, resting my ear to my legs instead, "but that was way back when we were children. We grew out of it a long time ago."

Lea grinned cheekily, "Oh really? I seem to recall a certain someone chasing her sister 'round the living room trying to straight up murder her dead not hardly more than a week ago."

Wow, had that really only been just last week? It felt like eons ago by this point. A soft noise of contempt huffed out through my nose, "Don't exaggerate. I didn't try to murder her."

"How did it go again? ...ah, I believe your exact words to her were, and I quote, 'dip you in liquid nitrogen, snap every frozen limb off your body one by one, and then I'll kill you.' That about sum it up?"

I pursed my lips to the right, "...there were extenuating circumstances."

"Heh," he stared up at the ceiling, "if ya say so."

I lifted my head back up, my arms loosening somewhat around my legs as I considered my next words carefully. "About Saïx… can I ask what happened?" Lea glanced back at me quizzically and I clarified, "I mean with…" I tapped a finger to the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, his scar?" he rolled over onto his side towards me, bracing his head in one hand. "Old battle wound from our time in the foster system. Same shithead who let us two numbskull brats play with a chainsaw. Negligent and abusive. Real winning combo there, huh?"

"You mean a foster parent did that to him? On purpose? That's terrible," I breathed, looking horrified.

"S'okay," he gave a one-shouldered shrug, then smirked wickedly. "I retaliated by burning his house down."

My eyes widened, "Did you really?"

Lea sighed, "Unfortunately, no, but not for lack of trying. Only managed to set a bed ablaze and blacken a few curtains before the fire department showed up."

I stared at him blankly. "I am just... simply amazed that you survived long enough to make it to adulthood. Either of you."

He blew out an amused pft through his teeth. "Yeah, Saïx and I were definitely prime candidates for the Darwin Awards growing up. Told ya, we were lil hellions forged straight from the fiery pits of El Diablo. Hey, speaking of Ol' Bullseye over there..." he trailed off as he suddenly sat himself up.

"Bullseye?" I asked, arching an eyebrow his way while watching him fold his legs beneath himself so he could stand on his knees atop the mattress.

"Ya know. Mr. X-Marks-The-Spot," he tacked on by way of explanation, abruptly shoulder-slamming into the wall behind us just above his pillows and making me jolt.

...the heck?

"...you mean Saïx?" I furrowed my brow, wincing as he followed it up by crashing his elbow against the wall next. "Aren't those nicknames a bit… mean?" My question was punctuated with another loud thump.

Seriously, what on earth…?.

"Nah, he likes it." Whack! "Knows they're terms of endearment." Bang! "Only from me though. Anyone else ever even so much as thought about calling him anything like that, I'd make sure next time they turned up would be in a bodybag." Whump! "'Sides, you should hear half the shit he calls me, especially when he's royally ticked." Thwack! "This one time, he-"

"Wait. Hold it. Stop," I held up my hands, eyes flicking back and forth between him and the wall. "...what exactly is it that you are doing?"

"Huh?" he stilled, blinking at me a couple times. "Oh this?" his shoulder rammed into the surface once more. "This is the wall I share with Saïx's room."

...well okay then, sure, that totally and one hundred percent cleared up my utter confusion and lack of comprehension.

Not.

"Alright," I said, stretching the word out. "And so…?"

"So he's come to expect a certain level of enthusiasm on my part whenever I'm entertaining a lady friend," Lea winked and clicked his tongue before once again striking the wall.

"Oh?" I frowned down at my hands. Then it clicked with another louder, "Oh!" Followed by a slower, more quiet, "Oh…" Cheeks warming now, I looked back over at him, "You mean you… that is, against the wall, you've… oh." A pause while my eyes shifted about in my awkwardness. "But wouldn't the headboard get in the-" I stopped, glancing back over my shoulder and answering my own question. "Oh… oh, I see. No headboard. Got it. How very, er..." I cleared my throat and ducked my head to my knees, muffling into them, "...very practical."

I heard him snerk as the beating the wall was taking continued. "You're funny when you're flustered, ya know that?"

My face cranked up the heat dial even further and I scowled.

If you listened closely, the signs of a very steady, very distinct rhythm to the pounding could be heard beginning to take shape.

...I needed to stop listening so closely.

My eyebrows knit together as I then remembered something. "Wait… didn't Saïx say something about noise canceling headphones?"

"Well yeah, so he's not hearing any of this, but he can still see whenever any of the crap on his shelves or any framed pictures or anything else that might be up against his side o' the wall shakes from the impact," he shrugged, halting to puff out a noisy breath and wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. Apparently, he was working up a sweat. Then he grinned brightly, "This is actually kinda fun! Wanna have a go at it?"

I shot him a flat look. "...I think I'm good, thanks."

"You sure?" Another slam. "It's actually pretty satisfying. One might even say cathartic. Got any pent-up aggression you gotta work out?" And another, this one taking the form of a punch. He immediately regretted that one, eliciting a pained hiss as he shook out his now reddening fingers.

"Yeah, no," I rapidly shook my head, "no pent-up aggression here. Fresh out." Insert weak chuckle at my lame joke that was neither funny nor an actual joke.

"Suit yourself," he laughed, smacking the wall hard with an open palm this time. Then his back snapped straight and his face lit up, "Oh yeah! Before I forget…" he pivoted to his left, reaching into his messenger bag he'd hung up earlier and rooting around in it.

I snorted, "Done already?"

"Just giving that wall a breather," he said, not looking up from his searching. "We've found some other surface to bear the brunt of all our lovemaking for now, but we'll probably be back to this one later."

Oh gosh. Way to go, mouth, you just had to ask, didn't you? Just when my cheeks had begun settling down too.

"Ah! Found it!" he triumphantly pulled something out of the bag. Flopping back down to once more lay flat on the bed beside me, he held it out towards me, "Pour vous, ma petite amie jolie."

I squinted at the booklet in his hand. Or more precisely, a catalog. "Twilight University?" I read the bold lettering as I reached out to take it, staring at the image on the cover of a handful of young adults gathered around in a small circle of desks and looking photogenically excited about education.

"Yup! It's the course listings for next semester at my college. Lookie here," he opened the booklet up, leaving it propped in my hands as he started thumbing through it quickly. "Ah, there!" he stopped on a page, resting his head on my shoulder as he pointed to one of several listings that had been circled here. "They offer a few different introductory drama classes ya might be interested in."

I blinked down at the catalog as vague memories of a conversation I'd had with Lea last time I was here to help him study started coming back to me. "...you remembered?" I asked quietly.

"'Course!" I could feel his cheek pull into a smile against my shoulder. "It seemed important to you, so how could I forget?"

Honestly? I myself had forgotten. But to be fair, I had had a lot on my mind the past couple weeks, what with suddenly having a boyfriend now (pretend or otherwise), trying to figure out how to make a proper show of being a girlfriend, and stressing out over the all too soon to come visit with my parents. Frankly, my life had been turned upside down as of late and had become the very definition of insanity. There had just quite simply been no time to think about childhood fantasies of singing and performing in musicals.

But I guess… right here, right now in Lea's room, I had a bit of a reprieve. I mean, it's not like there was anything exactly pressing at this very moment, nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow at least. I suppose I had a few seconds I could spare to entertain the thought. It couldn't hurt anything…

"...so where is Twilight University exactly?" I stretched my legs out to lay flat on the mattress, crossing my ankles and resting the open booklet down in my lap. "Is it close to my apartment?"

He hummed low in thought. "Probably a bit too far if you're on foot. But maybe we could carpool there. And hey," he lifted his head to glance over at me, "I still got a free elective course or two that I need to take. I could enroll in the class with ya!"

I felt a grin tugging at one corner of my lips as I looked back down at the catalog, absently trailing my fingers down one of the circled paragraphs. "I think I'd like that…"

"Yeah?" he asked softly and for a second I thought I might have sensed him leaning in a little closer. But it must have just been in my head, for now he was pulling away to flop over onto his back on his side of the bed once again, making a small cough into his fist. "I, uh… talked to my friends too. The ones who run the local community theater. You're in luck! They're between shows at the moment and are actually gonna be holding auditions soon for their next one. Sometime this week, I think. It's a musical too!"

"Really?" I returned my gaze to him, closing the booklet but using a finger to hold the page. A sigh then escaped me as I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, "I don't know… I doubt I'm ready for anything like that."

Lea shook his head with a chuckle, "Ready for what? Just to talk to 'em? It's not like you actually hafta audition or anything. Nah, you can just head down, meet them, get some deets… maybe find out the where and the when so you can go and just watch other people tryout, ya know? Just get a feel for it, if you want."

He made a good point. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. I could go and just ask some questions, that's all. Surely, there would be no harm in that. "Maybe…"

"Well if you do decide you wanna drop in for a lil chat with them, their day job is over at Halloween Town in the mall. They should both be on the clock there around noon tomorrow. Ask for Jack or Sally and just tell 'em I sent ya," he jabbed a thumb into his chest with a big grin, "got it memorized?"

"Jack or Sally… okay," I nodded, responding with a small smile of my own. "I might do that. Thanks, Lea."

"Always happy to be of service! Now," he hopped up off the bed and made his way over to one of his shelves that was pure anarchy incarnate, "whaddya think? You up for a movie?"

The corners of my eyes crinkled and I set the catalog aside on the nightstand. "I could be. What are the options?"

He rubbed his chin, scrutinizing the mess crammed into the rack before pulling out a couple DVD cases, one from the top shelf and the other from somewhere in the middle. He held them up in either hand for me, "I'm thinking either Sixteen Candles or The Labyrinth. Thoughts?"

I looked between the two choices. Then my eyes scanned about the room and I frowned. "I'm thinking it's going to be hard to watch either of them without a TV."

"Without a-?" he blinked a couple times, looking over to his right. Then he sighed, "Hang on a sec," as he tossed the movies down onto the foot of the bed and made his way over to another towering pile of clothes against the wall directly across the room from his bed. "Watch and be amazed as I make a flat screen appear outta thin air in three… two…" he whipped the garments aside with a flourish, revealing the television beneath, "Ta-da!"

"Ah," I gave a polite clap and settled more comfortably down into his pillows, "I stand corrected. Though who needs movies when we have your amazing wizardry to keep us entertained?"

He scratched the back of his head, "Heh, it'd be a short magic show. 'Fraid I just got the one trick up my sleeve."

"Too bad." I paused, eyeing the DVD cases. "Make it a double feature?"

He snapped his fingers and snatched them both back up.

"Girl after my own heart. Pure genius."

Author's Note: Ah, yet another classic cliché for the books: our couple encounters one room, one bed for the night xD Also, fun fact: I started out this chapter stumped for what they should be talking about over dinner. Then I asked my bestie, who simply said: "gummi ships." And I just laughed it off at first, all "naw, that wouldn't make sense for this AU." But then it churned in my mind for a few minutes and I was like "wait… no… I think I can make this work…" And thus the Global Union for Multigalactic Mobility Investigation aka GUMMI Space Program aka NASA rip-off was born xD And further thus, Lea being an alien conspiracy-nut JUST for the sake of pissing of his space-loving half-bro was born xP Anyhoo! For those of you who haven't seen Frozen 2 yet (for shame, it's SO good, I demand you go out and watch it THIS INSTANT), Bruni the salamander is from that! He's a fire spirit in the movie with legit fire powers, so I got excited to give the fire boi a fire lizard for a pet! Also, maybe you can start to see the inklings of actual plot starting to sneak back into this story xD Slowly, we'll get back on course, but not before at least one more hijinks-y misadventure takes place… hehehe…

What does the next chapter hold in store for out couple? What new challenges could their budding fake relationship face? Is Elsa really going to pursue any sort of acting class or community theater? Will Lea ever follow his realtor aspirations he seemed so passionate about? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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dillydedalus · 3 years

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january reading

why does january always feel like it’s 3 months long. anyway here’s what i read in january, feat. poison experts with ocd, ants in your brain, old bolsheviks getting purged, and mountweazels.

city of lies, sam hawke (poison wars #1) this is a perfectly nice fantasy novel about jovan, who serves as essentially a secret guard against poisoning for his city state’s heir and is forced to step up when his uncle (also a secret poison guard) and the ruler are both killed by an unknown poison AND also the city is suddenly under a very creepy siege (are these events related? who knows!) this is all very fine & entertaining & there are some fun ideas, but also... the main character has ocd and SAME HAT SAME HAT. also like the idea of having a very important, secret and potentially fatal job that requires you to painstakingly test everything the ruler/heir is consuming WHILE HAVING OCD is like... such a deliciously sadistic concept. amazing. 3/5

my heart hemmed in, marie ndiaye (translated from french by jordan stump) a strange horror-ish tale in which two married teachers, bastions of upper-middle-class respectability and taste, suddenly find themselves utterly despised by everyone around them, escalating until the husband is seriously injured. through several very unexpected twists, it becomes clear that the couple’s own contempt for anyone not fitting into their world and especially nadia’s hostility and shame about her (implied to be northern african) ancestry is the reason for their pariah status. disturbing, surprising, FUCKED UP IF TRUE (looking back, i no longer really know what i mean by that). 4/5

xenogenesis trilogy (dawn/adulthood rites/imago), octavia e. butler octavia butler is incapable of writing anything uninteresting and while i don’t always completely vibe with her stuff, it’s always fascinating & thought-provoking. this series combines some of her favourite topics (genetic manipulation, alien/human reproduction, what is humanity) into a tale of an alien species, the oankali, saving some human survivors from the apocalypse and beginning a gene-trading project with them, integrating them into their reproductive system and creating mixed/’construct’ generations with traits from both species. and like, to me, this was uncomfortably into the biology = destiny thing & didn’t really question the oankali assertion that humans were genetically doomed to hierarchical behaviour & aggression (& also weirdly straight for a book about an alien species with 3 genders that engages in 5-partner-reproduction with humans), so that angle fell flat for me for the most part, altho i suppose i do agree that embracing change, even change that comes at a cost, is better than clinging to an unsustainable (& potentially destructive) purity. where i think the series is most interesting is in its exploration of consent and in how far consent is possible in extremely one-sided power dynamics (curiously, while the oankali condemn and seem to lack the human drive for hierarchy, they find it very easy to abuse their position of power & violate boundaries & never question the morality of this. in this, the first book, focusing on a human survivor first encountering the oankali and learning of their project, is the most interesting, as lilith as a human most explicitly struggles with her position - would her consent be meaningful? can she even consent when there is a kind of biochemical dependence between humans and their alien mates? the other two books, told from the perspectives of lilith’s constructed/mixed children, continue discussing themes of consent, autonomy and power dynamics, but i found them less interesting the further they moved from human perspectives. on the whole: 2.5/5

love & other thought experiments, sophie ward man, we love a pierre menard reference. anyway. this is a novel in stories, each based (loosely) on a thought experiment, about (loosely) a lesbian couple and their son arthur, illness and grief, parenthood, love, consciousness and perception, alternative universes, and having an ant in your brain. it is thoroughly delightful & clever, but goes for warmth and humanity (or ant-ity) over intellectual games (surprising given that it is all about thought experiments - but while they are a nice structuring device i don’t think they add all that much). i haven’t entirely worked out my feelings about the ending and it’s hard to discuss anyway given the twists and turns this takes, but it's a whole lot of fun. 4/5

a general theory of oblivion, josé eduardo agualusa (tr. from portuguese by daniel hahn) interesting little novel(la) set in angola during and after the struggle for independence, in which a portuguese woman, ludo, with extreme agoraphobia walls herself into her apartment to avoid the violence and chaos (but also just... bc she has agoraphobia) with a involving a bunch of much more active characters and how they are connected to her to various degrees. i didn’t like the sideplot quite as much as ludo’s isolation in her walled-in flat with her dog, catching pigeons on the balcony and writing on the walls. 3/5

cassandra at the wedding, dorothy baker phd student cassandra returns home attend (sabotage) her twin sister judith’s wedding to a young doctor whose name she refuses to remember, believing that her sister secretly wants out. cass is a mess, and as a shift to judith’s perspective reveals, definitely wrong about what judith wants and maybe a little delusional, but also a ridiculously compelling narrator, the brilliant but troubled contrast to judith’s safer conventionality. on the whole, cassandra’s narrative voice is the strongest feature of a book i otherwise found a bit slow & a bit heavy on the quirky family. fav line is when cass, post-character-development, plans to “take a quick look at [her] dumb thesis and see if it might lead to something less smooth and more revolting, or at least satisfying more than the requirements of the University”. 3/5

the office of historical corrections, danielle evans a very solid collection of realist short stories (+ the titular novella), mainly dealing with racism, (black) womanhood, relationships between women, and anticolonial/antiracist historiography. while i thought all the stories were well-done and none stood out as weak or an unnecessary inclusion, there also weren’t any that really stood out to me. 3/5

sonnenfinsternis, arthur koestler (english title: darkness at noon) (audio) you know what’s cool about this book? when i added it to my goodreads tbr in 2012, i would have had to read it in translation as the german original was lost during koestler’s escape from the nazis, but since then, the original has been rediscovered and republished. yet another proof that leaving books on your tbr for ages is a good thing actually. anyway. this is a story about the stalinist purges, told thru old bolshevik rubashov, who, after serving the Party loyally for years & doing his fair share of selling people out for the Party, is arrested for ~oppositional activities. in jail and during his interrogations, rubashov reflects on the course the Party has taken and his own part (and guilt) in that, and the way totalitarianism has eaten up and poisoned even the most commendable ideals the Party once held (and still holds?), the course of history and at what point the end no longer justifies the means. it’s brilliant, rubashov is brilliant and despicable, i’m very happy it was rediscovered. 5/5

heads of the colored people, nafissa thompson-spires another really solid short story collection, also focused on the experiences of black people in america (particularly the black upper-middle class), black womanhood and black relationships, altho with a somewhat more satirical tone than danielle evans’s collection. standouts for me were the story in letters between the mothers of the only black girls at a private school, a story about a family of fruitarians, and a story about a girl who fetishises her disabled boyfriend(s). 3.5/5

pedro páramo, juan rulfo (gernan transl. by dagmar ploetz) mexican classic about a rich and abusive landowner (the titular pedro paramo) and the ghost town he leaves behind - quite literally, as, when his son tries to find his father, the town is full of people, quite ready to talk shit about pedro, but they are all dead. it’s an interesting setting with occasionally vivid writing, but the skips in time and character were kind of confusing and i lost my place a lot. i’d be interested in reading rulfo’s other major work, el llano en llamas. 2.5/5

verse für zeitgenossen, mascha kaléko short collection of the poems kaléko, a jewish german poet, wrote while in exile in the united states in the 30-40s, as well as some poems written after the end of ww2. kaléko’s voice is witty, but at turns also melancholy or satirical. as expected i preferred the pieces that directly addressed the experience of exile (”sozusagen ein mailied” is one of my favourite exillyrik pieces). 3/5

the harpy, megan hunter yeah this was boooooooring. the cover is really cool & the premise sounded intriguing (women gets cheated on, makes deal with husband that she is allowed to hurt him three times in revenge, women is also obsessed with harpies: female revenge & female monsters is my jam) but it’s literally so dull & trying so hard to be deep. 1.5/5

the liar’s dictionary, eley williams this is such a delightful book, from the design (those marbled endpapers? yes) to the preface (all about what a dictionary is/could be), to the chapter headings (A-Z words, mostly relating to lies, dishonesty, etc in some way or another, containing at least one fictitious entry), to the dual plots (intern at new edition of a dictionary in contemporary england checking the incomplete old dictionary for mountweazels vs 1899 london with the guy putting the mountweazels in), to williams’s clear joy about words and playing with them. there were so many lines that made me think about how to translate them, which is always a fun exercise. 3.5/5

catherine the great & the small, olja knežević (tr. from montenegrin by ellen elias-bursać, paula gordon) coming-of-age-ish novel about katarina from montenegro, who grows up in titograd/podgorica and belgrad in the 70s/80s, eventually moving to london as an adult. to be honest while there are some interesting aspects in how this portrays yugoslavia and conflicts between the different parts of yugoslavia, i mostly found this a pretty sloggy slog of misery without much to emotionally connect to, which is sad bc i was p excited for it :(. 2/5

the decameron project: 29 new stories from the pandemic, anthology a collection of short stories written during covid lockdown (and mostly about covid/lockdown in some way). they got a bunch of cool authors, including margaret atwood, edwidge danticat, rachel kushner ... it’s an interesting project and the stories are mostly pretty good, but there wasn’t one that really stood out to me as amazing. i also kinda wish more of the stories had diverged more from covid/lockdown thematically bc it got a lil repetitive tbh. 2/5

#the books i read #long post #sonnenfinsternis is so good the audiobook nearly made me cry in the supermarket

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rhetorical-ink · 4 years

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Rhetorical Ink Reviews: Cats 2019

Also known as, “The Movie That Nearly Broke Me.”

**PURRRRFECTLY PLACED SPOILERS BELOW**

Okay, so my best friend and I saw this film today on New Year’s Eve -- it was $5 movie day at the theater and we had heard it was bad. What a better way to cap off this year and decade, right?

To set the scene, the woman at the ticket counter commented, “I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard mixed reviews.” Another employee said, as we were about to walk in the theater, “I heard it was pretty bad.” Votes of confidence all around, y’all.

Little did I know what was about to happen. I could easily do a Top Twenty WTF moments of this movie....which is exactly what I’m going to do.

My Top TWENTY (because it’s needed) Thoughts on Cats the Movie:

20. Meeting Victoria

The movie starts with a cat being dumped in an alley -- this is Victoria, a humanoid (more on that below) cat that is reluctantly approached by the rest of the alley cats. They question whether she will fit in as a “Jellicle Cat,” and we get an instant music number where they describe all of the traits of a Jellicle Cat, which we can assume is their “Group” or “Tribe.” The only point that is slightly odd is that their “traits” that define a Jellicle Cat...are basically traits of all cats. Is this group just unaware? Is this a cult? More. On. This. Be-Low.

19. Munkustrap

So, my favorite cat in this whole thing is Munkustrap -- or rather, the actor playing Munkustrap. Seriously, this man is giving 10000% and after researching, you find out he is a Tony-nominated ballet dancer --- IT MAKES SENSE. If you can get a chance to watch this -- watch his movement and facial expressions in every scene. The man is clawing up the scenery and his intensity is terrifying.

18. And Then...There’s Rebel Wilson.

Okay, speaking of terrifying. About 10 minutes into the movie, we’re introduced to Rebel Wilson. If you’ve watched the trailers and seen her -- those are the TAME scenes. Seriously, my friend and I were questioning whether this film was okay or bad, and then...Rebel Wilson is introduced.

Her musical number made me say out loud, “WTF” about seven times. There is nothing I can do to prepare you for animated mice with children faces or cockroaches with female faces who are being eaten alive by a furry Rebel Wilson. If people walked out at this point, I would not have blamed them 1%.

17. James Corden and Rebel Wilson Don’t Fit In This Movie.

In all fairness, much of the cast are ballet or dancers and Broadway voices -- which is great for a musical. James Corden and Rebel Wilson completely throw off the tone of the film. Their jokes are not humorous, and both characters rely on self-deprecation...their scenes are probably among the strangest in the film, and completely ruin the tone of the film as it goes.

16. Jason Derulo Had His Genitals Digitally Removed.

So, I read a headline last week with that information leaked, and that clung to my mind the entire time Derulo sings as his character, Rum Tug Tugger...to be fair, he is a great voice and his song was catchy. But... once you know, you won’t get that image out of your mind as you watch.

15. The Twins are Creepy...and Boring.

Victoria stumbles upon two twin calico cats that mischievously rummage around a house -- before stirring up the house dog and abandoning Victoria. Their song isn’t bad -- it’s almost catchy -- but the scene goes on sooooo long, that it’s probably the only music number that drags and just feels overly long.

14. Proportions are....not a thing?

One thing you may notice in the gifs are that proportions for these cats are odd -- in the scene with the twins, Victoria holds up a gown, and it’s as big as her, but in the next shot, she is wearing a human ring as a bracelet.

This happens throughout the movie, as the proportions are never proper. Sometimes the cats seem normal sized in comparison to the man-made props around them. And at other times, they seem the same size as humans or the size of the creepy human-faced mice. The inconsistency is instantly noticeable.

13. Victoria doesn’t...talk...much.

I’m not sure if this is addressed in the actual Broadway production, but in the movie, Victoria rarely speaks. Perhaps she is just a voice for the audience, but most of her action in the movie is through expression and dancing alone. Which is fine, I suppose, but as a protagonist, her lack of voice creates a lack of agency, and so when she is integral to the plot of Grisabella (Jennifer Hudson’s character), it seems a little forced.

By this point, I’m sure I seem like this review is pretty tame...well, now let’s dive into the bonkers points that happen from here on out in this film, because it gets BONKERS.

12. Judy Dench and those Toenails

As you have probably noticed in the trailer, these cats have very humanoid features -- what you probably miss is that their hands and feet are UNEDITED. Meaning, that while you’re looking at a digital cat on screen, these digital cats have HUMAN hands and feet. At one point, Judy Dench’s purple toenail polish is present -- Jennifer Hudson’s perfect plum manicure is noticeable, too -- and Judy’s wedding ring is visible in most shots.

It really makes me question how in the WORLD these shots got into a final product -- or why they released this film if it wasn’t complete...was there a deadline to make it before the new year? This is SO distracting that it took up a lot of my time watching the film.

11. Hands, all the human feet and hands...

Additionally, these are very humanoid cats -- I understand that the Musical on Broadway is just people in cat suits, but if you’re going to the extreme of creating entirely CGI characters --- why not make them literal cats? Instead of these weird alien-like creatures who sometimes wear clothing and sometimes are nude well, basically with a thin layer of fur on them?

10. Ian McClellan

Similar to Munkustrap, Sir -- SIR -- Ian McClellan gives his small role 100%, even down to acting VERY cat-like throughout. He can’t sing well, though. Better than Russell Crowe, but no Judy Dench, who also hams up her performance, well, at least until the ending.

9. Taylor Swift and the Musical Number that Actually Works

In all honesty, Taylor Swift’s musical number introducing the villain of the piece, whom we’ve seen throughout the entire production, so I’m not sure why we’re doing this, but here we are --

--ahem, anyway, her musical number is one of the best, but it’s still a mind trip, as she basically sprinkles catnip on the crew and they all start writhing on screen.

Also, did they make her breasts larger? Is that a thing? Is it just me?

8. MaCavity and Things I Can’t Unsee

Idris Elba plays the villainous MaCavity, who has been trying to one-by-one pick off the cats that could qualify as “chosen” by Judy Dench. His role is a basically hammy one, but it gets worse...

At the start of the movie, he has a cap and trench coat that make him look extra villainous, but as he’s revealed by Swift’s cat, he ditches these garments.

It was hard to find a gif of this, but it’s basically a naked Idris Elba with a tail...and if you’re thinking to yourself, “Oh, that sounds hot!” No, no it is not. It was disturbing and I won’t ever be able to watch this actor without seeing him with a thin layer of fur all over him.

7. The Magical Mr. Mistoffelees...

As you’ve probably noticed at this point, the “Plot” if it can be called that is practically non-existent in this movie. The only elements of action we get are that Macavity is trying to kidnap the other cats so he can be chosen by Judy Dench’s cat, Deuteronomy.

Unfortunately, Dench vows not to choose him, so he kidnaps her...to...change...her mind? It doesn’t make sense, and he even threatens her life if she doesn’t pick him. If he kills her, how will that help him get picked?

In any case, Mr. Mistoffelees, who has THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE MOVIE told everyone that he’s a “magical” cat and can do magic, is suddenly asked if he can bring Deuteronomy back through magic....and he’s NOT SURE IF HE IS CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO DO SO.

It’s such a cop out and leads to an overly long song about everyone telling him he can do magic, until he finally does the thing and brings Judy Dench back to the other Jellicle Cats.

I don’t mind Mr. Mistoffelees’s character, but don’t tell us you’re one thing the entire movie and then “puss out” (pun absolutely intended at this point) on the very identity feature you’ve drilled into our brains.

6. Suspension of Belief...and Physics...

In addition to the proportions being off in this entire movie, so is the suspension of physics and belief, especially after Mr. Mistoffelees brings back Deuteronomy.

You can see in the gif below that magic starts happening everywhere to celebrate (glad we’re confident of our abilities NOW) and later with Grisabella and the climax, there’s a huge shift from reality to fantasy. Movie, what ARE YOU?!

5. Grisabella’s Plight?

Jennifer Hudson’s cat, Grisabella, is portrayed as an outcast who comes crawling (literally) back to the Jellicle Cats...it’s not clear whether she is wanting the chance to be chosen or not. But the other cats hate her and shun her...except the newbie, Victoria. She convinces Grisabella to come back and sing to the other cats her story. Which she does, and this changes everyone’s mind, including Deuteronomy’s.

My issue is...what did Grisabella do? Other than run off with Macavity, who never even addresses her in the movie, what did she do? Why do the cats hate her? We never really learn this, which makes it just seem like hollow bullying. And maybe that’s it, but if it is, there needed to be SOMETHING more to give us a reason to care about Grisabella and her plight in the film.

4. “MEMMMMMORRRRIIIIEEEESSSS!!”

Okay, yes, J. Hud. can sing. REALLY, really well. And the climax of “Memories” is done well -- it’s just....not as good as Elaine Page. There. I said it -- I’ve only seen that number from the original Broadway show, but it’s true. Page knocks it out of the park.

I think part of the problem is that the movie doesn’t let Hudson go all out -- she does that dramatic musical moment, but then her voice and the song is restrained and just peters off...you don’t hold Jennifer Hudson back in a solo, ya here?

3. Trading a Tire for a Hot Air Balloon

In the original musical, Grisabella is chosen to be reborn and rides away from the set on a tire -- which begs the question: Is this a representation that she was run over? Is that how she is “reborn?” It would be an interesting concept to think about, but here, they just fix up the chandelier (through magic, or whatever at this point) and it becomes a hot air balloon that carries her away. Any possible conversation that could be created in this moment is sacrificed for a magical deus ex machina...and I hate it.

2. Judy Dench Came For Our Souls, Y’All

The resolution of this film is what killed my brain.

Judy Dench looks DIRECTLY into the camera,

DIRECTLY into our souls,

and proceeds to give a lengthy and unnecessary review of why cat names are important -- which really has been the thesis of this movie, hasn’t it?

There is an interjected chorus between her speaking, but seriously, this ending is longer than Return of the King -- and her looking right at us the audience only made me feel more and more uncomfortable -- to the point where I was laughing, and crying, and feeling like a puddle of mush.

1. My Mouth During This Whole Film...

...Was agape. Seriously, this movie is not just bad; it’s unfinished, confused on its adaptation, and just bonkers. The only things that possibly work are the vocals, with the exception of McClellan, but the lyrics and premises are just so bizarre that good singing can’t save your brain being completely confused as to what it’s watching.

If you can get a cheap seat, or go to a $5 cinema like I did, you could see this with a group of friends as a joke.

But otherwise, AVOID this. It’s the 2010′s version of The Room.

Perhaps fun to watch as a cult film when it’s free on streaming later, but not worth the money now, sadly.

#Cats #Cats 2019 #Cats the Movie #Munkustrap #rum tug tugger #Macavity #Taylor Swift #Rebel Wilson #Victoria #Jennifer Hudson #Judy Dench #Ian McClellan #Mr. Mistoffelees #nightmare fuel #James Corden #Rhetorical Ink Reviews #Rhetorical Ink

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jeongyunhoed · 4 years

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You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: Thus ends the series! Thank you for enjoying this whole weird, creepy set of stories. I’ll be posting the episode references in a bit after this. I hope you enjoy this last chapter all the same too.

IX. An Alien in Human’s Clothing - Final

10:30 p.m.

Two detectives, Park Seonghwa and Choi Jongho got out of the car, feet immediately sinking into the thick carpet of snow caused by the blizzard that was currently over their heads. They were at a diner, one of those themed eating places that were trendy nowadays to investigate a woman’s call of having seen something unusual in the skies and land in the same area as the diner. On the way, they did notice an unusual set of footprints nearby, indicating their suspicion, and they knew to follow it, coincidentally leading to the diner as well. Jongho glanced back to where the footprints came from, and he saw it came from the frozen pond nearby. The ice appeared to have been disturbed. He quickly followed Seonghwa, not wanting to stay in one place any longer.

They noticed a bus also parked nearby and saw that the passengers of the bus must have stopped over to eat or get something to drink or at the very most, wait for the blizzard to blow over before continuing their journey.

They quietly stepped in, shaking the snow off their shoulders while scanning the entire place. There were two couples seated on tables next to each other, one was sitting on the stool right in front of the cash register playing with what looked like a stuffed dog, one dressed in corporate attire and looking impatient, one woman in a thick coat and a dress was sitting by herself and drinking coffee, one whom they could assume was the bus driver reading an e-book on his phone, and the diner clerk himself, whose nametag read Kang Yeosang, serving coffee to the one seated in front of him.

Seonghwa and Jongho exchanged looks, partly wondering if what they were thinking of doing made sense. They could’ve easily dismissed the suspicion from the call they received, yet they knew better not to do that. “Excuse me” Seonghwa announced, and held up his badge. Jongho showed his own badge as well. “I’m detective Park Seonghwa, this is my partner detective Choi Jongho. Can we ask whose bus is parked outside?”

As they expected, the man reading the e-book in his table raised his hand. “That’s mine.” He said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Mingi, Song Mingi. Is there anything wrong?” He asked.

“The blizzard closed up the bridge,” Jongho said.

“That’s a pity, I can’t turn back either because the snow blocked one of the safer roads,” The driver said.

“Looks like we’re all stuck here” Yeosang spoke.

“Until morning anyway,” Seonghwa said.

“Until morning? I have an early meeting, I can’t wait until morning,” The man in corporate wear said irritably.

“Do you have a name?” Jongho said.

“I’m Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong” The man responded.

“That bus isn’t going anywhere until the ones in charge clear out the bridge or at least fix it” Mingi argued. “If you can’t wait, then you might as well walk or book another ride” He added.

“Until then, all of you should try and get comfortable, eat a good meal, we can’t leave here until the roads are cleared which could take hours,” Seonghwa said.

“Oh, get comfortable, he said,” Hongjoong snapped. “My meeting tomorrow morning is a very important one, I am in the middle of closing this big deal and if I don’t show up, the deal will be off,” He huffed. He turned to the driver. “Don’t you care about your schedules?” He said.

“I wouldn’t take out my frustrations on these guys. They don’t control the weather or when bridges become unpassable. All of this is beyond our control, beyond anyone’s control” The driver explained.

Seonghwa and Jongho exchanged looks. They were reminded of why they were there. The atmosphere felt odd, a lot more unusual than what would typically be expected from getting stranded all of a sudden. “What do you think?” Jongho glanced at the taller.

“They were all on the bus, right?” Seonghwa mumbled to his partner.

“Are you two looking for anyone?” Yeosang asked them.

Seonghwa and Jongho went over to Mingi. “Do you have a list of passengers?” Seonghwa asked.

The driver looked taken aback. “A list of passengers? I’m not driving a commercial airline, why would I have a list of passengers?” He said. “That’s an old bus and business hasn’t been good. If my boss wanted to, he’d probably have me pilot a spacecraft to the moon or something if he knew it would make money.”

“Do you at least know how many passengers you are transporting?” Jongho asked this time.

The driver looked around. “I know I’m supposed to drive six people. Just six” He said.

“Just six? No one fell out, then someone must have stowed away” Seonghwa scanned the room again.

Mingi turned to look at his passengers, somehow feeling suspicious. “I just know I have six people on the bus with me. Seven, including me” He said.

Jongho approached Yeosang at the counter, thanking him for the cup of coffee. “Was there anyone who was already in here before the bus arrived?” He asked.

Yeosang shook his head. “I haven’t served anyone since lunchtime, I figured all of them came in at the same time” He replied.

“There wasn’t anyone in here when we came in either” Mingi added.

“Then how are there seven people?” Seonghwa glanced at the rest of them. “Which one of you wasn’t on the bus?”

“We were all on the bus” Hongjoong replied. “What is this? Are we being interrogated? If I’m going to go through further questioning, then can I call my lawyer?” He asked.

The man on the counter laughed. “Funny, he wants to book a ride and now he wants a lawyer,” He said. “Shiber, isn’t it funny?” He turned back to his stuffed dog.

“Look, I’m going to be late for my early meeting. What difference does it make how many people were on the bus or who was on the bus?” Hongjoong complained.

“Hey, relax. What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked the two detectives.

“Did you hear anything unusual fly over here then?” Seonghwa turned to the clerk.

Yeosang shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. What do you mean fly over?”

“We got a call two hours ago, something about an unidentified flying object. We found tracks coming from the pond and stopped here,” Jongho explained.

“An unidentified flying object?” Yeosang was in disbelief. “Like those flying saucers? That’s crazy, it’s as crazy as finding a floor in a department store that doesn’t exist, or as crazy as getting on a ghost ship, or as insane as finding a gremlin outside of a moving plane!” He chuckled.

“Or as crazy as finding a place full of statues that turn out to be dead people,” The man on the counter chimed in.

“Or as crazy as these two detectives thinking that there’s an alien in here” Hongjoong added, sarcasm evident in his tone.

They looked surprised. “Wooyoung, I’m getting scared,” The woman said to her husband, who held her close.

Mingi raised a brow. “Then it should only mean one of us in here is,” He paused, seeing the expressions on their faces.

“That’s impossible. We would’ve seen them come in,” Hongjoong said, side-eyeing everyone.

Seonghwa turned to Yeosang. “If you have a back door, please lock it,” He said.

“It’s already locked. If there is an alien, like you said, they would probably know how to get in here without even opening the door” Yeosang remarked.

“All of you are suspicious, especially him” The man on the counter pointed to Hongjoong. “He’s the most suspicious of us all,” He said.

“Oh really? I don’t remember seeing you on the bus,” Hongjoong raised a brow at him.

“I don’t remember seeing you either”

“Well, I know how you start looking, you pair off the couples,” The woman sitting alone suddenly spoke. “Since it’s just one person who’s the odd one out, pair off the couples.”

“Then we’re in the clear” The couple sitting in the corner booth said.

“Us too,” The one known as Wooyoung raised a hand. “My wife and I” He turned to her and noticed how she was staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I think, have you not had a mole on your chin?” She asked.

Wooyoung gave her a look. “Jea, I never had a mole on my chin,” He said.

“Okay, this is getting too far, I know what’s going to happen, we’ll all end up suspecting each other, pointing out every unusual thing about the other out of suspicion” The man stood up. “I’m Jeong Yunho, this is my wife Mirae, we’ve been married for years,” He sat back down, moving closer to his wife, whom he noticed was staring at him. “Hey, before you say anything, we’ve known each other since we were kids, we’ve been dating since middle school, I think that’s a good amount of time for someone to know whom they’ve been with,” He pointed out.

“Years? You two married early?” The man on the counter looked at them suspiciously. “Maybe you’re wearing masks! Or you’re immortal! Check their coats for extra arms! Pull their wigs off!” He cackled.

“Can you shut it?” Mirae glared at him.

Seonghwa and Jongho rounded on him. “What’s your name?” They asked.

“I’m San! Choi San! Shiber is my dog!” He showed them the stuffed animal in his backpack.

“Do you have any ID with you?” Jongho said.

“I-uh,” San looked through his things. “My sister’s got the rest of my stuff, she’s taking a later bus ride,” He said.

“Who sang Growl?” Seonghwa narrowed in on him.

“I-I-I know! EXO!” San raised his hand. “EXO!” He hummed the song. The woman hummed along with him.

“What about you, miss? Do you have any ID?” Seonghwa turned to the woman sitting alone.

“I-I well, sorry, I actually don’t. I left my wallet in one of the boxes I had moved ahead. I only have my coin purse with me,” She replied with a sheepish look.

“What’s your name?”

“Jihye. Na Jihye. I’m a dancer” She replied.

“Check her for extra legs!” San squealed. “Look under the table! Check her for extra legs!”

“I’m going to belt you if you don’t drop it” Jihye shot at him.

“She was on the bus” Mingi suddenly commented. He glanced over at her. “She’s the only one I noticed.”

Jihye smiled. “Thank you” and he smiled back.

“Did you really count heads?” Jongho turned back to Mingi.

“Yes! I probably only noticed her, but I am telling you I counted heads! Six people, no more, no less” Mingi was beginning to get annoyed.

“Is this some sort of hidden camera prank?” Hongjoong grumbled.

Seonghwa and Jongho turned to Jihye, but before they could speak, the jukebox in the corner by the door started playing. The lights began to flicker. “What’s going on? Did you-” Mingi glanced at Yeosang, who shook his head.

The music stopped and the lights went back to normal. Mingi transferred to Jihye’s table. “Whoever’s doing this, just come forward and admit it now,” Wooyoung said.

“It must have been the power. It’s snowing out there after all” Yeosang looked out the window, but whipped around to look up as the lights were flickering again, and the jukebox resumed playing. Mingi and Jihye yelled as the sugar dispenser in front of them exploded.

Yunho covered Mirae when the dispenser on their table burst as well, and Wooyoung did the same with Jea, the two of them yelling when their dispenser burst. Seonghwa and Jongho held out their firearms in an alert. “That’s enough! Whoever’s doing this!” Mingi said irritably but calmed down when Jihye rubbed his arm.

“It’s not funny anymore! Stop it!” Jea was on the verge of tears.

“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Seonghwa cut in. “We don’t quite understand what’s going on in here ourselves, but we can’t leave this place until the bridges are cleared”

Hongjoong turned to Mingi. “Once it does, you will be driving us all the way, no stops whatsoever,” He said.

“Hey, you’re probably some hotshot where you’re from but I know when bridges aren’t safe to cross more than you” Mingi snapped.

“He’s probably eager to get back to his spaceship” San eyed Hongjoong.

“Said the one who continues to fear monger among us” Hongjoong shot back.

“Just leave him alone,” Jihye spoke.

“I don’t recall you being involved in this conversation” Hongjoong said.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t aware that I had to be invited” Jihye argued.

“Okay! Okay! That’s enough, it’s been a long night, so I suggest we get some rest and wait for the snow to stop, hmm?” Jongho tried to ease the tension. Everyone stopped and calmed down. Seonghwa went to the side to try and contact their superior officers. “When all this is over, we’ll be laughing about it years from now” He added quietly.

6 a.m.

Seonghwa and Jongho watched over everyone that slept and noticed that the snow had stopped. Both of them were on their fifth cup of coffee that they poured themselves as Yeosang had dozed off in the back room, the door open for them to easily see what he was doing. “The snow’s stopped,” Jongho said.

“But are the bridges cleared up by now?” Seonghwa looked out the window. There was still a thick carpet of snow covering the ground and the roads leading to the bridge. He could see a glimpse of trucks moving away from the entrance. “Looks like it too.”

“Great, should we go now? I’ve got three hours left until my meeting and I don’t want to miss it” Hongjoong said.

“I don’t think we should. There’s something about that bridge that doesn’t sit right with me. Must be the suspension or something, but I don’t know if it’s safe to cross” Mingi shook his head.

“If the local engineer says its safe, then its safe, we can even escort you over to the other side” Seonghwa assured him. His phone suddenly rang and he went to the side to answer it. “Hello? Yes, ah, really? Okay, I’ll tell them,” And he hung up. Seonghwa turned to everyone. “That was the engineer, the captain must have given him my number. The engineer said its safe to cross, we can all go ahead now.”

“Leave? Are you sure? You might be letting an alien loose” San said.

“True, but we can’t detain someone on the suspicion of being an alien” Jongho nodded.

“Before you leave, pay for your food first” Yeosang entered the room, having overheard the conversation. The rest of them lined up to pay before leaving, boarding the bus followed by Seonghwa and Jongho, who got in their car, leading the way away from the diner and onto the road.

Yeosang was wiping the tables and counters sometime later. The door opened and to his surprise, it was Hongjoong, who sat down in front of him at the counter and asked for a cup of coffee. “Hey, weren’t you on that bus?” He said, pouring Hongjoong a cup and sliding the smaller sugar dispenser towards him.

“I did, I went on the bus, and that bridge wasn’t safe,” Hongjoong shook his head, stirring his drink. “It collapsed. Everyone, the bus, the detectives, they all sank, it was horrible” He looked down.

“Except you” Yeosang still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Yeah, except me. I guess I’m just lucky” Hongjoong glanced at him before taking a drink.

“Very lucky, but you’re not even wet” Yeosang looked him up and down.

“Wet?” Hongjoong asked. “What’s...wet?”

“What do you mean what’s wet? You were in the bus and the bus sank, you’re supposed to be wet but you’re not, you’re dry,” Yeosang pointed out.

“Oh, well, that’s just an illusion,” Hongjoong said. “ Like the music from that jukebox in the corner, that’s an illusion too” He added. “Or even your mobile phone ringing, also an illusion” He said, and the phone in Yeosang’s pocket suddenly rang as if on his command. The clerk stared at him, and noticed that one arm came out from under his coat, resting its hand on the counter.

“...What are you?”

“Oh, well, before you say anything, I should probably tell you that my name isn’t really Hongjoong, and I never had a meeting to go to,” Hongjoong smiled. “I was kind of sent here on a mission to scout possible places to colonize, and this place on Earth seems perfect, very remote, very isolated, we wouldn’t be calling attention to ourselves. We don’t have anything this nice on Mars, where I come from. It won’t be long before my colleagues will be here. So, why don’t you put on some music while we wait?”

Yeosang’s face softened, and he leaned on the counter. “I don’t mind, I’m actually waiting for something too. My name isn’t really Yeosang, and I agree that this is a great place to colonize. All of us from Venus were thinking the same thing, we got here a few years ago” He smiled. “I should probably tell you that your colleagues won’t be coming either”

“Won’t? You mean they’ve been intercepted?” Hongjoong raised a brow.

“Well, a colony is coming, but it’s a colony from Venus” Yeosang grinned. “And if you’re still alive, you’ll see how we’re very different from each other” He removed his cap, revealing a third eye on his forehead.

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

February 17: 2x07 Catspaw

It’s not Halloween but it is my mom’s birthday so a very good opportunity to watch Catspaw.

So we start with Sulu and Scotty missing on an away mission but why exactly the Enterprise is here and what the away mission was is not explained...

Also speaking of interesting and unusual combos--Scotty and Sulu!

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

I like Uhura’s nails. They go so well with her communications board. Even her job is stylish.

Oooh, possessed dead mannequin crew member warning the ship that it has been cursed?? Very promising.

Also falling like that was an impressive stunt.

Lol Assistant Chief Engineer Dealle is in charge because the first and second in command are going after the third and fourth in command. What would TNG have to say about that??

According to the Amazon trivia, Uhura was supposed to be the next in command and in charge of the ship in this ep but NBC didn’t want a woman in charge and can I just say that if this is true we were ROBBED.

Oooh mysterious fog.

Chekov and his terrible wig. Should have left him in charge.

Also it’s interesting that this is the first Chekov episode in production order and he’s actually not the navigator. He’s Spock’s backup.

This is like a game of telephone: Chekov tells Desalle to tell Uhura to tell Kirk.

This is a very serious, creepy, mysterious opening in a lot of ways (the dead crewman mystery) but I remember this as more of a goofy, silly episode. (But actually upon having now seen the whole thing... it’s more serious than I remembered in its sci fi concepts! I guess I was just remembering the witches lol.)

Honestly those witches... I guess Macbeth is a pretty big part of Earth Lore lol. I think McCoy is alarmed and unsettled by this while Spock is more intrigued and Kirk just thinks it’s dumb.

I love Kirk’s face when Spock’s only comment is “bad poetry.” Hilarious. Like “I love you but please be more helpful. This is Serious Time not time to play games and fuck with me.”

I really like Kirk in this episode. He’s giving off smart, curious explorer vibes. (Although I will say, with the whole episode down... he is very harsh on the aliens. I mean he lost a man in the opening and so he’s not down to clown but still.. I think he overestimates their hostility some.)

Creepy castle. Trick-or-treating. I want the deleted scene where Kirk explains Trick-or-Treating to Spock.

Kirk looks so frustrated by the cat.

“I’m not that green.” Lol.

What a talented cat actor!! Trot trot trot.

“Bones? I mean...the other Bones?” Maybe a different nickname today. That’s a really underrated joke.

I wish they’d picked up on Spock and put some Vulcan horror in there too. (Although I guess creating horror tropes wasn’t exactly their intention...) I wonder what Vulcan subconscious horror is like.

That was actually a pretty cool transition from the dungeon to the dining room.

Kirk would be more impressed with all this if they hadn’t killed someone. He’s never up for fun and games when someone’s dead. He’s very dubious about all of this, especially the cat.

Hmm, they are not native.

Kirk’s face just screams: “So the cat...is talking...to you?” (Actually you know what, I do think it’s very interesting that Korob can understand Sylvia even when she’s speaking in a different language.)

I bet young Spocks read about wizards and familiars and was super taken with the idea.

I don’t believe for one second that Spock’s thoughts are black and white lol. This decadent bitch? No way.

None of this is Kirk’s interest. Illusions, weird tricks, people who don’t give straight answers. This is not the way to impress him or make him want to help you in any way.

McCoy the jewel expert. These look real!

You like shiny stuff right humans? Pretty crystalline forms for you?? Not in a post-scarcity utopia!

McCoy has just realized this woman IS the cat.

Hmmm, telepathy, like Spock’s?

I want that Enterprise necklace!!

“You do with your minds what we do with tools.”

Lol at Kirk thinking he’s won because he can send another search party. Like... how’d the last search party work out for you?

Mmm, Kirk looking at the necklace. That’s some Acting.

Credits to navy beans.

“An Earthman like yourself...”

These aliens are very interesting. Very, totally alien, as Spock says. This idea that they tried to read the humans’ minds and missed their target is just so cool. Like, they weren’t trying to create a weird Halloween experience, they thought they were creating a familiar home for the aliens. “Oh, a castle, just like home!”

So it sounds like this planet is not that far away from Earth. The aliens are coming closer...

Haha Sylvia says she’s not a puppet but ironically--she is exactly, literally a puppet.

I’m just going to say it: Sylvia is one of the best female characters in TOS. Like should I be insulted that the lady alien went insane and emotional and messed everything up? Probably but I prefer to think of it as her being intrigued and invested in her own power and possibilities and then she goes overboard.

Anyway this is Macbeth whoops

“You torture our specimens.”

So what is their mission??

Hmm, she’s really into Kirk. And he knows just how to manipulate her: telling her she’s not really a woman, she’s not real, then transitioning into Honeypot Mode.

“I can be many women,” she says and just puts on different wigs.

Whoops she found his conscious mind. So much for manipulating her.

And so the familiar becomes the wizard.

This is sad; they could have become friends with the aliens. Korob doesn’t seem so bad.

Big cat!! Really big cat! Not the most terrifying creature at all; the nicest and softest. I'm not convinced that cat is big; I think it's pretty obvious the hallway is just small. However, I like the idea. I wish I had a super big cat to be friends with.

[Cat screams continue]

“Well at least we found them.”

Spock is so unruffled. "Hmmm, this is most unpleasant. If only we had some kind of weapon or something..."

“I got the transmuter. It’s mine now.”

Sylvia is obviously still into him lol.

“Don’t let her touch the wand.” It’s a transmuter Spock have you not been listening?

THE PUPPETS.

Spock wants to study them. Of course he does. And so the specimen becomes the scientist and the scientist the specimen.

...Overall an interesting ep. But I do have some questions. One of those eps that leaves a lot of world bulding unsaid, which leaves room for fun speculation.

So, first, these aliens came from very far away, and now they’re in our galaxy. Mom question if it was an “invasion.” I think so, at least in a neutral sense. But what was their purpose? Why were they traveling to new planets? Do they need something their planet can’t give them? Or are they just exploring for fun/curiosity--as we ourselves do?

Sometimes they’d speak as if they had some greater mission--the references to the old ones, their insistence on getting the humans’ help as if they relied on it, their “tests” like they were looking for something specific--but the actual mission was never stated or even hinted at. So I guess it’s just as possible they were exploring as intelligent beings do, and then found these humans, and came to really like them and just thought the alliance (or possible further study) could be advantageous.

Are these two the only aliens left or are there others back home? I assume there are others but it wasn’t completely clear if the “old ones” were memories or beings with, like, literal oversight.

Also, why were Scotty and Sulu on the planet in the first place? Spock says the planet has never known to have beings on it. So was the Enterprise just like triple checking that or did they have a reason to go down? Did Korob and Sylvia lure them? Because I felt like Kirk's annoyance with them was rather unfounded if his men just invaded their home first. I tend to think that they were in the area and something on the planet attracted them--that the aliens specifically wanted them to come down. That, and the killing of Jackson, would make Kirk’s reaction to them more reasonable.

I’m not saying I don’t have sympathy for the aliens because I definitely do. Like, we would absolutely do the same thing: find the interesting specimens and examine them. These are curious aliens. A lot of what they do seems to be in fun also--providing the humans with a setting they think the humans will like; offering them things; playing around with illusion. Of course then there are hostile actions--like killing Jackson, manipulating Scotty, Sulu, and Bones, and harming the Enterprise. But it’s not entirely clear to me if these are meant to be hostile actions, or if they just don’t see them as that serious--or perhaps, serious but worth it. Also some of it might just be Sylvia going power-mad (like the Enterprise torture, which Korob didn’t like).

I wonder what the aliens were doing on the planet before the Enterprise arrived. Were they in their real forms, or were they creating other illusions? They took these forms (human and cat) from the Enterprise crew’s mind so one would assume they looked different before the Enterprise got there. Were they on their way somewhere else? Could they have already known about Earth, even?

I like these aliens because they really do feel alien. I think that’s very difficult; a lot of sci fi (including Star Trek, often) presents aliens against the bar of humans: how are they different from humans, as opposed to, what are they like? These aliens have some very impressive powers: mind-reading, mental control, shapeshifting, “magic.” But their powers also have limits: they don’t always read minds correctly, for example, and Sylvia is so easily corrupted by her newfound love of sensation. And like I said before, their actions seem erratic and the morality of them hard to parse, perhaps because they’re just operating on a completely different moral plane than people.

Like, why DID they kill Jackson? Did Sylvia do it just because she could? Was it part of the test? Korob says later “you were warned not to come and you came anyway, that shows loyalty,” and the nature of the warning--the curse--was also taken from the horror subconscious. So maybe they thought this is how you communicate with humans, and the idea that killing one of them was so egregious didn’t occur to them, either because they see the humans as specimens, and would no more mourn our deaths than we mourn the deaths of lab rats (or than Kirk et.al. mourned the aliens tbqh), or because they just have a different relationship to death on their planet.

And what was the purpose of taking control of Scotty, Sulu, and Bones? Some of the dialogue implies that control is part of their telepathy--and yet they seem more than capable of reading minds without actually altering what the object of the mind reading does. Do they gain control when they go particularly deep in their interrogations? Why are they interrogating that deeply at all, and what are they STILL looking for after taking control of 3 people?

Another possibility is that they had too many specimens and didn’t know enough about them to feel comfortable letting them all roam free. They were outnumbered 5 to 2. The fewer people who are free, the easier to interrogate them and learn about them--they also use physical restraints at times, and after they try talking to 3 and find it too much, they switch to talking to 1 at a time.

And then finally, as with the killing of Jackson--it might just be something they did because they can. And I have to say, humans would be the same. Like if we had a group of aliens, we’d use the tools at our disposal to corral and restrain them and then learn about them, not necessarily malevolently, but for our own safety and sense of power and control. And some people probably would cross lines. Like, Korob and Sylvia aren’t entirely benevolent OR malevolent. They’re just alien.

The transmuter was very weird. I have to say, it didn’t really make sense. They seemed to use their powers just fine without it most of the time, which is why I’m inclined to think Sylvia wasn’t lying when she said it just magnified their abilities. BUT then why did destroying it destroy all the illusion? It seems pretty obviously just a plot device that would allow the episode to wrap up in an hour.

I’m also confused and intrigued by the line that they used the transmuter to get to the planet. How do you use it to travel?

And...why did they die in the end? If those were their real forms, you’d think being returned to them wouldn’t harm them in any way. And yet they seemed to disintegrate right there. They did seem very delicate and we don’t know what their native planet was like. Perhaps they needed the transmuter/their shape-shifting abilities to survive on this planet at all.

Actually just occurred to me--the transmuter. Maybe their mind reading abilities are inherent but their shape-shifting isn’t. Although that raises the question of how they could have built something so big when they are so small--does the wand itself change shape and size?

One interesting thing about these aliens is that even though they appear as humans without being humans, they are NOT energy beings like a lot of other aliens who shape-shift to human forms. They haven’t transcended to a state beyond teh physical form. Unlike the Organians or the aliens from Return to Tomorrow, there’s no sense that they are purposefully evolving or striving toward being so mentally powerful that they no longer need the body--they do have bodies and they are physical beings, but one of their, imo, inherent powers is this extreme mental capacity, including a version of telepathy and a version of shapeshifting.

The Amazon summary says they are “aliens on a mission of conquest” but I don’t think that’s true.

Anyway idk if I had other thoughts but I’m becoming decreasingly coherent so I think it’s time for bed!

Next up is I, Mudd. I’m not a big Harvery Mudd fan but I seem to remember there were some funny bits in that ep so it should be fun.

#the year 2021 #2021: fandom thoughts #2021: star trek #star trek tos

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purpledinosaur1988 · 3 years

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Ever been in one of those situations where you put your trust in the wrong person. Yeah me to. I used to be "friends" with this female who turned out to be TOXIC! She caused so many problems in my life to a point where she would use me to lie for her, watch her brat of a child. When I met my husband back in 2014, the toxic female would try her best to break me and him up. It was early days in our relationship and she would always expect me to drop everything including date night plans to help her out of sticky situations. After seeing the effects of how miserable I was being made to feel, my husband eventually got me to walk away from the toxic female and finally be happy. I felt so much better without being associated with her. We never spoke again, would avoid each other in public etc. Fast for to a few months ago, I was waiting on a bus to work, she approached me trying to use my child as a pawn to win back "friendship" by telling me that my son's nan had passed away, saying I was to unblock her as she missed me. Obviously I didn't unblock her from my socials and the next time I saw my son I asked his uncle how his mum (my son's nan) was and that I hadn't seen her in awhile, he answered saying she is still struggling with the whole pandemic but is much better than before. That cleared that up. The toxic female told me a malicious lie. I mean has she no better things to be getting on with than trying to get me to fall for her BS 🐂💩 again.

My life has improved massively over the years I have been with my husband, we met in 2014, engaged in 2015 & married in 2016. I don't have a big circle of friends and I am okay with that as I would rather surround myself with those who are positive influences to me. Those friends hold a special place in my heart ♥️ I have my 2 best friends who I have been friends with since high school so they are more like Sisters to me.

If anyone feels there are red flags in your life with certain people. Please don't ignore them as you deserve to be happy.

Signs to look out for

1. You feel on-edge around this person, but you still want them to like you. You find yourself writing off most of their questionable behavior as accidental or insensitive, because you’re in constant competition with others for their attention and praise. They don’t seem to care when you leave their side—they can just as easily move on to the next source of energy.

2. They withhold attention and undermine your self-esteem. After first hooking you with praise and flattery, they suddenly become reclusive and uninterested. They make you feel desperate & needy, ensuring that you are always the one to initiate contact or physical intimacy.

3. Plasters your Facebook page with compliments, flattery, songs, and poems. They text you dozens, if not hundreds of times per day. You come to rely on this over-communication as a source of confidence.

4. Quickly declares you their soul mate. And for some reason, you don’t find it creepy. They tell you how much they have in common with you. On the first few dates, you do most of the talking and they just can’t believe how perfect you are for them.

5. Compares you to everyone else in their life. Ex-lovers, friends, family members, and your eventual replacement. When idealizing, they make you feel special by telling you how much better you are than these people. When devaluing, they use these comparisons to hurt you.

6. Lies and excuses. There is always an excuse for everything, even things that don’t require excusing. They make up lies faster than you can question them. They will always blame others—it is never their fault. They spend more time rationalizing their behavior than improving it.

7. No startle response. Total absence of anxiety, fear, and worry where there otherwise should be. They are also very easily bored by the familiar. You write this off as calm and cool, often feeling inferior and over-sensitive because you have normal human emotions.

8. Insults you with a condescending, joking sort of attitude. Smirks when you try to express yourself. Teasing becomes the primary mode of communication in your relationship. They subtly belittle your intelligence and achievements. If you point this out, they call you hypersensitive and crazy.

9. Uses social networking to provoke jealousy and rivalries while maintaining their cover of innocence. They once focused all of their attention on you, but now they post ambiguous videos and statuses to make you doubt your place in their heart. They bait previously denounced exes with old songs and inside jokes. They attend to new activity and ignores yours.

10. You find yourself playing detective. It is never happened in any other relationship, but suddenly you are scrolling back years on their Facebook page and albums. Same with their ex. You are seeking answers to a feeling you cannot quite explain.

11. Surrounds themselves with former lovers and potential mates. Brags that their exes still want to sleep with him/her, but assures you there is nothing to worry about. These people make you feel jealous and give off the perception that your partner is in high-demand.

12. Hyperbolizes emotions while displaying none of them. They make passionate statements like “I have never felt so happy in my life” in a completely robotic voice. It sounds like an alien trying to explain how they imagine human emotions might feel.

13. You are the only one who sees their true colors. Others will think they’re the nicest person in the world, even though they are used for money, resources, and attention. They will not care because he/she strategically distracts them with shallow praise (often done over social networking). Psychopaths are able to maintain superficial friendships far longer than their relationships.

14. Accuses you of emotions that they are intentionally provoking. They will call you jealous after blatantly flirting with their ex over social networking for the world to see. They will call you needy after intentionally ignoring you for three days straight.

15. Cannot put themselves in your shoes, or anyone else’s for that matter. You find yourself desperately trying to explain how they might feel if you were treating them this way, and they just stare at you blankly.

16. You are engaged in constant conversations about their ex. You know them by name, and you know everything about their relationship—at least, your partner’s version of events. The ex becomes one of the most frequent topics of discussion in your relationship.

17. You find yourself explaining the basic elements of human respect to a full-grown man/woman. Normal people understand the fundamental concepts of honesty and kindness. No adult should need to be told how they are making other people feel.

18. Focuses on your mistakes and ignores their own. If they’re two hours late, do not forget that you were once five minutes late to your first date. If you point out their mistakes, they will always be quick to turn the conversation back on you.

19. Suddenly and completely bored by you. Gives you the silent treatment and becomes very annoyed that you seem to be interested in continuing the passionate relationship that they created. You are now a chore to them.

20. The ultimate hypocrite. They have extremely high expectations for fidelity, respect, and adoration. After the idealization phase, they will give none of this back to you. They will cheat, lie, insult, and degrade. But you are expected to remain perfect.

21. Sometimes it seems as though they’ve forgotten who they’re supposed to be around you. They adopt different personas for different people—transforming their entire personality to match various audiences. It is always very eerie when they slip and accidentally use the wrong mask for you. You will start to feel that their personality just does not seem to add up.

22. An unusual amount of “crazy” people in their past. Any ex-partner or friend who did not come crawling back to them will likely be labeled jealous, bipolar, an alcoholic, or some other nasty smear. They will speak about you the same way to their next target.

23. Flatters your deepest insecurities. If you are self-conscious about your looks, they will call you the sexiest person in the world. If you have got a need to entertain, they will say you’re the funniest person they have ever known. They will also mirror your greatest fantasies, playing whatever role is necessary to win your heart.

24. Frequently comments about what you are wearing and how you look. They try to arrange you. You become obsessed with your appearance, noticing flaws that likely don’t even exist. During and after the relationship, you will spend significantly more time in front of the mirror.

25. You fear that any fight could be your last. Normal couples argue to resolve issues, but psychopaths make it clear that negative conversations will jeopardize the relationship, especially ones regarding their behavior. You apologize and forgive quickly, otherwise you know they’ll lose interest in you.

26. Obsessed with humiliating successful, kind, and cheerful people. Delighted by the idea of breaking up friendships and marriages. If you work hard to maintain interpersonal peace in your life, they will make it their mission to uproot all of it.

27. Gaslighting. Blatantly denies their own manipulative behavior and ignores evidence when confronted with it. They will become angry if you attempt to disprove their delusions with facts.

28. They expect you to read their mind. If they stop communicating with you for several days, it’s your fault for not knowing about the plans they never told you about. There will always be a self-victimizing excuse to go along with this.

29. Selfishness and a crippling thirst for attention. They drain the energy from you and consume your entire life. Their demand for adoration is insatiable. You thought you were the only one who could make them happy, but now you feel that anyone with a beating pulse could fit the role. However, the truth is: no one can fill the void of a psychopath’s soul.

30. Your feelings. After a run-in with a psychopath, you will feel insane, exhausted, drained, shocked, suicidal, and empty. You will tear apart your entire life—spending money, ending friendships, and searching for some sort of reason behind it all.

We can find that normal and loving people do not raise any of these flags. After a negative encounter, most survivors face the struggle of hypervigilance: who can really be trusted? Our gauge will swing back and forth for a while, like a volatile pendulum. We all wonder if we have gone absolutely mad for wanting to believe the best in an old friend or a new date, but also feeling sick to the stomach when actually spending time with them.

It is important to develop our intuition, but that is a personal process. The world is mostly full of good people, and we suffer a double punishment if we miss them due to the fear of being hurt again.

People need to set aside some time to get in touch with their feelings, and become comfortable with a balance of awareness and trust. The reflection offers understanding about our emotions. It helps provide understanding for which old relationships need to be refreshed, and which toxic patterns need to be abandoned and replaced by healthier ones.

Society conditions us to ask “does this person like me” instead of exercising critical thinking and asking “do I like this person?”

#toxic people #toxic frienship #manipulative #red flags #don't ignore this #alerts #trust your instincts

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