breezespren

[breezespren]

You think, think, think, but every sleeping moment doesn’t seem to rest your brain. Ideas crawl through your mind like cockroaches looking for the next crack to hide in. The folds of the muscle inside your skull are full to brimming with the millions of little insects trying to squeeze their way through to the front of your mind, your eyes, your consciousness. 

You think perhaps that you should stop. But how can you stop? You think, and think, and think, without ever stopping. And if you were to stop, what would you do? Who would you be? The thinking is what makes you you. 

[breezespren]

“It didn’t feel too wrong.”

“It didn’t feel too wrong?”

“Well, yeah.”

“How could it be anything but wrong?”

“Oh, so because you got the promotion you think you can push me around?”

“No! That’s not it at all–”

“That’s rich. You’ve been lording around the office like you own the place.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Lording. Like a king.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you cheated.”

“I did not cheat!”

“Yes, you did! I’m pretty sure what you did would be called cheating.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t act stupid, Wallace. You know as well as I do.”

“Well, maybe I don’t. Maybe we’re just too different.”

“You don’t mean that.” “Oh, I think I do.” 

“Fine.”

“Fine.” “I want it back.”

“You can’t have it back.”

“If you’re not going to play fair, then I want it back.”

“No!”

“You cheated!”

“I did not!”

“Fine! Show me how you didn’t cheat!”

“Alright, fine!”

“What…what’re you doing?”

“I’m showing you that I didn’t cheat. There.”

“Writing ‘Wallace is always right’ on a piece of paper doesn’t make you right.”

“Sure does.”

“Where’s the rulebook?”

“Nah uh. Can’t do that. That’s cheating.” “Give it back.” 

“No can do, my friend.”

“Give me the rulebook or so help me–” “Aw, what’re you going to do?”

“I’m going…I’m going to…just give me the rulebook, Wallace!”

“Come on, Cassie. You know I’m right.” “No, you cheated!” “Just because I know how to play the game doesn’t mean I cheated.”

“Oh, sure. Playing the game involves sneaking money from the bank to pay for the big hotel you can’t afford. That sounds right.”

“I earned that money fair and square!”

“You did not!”

“Ugh, will you never give it up?”

“No.” 

“You’re impossible, woman.”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“You know you like it.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Alright, fine. I cheated. You happy now?”

“Absolutely.”

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Marry me I hope.”

“Oh, really?”

“Unless you want the ring back.”

“Oh, no. That’s yours. And I even bought it with real money.”

“Let’s hope so.” 

“You’re impossible.”

“And you just landed on my hotel. Pay up, sucker!”

[breezespren]

Writing Prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing. Don’t state the emotion. Convey it.

He sat on the porch, rocking in the wicker chair his father and his grandfather had sat in, gazing across his domain. The wheat in the field was shining, the leaves rustled with a slight breeze, and the animals in the barn snuffled.

The barn was nothing special. The blue paint was peeling and the hinges on the door squeaked. He thought of the broken step that led to the hayloft, determined it could wait to be fixed until tomorrow. Perhaps he could get the boy down the street–what was his name? John?– to help him now that…now that…No. He could do it. It might take him longer though.

He continued to rock and look. The top of the barn glowed as the sun hit its zenith. He tried to look away, but the image remained and shifted. The barn burning, burning violently slow. Screams from both animals and a man were not quite overpowered by the roaring of the flames. His legs couldn’t move fast enough. He was running, and wheezing, but the barn seemed to move farther and farther away. The barn caved in, devouring the animals and man in an inferno. Falling to his knees, he searched the heavens, a scream caught in his throat. The stars appeared and disappeared with the planes streaking across the sky before something dark and large fell toward him.

He blinked. The barn was just the same. It was blue and many yards north of the house. The door creaked and the paint peeled. But the window to the hayloft was crooked on one side and the stall in the back had a hole in the corner. It really wasn’t the same, despite his best efforts to recreate it.

[breezespren]

The Traitorous

Grace held her gun up against her chest ready to fire, her finger off the trigger. Sweating trickled down her back, sticking her tank top to her flight suit. She peeked around the corner, but couldn’t make out anything in the dim lighting. Where was he? The traitor wouldn’t have run. Antione would have wanted his acolyte to finish the job, to kill her.

“Come on, Grace,” said Caleb, his voice echoing through the hangar. “You can’t deny there’s something between us.”

A hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. Grace raised her knee, taking Caleb in the groin. He doubled over, wheezing, as she pointed her gun at him.

“You’re right,” Grace said. “The law.”

“Gracie,” he moaned, “you know what we had was real. Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying when I say I’ll shoot you.” She emphasized her statement with a cock of her gun.

And she wasn’t lying. Before this moment, she might have doubted herself. But looking Caleb in the face, she knew she would shoot him if she needed to. Any past experience with him was forgotten.

“Come on baby. I meant every word,” Caleb purred.

Grace raised an eyebrow. “Every word as in when you said you’d help Antione further the spread of the plague for your own personal gain? Good to know!”

The clang of a door and feet running boomed through the hangar. Antoine and his men would be there soon. She had to radio Marcy. But what to do with Caleb.

Before she could decide, Caleb tackled her to the ground with a growl. Her gun fell from her hand, landing several feet from her. She grunted as he sat his full weight sat on her hips while his hands pinned her arms above her.

“Now, this I remember,” Caleb said, his breath hot on her face, reeking of coffee. “What a night, Gracie. Maybe we should recreate it.” He moved her arms, slowly as she tried to resist him, so that he could hold them with one hand and use the other to unzip the front of her flight suit.

Grace’s first instinct was to fight, wrench her body away from the snake holding her captive. But training told her to wait, wait one more second for the opportune moment. She held her breath, goosebumps rising on her arms. While Caleb unzipped her, relishing in what was to come, she slowly moved her leg to hook around his. Then, with a sharp thrust upward with her hips, she rolled him off of her pinning him beneath her.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “You were never on top.” Grace punched his red, surprised face back into the concrete, and stood up. Picking up her gun, she aimed it at him again. “One more word from you, and I shoot.”

She watched him closely as he sat up, stemming the blood pouring from his nose.

The pounding of feet was getting closer.

“Grace!” came a yell. Marcy, finally.

“Over here!” Graced yelled, not turning her head. Instead, she returned Caleb’s glare with one

of her own. The man she had once called fiancé was now the furthest thing from her heart. That she had allowed him to play with her like she was a puppet on his string was shameful. She should have seen this coming, should have known some how that this would happen. Every relationship Grace had ever had burned to the ground. This latest relationship could only be described as an explosion.

Marcy and her squad ran around the corner, flashlights and guns in hand.

“I see you caught the spy,” said Marcy with a smirk. Grace’s commanding officer stepped circled Caleb, her gun resting on her shoulder. “He looks just as pitiful as I thought he would.”

Caleb growled.

“We need to stop Antoine, ma’am,” said Grace.

“Right,” Marcy said, squatting beside Caleb. “Now, tell us. Where is Antoine dropping plague pathogen?”

[breezespren]

Writing Prompt: The ocean becomes the sky.

The mermaid laid on the sand. The scales of her tail were drying out. Millions of dead fish and other fellow sea creatures littered the ground around her. The ocean, a blue and purple ocean, that had been her constant companion, her shelter and home, the one thing that she could rely on to always be with her, was gone, forsaking the sea floor for the forbidden heavens, a sky she had never seen, nor wanted to see for fear of the fish killers she’d find, and abandoning its home to fly and flow above, killing its offspring. The mermaid had helped cultivate and care for the creatures of the deep. Now, they spasm and choke on the air not fit for their lungs. The water had blocked out the sun. They had never seen the sun, so the darkness was not new. But a world free from the crushing, comforting pressure of millions of tons of water pressing down, up, and around her was more off putting than the dying, decaying bodies of fish on the sand. The only thing disconcerting about the corpses around her was the quantity. Corpses often sank to the ocean floor, left to decompose into more grains of sand that would spread across the globe to be made into pearls and glass that would be adorned on the necks and wrists of wealthy women too absorbed in their own world’s to think of another that they exploit for their trinkets made of the ocean’s detritus. The mermaid heaved a final sigh, knowing she would soon join her children. The raw air could only sustain her for so long. She watched the waves above her flow back and forth and back and forth, an image she never saw in the deep of the sea, a sight that rocked her, rocked her slowly into death’s embrace.

[breezespren]

The man

The girl met a man that made her feel like a woman. He was everything a man should be. Thoughtful, kind, aware, strong, dedicated, fun, diligent, friendly, accepting, encouraging, intelligent, and musical. Whenever she was with him, she felt like she belonged, that despite the other people around them, she was the only he cared about. He would often ask her “Is there anything you need? Are you uncomfortable? How are you feeling?” She would respond honestly without fear of retribution or ridicule. His constant conscientiousness encouraged her to feel comfortable around him like he wanted her to be with him. She loved his expressive, freckled face that really saw her, no matter her flaws. His voice was like honey, golden, sweet, and tender. She never wanted to be parted from his strong arms. But, although they fit in every way from temperament to schooling to likes to families, their fingers did not fit together. Her fingers felt squished between his when their hands interlocked. When they embraced, they were melded together, fitting perfectly against their other half. Yet, their fingers refused to combine easily. She wondered at their inability to feel comfortable holding hands but did not believe it could not be overcome.

Weeks passed and they took every opportunity they could to be with one another. They saw movies and plays, rock climbed and played games, met his sister and met her family, listened to music and cuddled. With each interaction, she fell deeper and deeper, trying to ignore the future that he told her was inevitable because when she was with him, she felt capable, accepted, and desired. Losing that feeling was not something she looked forward to. She realized that this man was everything she wanted and did not know she wanted. Though he was not a perfect being, in her eyes, he embodied perfection, he was her perfect match.

More weeks passed. He went on trips, saw old friends, and made plans for a future that did not include her. She shrugged it off, hoping he would change his mind, even though she knew he would not. Her irrationality concerned her, but she did not want to think about it. He grew distant with each passing day. Texting became scarce, calls non-existent, and face-to-face interactions were not planned. Realizing that change was inescapable, she became desperate, telling him she did not like how far he felt from her, that he was not giving her attention. He retaliated with reality. Expectations had been set from the beginning, nothing was going to happen now or in the future, he should not be expected to give her attention over his family and jobs. And while she knew all this, her heart could not deny the connection they had and so broke with each word he said. The perspective that was forced into her ears filled her head to bursting. She could hardly think of anything else for days.

Everything he said was true. Everything.

She’d been told from the beginning that their relationship was destined to shortly die, so why then did she allow herself to get attached, to believe in something that could never be? Perhaps because she enjoyed finally having someone she wanted want her too. Perhaps it was because she loved his company and did not want to let go of something that brought her joy. Perhaps she was scared that no one else would want her the way he does. Perhaps she thought that this was her only shot at true love, that no one else could fulfill her needs the way he could. Perhaps all of these are true.

The pain of loss coursed through her body and left her numb and aching. Tears and sobs were constantly at the surface, waiting for just the right thing to send them spilling over the edge. Friends and activities were an easy distraction from his silence. But even as she writes this, a weight is being lifted off her chest. She is thinking of all the little worries she had when she was with him, the feeling that he was hiding something from her, the thought that maybe she would tire of his constant compliments and babying. That she may have come to love him simply because he showed her the attention she had so long yearned for, that perhaps they were not as agreeable as she thought they were. And so although the man made her feel like a woman, the girl is still learning what love is, how to find it, and nourish it.

[breezespren]

“Sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a man in the process of changing.”

- Dalinar (Oathbringer, pg. ?)

Would love actual page number if you have it…

rereading wok dalinar after oathbringer really is something… he is the biggest hypocrite and he’s only vaguely aware of it…

[breezespren]

I still can’t get over this one

homewrecker noir 😔

[breezespren]

Starting Rhythm of War and finding out that Lyn and Kaladin dated and then she dumped him and I love this so so so much for the following reasons

The fact that clearly what happened was that Syl kept bullying Kaladin into dating someone and he looked around and thought "Okay...well, I love my men...Lyn is one of my men, but a woman...I'll just date her" top ten kaladin epic women liking moments

Imagine being Lyn and dating the single most eligible flying glowing bachelor on literally the entire planet and dumping him. King.

[breezespren]

cosmere adaptation a la the style of arcane on netflix

[breezespren]

Kissing is Gross

Her gut clenched with apprehension and disgust as memories of the night before filled her mind. Though he had been kind and gracious, he had also been fast and abrasive. Not once in her expectations for the night had she envisioned him kissing her. 

She recalled when they met, through a dating app of all places. Their first date was at a bookstore, picking out books for each other and engaging in small talk. Their second date wasn't really a date since her roommate was also there, but they had gone to a football game and a fast-food place after. She learned more about him with every interaction and thought that she liked what she discovered. 

Knowing that he didn't have anything to do on a Monday night, she invited him to a game night with her friends thinking it could be a good way to spend time with him. She wasn't focused on creating romance, or holding his hand, or introducing him to her friends as a potential boyfriend. Merely as a way to spend time as friends. 

She supposed that her kindness and interest in him appeared like more to him. Or perhaps he was hoping to get everything settled between them before he left in two days. Either way, she wasn't expecting him to determine the nature and future of their relationship. But he did. 

"So, I'd love to know what you think and feel about me and dating and the two together," he had said. 

A bit surprised the girl responded, "I'm interested in you and want to get to know you better. As far as dating goes, with you out of state and me staying here, I don't think that long distance would be good." 

As the conversation continued, she learned more about him, but didn't really feel like she knew him. Sure, she knew about his family, where he was from, and his five year plan. But she felt like he was wearing a mask, that he was asking her questions like he was quizzing her on whether she was worthy enough for him. 

Overall, the hour and a half car ride was enjoyable and she looked forward to spending more time with him. But when they pulled up to her apartment, she knew that he was going to kiss her. 

Her teasing nature and kind interest in his words must have implied she wanted him to kiss her. She didn't know. They arrived at her door and stopped for a hug and a confirmation of plans for the following day. But after the hug ended he tugged her hand back and kissed her. 

The first thing she thought was, "I'm kissing him!" 

The next was, "Am I doing this right? Is that tongue? That's most definitely tongue." 

She couldn't remember anything else about the kiss beyond the slobbery movement of lips and his tongue. She couldn't remember where his hands were or how she stood against him. All was a blur. 

She broke the kiss, said, "I told you I don't know what I'm doing." 

"That's alright," he said, and she walked into the apartment.

  In the privacy of the stairwell she stuck out her tongue and almost gagged. She had never participated in something so gross and revolting in her life. When she walked into her apartment, she made eye contact with her roommate and scraped her sleeve across her mouth, removing his saliva from her lips. 

"Kissing is gross," she said, before shuddering and dropping her things in her room. 

Then began the battle of trying to understand her feelings. Perhaps she just doesn't know how to kiss, maybe he doesn't know how to kiss? Perhaps she's not actually attracted to him? Did she want him to kiss her? She didn't feel comfortable with him, perhaps that would come with time? 

She was now more confused than ever when it came to the opposite sex.

[breezespren]

Crush-ed

And with one glance, her heart stuttered and stopped. Breathing became an agony she didn’t want. She brought her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. It hurt too much to sit straight, to listen as they laughed, to be in the same room as them.

Yet, she couldn’t help wanting to be a part of what they were talking about. Even if it meant she wouldn’t be the one making him laugh. He may give all his attention to the girl already beside him, but just to be near him, to feel his deep chuckles through the couch they shared would be enough.

But she didn’t move. She continued to stare ahead, attempting to ignore the soft whispers and giggles and failing every time.

She should’ve known this would happen. No man like him had ever wanted a girl like her. He was too handsome, too strong, too outgoing. She had supposed that his kindness was interest, but it was only a lie. His gentle heart had reached out to a hurting girl, unaware that any attention he gave would immediately be misconstrued as interest. Any late response would be considered as neglect. Any smile or shared look of understanding would be understood as favoritism.

That’s how it had been in the past with other gentlemen. They invited her to parties and outings, said that they missed her when she didn’t attend, and liked to tease and joke with her. In those instances she was flattered. These men, though not all handsome or of interest to her, spent their time and money to be with her. They complimented her and wanted to talk with her and she knew that they wanted their relationship to be more. Every time she considered them, for one reason or another, it didn’t feel right. So, she turned them down, hoping that one day a man would enter her life and it would finally feel right, that she could tell him anything and everything.

He had done all of these things, including impressing her with his intelligence. He was vulnerable with her, telling her about his family and the pain that he feels at the declining health of his sister. He shared an intimate dance with her, made a point to touch her when appropriate, and make sure that she was a part of conversations. Every time he gave her a hug, her mind would go blank, relishing in the feeling of being in his arms, forgetting everything around her. He was an enigma that she wanted to spend the rest of her life figuring out.

But as he cuddled with another girl behind her, laughing and talking, her body curled tighter with the tension of hurting alone. No one else knew of the deepness of her feelings. She couldn’t ask for help, she couldn’t leave, and she most certainly couldn’t talk to him. As the event came to a close, she spoke shortly with those around her and quickly left the building, refusing to look at him.

He had hurt her too many times now. This was the final time. Holding back the tears that threatened to flow, she told herself that it didn’t matter, that it shouldn’t matter to her what he did or who he chose. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him. They would both be much happier with a different person. He was wrong for her and there was nothing she could do about it. It was just the way it was.

However, when she entered her room, all those reasons came crashing down just like the tears streaking down her cheeks. If it was meant to be, wouldn’t those differences mean nothing? Perhaps he’ll still choose her? Maybe that girl is going through a rough time and he just wants to be there for her? How could she feel this way if it wasn’t real?

His words, voice, and face all float through her mind, breaking her heart a little bit more. It hurt knowing that he would never be hers, would never intertwine her fingers with his, would never have his head in her lap, her fingers stroking his cheeks and running through his hair, would never dance together in their own kitchen, would never share the most intimate part of each other. Although he would continue to smile at her and give her hugs, they wouldn’t mean what she had been hoping for weeks. That he cared for her as she did for him.

But despite her desires and rationalizations, the message from her dear friend could not be refuted. After asking about him and the girl, she was told that there was much to be told and that he was figuring out his feelings for the girl. Unaware that he had so much history with the girl, she immediately wished she hadn’t asked. Blinding light was more uncomfortable than the darkness that had enveloped her just moments before.

Give it time she is told, but how much time? And give what time? Give it time for her heart to heal? To get over him? Or for him to come around? For him to realize who he wants to be with, who would be a better match for him? Or perhaps she should be patient, be friends with him first, let him leave for those two long years, and then when he returns, it will work out?

She doesn’t want to wait her entire life for a man who doesn’t exist when there is a perfectly amazing one who sat just behind her. And yet, that’s exactly what it feels like.

[breezespren]

Cinderella retelling where the fairy godmother is the villain.

“But of course, darling! You didn’t think…Oh, good heavens! You did!” Nefryn’s shrill laughter filled the room, making Kida wince. “Honestly. No one would have done what I did out of simple kindness. Remember that, my dear. Everyone has a motive and it is never charity.”

Kida could hear her laughter continue up the stairs as her captor left the house.

Kida struggled against her chains, pulling and twisting every which way, but it only made her wrists ache and her ankles cramp. Though there were plenty of items in the storage room that could potentially help her escape, they were all out of reach. The tiny window above her let in less and less light as her frantic thinking tired.

How had she gotten in this mess? She wasn’t even sure she knew what “this mess” was. But from what Nefryn said about returning to the castle, Kida could only assume that Rillan would soon be in danger.

She needed to warn him about Nefryn. He would recognize her as Kida’s chaperone and probably wouldn’t see her as a threat, merely watching over her charge. He might notice something is wrong if Kida wasn’t with her, but that could easily be explained with a lie. What would Nefryn tell him? How would she explain Kida’s disappearance?

After one last desperate tug on the chains, Kida slumped against the cold wall. No one would be home for hours yet, so yelling was hopeless. But maybe someone would pass by the house? Although all of the family was going, or supposed to be going, to the final ball tonight, that didn’t mean the entire staff was also gone for the night.

“Hefin! Ulmo! Anyone? Help! Please!”She directed her yells to the window above her.

Her stepsisters and stepmother were probably just arriving at the ball, completely unaware that she was trapped in the basement. They wouldn’t think anything was wrong until Nefryn, the supposed family friend, began making her rounds in the ballroom without Kida. Even then, she wasn’t sure if her family would be that concerned. Kida often left parties or other events to wander on her own.

“Hello? Anyone out there? Please help me!”

Kida continued to yell for any of the servants or stable hands that might be nearby well into the night. She shivered in the dark prison, reminding herself that the shapes across the room from her were still the broken chairs, boxes of trinkets, and stained curtains that they were earlier. Their shadowed forms looked like hunched figures watching her.

“Nefryn, when I get out of this, I’ll…” She couldn’t finish the threat. She didn’t know what she would do.

Nefryn had been a part of Kida’s life for as long as she could remember. When her stepmother was unbearable, Nefryn had been the warm embrace to comfort her. Her memories of her mother were founded on Nefryn’s stories of when they grew up together. Kida had shared so many intimate experiences, thoughts, and opinions with Nefryn that the idea of her betrayal was still unfathomable.

Even now, Kida wanted to pray for her godmother to come save her, forgetting that it was her godmother that put her there.

[breezespren]

She took the news quite well, as well as anyone would I suppose. She kept her face under control, only a slight tightening of her lips showed her displeasure. A million thoughts and feelings rushed through her, accept not one passed through her shield. I could not decipher or guess what she felt.

Perhaps sadness clouded her head. A deep sorrow invading her thoughts like spilled ink ebbing across a paper. She felt like crying, but tears showed weakness.

Or maybe she was angry. Her anger, resentment, and hatred shooting through her body. However, such strong feelings would be shamed and unacceptable. She hid them deep within her, only to be revealed to the most trusted people.

Whatever she was feeling and thinking, she would not reveal it to me, even though I was her most trusted friend. Years later, she told me that it was easier to share her innermost thoughts with a stranger because they wouldn't judge her for it. They would talk with her once and empathize with her, but as soon as the conversation was over, the stranger would forget all about her. They wouldn't share with friends what they knew about her because they wouldn't know her family or friends.

I'd like to think I wouldn't judge her either, but the constant reminder of what she would've told me every time I see her would have made it hard to treat her like I always have. She would have changed in my eyes and though I would try to hide it, she would see the shift in my eyes. I understand her position and willingness to share with a stranger instead of her closest friend. I understand, but it still hurts.

I wonder how everyone would react and treat each other if we knew their secrets, how they were feeling, and what they were thinking. Would the world be a better place? Would people love and accept one another for their imperfections? Or would things sour quickly and make the world dark and cold? Would people isolate themselves for fear of what people would think of them?

I won't know.

However, even though I don't know her secrets, her feelings, her thoughts, I love her anyway. I will still smile and laugh with her despite knowing that she hurts inside for I know that my time with her will help her forget the pain for a little while. I will still hug her because those secrets are hers and hers alone. I shouldn't push her into revealing something so personal and I won't. I will still show, give, and tell her of my love for her because she needs it and she needs me. I may not know her secrets or feelings or thoughts, but she is as important to me as the tides are to the earth. I need her just as much as she needs me.

I love her.

[breezespren]

me: *walks into thrift store, heads straight for books*

also me: *trying not to squeal as I find a book I don’t have, but need*

additionally me: *evil chuckling as I fill my arms with 12 books*

me: yes, I have an addiction. Why do you ask?

[breezespren]

When I was little, my dad loved Lord of the Rings and Les Mis and somehow, in my little 4 year old brain, the two had been smooshed together to be one movie. So, when I saw LOTR for the first time at age 14, even though by now I knew they were two separate movies, every time the Eye of Sauron came on screen, I kept waiting for the music to start singing "Look down! Look down! Don't look him in the Eye!"

[breezespren]

Write about a villain who commits crimes to impress the hero and get their attention but they don’t know how to flirt like a regular person.

“You’ve got to stop this madness! Why would you flood the entire city? What do you have to gain from that?” Kip shouted, spreading his arms wide.

An evening with you, Hylla thought. Her power stance faltered just the slightest. “You don’t know?”

“How would I know?”

“I thought I was being obvious.”

Kip looked as though he wanted to start pacing and then realized he still stood on a three food platform with a pit filled with thousands of poisonous frogs around him.

“Hylla, your schemes are never this stupid. Normally, they sit between letting a possibly angry dog loose in my mom’s house and robbing a chocolate factory of all its sugar. Right now, you’re sitting at toilet-papering the mayor’s bathroom. Flooding the city is just going make everybody wet. We have drains built for flooding.”

With every word her confidence shrank. She was now hugging herself instead of peering down her nose at him.

“Really?” she said.

“Really,” he replied.

“But I thought—”

“I know.”

“What if I—”

“Probably not.”

“Kip!” She stamped her foot. “Couldn’t you let me win just this once?”

He rolled his eyes. “How? The flooding isn’t going to work. The frogs down there? They’re not even poisonous. Come on, Hylla. During the day, I’m a zoologist.”

“Well, um…”

She searched her secret lab—though with Kip here, it wasn’t much of a secret now—trying to find something that could actually help her against him. She spotted the sleep serum she ordered off the internet. The seller was totally confident it would knock out anyone as he tried it on his girlfriend and she’d been sleeping for six months.

“Okay. What if I gave you some sleep serum? You’d never wake up and I’d win!” She pointed to row of purple vials on the counter by the door. When Kip’s eyebrows rose, she smiled.

He turned back to face her. “How about I pretend to take some?”

“You’ll act dead? Really dead?” She wasn’t confident he would. But maybe I could…

“Sure,” he said.

Hylla stepped down from her dais and pushed the red button on the remote in her hand. The doors over the pit closed. Kip glanced at her and slumped to the ground. Hylla giggled as she made her way over to him. She prodded him with her foot and when he didn’t move, she giggled again.

“Oh no!” she whispered, ” He’s dead!” She knelt beside him and poked his cheek. “I know what will save him.” She spoke with a lower voice. “True love’s kiss.”

She thought she saw Kip twitch, but ignored it. Leaning over him, she placed her lips on his, but jerked back when his bright blue eyes burst open.

“Eek!” Hylla jumped to her feet and ran out of her not-so-secret lair.

“Wait! Hylla!” Kip sounded like he was following her. He caught her arm, pulling her to a stop. “What was that?”

Hylla refused to look at him. “Come on, hero. I thought you knew.”

“I’m so confused right now, even my superior, evolved brain can’t figure it out.” His grip tightened on her arm.

“This is stupid. I’m leaving,” she said, wrenching her arm free.

“Not yet.” Kip grabbed her again, spinning her to face him. And for the first time, Hylla felt seen. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Hylla’s shoulders slumped and the silly, supervillain act fell.

“So?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing he’d never look at her the same. Whether he looked at her like she was a psychopath or with pity or with love, she’d never know.

Hylla walked away and Kip let her.