#i wanted to colour the last panel but i honestly liked the sketch better by itself -- more contrasty and artistic ig? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaoswillcalmusdown · 4 years

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Title: saw your face and got inspired Pairing: Mohammed Razzouk/Amira Thalia Mahmood Summary: Amira’s getting ready for another year of university when she meets a special someone who knocks her fully off her feet. My @yousanaexchange gift for the awesome, super sweet and super smart @thickskinandelasticheart I tried really hard to make it enemies-to-lovers as per your request but it might be a bit more of dumbasses-to-lovers. Either way, I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing it. Special shout out to @naslostcontrol for reading it over and making sure it was fit for public consumption 😊

It's not like Amira planned to end up in this situation, it just kind of spiraled out of control. She's never been scared to speak up or voice her opinion, but she's realising that they've been arguing for 15 minutes at this point and the rest of the group is starting to shift in their seats and look at their phones. Amira takes a deep breath, then stares into Mohammed's frustratingly sparkly eyes and calmly says, "Look, I just don't think it's fair to demand emotional labour from oppressed groups in order to educate those who don't give a single shit." She shrugs and then looks over at Faizal, the president, and says, "Uhm, sorry, this really wasn't relevant for the meeting."

She can see from the corner of her eye that Mohammed's head is tilted as he stares her down from across the room. As if she's going to be intimidated by that? What a dick.

Faizal smirks, rolling his eyes, "oh, so we're allowed to move on now? You're finished now?"

Amira smiles angelically, simply adding, "Yep."

The meeting was supposed to be about what kinds of educational events the islamic society wants to do, and Amira thinks all the suggested options cater way too much to the Alman desire rather than intra community issues and needs. She's honestly sick and tired of having to sit through the same kinds of panels discussing whether or not islam is actually feminist/sexist/peaceful/violent/homophobic and so on, she's sick of force-feeding Almans hours of information and sharing her lived experiences only to be met with the same kind of liberal 'color blindness' bullshit she's faced since kindergarten. She deals with enough of that from her fellow students, professors, even the girls from time to time. The islamic society was supposed to be a place where she could chill and hang out with "her people". Faizal decides that they'll postpone the decision making another few weeks and in the meantime asks everyone to make sure they send in suggestions, so the future votes can be as democratic as possible.

Amira takes that as a slight dig, because she knows her opinions aren't really popular among the group. She came into the society looking for friends from within the community but she's managed to clash with most of the group in some way, either with her views or more likely the way she presents them. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. She honestly understands the point of inclusive or educational events, but she would just love it if they could do something else as well. She'd love for them to go beyond what makes the university look good and woke, and do some important things. Create real change. The way German society still isn't okay with hijabis in certain careers is only one of the issues that she's passionate about, but the rest of the society seem to be fine with focusing their attention and resources on holding Eid barbecues and islamic panels where everyone always agrees on everything. She wants to do something that makes a difference. Something that matters. Maybe this society isn't the place for her, after all? Maybe Amira should be focusing more on the campus political parties in the next semester? The meeting wraps up and there are always snacks at the end, so Amira pours herself some tea and grabs a pastry. It's only Tuesday but her mum's been texting her all day about coming to the mosque this Friday. She's really running out of excuses that aren't the truth, but it feels too complicated and ungrateful to put into text and send to her mother, so she just replies with an affirmative.

Faizal comes over to her, giving her a fond but exasperated look. "Dude, I know you've gotta be tough to handle politics, but like. I think you need to relax just a tad. You-" He cuts himself off when someone walks behind Amira to get to the cups. "So, now you've met our charming Amira, eh?" he says to this person, grinning way too widely for Amira's comfort. Sure enough, she turns around and is face to face with Mohammed. He's frustratingly perfect-looking up close, even though his hair is stupidly swoopy and his eyebrows are huge. He's grinning at Faizal in a way that feels condescending as hell. Awesome. Amira sighs, ready to say something mean so she can excuse herself from this entire narrative.

But Mohammed beats her to it. "Yeah," he says softly, this time directed at her rather than at Faizal, "The girl with the coldest gaze." Amira really doesn't like his tone. It's condescending and smug. "It's been an enlightening but terrifying first encounter, Frau Bundeskanzlerin." He mimes a tiny bow, still fucking smirking, and then walks off. What a dick.

- - - - -

Amira has a lot going on in her life. Apart from her combined history and political science degree and her part time tutoring job, she's a sister, a daughter, a friend, and apparently a severely underpaid life coach. She's sat with Sam and Matteo in the campus coffee shop, drowning their sorrows in pastry and trying to get some work done at the same time. She attempts to listen intently to Matteo's latest crisis while she watches Sam sketching for a project. There's something going on with knitting and apparently it's all about dimensions and angles. It's kind of interesting, honestly, with the geometry of it all. But it's mostly making her feel a bit dizzy because of how circular Matteo's anxieties are.

Amira can't help but interrupt, "Matteo, habibi, you know I love you?"

"But shut the fuck up?" he asks self-deprecatingly, scrunching his face up, still dragging one hand harshly through his hair.

"Hä? No, no. I was going to say that we've had this exact conversation before. And, remember how I told you that there's nothing wrong with going to therapy, even just to try it out."

Matteo clenches his jaw, dragging his hand down his face, then letting it drop limply onto the tabletop. He'd gone once during his gap year, but after he'd decided to study programming he claimed he felt "much better" so he never went back. David's been worrying about him, and has tried to involve Amira in his plan to get Matteo to therapy. Along the way they've found that it's truly not possibly to get Matteo to do anything Matteo does not want to do. Amira still prays that he'll find peace and get help, but she's really stopped nagging him. However, when he brings up feeling overwhelmed and frustrated she can't help but speak up and repeat the suggestion. Maybe he'll eventually take the advice.

David arrives and drops down next to Matteo. He's working on a short film outside of his studies and is currently storyboarding, which of course means that Matteo is going to do anything he can to disturb the creative process. It might be cute how they devolve into play fighting even after multiple years, but Amira honestly just finds it ridiculous. Sam is asking about Amira's studies, nodding along to Amira's story about the world's most boring professor, when the impossible happens. Mohammed walks up to the table, wearing the cafe's apron, asking if they've got any empty cups they want to get rid of. Sam thanks him, being friendly in a normal way. Amira's just frozen. Before he leaves, he gestures to Amira's full black outfit complete with black nails, then to her phone which is lying on the table with the case side up, proudly stating 'Black is my happy colour' and says, "Black suits you." Then he turns and jauntily walks into the back, with his tray of dirty mugs. Amira can feel her face heat, which in turn pisses her off. Thankfully, at least no one else can tell she's blushing.

"God, what a dick," Amira huffs.

"Hä? Amira!" Sam laughs. "He didn't even say anything bad?!"

"He commented on my looks? Is that seriously necessary?"

"God, Amira, don't be such a manhater. He was just appreciating your aesthetic. I'm sure he's a totally nice guy. I mean, he's really attractive, and you know incels are always fucking ugly."

Matteo apparently tunes into the conversation at this point, "hey! What's this about hating men? Men are totally awesome!"

Amira narrows her eyes at him, gesturing to where he's stretched across David, keeping him from his sketchbook and holding David's pen high in the air so David won't be able to reach it.

Matteo straightens up, puts David's pen back. David grabs it with a wink in Amira's direction. "I mean, sure, we're stupid, but all men aren't?"

- - - - -

Whenever she says she's busy, Amira's mum gets annoyed with her, so Amira finds herself at a random event at her local mosque. There's some kind of lecture, and then supposedly there'll be food after. Amira can't help but notice that neither of her brothers were nagged into attending, but that's fine. She's somewhat excited to see the girls she used to hang out with all the time, but now only really sees occasionally at the mosque. Or at someone's wedding, which there have been a lot of. She's officially the last one out of her Sunday school group to be married, not that she would have expected anything less. Aunties have always told her she'd have a hard time finding a man to put up with her "strong opinions".

Amira grabs a mug of tea, and is about to scan the room for her girls when an older couple appear. She vaguely knows who they are, thinks they're parents of one of Omar's friends from school. She says hi, and tries to make some polite small talk. Then, the woman goes, "Oh, we heard your brother's getting married!" and Amira realises what's about to happen. She pastes on a polite smile and replies, trying to look around for someone who can save her from this conversation. The husband continues on to jokingly ask if she's next, and Amira keeps the smile on her face when she says, "Oh, I'm focusing on my career first. I still have another a bit left until I graduate." The wife pats her husbands arm and points out that Amira is studying politics. He chuckles and asks, "Are you still doing that? And what are you going to use that degree for? Are you planning on being the first German chancellor with a hijab? While somehow managing a family, as well?" They both chuckle, in a kind of 'oh how silly of her' way. The wife says, "No, Amira, habibi, I think it's great that you're getting yourself educated. They always say that an educated woman teaches a whole village."

Amira sighs, draining her mug. "I don't know about a whole village," she laughs dryly, then says a somewhat polite goodbye and hightails it out of there. When Amira finds her friends, Nadia's talking about her new husband, complaining that he expected her to know what to buy his mother for a 50th birthday present. Someone else is laughing and saying, "Well, wasn't he always a bit distracted?" Amira remembers him well from school and cannot imagine that he has since grown out of his fuck-boy phase into a good husband. While the girls chat about their awful spouses, Amira's attention drifts and she somehow ends up on Mohammed. With a woman in a hijab and two younger kids. She feels a bit unsettled, even worse when they lock eyes across the room and Amira feels her face heat. Mohammed looks confused but then gives a tiny wave before he turns back to the kids.

When Amira snatches her eyes back onto her friends, everyone's looking at Amira. "Hä, sorry?"

Nadia rolls her eyes, "We were just wondering if there's anyone special in your life?"

Amira barks out a laugh, "Wow, no, I'm way too young to get married." She might have forgotten to censor herself there for a second. "Um, I mean, I'm going to graduate first, but I'm looking into post-grad right now, so. It's not a priority yet."

- - - - -

Amira gets home from the mosque annoyed. Over the weekend she goes to a boxing class, and afterwards decides to focus on her studies, and figure out what she's going to do about the islamic society and everything else later. And what she's going to do about everyone at the mosque constantly asking her about her future, all now that your brother is getting married, isn't it your turn next, dear? She's got a few really interesting classes going on at the moment and she heads to her first tutorial which is on European politics. She sees a few familiar faces and chats until the professor shows up and they all file into the room and pull out all their notes. Amira's rooting around in her bag for a pen to lend to her neighbour, when she hears the door open and a smooth voice say, "sorry I'm late". The professor, a really nice but very old white man chuckles and says, "no worries, we haven't quite started yet." Amira reflexively looks over to see who it was, locks eyes with Mohammed, and firmly looks away. This is fine. There are always new people in tutorials, and sometimes you recognise them from around campus. No big deal. Amira passes the pen along and logs onto her computer. She's always been an achiever, and she's not planning on letting herself get distracted by anything. As always, she raises her hand to answer the first question the professor asks, but is surprised when she looks over and sees Mohammed already raising his hand and speaking. Even worse, he's saying the exact thing Amira was going to say. She drops her hand, cracking her neck and stretching out her shoulders, and makes sure to be the first one to raise her hand at the next opportunity instead. Game on.

- - - - -

As much as Amira tries to focus and center herself on what she's trying to achieve, her education and all the things that matter in her life, she can't help but feel unsettled. Every time she has a politics class, Mohammed is just there, raising his hand a split second before Amira and constantly just arguing and disagreeing with her. Whenever she goes to an islamic society meeting, Mohammed is there and yet again, frustrating her and disagreeing with her. She keeps up with her routine, prays and goes to boxing with Sam or Hanna, and tutors, and studies. But she keeps getting distracted, while studying and while praying and even while boxing. All because of one annoying guy. She's heading over to her brothers' shared apartment on a Friday night to drop off a text book for Essam on her way to Mia's place for "girls wine and cheese night". She's got two essays almost due and would genuinely love to get a start on those, but the girls won't let her sit at home on a Friday night while doing research for school. Sam had said it's out of the question, mom.

Essam opens the door, while stuffing his face with pizza. Amira plops her bag down on the floor by the door and shakes out her shoulders. When she looks up, Essam's got a confounded look on his face, "Are you carrying around bricks?!"

"I wish," Amira mutters pulling out the book he needed and dropping it on the ground, letting it thunk. "Gimme some pizza."

Essam snorts and gestures into the apartment, "Bad week?"

"You don't even know. The most annoying guy is in my class. And literally everywhere I look. Such a fucking pain in the-" They turn the corner into the open plan kitchen-dining-living room, and who's sitting at the breakfast bar, handsomely typing away at a computer? Mohammed, of course. At this point, Amira should be fucking expecting it.

Essam grabs Amira a slice and, upon seeing her bewildered face, goes, "Oh, you haven't met! This is my pal, Mohammed, he's the guy who's gonna take over Omar's room after he gets married. My soulmate, yadda yadda."

Mohammed smiles at Amira, "We've met, actually," he says. Amira swallows around her bite, trying to smile since she can't speak due to the chewing. "Through the islamic society," Mohammed adds, shrugging. Amira tries to read off his face whether he heard her ranting as she entered, or not. He doesn't look very offended, so she figures he probably did not.

"Huh," Essam says, nodding. He turns to Amira, "Hey, sorry, you were venting. Something about a really annoying guy?"

Mohammed leaves about twenty minutes later, apparently heading home for dinner. Amira waits approximately 2 seconds after she hears the door close, until she's rounding in on Essam. "How did you not tell me about Mohammed?!" She demands, not realising how ridiculous that sounds, until it's too late. Essam stares at her like she grew a third eye.

"I don't tell you every time I make a friend, Litschi! What the hell?"

Amira shakes her head, pacing. "That's Mohammed," she says. Essam nods, looking towards confusedly at the now closed front door. "No, Fruchtzwerg, it's Mohammed. The annoying guy who appears in every fucking part of my life, and frustrating the hell out of me. It's Mohammed."

"Oh shit."

- - - - -

Essam's confused about the entirety of Amira's story, because Mohammed never argues and Mohammed's the nicest guy ever and most confusingly Mohammed? Is in the islamic society committee? Really? Amira's at a loss. Essam claims to know the guy, but either he doesn't know anything about him or Mohammed's just different with different people. And that's always a bad sign when it comes to guys. Obviously guys lie, and Amira's had enough interactions with guys from all over the place to know not to trust one at first sight. Not that she would want to trust Mohammed for any reason. She just doesn't want her brother to be scammed or anything. It would suck for Essam if Mohammed turns out to be a shitty person.

Amira eats most of Essam's pizza while she fumes over Mohammed's occupation into yet another aspect of her life. She really doesn't know how she's supposed to handle all this exposure to his dumb face. And then Essam points out that Mohammed's going to be in Omar's wedding, so Amira needs to somehow settle a truce with the guy, which is just perfect.

That Sunday marks some anniversary of Kiki and Carlos' which requires a house party. Amira arrives after her prayer with some vegetarian pizzas from down the road. She catches David and Matteo chatting, or probably more likely making out, right inside the front door, and then gets encased in a monster hug from Sam. They chat over pizza, and then, who comes through the door after Jonas? At this point, it should not even surprise her. Mohammed walks through into the living room, waving awkwardly as he gets introduced to everyone. Sam and David seem to already know him, and Matteo, too. Amira is just lost. Even more surprisingly, Essam walks in after them. He waves excitedly at Amira, and Amira really longs for a time where all the different parts of her life were neatly compartmentalised and never met each other at house parties. Next, she's gonna have to introduce her parents to Kirlos or something equally ridiculous.

"He's very cute, huh?" Sam asks Amira, jabbing her playfully with her elbow. Amira rolls her eyes reflexively. "Oh come on, Amira, he's cute. And he's wholesome. You always say I need to date more wholesome men."

Amira shrugs. "But you know a lot of arabs are racist," she mumbles, taking a swig of Pepsi to calm her suddenly agitated nerves.

Sam snorts, "Yeah, thanks, I know. I can be careful, mom."

Kiki and Mia walk over, with Kiki looking between Amira and then Essam and Mohammed. "The blond guy was waving like he knows you," Kiki points out, while Amira curses Essam's entire personality and existence, "Are these guys like your relatives?"

Sam busts out giggling, asking Amira in a silly voice, "Do you know all the arabs in Berlin, Amira dear?" When Kiki looks shocked, she adds, "No, Kiki, I'm kidding, don't worry, sorry, sorry," all while still giggling. Amira thinks back to the time when Kiki had asked Sam if she and boy Sam were related.

"Ha-ha," Amira mutters. "I actually do know them, though. The blond one is, unfortunately my brother."

"No way!" Mia gasps, slapping Amira's shoulder. "You're nothing alike."

"Alhamdulillah," Amira mumbles, setting Sam off into another bout of giggles. Mia smiles, but manages to restrain herself. Amira huffs, adjusting her scarf. "No, he's not that bad… he's just loud? He's my younger brother so of course he annoys me".

"What about the other guy," Mia asks, "You know him, too?"

Sam hums, "Hot, right?"

Mia's appraising Amira very intently and Amira really hates it. She shrugs, "He's a friend of Essam's, I don't know him very well."

Essam appears at her shoulder with Mohammed in tow, and they all get introduced. Essam flirts way too much with Kiki, and Amira tries to melt into the ground with secondhand embarrassment. Eventually Carlos drifts over, probably to show Essam that Kiki is taken, which is just cringe worthy on its own. Amira catches Mohammed's eye just as Carlos wraps his arm firmly over Kiki's shoulders and Kiki looks back at him confused. Mohammed looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, pinching his lips together. Amira shrugs, mouth lifting into a smile before she can stop herself. She pulls her eyes away, anywhere else. Her eyes settle on Jonas trying to teach Matteo some chords on the guitar, and Hanna chatting animatedly with David in the corner next to them. Then, she overhears someone daring to besmirch the name of Mohamed Salah. She looks up, locking eyes with a grinning Mohammed. Carlos is saying something ridiculous about Manchester United, and Amira truly cannot believe the joy she's seeing in Mohammed's eyes. Or the way he's confidently nodding along with Carlos' unbelievably incorrect rant. Sam and Mia look lost, but Essam's grinning gleefully at Amira. As the middle child in a family of strong opinions, he's grown up to become the most neutral person Amira knows, and watches sports mostly to see how riled up Amira and Omar get. "You must have an opinion on this, Litschi, as someone who has a life-sized cardboard cutout of Mo Salah in their room?" Essam's making himself sound like a beat reporter, looking around the group to make sure he has everyone's attention.

Amira clenches her jaw, knowing that she'll never live that nickname down now that the girls have heard it. She can see Sam mouthing it, looking delighted. "You bought me that cut-out, Fruchtzwerg, but yes, I do have an opinion on Mo Salah, the best football player of this generation."

Her argument doesn't quite convince the boys, but then her Maghrib alarm goes off and she slips away to Kirlos' bathroom followed by their bedroom. She's perhaps making a lot of effort to walk without stomping, but having to be at a party with her idiot brother is just really fraying on her nerves. She's never had to interact with him and her friends at the same time. She knows that he thinks she's acting weird, and so will the girls, probably. The'll think she's too harsh on him, or something. Amira's really not a massive fan of praying in her friends' bedrooms, but it's better than a bathroom so she'll take it. She can hear literally everything that's going on in the party, the bass vibrating the walls and floor, and honestly doesn't know how she's meant to be able to focus on anything except that new Zara Larsson song that Kiki's doing a cover of.

When she walks back into the living room, she can't help but feel frustrated about the way she always misses random chunks of parties. She'll come back from praying and catch the girls in a joke that falls flat when they try to explain it to her. You had to be there sometimes feels like the story of her life. The groups have rearranged since she left. Kirlos have ended up on the sofa, with Sam and Mia still talking to Mohammed, while Essam seems to be bonding with Matteo. God help them all. Amira walks over to Sam, because she's still holding Amira's drink. Not for any other reason. She can't help herself, so she asks Mohammed if he's not going to go pray, knowing full well that Essam won't. His smile falters, but he shrugs and says, "I'm not really going to bother in these circumstances," gesturing at the loudness of the party.

Amira can hear Essam's carefree laughter, bristles at the ease and lack of tension in Mohammed's shoulders and she truly doesn't mean to, but she ends up saying, "So you just pray when it's convenient for you?"

Amira can hear Sam make a noise of awkwardness next to her, and she knows she's out of line, knows she has a tendency to attack first, but she's bone-tired and frustrated and nothing she does or is expected to do is ever easy or convenient.

Mohammed, eyes hard, replies, "I thought Islam taught you not to judge. And I don't know if you know, but Germany has laws that regulate a person's right to practice religion how they want, or not practice at all, thank you very fucking much." He looks disappointed at her, which hurts more than she'd like. And then he turns and leaves. Amira feels like the whole party has quieted down, like everyone saw that, but in reality only Sam and Mia did. Though Essam will probably hear about it later.

"Ouff," Sam whines, "Amira, that was harsh".

Amira groans. "You okay?" Mia asks, looking concerned. Amira sighs, squishing her eyes shut.

"Fuck."

"You look like you need a drink," Sam points out. Amira laughs, desperately. "Let's make you a fabulous mocktail. I'm too tipsy to solve anything right now."

- - - - -

Amira wakes up in stages, first noticing the offensive brightness of the room, and burrowing deeper into the covers to try and avoid facing the day. She and Mia went home with Sam and ended up falling asleep and Amira can hear Sam and Mia chatting away, though in hushed tones. She can't help but groan as she stretches. It's far too early.

"Morning, Litschi!" Mia calls, and Amira groans louder. She forgot about that.

The girls let her wake up while they get some tea and wrangle together breakfast. Amira stares at the ceiling and pointedly does not check her phone. She does, however, get up to pee and then pray. When she gets back the girls have managed a decent spread with the leftovers in Sam's fridge.

"We should talk about Mohammed," Sam points out. Mia nods. "You were really mean." Mia nods again.

"You like him, don't you?" Mia's got her knees up, chin resting on them. Amira sputters in response.

"That's a yes!" Sam cheers, giggling.

"It's not," Amira sighs. "He's just a douchebag. Like, he's so flippant about important stuff. Like religion. And he's constantly appearing everywhere I go and annoying me."

"But you still went off on him pretty harshly," Mia points out.

"Maybe he's not muslim?" Sam suggests.

Amira shrugs, mutters, "if he's not then I definitely won't like him but he's in the islamic society, so I doubt that's actually the case. Even though he's maybe not a very good muslim."

"He's there, too? Like, is he stalking you, or?"

Amira sighs, shaking her head, "No, he's just in the islamic society and in my politics class and living in my brother's apartment, and also apparently he now goes to my mosque, too?!"

"Don't forget he's pals with Jonas, too," Sam mentions, laughing. "Listen, there must be a reason this handsome but annoying man has entered your life. Maybe you just need some patience."

Amira groans, but Sam pushes on, "No, Amira, you always hate guys on sight. Like with Alex," she gestures at Mia and Amira does feel bad because she's never really owned up to that, "or with Jonas, with Stefan. Guys lie and all that."

Amira honestly can't argue with that, and she hates it. Mia's been quiet for a while, and looking thoughtful, but she then gets this sparkle in her eyes. Amira hates that even more.

Later that day Mia texts her:

(Not to play devil's advocate but, don't you think it's possible that you're hiding a bit behind the 'bad muslim' thing? Because I think you guys have some incredible chemistry)

That text might haunt Amira for a while, even if she sends Mia a very stern reply.

- - - - -

Amira's chatting to her dad on the phone later that night, and she'd been trying to finish her assigned reading for the week but she kept getting distracted. She honestly felt pretty shitty about how she'd treated Mohammed. She'd had a whole heap of small frustrations building up and she had just accidentally unleashed them all straight into his bothersome face even though most of her frustrations were not at all his fault. She knew she had to apologise, and she genuinely wanted to but she struggled admitting to her brothers that she'd gotten an actor wrong because she hates being wrong. She's always right, so she's really not good at admitting fault.

"Amira, habibi, are you doing something else while we're talking?"

"Huh? Sorry, dad, I'm just a little distracted."

"Ah, I see, well, tell your old man and he can solve all your troubles."

"Hah, thanks, dad. I don't know if you can solve it, though. I was pretty rude to someone for no reason and now I have to apologise to them."

Amira's dad hums. "Was this the same boy as the annoying one in the islamic society that your mum told me about?"

"Yes," Amira mutters. Her parents truly seem to not keep any secrets from each other.

"Hah, well, you've always been very proud, kiddo. I always loved that about you. You know your worth and you don't take shit from anyone. But, before you get too comfortable, you're also terrible at admitting when you're wrong."

"Wow, thanks, dad."

"You get that from your mum, you know. I truly do think it's a good thing, but I hope you don't feel like you always have to be perfect. You've always been strong but it's good to be vulnerable, too. It's hard, sure, but good things do happen when you let your guard down just a tad."

"Ugh, dad, that was so sentimental."

Her dad laughs, "Yes, habibi, I know, I know. Let's switch topics. Tell me about the lecture you had this morning."

- - - - -

Amira is really not in the mood for an event, but even she can agree on the importance of this specific one. It's taken a lot of organisation for everything to work out, and it involves 4 societies (which is also partly why David is involved) and spans a month with one focus each week. This week's fundraising focus is the charity Jonas volunteers for, which does a lot of work with refugee integration in Berlin. She arrives a bit earlier because she promised David and Jonas she would, even though her mother is frustrated with her for not coming to the mosque for some kind of "women in islam" lecture held by a panel of men. Kiki's asking the group chat for a pre-party and since Amira is arriving at the club, she just turns the sound off and heads in, following the music to where she expects to at least find Jonas. She sees Matteo and David hanging out by the stage, where Jonas of course is sat on a stool with his guitar. Jonas sees her and calls her over and while she's approaching she takes in the other figures in the room. She mostly sees people she's never seen or people she's possibly passed on campus before. But then she sees Mohammed standing behind Jonas, by the mic, singing quietly and chatting to Jonas about something, brows drawn. He doesn't seem to notice her, so she keeps approaching.

"Study partner!" Matteo whisper-calls out, turning around to grab and open a coke bottle for Amira, "come join the soundcheck squad."

Amira accepts the drink and asks what they're up to, trying to avoid Mohammed's eyes now burning into the side of her head from where he's still chatting to Jonas.

David wiggles his eyebrows at her, "oh, we're just waiting for the jam session to pick back up. They weren't sure on which key to use, or something nerdy like that." He turns to look at Mohammed, who rolls his eyes, but Jonas starts playing. The room is filling up, there are a few people working behind the bar and some others decorating and moving tables around. Everyone's chatting to themselves and no one is really paying any attention to the stage, where Amira assumes the boys ended up helping Jonas with "soundcheck" in order to avoid manual labour. Amira truly hates being a cliche, but when she first hears Mohammed's voice, goosebumps erupt along her arms. She crosses them across her chest, gripping the coke bottle. David's swaying along and he and Matteo whoop encouragingly at certain notes and lyrics. Amira can't help but grin at their contagious hype, but when she turns her attention back to the stage, Mohammed's looking straight at her. She can't help but swallow, caught out, but looks right back, never one to back down.

Dragging along, follow in your form

Hung like the pelt of some prey you had worn

Remember me, love, when I'm reborn

As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

Amira can feel her face flushing as she narrows her eyes at Mohammed. He just smirks back at her, and finishes the song. The boys clap and cheer so loudly that they draw the attention of some official looking person with a clipboard, who sighs and huffs and splits them up. David and Matteo grab Amira to head towards the back and David turns on the way to yell some more compliments towards the stage. As they walk, David hums, "You know, Hozier is a man that I'm sure you would agree is an exception to the general rule of male shittiness."

Matteo snorts, mutters, "fucking Hozier…" but David carries on. "He doesn't write boring love songs. He doesn't get intimidated by confident women. To be honest, he loves a strong and terrifying woman-"

Matteo interjects to say, "It's one of those 'choke m-'" but thankfully gets interrupted by David clapping a hand over his mouth before Amira needs to bleach her entire brain and soul.

David sighs and hands Matteo a box of string lights that are supposed to go up somewhere. Matteo takes them with a wink and walks back into the event room. David shrugs, looking at Amira. "Anyways, Mo's got a good voice, right? I keep telling him, but he acts like it's no big deal."

Amira immediately feels suspicious. "How do you all know each other?"

"Huh? Oh, Jonas met him at some kind of open mic, jam thing. I don't really know. And then Jonas and Matteo, you know. We went to one of Jonas' gigs and Mohammed was there." David gestures in an encompassing way, like he's trying to say the rest is history.

- - - - -

The girls all arrive and 'ooh and ah' over how magical the location looks. Amira has to admit that it's nice, even if she's slightly on edge due to how often she keeps bumping into Mohammed while turning a corner. Sam happens to be next to her one of these times and she sighs and goes, "He's so charming. How is he so charming?!" Amira sighs and switches subjects by asking about Sam's nephew, which is honestly the most effective subject change ever. She even gets adorable baby photos out of it.

Later on she's walking from the bar with Mia, when Jonas announces a new song and Amira spots Mohammed by the stage. Based on earlier, she really can't handle another song so she slips away into the back garden. She can see Mia shrugging and looking questioningly at her through the large open doors, but she plants her feet and starts up a conversation with a girl she knows from her European History class. A few minutes later, Mia appears at her side, looking like the cat that got the cream. Amira tries to drag the conversation out, but she and this girl, Anna?, really don't have much in common so she leaves shortly after. Mia's arms are crossed, shit-eating red lipped grin and all.

"How's it going with Mohammed?" she asks.

Amira huffs, assuring Mia that there is nothing going, but she'll apologise when she gets a moment, thank you very much. Of course this is when Amira's Maghrib alarm goes off. Mia looks like she wants to protest, but in the end she realises she can't really argue with it so she just gives Amira her unimpressed tm look when Amira starts backing away, to find somewhere to pray. She was planning to scout out a good location while helping to set up earlier, but Mohammed had ruined those plans for her by distracting her with his face and voice. She asks one of the bartenders and gets led to the staff room, which has an adjacent but tiny bathroom. She's honestly had to settle for worse, even if the staff room could really use a lockable door. She decides to just hurry, and hope no one interrupts her.

Afterwards, she feels centred and calm, like always. She touches up her makeup, and quickly checks her phone. Sam's sent multiple messages to the group chat, the most recent being:

omg how sexy is mohammed's singing voice?! how is he so charming???????

Amira pockets her phone as she opens the door, but hits something. She pauses for a second and tries again. This time the door opens smoothly. Standing on the other side, running a hand through his stupid hair, is Mohammed.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was heading to the bathroom and one of the bartenders was about to head in, so I-" He waves a hand at the door.

"Oh," Amira can't help but feel stunned, because she definitely doesn't deserve that level of consideration from him of all people. They stand in a slightly awkward silence, Amira looking everywhere except at Mohammed. She realises she's being a bit childish about it so she squares up, clears her throat. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry about my behaviour." She dares a glance up at Mohammed's face. He looks annoyingly smug, arms crossed over his chest. He waits her out, smirking. "I perhaps judged you a bit early. And harshly. It's.. It doesn't happen ever, really, but, I guess… I was wrong. Sorry."

Mohammed nods slowly, looking off to the side. "No harm done. So, listen-"

The door separating the club space from the staff space slams open and a frazzled bartender startles at the sight of them, looks confused. Amira takes this as a perfect opportunity, explaining herself, "Oh, sorry, I was just praying, you know," while gesturing at the locker room behind her and also her head. When the bartender nods, still confused, Amira hurries out to find the girls.

- - - - -

Amira's back at her parents' house for a weeknight dinner. She's helping set the table because her parents don't want her near the food, but she also does not want to sit and chat at the table since Essam's started the night by badgering her about Mohammed in front of their mother.

"Seen Mohammed any more?" Essam asks with a grin when Omar arrives. Amira sends him a look that could kill from across the table. Her dad perks up, "Oh, Mohammed's a good kid. You know Mohammed, Amira?"

Amira sighs, "Yeah, we have a class together, and some friends in common."

At this, Omar looks thoughtful. "You'd like Mohammed," he says, as if it's only just occurring to him, as if the gears are starting to turn.

Her dad latches onto this idea, "Yeah, that's a good point! You're very similar, Amira, stubborn but very smart." He pats her on the shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to help their mother with the cooking.

When Amira walks back with a stack of plates, Essam's gleefully feeding Omar blackmail material about how Amira had unfairly snapped at poor Mohammed in front of everyone. "I was planning to try and convince them to date but Amira hates him."

"Hä? What did he do?"

"Thanks, Essam," Amira sighs, "He didn't do anything, he was just arguing in favour of stupid shit, and-"

"Like what?"

"Just… He keeps advocating for inclusive events in the islamic society. Having all our events open for everyone even though that always means a whole bunch of people appear and demand us to hold them by the hand and explain every single thing that's going on. Every single event. I'm sick and tired of having to educate ignorant white Germans who can't just google it. That's not why I joined the islamic society."

Omar hums. "Mohammed grew up in Syria, you know," he points out. "He didn't have to grow up in a country full of Almans who know nothing about islam and require hand-holding. So, maybe he just has a higher tolerance for that than we do?"

It's a fully reasonable argument, which Amira kind of hates. She hasn't really ever asked Mohammed anything, barely even spoken to him except to argue with him or be hostile to him. "Yeah, okay, sure. We're just not compatible people, that's all." Essam snorts. "Listen, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not going to ever date a guy who isn't a proper muslim, so that's that. Leave it."

They both look confused. "What do you mean 'not compatible'? And why would you think Mohammed's not religious? He's in the islamic society, isn't he?"

Amira shrugs, "He doesn't pray? He's- I don't know, Essam said-"

"I was surprised he was on the committee, because he's been struggling. But what even is a proper muslim, Amira?" Essam asks, with a grimace. "If Mohammed isn't then I've barely been one lately either, but you don't hate me for it?!"

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"You said my crisis was valid, and I can assure you that Mohammed's was valid, too. Is this why you snapped at him?"

Amira groans, "I don't hate him… I just. Lost my temper, I don't know why. It wasn't like I snapped on purpose. He just aggravates me. He just keeps aggravating me for no good reason." She realises she's been gesturing pretty aggressively, so she drops her shoulders and lets her hands fall to her side. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh my god, you like him."

- - - - -

Of course, it all comes to a head at Omar and Nour's Henna night. The girls have all been invited and some of the boys (specifically Jonas and Carlos). Amira had tried to convince her brothers that she absolutely did not have any feelings for Mohammed, but it seemed as if she was not very convincing. At least, she managed to get them both to agree to leave her alone and definitely not mention anything about it to the guy in question. And Amira knows they wouldn't dare cross her. During the night she has managed to mostly avoid the aunties and uncles that have been giving her far too wide smiles all night, and she's managed to duck out of several conversations before she had anyone ask her when's your turn, habibi and ended up snapping at anyone. She's chatting to Jonas and Hanna in a decently secluded corner, teaching Jonas the accurate pronunciation of all the sweets he's eating. He's shockingly good at it, and he's really pleased about that fact.

Then, there's a tap on her shoulder. Hanna's eyes widen, and she gently but firmly drags Jonas away. Amira feels this sense of doom impending, but she's also got a few hardcore butterflies appearing in the depths of her stomach. She turns, and there's Mohammed. He's got a piece of baklava in the palm of his upturned hand and he grins at her.

"Frau Bundeskanzlerin," he mutters, doing a really douche-y bow. Amira can't help but laugh, and glances around the room. God, everyone can see this, Amira thinks, even though realistically no one is looking in their direction, but instead talking to the future bride and groom.

"What's your deal?" is what comes out of her mouth.

Mohammed snorts, smile faltering just a little, "my deal?"

"It's really not cute to be flirting with a girl if you're not even fucking religious, you know. Do you know how fucking impossible and rare it is to even have decent interactions with men as a hijabi without them wanting to save or objectify you? It's literally not something that happens. I am sick and tired-"

"Wow," Mohammed mutters, though grinning, popping the piece of baklava he was supposedly presenting Amira with into his mouth and chewing. "What have I done to deserve this utter annihilation?"

"What have you done? You're impossible to read. You're debating in the islamic society one day, then you're not a practicing muslim, then a day later you're in the mosque. What's your deal?"

Mohammed rolls his eyes, crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I'll hold a full length lecture on my relationship with islam in the morning, if you want, but as for what my deal is, I've been trying to ask you out on a date." He shrugs one shoulder, like it's obvious.

Amira splutters in surprise. "You've…. what?"

"It's not my fault you're distracting. You know, you're the one who's impossible. I've literally been in love with you since you gave me that stink eye in ISOC. I think you're amazing even though you're infuriating and judgemental as hell."

"Hmm, we'll agree to disagree."

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "What? No, we definitely won't! Come on!"

Amira notices, from the corner of her eye, that a few aunties and girls she knows from elementary school are taking an interest in them and then she realises how close they've drifted during their conversation. "Shit, people are looking at us."

Mohammed hums, looks around. He shrugs, takes a demonstrative step back. "There we go, much more appropriate."

Amira rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. "So, your method of flirting is just being oppositional, then?"

"Might be… It worked, though, right?" Amira snorts. "Maybe I should've been more direct and asked for an audience through your secretary?"

It shouldn't make Amira giggle, because it's not really funny, but she still giggles like a schoolgirl she definitely is not. "Hey, Mohammed?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me?"

Mohammed bursts out laughing, "I'd love to."

#yousanaexchange #druck fic #mazzouk #thickskinandelasticheart #izzy writes #let there be no typos...... and let all my italics pls still be there

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

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Here's July's story. Back to a defined gender for this one, so I hope that's alright. The poll for the episodic story is now closed I think, but the naga came in second (when I last looked!) and a traditional fantasy setting was the runner up, so I present you with 6232 words of badass female pirate reader and one gentlemanly naga boy for your delectation :). No real content warnings for this one, I don't think.

Enjoy! And don't forget that the Discord is always open for all Patreon supporters, so come on over and say hello if that's something you fancy doing too!

Preview:

“Cheer up, sweetheart,” the lizardfolk sailing master grinned, slapping you on the back hard enough to make you stagger. “Only another few days til we make port.”

“I’m not glum because we’ve been at sea for weeks, Jaran,” you said, easing the tension out of your neck with a side to side motion and leaning on the gunwale of the small, agile schooner. “I don’t mind that.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” he asked, shifting to lean his back against the side of the ship beside you and crossing his arms.

With his lime green colouring and startlingly yellow eyes, Jaran cut an impressive figure. You’d always found yourself leaning towards non-humans when it came to attraction, and the reptilian folk fared better than most in your estimation. Jaran had more than caught your eye, but he had a sweetheart back at port that he was unwaveringly loyal to, so you made no efforts to flirt with him. That didn’t mean you couldn’t admire him, discreetly, of course. The canny bastard probably new it, but he never mentioned it.

You sighed and looked up at him with a wry and sidelong look. “You’ve got someone waiting for you, and half the crew will probably head off and spend the evening with their favourite ‘companions’ ashore… but…” you shrugged. “I don’t have anyone, and I don’t want to pay for a night of intimacy, you know? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, but it’s just not me.”

Jaran reached over and patted you fondly on the shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I worry about you, you know? You’re always on your own…”

A sad smile tugged at your lips and you looked down at the scrubbed timbers beneath your boots. Your hands were rough and coarse from years at sea, and you were hardly the most traditionally ‘feminine’ creature, with strong shoulders, lean muscles, leathery skin, and wiry hair that had to be constantly constrained or it sprang out everywhere in a wild halo around your face. As one of only two humans, both female, on the ship, you couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of inadequacy whenever you disembarked and Anna got catcalled and you got ignored or sometimes even jeered at. None of the others stood for that, which was a comfort, but it still happened.

You shrugged and pushed yourself back off the gunwale and turned to stare the length of the deck. Fingal, a sea eagle aarakocra, chose that moment to soar down from the crow’s nest - which you’d all affectionately renamed ‘the eyrie’ since he spent so much time up there - and landed not far from the pair of you.

“Alright?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and staring at you both with unusual, ice blue eyes. “Oh, and land ho, by the way…” he added with a joyous ruffle of his feathers.

“What? Already? Where?!” you gasped, whipping round and squinting at the horizon where you saw nothing but the endless, pale blue sea and the haze of the horizon. After the storms of the previous week, this fair wind and gentle sailing was a boon.

He chuckled hoarsely and shuffled, dancing slightly from one taloned foot to the other. Extending his wing and pointing with flexed flight feathers, he said, “One point off the port bow, but you probably won’t be able to see it for at least another hour,” he said. “I’m off to inform our lovely captain.”

That evening, just before the change of the watch, the captain summoned you all on deck, a letter grasped in her hand. Half triton and half gargoyle, your captain had acquired the nickname ‘Sea Devil’, and she took it to heart. Six feet tall, with green-grey skin, a tail like a bullwhip, and leathery, bat-like wings, she surveyed her crew with a wry smile on her inhuman face. “Listen up, listen up!” she yelled, striding back and forth on lean, avian legs which ended in long, onyx claws. Her fanned, triton’s ears, almost like fins, twitched, and her mane of thick, pale hair swung freely in the breeze between her slender, backwards-curving horns. “I’ve got good news for you!”

“Land ho, Cap’n?” one of the crew yelled.

“No, you upstart little fucker,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t gather you all here like a flock of clucking chickens just to tell you that! No, we’ve got a very special invitation!” she said, waving the rolled up paper in her clawed hand and adding a playfully patronising emphasis on the word ‘special’.

A hush descended on everyone and you all leaned in a little closer to hear her above the constant creak of sails and stays and deck timbers. She was always fair and kind to her crew, but this was something new.

“Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention,” she said, hopping easily up onto a tall barrel with a little help from a flap of her wings. “The Governor of our dear little haven,” she said, “Is holding a ball in honour of some landlubbers’ midsummer festival or whatnot, and since the gods have chosen to smile upon me and my crew, and since we have dutifully paid our dues to the Governor to keep those pesky naval warships off our tails, he has seen fit to invite every last bilge-rat on this ship to his fancy dance! Oh, and you lot get to come too,” she added with a wink, and a cheer went up.

Captain Solveij let you all have your moment of excited chatter before giving an ear-bleedingly shrill whistle and calling your attention back to her.

“You’re gonna need to dress nice,” she growled. “Not expensive, but at least nice, and we’ve made enough with our last few captures that we can all afford that. If you don’t have something nice to cover your filthy hides, I’ll send you to a tailor once we make port.”

Jaran dug you in the ribs. “You got anything?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I’ve got anything other than these tatty old trousers and a few shirts?”

His lizardy smile stretched wide and he grinned. “Better go ask the captain for that tailor’s address then…” he said.

The tailor that Solveij sent you to was in a back street of Black Sands Bay, a rambling old town that had long been a notorious stopping point for pirates from the world over, but which was untouchable by any royal navy because it was privately owned by the Governor. A huge, black-coated minotaur with one horn supposedly made of solid gold, and a reputation for ruthlessness, Governor Aatlak ruled his corner of the seas as the world’s wealthiest prisoner; if he were to sail off the islands, those same naval warships that circled his archipelago of islands like vultures would descend on him. So he had established himself as a broker of goods, money, and information, and settled down.

Black Sands Bay, so named for the unique colour of the beach from which the town had grown up into the hillside, was his capital. All around you, the port bustled and thrummed with life. Before you had even left the dock where your schooner had berthed in the deep waters of the harbour, you glanced down into the water and glimpsed perhaps the strangest looking merfolk that you had ever seen. Jellyfish-clear skin fringed a tail, top and bottom, that was twelve feet long, with opalescent scales gleaming in the clear water. Their face was humanoid in shape, but they had enormous, milky, bulging eyes and a bobbing lure that hovered in front of a mouth full of spiked teeth. Floating beside them was a small raft with extraordinary looking shells and objects which could only have come from the deep.

You didn’t linger long, but you enjoyed some of the sights and sounds of the marketplace before turning to bid Jaran and the others farewell, and heading up into the heart of the old city with a definite weight in your chest. The captain wouldn’t care if you wore trousers or a dress to the dance, but honestly, dressing up like this made you feel as out of place as a mermaid on land. You wished it didn’t. You wished that you could feel something different; comfortable. Still, you were attending in the formal capacity as a member of Captain Solveij’s crew, and she was expecting you to be there.

The tailor’s shop, when you eventually found it after nearly an hour of wandering in the hot, tropical sun, had an attractive, dark, bay window at the front, showcasing outfits and accessories for a number of species, and as you pushed the glass-panelled door open, a brass bell trilled above you.

“Jusssst a moment!” a warm, tenor voice called from the rear of the shop. “I’ll be with you in jussst a moment!”

“No worries…” It wasn’t exactly as if you were keen to get started. Besides, you were more than a little sweaty. Perfect.

You had just put your hands on the inviting arms of a nicely upholstered chair and had been about to sink gratefully down into it, when a figure popped up in the doorway at the back of the room and made you jump. Leaping back up onto your salt-crusted boots, you watched, intrigued, as a naga slithered out to greet you.

Read the whole thing right now over on my Patreon, and gain exclusive access to hundreds of posts, lots of stories and character profiles, sketches, polls, and our Discord server

#naga #male naga #exophilia #monster x reader #naga x reader #male monster x female reader #pirate #pirates #patreon exclusive #monthly story #patreon only

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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Terror Beneath the Sea

Fresh from the studio that brought us Invasion of the Neptune Men, and starring Space Chief himself, Sonny Chiba, it's Terror Beneath the Sea! It's in widescreen.

Reporter Ken Abe and photographer Jenny Gleason are guests at the test of a new type of guided missile when they glimpse a mysterious swimming creature with a human silhouette. Upon investigating, they find a cave inhabited by guys in stupid silver fish-man suits! From here they're brought to the underwater base of the evil Professor Moore, who created the fish-men so that he can... honestly, I have no fucking idea what he's trying to do. He starts the process to change Ken and Jenny into fish-people, too, but then the base is hit by a missile and he loses control of his creatures. Can our heroes fight their way through the hordes of angry fish-men and escape before their transformation is complete?

One of the first things I notice about Terror Beneath the Sea is that I'm ninety-five percent sure that Ken and Jenny are supposed to be a couple, but the movie never depicts any physical affection between them that couldn't also happen between platonic friends. Probably this is partially because in Japan PDA's are considered inappropriate, even moreso than in Western countries, but I get the feeling there was also a desire to avoid being explicit about an interracial relationship. I can imagine producers getting together and agreeing that white women dating Asian men does happen in real life, and movie heroes are supposed have love interests, but they need plausible deniability so they don't lose the all-important 'bigoted asshole' demographic. Not that they have anything against the idea personally, you understand, but public opinion is public opinion. They completely support interracial relationships, but how would they explain something like that to their children?

Another thing I notice is how much Terror Beneath the Sea reminds me of The Time Travelers or The Green Slime, though it is less colourful than either. It has that kind of comic-book-y 60's sci-fi aesthetic, where they don't necessarily seem to care if what they're showing you looks real as long as it gets the idea across. In fact, many of the sequences of shots, with odd angles or a focus on only eyes or a smile, look very much like panels from a manga comic. The comics industry was flourishing in Japan in the mid-to-late 60's, and it's quite possible that the film-makers mimicked this style on purpose.

Terror Beneath the Sea also, as I noted in the opening paragraph, has a great deal in common with Invasion of the Neptune Men, including the same production company, same star, and a similar level of effects work featuring guys in costumes and toy-like miniatures. For all that, though, Terror Beneath the Sea is better at its worst than Invasion of the Neptune Men was at its best. Both films are confusing, but Terror Beneath the Sea is funny-confusing, whereas Invasion of the Neptune Men was just frustrating-confusing. Why the difference?

I don't think the colour film has anything much to do with it – Invasion of the Neptune Men would still have been an ordeal in colour. I think it has a lot to do with the characters. Terror Beneath the Sea actually has some.

The main characters of Invasion of the Neptune Men, such as they were, were five nameless children and Space Chief. We never really got to know them – indeed, the kids' names were not presented in a way that made them remotely memorable. All I know is that one of them was Kenny. In Terror Beneath the Sea, we have only two main characters who are easy to differentiate visually, audially, and by their actions. Their personalities are sketched out, just barely, well enough to give us an idea what each of them would have done alone in this situation: Ken would have done pretty much what he did anyway, and Jenny would have stood around and screamed a lot. They're not particularly complex or interesting characters, but they are characters.

Likewise the villains. The Neptune Men just kind of blundered around trying all kinds of random things and not really achieving much. The underwater Illuminati, or whoever they are, of Terror Beneath the Sea seem to have a plan, even if we're not entirely sure what that plan is (it seems to involve ruling the world – they always do). Progress has been made in the building of the underwater base and the creation of the mindlessly obedient fish-people. We are shown in great detail the process of transforming a normal man into one of these creatures, and there's some moments in this that are quite effectively gross, if not exactly convincing.

But a lot of what makes the movie engaging comes from how hysterically, over-the-top bad it is. Almost everything in it is taken just a little bit too far. Invasion of the Neptune Men seems rather restrained in comparison and maybe that's another thing that hurt it.

Take, for example, the fish-men (according to their creator, they are technically water cyborgs). They obey commands given to them by a computer, which the humans control using a dial on the wall that has points labeled with things like 'work' and 'fight'. Their full-body costumes are quite elaborate but often don't fit very well, sagging at the buttocks and wrinkling at the joints. When the dial is turned to 'fight', a pair of them get into a ridiculous slap-fight that shows off exactly how badly the suits fit, accompanied by dubbed-in fin-flapping noises! Nothing in Invasion of the Neptune Men even approached that level of gratuitous silliness.

Then there's the acting. All the dialogue has that same quality as The Green Slime, in that it sounds like its translated from Japanese even when it's coming from white actors whose mouths show that they're speaking English, but it's the dubbing that really raises it to comic heights. The people actually on the screen are pretty hammy themselves – there's one who guy actually manages to over-act raising an eyebrow – and the dub actors providing the English dialogue are terrifically melodramatic in slightly different ways. The dissonance of this is as funny as anything else. Somehow, even the guys in the full-body fish-men suits manage to overact.

A lot of the scenes, especially the fights, do go on a little too long. This is especially true of the fish-man creation sequence – it lasts forever. Fortunately, the general ridiculousness of the proceedings, with punches that obviously miss by a couple of feet and the exaggerated and mismatched reaction shots, can usually keep you giggling long enough to get through them. This is pretty obviously done to pad out the running time to eighty minutes, which the movie only just barely achieves. At least ten minutes could be cut from Terror Beneath the Sea without damaging the very minimal storyline, probably more. MST3K would have had no trouble making it fit.

There isn't anything much to think about in this movie, but I did manage to tease one actual idea out of the mess. While Terror Beneath the Sea gives very little time to Professor Moore's evil plan, he does describe his goal as a totalitarian society in which the citizens, like the water cyborgs we see, will be drones adapted to specific tasks. One of his partners in the scheme refers to this as “a world that makes sense”. Like a number of thinkers in science fiction movies through the decades, the undersea Illuminati seem to believe that true peace and cooperation are only possible when human beings lose our individuality. As if to emphasize this, one of the scientists points out that the water cyborgs show no sexual dimorphism: males and females are externally identical.

It's actually kind of hard to argue with the basic idea here: utopia is probably impossible as long as people remain recognizably human, because frankly, humans suck. Ninety-nine percent of people just want to do their thing and get along, but there's always that hundredth one who decides to be an asshole and ruin things for everybody else. Fiction likes to play with this idea, but in Terror Beneath the Sea it is merely a trope. Ken and Jenny are horrified by the idea that the water cyborgs were made out of human beings, but there is no actual discussion of the ethical or philosophical ramifications of the idea. When the fish-men turn on their masters, it is not because their humanity has reasserted itself, but merely because the computer is stuck on 'fight' setting.

Terror Beneath the Sea is basically b-movie cotton candy. It's fun for as long as it lasts, but when you're done with it you realize it was mostly empty space and not particularly satisfying. This is perhaps the point in which it most resembles Invasion of the Neptune Men: you're not really sure what you just watched or why you watched it. Of course, with Terror Beneath the Sea you can answer both questions with 'Sonny Chiba fighting ridiculous fish-men'. Invasion of the Neptune Men didn't even have that.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #terror beneath the sea #it's beginning to look a lot like fishmen #60s

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thestoryweneededtowrite · 7 years

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Javid Titanic AU - Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

As soon as he stepped through the doorway into Medda’s stateroom Jack let out a low, impressed whistle. The corridors on the way there had been fancy enough but this was something else. It was enough to make someone forget they were on a ship, all dark wood paneling and plush furnishing and gold gilding. A million miles away from the third-class cabin Jack was sharing with three other guys where there wasn’t a speck of gold in sight.

“It’s a bit much but some people like this sort of thing,” Medda shrugged. In truth she was happiest with the simpler things in life but everyone else paying for a first class ticket expected the luxury.

“Some people like the Jacobs?” Jack suggested, risking being a little cheeky. Medda seemed like someone who was a little more like him than Esther Jacobs was. “Yes, exactly like them,” she laughed. “Their parents, at least. Not so much the kids.”

Jack nodded. Davey wasn’t pompous; he was sweet and strong and hurt. There was now a permanent ache in Jack’s stomach telling him to get to know this boy and to replace any previous bad memories he had of being kissed and walked in on with private new memories where he could explore and celebrate himself and be happy. He wanted to know more about him and Medda seemed like the perfect person to provide information.

“That girl, she’s Davey’s sister?” he asked, referring to the pretty blue-eyed girl from the promenade deck.

“Yes, that’s Sarah. She’s a sweetheart. They’ve got a little brother too. Les.” Medda offered the knowledge willingly. She wanted to see Davey happy and himself and Jack seemed like the right person to make that happen.

“Huh. Do they… know?” he asked, not wanting to say it out loud. Usually he wasn’t shy about loving who he did but this was David’s truth and not his own, and the elaborate surroundings of the state room didn’t seem like the place to be talking about it.

Medda understood without the specifics. “Sarah does. Les is…” she trailed off. “Too young?” Jack suggested. It wasn’t a sentiment he agreed with but he knew not everyone shared his point of view. “So Esther says,” Medda sighed. “But he’s a nosy little child so if he doesn’t already know then he’ll figure it out soon. They left him at home for this trip, though.”

Something occurred to her that she hadn’t really noticed until she thought back: Jack’s little nickname.

“‘Davey’?” she asked, amused. As she turned to the wardrobe to rummage through for a suit that would fit Jack, she caught him blushing.

“I… Sorry,” he mumbled, not liking being called out for the over familiarity. He didn’t have any right to be calling him something that felt so affectionate but he loved how it made Davey smile every time he said it.

“If he doesn’t mind it then I don’t,” Medda shrugged. It was none of her business, really. She was only interfering because there was definitely a possibility that Davey wouldn’t let himself go towards what he wanted so easily because of what had happened the last time he’d acted on his feelings.

“He doesn’t,” Jack smiled softly. He liked that Davey was a name apparently only he used.

Medda pulled a shirt out of a drawer and looked it over to make sure it would fit. “He likes you, kid,” she said, feeling like she was stating the obvious but wanting to make sure Jack heard it. Davey might not be saying it himself for a while.

Jack sat down on the edge of a chair, not quite comfortable enough to relax but needing to make himself feel smaller.

“I shouldn’t… I do, but I shouldn’t…” he groaned. If Davey was in Steerage Jack would probably have already made a move and with any luck they’d be making out by now. Class was so much difficult to navigate than gender. Who knew.

Medda just snorted.

“Oh forget all that. We’re on our way to the Free World, you’ve got all the right to like him back. Now, put these on. Let’s make you look suitably dapper for him, shall we?”

She handed him a set of clothes and some shoes that Jack was certain cost more than everything he’d ever owned combined. He would never have borrowed them if he wasn’t desperate to find some way to impress Davey. He just wanted to seem good enough. “Please,” he said honestly, taking the clothes with a grateful smile. He was determined to look irresistible.

Medda walked Jack to dinner, not mentioning the fact that he’d have had no idea how to get there alone. Suddenly no one was giving him dirty looks or turning away and averting their eyes. Now he blended in with every other pompous, entitled gentlemen and it made him a little uncomfortable. He still knew he didn’t belong and he’d be far more comfortable down in the third class dining room – the food was awful but the company was far better. Except there was no Davey.

Waiting at the bottom of the stairs, watching all of the rich couples drift in to the dining salon, Jack was itching for a pencil. There was so much he wanted to draw, so many textures and details that he knew he could capture so well on the page but Medda had convinced him to leave his sketching supplies behind. He was still trying to commit the lines of the clock to memory so he could recreate them later when Davey suddenly walked into view and time stopped.

He looked incredible and Jack was, for once, speechless. The night before he’d been distracted by Davey hanging off the back of a boat so he hadn’t taken too much notice of his fancy clothes. But the pressed suit and the crisp white shirt cut Davey’s figure in all the right places and Jack wanted to let his hands follow all the lines of the tailoring. He was so caught up in his imagination that he almost missed that Davey was looking at him in exactly the same way. When he just caught a mirrored expression of desire in Davey’s eyes he fought a blush. Davey shook himself out of it and hurried down the stairs.

“Jack!” he said, excitement colouring his voice. He hadn’t been certain Jack would show, let alone looking like that.

“Mr Jacobs,” Jack said formally, bowing and hiding a grin. “Hey, don’t laugh! I’m trynna be fancy,” he whined.

“You don’t need to do that,” Davey mumbled gently, wishing he could take his hand. In fact, he’d rather Jack didn’t act like something he wasn’t. He liked him exactly as he was.

“I’m afraid they’ll shoot me if I don’t,” Jack laughed, bringing back what he’d said the night before.

Davey’s eyes flashed with the memory but, just as he was about to say something, the rest of the Jacobs family appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Shush,” he insisted quickly. They couldn’t talk about what had happened.

Jack looked over his shoulder and sighed when he caught sight of what Davey had seen. Their little moment was over.

“Accompany me to dinner?” he asked, trying to copy all of the couples he’d seen making their way in pairs to the salon like they were heading onto the Ark.

Davey wanted to say yes. He wanted to take Jack’s arm and sit beside him and let their ankles brush together under the table. He wanted to sneak away after the meal and find a room with a lock on the door and finally get to kiss someone without being interrupted. But he wasn’t allowed. “You’re supposed to find a woman to escort,” he said sadly. “Well I don’t want to,” Jack said boldly, too concerned about how close Davey’s parents were getting to care about the people stood near them. “There’s a beautiful guy in front of me and I want ta ask him.” He maintained eye contact, not letting Davey look away.

“Jack-” Davey began, but before he could either manage to explain why that absolutely couldn’t happen or to ask if Jack knew somewhere they could go so he could wrinkle his shirt, his mother appeared behind him.

“Mr Kelly,” she said coldly, inclining his head just a little.

Jack offered her a grin and a small bow, ignoring the hostile vibes that were being hurled his way. He caught Sarah’s eye roll and encouraging smile over Esther’s shoulder and gave her a far more genuine greeting.

“Mother, you remember then man who saved my life,” Davey said, equally as cold as his mother - the similarity was eerie. It was a threat more than anything. Esther couldn’t risk being rude to Jack without stepping out of line.

“Yes. Well, David you better escort your sister in,” Esther said, firing the next shot. She must have overheard his conversation with Jack.

“Of course, Mother.”

Davey sighed and held out his arm to Sarah, accepting her sympathetic smile with a small nod.

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah said to Jack just before they walked into the salon following their parents.

Jack offered a pathetic wave and watched Davey walk away. The suit looked just as good from behind and, with Esther gone, he stared unabashed.

Medda’s laugh cut through his thoughts – clearly he wasn’t being subtle.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go,” she said, taking his arm and chattering away as she led him towards through to dinner.

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

#Newsies #newsies fanfiction #javid #Jack Kelly #david jacobs #titanic au

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whatupwiththelists · 5 years

Text

List Christmas Letter 2018

Dearest Family & Friends,

I’m going to cut right to the chase. YES. I managed to hold down a job at the same place for more than a year. I’m still with Kijiji. Feel free to keep reading if you wish, but honestly that little nugget of information is by far the highlight of the letter. Like... by far.

I’m not sure I agree with your decision to continue reading, but I will respect it. Here we go…

I should also note that some of you may not have received a letter last year. We decided to try something new to determine our mailing list. We took all of the names of our closest friends and family (all of you) and then we simply didn’t write a letter. In hindsight, the fact that you may not have received a letter probably has less to do with the mailing list and more to do with our lack of writing it. Hmmm. We may need to reflect on this more. On the plus side, the fact that you’re reading this, is an indication that a letter was in fact written for 2018. Further to being written, it must have also been shared with you in some way. Magical!

So what’s new with us? 2 years of awesomeness!!! That’s what!

We’re still happy and healthy. Physically that is. Mentally we’re a mess, but if you’re on this mailing list you know us well enough that this info won’t surprise you.

Lucy is still at TELUS. For another few days at least. She moved from the Koodo team in 2017 to become a superstar at TELUS. There she created a very successful design system and was flown to Vancouver these past couple of summers to be on a panel with brands like Google, Twitter and Shopify to talk about their success. Speaking of Shopify, she’s starting to work there in January. She did such a great job creating TELUS’ design system, that Shopify asked her to help them with their new marketing design system. It’s a great opportunity, but in truth, she’s moving so that she’s working closer to me (literally 300m away). There is also the added perk of catered breakfasts AND lunches. Guess who’s visiting her at work twice a day, every day?? (it’s me).

She was also in Vancouver for a half marathon last summer. She amazes me. With almost no training she wasn’t far off her best time. Running a half marathon cold at 41 years old (note that awesome rhyme)… an interesting choice but she completed it, and after an afternoon nap she was as good as new. I joined her in Vancouver as well to celebrate our anniversary. We had a blast exploring Stanley Park, The Capilano Suspension Bridge, Grouse Mountain (yes, we did the Grind), and Whistler/Blackcomb. We really had a great time. Where were the kids you ask? All we know is that they weren’t with us and we’ll leave it at that.

For me, seeing Lucy run the half marathon last year, inspired me to get into running this year. I decided that I wanted to run a fast 10k (under 40 minutes). I was excited to finish a MEC 10k in 39:17 and 2 weeks later I ran a 19:11 5k which was also a personal best. Sorry if these numbers mean nothing to you, but for runners, our numbers define us :) In 2019 I’ve set some bigger goals. I’ll be running 2 full marathons (one in Ottawa in May and the other in Toronto in October) and I’m going to try and finish one in less than 3 hours. It’s a lofty goal that I’ve been considering for literally 15 years. Age isn’t on my side, but wisdom and a healthy dose of enthusiasm is. Lucy thinks I’m obsessed. Guess there could be worse obsessions...

As mentioned, I’m still with Kijiji. If you use Kijiji and like some of the things that have happened over the past few years, it was probably me. If not, well, best not to talk about it. For those of you in the UK, I know a few of the Gumtree Product Managers so if you’re upset about anything please let me know. I’d love to give them a hard time. I also need to state that I’m just a little bit famous at eBay Classifieds. The CEO of eBay visited the Kijiji office and I gave him a demo of our new homepage. Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it an article was written, I was quoted as it being a career highlight on the eBay internal blog even though I wasn’t even interviewed, and a picture of me pointing at my screen turned into a bit of a phenomenon. Branded Jerememe, “Jeremy Pointing” is now my claim to fame.

Our side gig (Me in a Nutshell) we launched 2 years ago is now fully on life support. We have seen slow and steady growth. The problem, is that it’s really, really slow. For those of you who can't remember what its was about from our christmas letter 2 years ago.. you're essentially looking at it. Our family page was built using the product. Me in a Nutshell (meinanutshell.com) is still kicking and we’re hopeful that at some point somebody famous will create a page to give us the kick start we need. Wishful thinking, but unfortunately at this point, wishful thinking is our best marketing plan ;)

I’m going to talk about kids now so feel free to skip to the end...

Sophie turned 6 this summer but she’s still super cute despite her old age. She dresses herself every day and, holy smoke, she’s creative. Some of her outfits are really quite amazing. Who knew you could have that many patterns & colours at the same time?

She was in gymnastics last year with Cadence, but both girls have decided to take a pause and focus on ice skating. They’re in lessons every Saturday and all the kids love it… well at least for now. Stay tuned.

She also learned to ride her bike this summer and is a superstar on 2 wheels. My job as a father is officially done now that all 3 kids can ride a bike. I may come back part time to help the kids with their running form, but at this point Lucy has been advised not to expect any significant help from me moving forward. Mic drop.

Cadence is still very much into drawing, painting, and anything crafty. Especially slime! Sigh. She’s addicted to making slime. We have no shortage of slime supplies and little containers with slime scattered throughout the house. Green slime, blue slime, we have every slime you could possibly imagine. Seriously, if you need slime please call me. If you can get it out of the carpet/clothes/hair/teeth, it’s all yours.

My personal favourite “Cadence craft” has turned into a bit of a tradition. Every holiday she will lead the family to create window art. It started off as some quick sketches, then focused on Taylor Swift, but since halloween, the quality of the art has become quite impressive. Thanksgiving followed and we now have a wonderful xmas scene on our front window.

For those of you who caught that Taylor Swift reference above, yeah… she’s obsessed. Lucy took the girls to a concert this past summer and since then Taylor is practically a member of our family. Without her knowing of course... Which makes it a little creepy, but whatever. I’m not sure if it’s Taylor inspired, but Cadence has also taken to Black. She loves all colours, as long as it’s black. Every now and then you’ll see her wearing a colour accent, but for the most part, she’s black, on black, on black… on black (with pet hair covering 90% of her wardrobe).

Jayden is 12! Almost a teen :( He continues to do better in school but this year we’re back to a teacher that doesn’t have as much patience with him. He’s a great kid but fitting him into the school system is still a challenge. That said, he’s making great progress and we believe if we can get him through highschool without the system breaking him, he’ll be successful. He’s a super smart kid.

He’s also a curious fellow. He’s often found taking his Nerf guns apart to see how they work. Our Christmas project last year was to convert his battery powered guns from 6V to 8.4V. More power! Yay YouTube! This year he was a NERF superpower and feared by his friends [evil laugh]. He also builds some pretty impressive guns with lego. Normally I don’t like to talk about his interest in guns, but his lego creations are really quite amazing. With removable magazines, a safety switch, and chambering mechanism, it’s quite the piece of engineering.

He also got really good on his scooter. He wasn’t enjoying karate, so we decided to let him focus on his scooter. It was a good decision. He’s learned so much over the past 2 years. Seeing him is really quite impressive. He’s learned several tricks including a tail whip, 180, 360 and many more. He’s not into it as much anymore, but I loved that he found something so motivating. Now he’s focused on parkour. With this new focus, he’s getting more into running with dad and weights to help him jump around easier. He, and the girls, have also found a love for skating. Jayden, has found yet another medium to jump around and do tricks. He has great technique and has been progressing very well. Seeing all of the teachers drool over the potential to have a gifted MALE who’s interested in figure skating is really quite funny. I wouldn’t be surprised if all 3 kids continue on with skating as one of their sporty passions. They’re all having a wonderful time.

Most exciting with Jayden is that he continues to play the piano. He’s been focused on a few core songs this year and we’re excited to see his progress. We recently bought him a synthesizer and are excited to see him get his music into Garage Band and eventually upload his creations to SoundCloud. He’s composed his own music using other peoples sound clips, but now he has the ability to create music entirely by himself. He’s good. Like, really good. I can’t wait to start listening to his songs.

This year we celebrated Sophie’s 6th birthday in Barcelona. Our first family trip over an ocean. It was also a nice celebration of our 15 year wedding anniversary. We had a blast. Starting in Barcelona, we spent a few days enjoying the city and seeing the sights. From there we rented a Jag SUV and headed up the coast toward France. On our 7 day road trip we saw some amazing places and had a wonderful time. It’s truly a spectacular part of the world and we are already trying to figure out how to get back. I think Lucy plans to retire there with, or without me :(

We also have a new addition to the family! Arctica joined our family earlier this year in May and she’s been wonderful for us. Were not exactly sure how she got here… and one day we had a dog. We had a weekend of panic thinking what have we done? but we are truly happy we kept her. The kids love her to death and Lucy & I find ourselves more active and excited to get out and walk. She’s really a sweetheart and SOOOOOOO fast. My goodness when she wants to run she can move. She’s also a very good guard dog. If you’ve visited our house… you know. Sorry, she’s just really protective. It’s the shepherd in her.

Our neighborhood is still fantastic. We’ve seen some great neighbours leave, but we’ve also had some amazing people join. We continue the annual Easter egg hunt on our lawn, Canada celebrations, birthday parties, post Santa Claus parade after party and a whole ton more of neighborhood gatherings. We love every minute with them. Each year we are so thankful to have found such a great community. Our neighbors are known to bring us goodies, watch our kids, shovel our driveway and generally just put up with us. We are so thankful to have these wonderful people surrounding us.

Life is still hectic and crazy for Lucy and I but we still manage to find some time to do the things we love to do. We hope you have a joyful start to 2019!

Wishing you health and happiness for 2019

xox

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