#[ DIGS THIS OUT.... FINISHES IT....

[kedreeva]

Okay if you haven't yet, and you have Netflix/Paramount+, consider giving "School Spirits" a chance.

It looks like a silly little cheesy teenage ghosts show, I put it on for background noise, and then got totally engrossed in the mystery. It's VERY well written, very well filmed, the mystery was GREAT and the payoff at the end is also great.

One of the things majorly lacking in shows I've recently tried to watch is that they try to do a twist/reveal at the end that comes out of nowhere. They don't want you to guess what they're doing. This show doesn't do that. This show wants you to guess. They give you seven different mysteries and enough clues to guess (most of) what is going on, so that when you get the final puzzle piece to any given mystery, it feels GREAT.

The story premise is this: a teenager in hs wakes up as a ghost in the hs, and doesn't remember how she died, and with the help of the other ghosts, tries to solve the mystery of her own death.

Simple premise. BEAUTIFULLY executed. Not all of the questions that arise get answered, but the main one (what she doesn't remember) gets solved by the end of the season, leaving the "why/how and what comes next" to be carried to the next season. It does a cliffhanger RIGHT. But now I desperately want to see the second season (which I believe has been approved, so it's a matter of waiting).

So pretty please, if you're looking for something to do and a great, engaging lil mystery to watch, consider! School Spirits!!

[carlyraejepsans]

you want to play ghost trick. you want to play ghost trick so bad ooooo (ghost noise) hold my hand. let's get you a ds emulator baby

[jadequarze]

Today I bring you this. Next time, who knows

[cheriekos]

why don’t we talk about the fact that young Duke wanted to be a paleontologist. why don’t we talk about that the character descriptions in we are robin describes him as showing “potential as a writer” like!!!!!! so many fun little nuggets of facts I could yell

[vic-does-battlecats]

Moonpaw

[foxtrottcantfindshit]

My interest took a hard left, all the way back to when I was a teenager and this game came out in 2016!!!

Still one of my top favorite games of all time I’m almost sure this is #1 or #2 and of course, my favorite was Noct

[hephaestuscrew]

“This has both our names on it”: Viewing Fleet and Clara’s relationship in Victoriocity through a queerplatonic lens

TL;DR: By Season 3 of Victoriocity, Fleet and Clara have developed a committed emotional partnership that certainly moves beyond the purely professional. Whilst very much operating as a duo, they can be interpreted as often rejecting or subverting romance-coded elements in their relationship, instead embracing a unique dynamic that can be read as resonating with the concept of a queerplatonic relationship (QPR).

Buckle up because this is over 2,500 words long! If you'd rather read it as a document, you can access it here: Fleet & Clara QPR Google Doc

Disclaimer: I'm not making any claims about creator intent, nor about how anyone else ought to interpret Fleet and Clara's dynamic. It's also worth acknowledging that queerplatonic relationships are inherently defined by the people in them and any attempt to apply such terminology to a story set in 1887 is obviously anachronistic (although whether that should matter when said story also contains a cyborg Queen Victoria is up for debate). 

With that said, if we define a QPR as a committed personal partnership which is not entirely captured by the typical expectations of either friendship or romance but may contain some elements typically associated with either (other definitions of QPRs are available), I enjoy viewing Fleet and Clara's relationship through a QPR lens, and I want to talk about some of the reasons why I think this reading works.

***Spoilers for all three seasons of Victoriocity and the novel High Vaultage***

Detective duos

Even before we actually get into Fleet and Clara's particular bond, detective / crime-solving duos as a general concept have QPR energy to me (which probably predisposed me to this interpretation). It's the Holmes-and-Watson legacy. It's the use of the word 'partner' in a non-romantic context (‘associate’ or ‘companion’ can also serve a similar purpose). It's the intense trust and reliance on each other. It's the sense of being a recognisable pair, always appearing together, known as a duo, with skills and attributes that complement each other. 

Romantic assumptions

Moving on to Fleet and Clara specifically, one aspect of their relationship that can be read through a QPR lens is how they are often in situations where other people believe or imply that there is a romantic relationship between them. Sometimes this is a deliberate strategy of theirs, and sometimes it’s imposed upon them by others. But I’d argue that there’s never a point where they both simultaneously seem entirely comfortable with that romantic narrative for their relationship. Usually one of them will actively deny the assumption or react negatively to the implication:

When Mrs Hampshire interprets Clara and Fleet as a couple experiencing “young love”, Clara might be happy to adopt this as an effective cover story, but Fleet seems unsettled and keen for them not to be perceived this way: “No. No. You’ve misunderstood, we are not, that is to say I am…” (S1E2)

When Warden Hughes assumes Fleet is the new Warden and Clara is the new Warden’s wife, Clara says “I am certainly not”, with emphasis on the ‘certainly’. (S2E2)

Fleet definitely doesn’t sound enthused when he realises Clara has gone for a married couple as their cover story at the Grand Salcombe: “I am sure I’ll regret asking, but by any chance am I [Mr. Theasby?]” (S2E2)

When Titus Byrne tells the pair “I take it you're happy sharing [a room]”, Clara responds with a horrified “What?” (S3E4) (Obviously sleeping in the same room isn’t inherently romantic, but it is often perceived that way.)

Of course, fake dating and external assumptions of romance are very common tropes in romantic will-they-won't-they dynamics, and these moments could definitely be interpreted that way for Fleet and Clara. But I prefer to read these instances as reflecting a different kind of closeness between these two characters. They have a sense of emotional partnership that allows a marriage cover story to seem plausible to others and that other people sometimes automatically assume to be romantic (obviously with some period-typical heteronormativity at play). But to me, it doesn't seem like either of them are fully comfortable with their relationship being perceived in a directly romantic way. Perhaps they are a couple in a different sense…

Proposal via door plate 

The way that Fleet asks Clara to be his business partner has always seemed to me like a platonic version of when people find personal ways to surprise their romantic partner with a proposal:

CLARA: You bought me a door plate for your office? [...] This has both our names on it. FLEET: What do you think? CLARA: I like it. (S2E7)

Fleet could have just asked Clara outright, without going to the trouble of buying a sign that would have been useless if she’d said no. If it was purely a professional business proposition with no emotional meaning behind it, I think he would have just asked verbally. But instead, he gifts her a sign with their two names paired together: Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. There's something so intimate about that to me: about Fleet asking Clara whether she would like to be a duo with him in a more formally-defined but still non-romantic way; about him choosing to present this offer in the form of a gift; about the way he presents her with their two names joined together etched into metal and asks what she thinks; about the significance that this gesture attaches to their partnership; about him having enough trust that she'll say yes that the effort and vulnerability of presenting her with that sign seem worth it for him. And the gesture means an awful lot to Clara:

She thought about the door plaque he’d had engraved with both their names on it as his way of inviting her to be his business partner – typical Fleet, refusing to tell her so much as his favourite breakfast food and then to go and do something like that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. (High Vaultage, p187). 

Anniversaries

In the special episode ‘Murder in the Pharaoh's Tomb', Clara says “And you know what else is a big occasion Fleet? It's our one-month anniversary.” She wants to celebrate the anniversary of Fleet-Entwhistle Investigations. Their partnership holds a significance for her that means key dates associated with it are worth remembering and remarking upon. 

When Clara first mentions their anniversary, Fleet nearly chokes on his drink, which seems like an instinctive reaction to the usually romantic connotations of an anniversary (see my point above about Fleet not being comfortable with their dynamic being perceived as romantic). But when Clara clarifies what she means, Fleet seems much more cheerful about the notion of their anniversary: “Ah, so it has.”

“Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner”

I get extremely strong QPR vibes from this moment, when Fleet introduces Clara to the sailors at Grave End:

FLEET: This is Miss Clara Entwhistle, my partner - in business, my business partner. CLARA: I'm also his friend, but he doesn't like to say it. (S3 E3)

Fleet and Clara are partners, but not in the way the average person might assume from that word, which Fleet realises mid-sentence here. This is another instance of Fleet reacting negatively to the idea that their relationship might be interpreted romantically (see above). And yet, 'partner' (rather than, say, ‘colleague’) is the word that comes naturally to him in this moment to describe who Clara is to him. He then frantically emphasises the professional element of their relationship so as to avoid the romantic implication, but Clara is keen to proudly assert that there is a personal, emotional aspect to their dynamic too. They are first-and-foremost partners, and they are friends, and they do not want to be seen in a romantic light - this post basically writes itself... 

“Her ridiculous detective.”

When Clara fears for her life at the display of the Lanterns, the narration tells us:

“she thought of her brother, her sister, her parents... Her ridiculous detective.” (High Vaultage, p172) 

The fact that Clara thinks of Fleet in this moment of fear clearly indicates his importance to her, but I think the phrasing of this quote is particularly interesting. The narration lists Clara's immediate family: two of whom are dead (her sister and father), one of whom is publically mourning Clara's life choices (her mother), and only one of whom we have any real evidence of her having a positive relationship with (her brother). And then, separated from these complicated familial relationships by an ellipsis, the narration tells Clara also thinks of Fleet, “her ridiculous detective”. 

Parents and siblings are familial relationships that tend to come with established expectations, in which the use of a possessive pronoun (i.e. her brother) to indicate the relationship is a norm. ‘Detective’ does not fall into this category; unlike ‘brother’, ‘sister’, ‘parent’, ‘friend’, ‘partner’ etc., ‘detective’ is not a word that inherently implies a relationship or that we'd usually expect to see preceded by a possessive pronoun. The idea of ‘her detective’ therefore stands out, giving the sense that there is a unique relationship being indicated here. The way in which Fleet is ‘hers’ is something that Clara has chosen for herself, something that they have shaped together. Who they are to each other can't necessarily be fully expressed using standard phrases that traditionally describe relationships between people. But Fleet is Clara's detective, of which she only has one, and who she'll think of in the midst of “the screaming of the heavens at the end of the world”.

Fleet is also the only one in this list of Clara's loved ones who gets an adjective - her love for him has detail. And while “ridiculous” might often be perceived as negative (it's certainly not a classic romantic endearment), it seems to me like there's such fondness in it in this context: the recognition of and affection for eccentricities, the idea that his importance to her is not (purely) based on his professional strengths but on Fleet as a whole - perhaps at times ridiculous - person.

“Settled”

When Clara and Fleet talk about Clara's mother’s expectations for her, they have this exchange:

"She's still living in hope that one day I'll settle down."  "You're not settled?" asked Fleet. "I am." (High Vaultage, p259) 

By ‘settle down’, Clara's mother of course means ‘marry’, ideally into “at least a minor baronetcy”. But Clara already considers herself "settled", just not in a way her mother would understand or appreciate. She's not looking to "settle down" into a lifestyle other than her current one. She is settled in a situation where Fleet is certainly her closest personal connection in London (and perhaps anywhere), and where the two of them work closely together, operate as a duo, and then go back to their separate homes. And this partnership with Fleet is a comfortable set-up that feels right for Clara exactly as it is, rather than being a precursor to, or a distraction from, the marriage ambitions that her mother wants for her.

I think this exchange also contains an implicit sense of the commitment between the two of them. Fleet wants to check that Clara is ‘settled’ in her current situation, of which working closely - and platonically - with Fleet is obviously a major element; Clara confirms she is. There's a subtle indication of their shared intention to be in this for the long haul.

As a sidenote, Fleet and Clara’s implicit assumption that their partnership is a long-term one can manifest itself in joking contexts as well as serious ones. Look at this exchange from S3E5: 

FLEET: We're not bandits, we're just going to flag it down. CLARA: We'd be terrific bandits! FLEET: Let's just see how our current line of work goes.

I think it’s notable that, in this joking speculation, both Fleet and Clara use ‘we’ and ‘our’. The joke could have been phrased just as effectively if they were imagining only Clara becoming a bandit. But the suggestion is that, if either of them was a bandit, they’d be bandits together. Even if they changed their lives entirely, they'd still approach life together.

Inseparable 

Fleet and Clara have become a nearly inseparable duo in a way which is noticed by others. For example, after Clara and Fleet fall out in High Vaultage, Fleet meets with Keller, who says: 

"You're here with me instead of barrelling across town with her, so I'm just assuming there is some thickheaded puffinry for which you need to apologise to Miss Entwhistle" (p335)

Keller, hardly the most emotionally perceptive man in Even Greater London, automatically infers from the fact that Fleet is on his own that he has had a falling out with Clara, rather than that they just happen to be in different places. When all is well, Keller expects to see the two of them together, whether or not they are in a position to be actively working a case.

Going back earlier in their partnership, Keller makes a similar assumption about Fleet and Clara being inseparable in S2E6. When Clara shouts her name amidst Keller's anti-Vidoc booby traps, Keller asks "Entwhistle? Which means… Fleet?" Again, there's this idea that if one of them is there, the other is likely to be there too - they come as a pair. (It's worth noting that this scene takes place less than two weeks after they first met.)

“Like a friend might?”

At the end of S3E7, Fleet suggests that he and Clara go to the theatre together. It would have been easy for this invitation to have been explicitly framed as a romantic proposition, or even for the nature of the offer to have been left more ambiguous. But Clara says "Archibald Fleet, are you inviting me to a social activity? Like a friend might?" The use of the word 'friend' directly labels this as a platonic interaction. And it's with that platonic lens on it that Clara is extremely excited to spend non-work-related social time with Fleet.

“Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.”

CLARA: My grandmother's ring, I don't suppose you managed to hold on to it? [...] FLEET: Oh, it's been crushed.. I'm sorry Clara [...] CLARA: No, you keep it. FLEET: What? No... CLARA: Keep it. Maybe it'll remind you not to run towards trains. FLEET: Maybe. Maybe it'll just be my good luck charm.

In S3E7, Clara gives Fleet a ring, which - as a gift from one person to another - is traditionally a symbol of a particular, legally recognised, kind of personal commitment. But when Clara tells Fleet to keep the damaged ring, down in the Underground tunnels after the destruction of the beast and Fleet's latest brush with death, it is quite a different situation to a wedding or a proposal. A married man would traditionally wear his wedding ring on his finger for all to see, but Fleet won't ever wear this ring like that. The ring itself has been bent into a different shape between the wheels of their misadventures, subverting the usual associations of a ring given from one person to another. (In a heteronormative world, those associations are particularly strong when the two people in question are a woman and a man.) 

That ring is not an engagement ring, but it is Clara’s grandmother's ring, an inheritance from the blood family she never really felt she belonged in, now given to the man who might be a very different kind of family for her in London. That ring - with which Clara saved Fleet's life - is a symbol of their bond. And it therefore serves as a reminder for Fleet “not to run towards trains" and as a “good luck charm”. I like to think he'll carry that ring with him, perhaps in his jacket pocket - a little piece of his partner, kept close to his ticking heart…

Thank you for reading all of this!

If you’ve read all of this, I'm assuming you also enjoy the concept of Fleet and Clara as a QPR (unless you're really a glutton for punishment) and that makes me very happy! This was long because there's so much to say about them… And I wrote all of the above without even getting into: the potential to headcanon Fleet and/or Clara as aspec (which I don't think is necessary for QPR headcanons, but which is also fun); Clara's baggage around and discomfort with marriage in general; the speed with which Fleet and Clara become a ride-or-die duo; and the many other demonstrations of care, understanding, trust, respect, and affection between them that didn't feel as directly QPR-coded to me but are nonetheless wonderful. Please do feel free to share your own thoughts!

[the-merry-otter]

The skirt seams are so tedious, and i have to remind myself that technically the project won’t go any slower if i finish the final two tonight instead of doing the front interlining 😆

[puppyeared]

Forever and ever

[goosecastle41]

Derek: I actually hadn’t thought about just consuming the lard, give me one second-

Andy: Skrimm actually thinks about that everyday

Mace and Nikkie: *Giggling*

Andy: Cause Skrimm usually dumpster dives for lard on a usual basis. It’s a delicacy in the gutters

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[piningpercussionist]

HELLLPP I WAS SHOWING MY SISTER STUPID FUCKING SCOTT PILGRIM MEMES AND I MENTIONED GIDEONSUGGESTIONS' "GIDEON X READER HEADCANONS" POST AND WE JUST:

"Gideon?"

Graves.

"Like. Gideon?" (Said with the inflection of Gideon from Gravity Falls)

Graves. Gideon GRAVES.

(She gives me side eye.)

GIDEON GRAVES. HE VAPORIZES YOU. I AM LITERALLY SHOWING YOU A SCOTT PILGRIM BLOG RIGHT NOW.

"OHhhhh! I'm sorry, I'm stupid today."

I can't with this fucking girl 😭

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oooo it's been a while since the last snippet :]c it's another fantasy au one where I'm! Putting! Barnaby! Through It!

a minor warnings: implied/referenced major character death <3

 No one eats dinner, and Frank won’t stop tapping his spoon against his bowl. Tok tok tok it goes, over and over again.

Poppy made a simple stew from their provisions, but only Eddie and Sally make an attempt at tasting it. Their halfhearted ‘it’s good’s don’t pierce the pressure weighing down on them all. Barnaby swears he can taste it, thick and cloying. 

Already he keeps catching himself looking for Wally. Where is- he starts to think, and then he remembers the moment Wally fell with a spear piercing his chest, and the grief rises so fast it nearly drowns him in a heartbeat. Barnaby can’t bring himself to try and hide it behind anything but a stony mask. In any other situation he might try to put some levity into the group. Cheer up the sad and empty faces staring into their meals. 

He wouldn’t be able to think of a single lighthearted thing even if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Tok tok tok-

Shuffling from Howdy’s tent has everyone glancing over at it, and Frank’s spoon stills. Howdy briefly woke up while Poppy was cooking. All he did was sit up, look at everyone, then pitch to the side and vomit. They got him into a tent before he passed out again, mumbling something about puppets. Frank made a comment about how Howdy was supposed to be a bit out of it, not at fae-drunk levels of hazy. Eddie had muttered back a dejected apology, and after that the camp was silent until Poppy’s announcement that dinner was ready. The spoon continues tapping when the shuffling stills.

Tok tok tok-

Since Eddie and Sally saying that dinner is good, there hasn’t been a noise beyond the occasional sniffle. It’s a good thing Julie isn’t trying her stew - it must be disgustingly salty from all the tears dripping into it. 

Tok tok tok-

Barnaby sighs through his nose and puts his bowl down, sick of looking at everyone’s misery. He would say that he’s going to go sleep, but he has a feeling that none of them are getting a wink tonight. 

Tok tok-

Before he can stand, Frank blurts, “We shouldn’t have attacked it. It was a mistake.”

“Please don’t,” Julie begs.

“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sally says firmly, her stew starting to sizzle from the rising heat in her hands.

“Not right now, Frank,” Eddie mutters. 

Frank visibly bristles, and he launches to his feet. “I refuse to pretend not to have seen what I did! The truth is a terrible thing, but someone needs to say it. Wally lied to us.”

“Frank…” Barnaby warns.

“We shouldn’t have attacked the demon,” Frank barrels on, ignoring him, “because there was no need to. It didn’t eat Wally until the end because the demon is his patron. Wally was never a wizard at all, he was a warlock-”

Barnaby lunges with a deep bark that echoes against the trees. The crickets symphony falls silent. Frank trips backwards over his seat, staring up with wide eyes as Barnaby stalks around the fire, growling. Eddie and Sally slowly stand, inching between him and Frank. 

Barnaby stops, snout bunched and canines bared. He jabs a claw at Frank. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever.”

Frank’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. When he speaks, it comes out as a whisper, “I’m-”

“If you end that with right instead of sorry, I’ll make damn sure that you are.”

Frank wisely keeps his mouth shut. The crickets continue chirping.

Barnaby glares at him until Frank looks away. Barnaby straightens his vest with a sharp tug and strides away from the fire, towards his and- his tent. Just his, now. Murmuring breaks out at his back. He yanks the flap open, grabs his pipe and herb pouch, and heads towards the forest. He pauses only to listen by Howdy’s tent, waiting to hear proof of life before continuing on.

Once he can’t see the firelight anymore, Barnaby chooses a random tree and sits heavily in front of it. Rough bark digs into his back through his vest. A night bird hoots overhead. Crickets continue to make their music, but Barnaby wishes they would shut up for good. 

Light from the full moon pours through the branches to provide just enough light to see by. Barnaby holds up his pipe and quickly puts it to the side to take off a grimy glove. The heart-pad and blue fur underneath contrasts vibrantly with the dust-grayed rest of him. After a moment he removes the other glove, wincing as the leather drags over his injured knuckles. He turns his paw over and scowls at the dirty black edges of the red-raw scrapes. He should have punched harder. He hopes it scars, even though he knows it won’t.

The gloves themselves are scuffed up, but not beyond use. Barnaby folds them into his pocket and gets to work lighting his pipe. He packs it and instinctively opens his mouth to ask Wally to light it for him. The words die on his tongue as he turns only to see dark forest. Empty woods save for the tiny blue lights of night wisps floating on the breeze. 

Barnaby stares into the darkness with yawning dread. He keeps looking. How long will it take him to stop? How long until Wally’s face starts to smudge in his memories, until his voice is gone and Barnaby doesn’t even remember what his smile looked like? How long until Barnaby only thinks of him in passing? 

He doesn’t want to reach that point. He desperately does. 

Will it hurt more or less? Does it matter? He wants it to ache until he dies.

Barnaby frantically fishes his sparkrune out of the herb pouch - only there for emergencies, when Wally or Sally isn’t there to light it for him. It will wear down to a nub within the month. He strikes his thumb claw against it, and sparks fly expertly into the bowl of his pipe. It takes a moment to catch. Barnaby lifts the bit to his lips and takes a drag before enough smoke forms for a lungful. 

Maybe he should have grabbed the stronger stuff. If he breathes enough of it, maybe he’d be able to see Wally. 

But Barnaby doesn’t get up in the end. He sits against the base of a tree and hugs himself, the pipe’s intermittent glow betraying the shine in his eyes.

[prettyflyshyguy]

Hi. Had a bad few days so wanted to draw something fun, and this has been in my WIP folder for years. Last time I did this meme it was with C-Virus AU Leon, and I said to myself I'd do another so here we are. This time with my favorite horrible woman - Walking.

Walking is from Virtual Ground and it's probably just a weird coincidence that she looks identical to O'Byrne.

[stalkedbytrains]

A Dark Revelation Returns

The villain's lair, even by current standards, was trash. Some stupid fortified bunker underneath an abandoned warehouse. Absolutely no class. No style.

Shit security.

She walked up to the entrance. Hands in her pockets, didn't do anything besides walk confidently towards the hidden door.

Finding the location was a bit of a trick, she had had to call in a few favors and markers that she was sure were going to cost her later.

One flunky came out with a gun. "Stop! Who's there? What are you doing here?"

She didn't stop, but she did take her hands out of her pockets to show that she was unarmed.

Funny how there have been people with superpowers for a long time now, and the motion of showing you were unarmed still carried so much weight with people. It was an ingrained motion, hidden deep in the DNA.

"Sorry. I'm looking for my husband."

"We don't have anyone here. Get lost."

Only six. Not nearly enough.

"I'm sorry! Really! I think I may have gotten lost! This whole area is quite big and you know me I have like, no sense of direction," she said. Her voice changed. Higher, a bit more shrill. Ditzy. 27 was much better. The guard is shifting his weight awkwardly. Just a few more words to sink the hook.

"You sure he's not here? Did someone else bring him in and just... didn't tell you? My friends don't tell me things, like, all the time."

53. Much better. He's listening now. He's sweating a little bit.

Her power was starting to really sink in.

"I mean... I was told he was here by people that would know. If you don't know that he's here. What else don't you know? What else are they lying to you about?"

She watched the words sink in. Another 33 words. He was enthralled by the power and the paranoia was taking hold.

"You don't think... no... they're not planning on... well, you know," she said with too many words. More words than were necessary. She could have just said that they were planning on killing him. But that was too easy, and she needed to be wordy.

The guard took a step backwards.

"I... uh... maybe."

Too late. 86 words in a row were more than enough for her power to kick in. The fear had him.

"I would leave if I were you. Run while you can. Before they find you," she said, her voice back to normal, lower, more menacing and controlled.

The guard didn't need telling twice. Not when he was fully under her control.

He dropped the gun and ran. He ran as fast as he could.

"Wow, I've never seen a man run so... stupidly. What terrible form. Jesus," she said as she watched him run with a weird fascination. "Huh."

From there she entered the secret villain base.

It was drab, boring, and so so dull. It was gunmetal gray and looking like it was taken straight from the set of a D-list action movie from 30 years ago.

She ran into a couple of mooks, random goons for this villain. But she was already on a roll with her powers. The guard outside was a nice warm up. All she had to do was offer a quick explanation, no more than 15 words or so, uninterrupted, and she had them dancing to her tune.

-[x]-

The mission had been successful. The Union required a couple of heroes to be out of commission for a few days. They had a big mission planned in the next 48 hours and there needed to be specific people in place at specific points, and can't have the over enthusiastic heroes doing their jobs in the wrong spot.

Black Charles was pleased with himself. He managed to snag the hero Gaia's Grace almost without effort. As soon as the big Supervillain Union plan happened, he was sure that he was going to get promoted up to be closer to the big leagues.

Maybe even participate in the next big Villainy.

He was ready. And he proved it.

Black Charles walked into his main office and there was someone sitting at his desk. Her feet were up on his desk and she was just idly twirling a pen in her hand.

She was totally unassuming.

"Well well well. Black Charles was it?" she said.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" the villain demanded. His powers started to bristle against his skin.

"That's a question for later. First, I need to ask you something: do you have someone in your life that makes you want to be better? Someone that you look at with fondness and joy and decide that you will be better to be the person that they want you to be?"

Black Charles, what an awful name for a villain, faltered. He knew better than to attack someone who just seemingly appeared in his lair without so much as a shot fired or an explosion. "No. I am my own man. I strive for perfection because I am and will be the best."

The woman frowned. She was still spinning the pen in her hand, it moved quickly and precisely despite the fact that she wasn't paying it the slightest bit attention. "How sad. How lonely for you. See, I found that person. They are not the greatest hero in the world, nor the strongest. But they are the best. The brightest. They're so goddamn good that they just inspire everyone around them, even me, even me with all the crime and evil that stain my hands. They love me, and for them I would do anything. Even retire." He lets her monologue. She loved a good monologue. All villains love a good monologue. "I own a flower shop now. We have two cats: Missile Launcher and Bartholemeow."

Black Charles started to shift nervously. He still hadn't figured out who she was yet. Which meant she really needed to thank the people who set up her retirement package. But the nervousness meant her power was working.

"Now you've taken the person that is my whole reason for nothing being a terrible murderous villain anymore and I'm having some trouble reigning in my old tendencies. I mean, you know what they say about old habits. So how about we do an even trade? You give me back my spouse, and I tell you how I got in."

Black Charles was starting to get really antsy, scratching at phantom itches. "I want you out of here."

"Or what? You can't stop me. You didn't even know I was here. You don't even know who I am."

"Fine! Deal! Deal!" He pulls out a small comm unit that looked like a walkie-talkie which she found very funny but couldn't laugh about it now. If she laughed it would break the hold her power had over him. "Release the prisoner!"

"But... boss!" came the voice on the other end.

"DO IT!" Black Charles yelled.

"Good," she said. "Now, you never figured out who I am. I don't want to spoil that surprise, I'll let you figure it out on your own. But I will say that spreading fear and paranoia is my stock and trade, and people make lots of very stupid decisions when they act out of extreme paranoia. So did the guards forget to leave the doors locked? Did someone do it deliberately? Are all of your goons and mooks trying to undermine you by letting me in? Who can say? But you really shouldn't have let me talk for this long."

The longer she talked, the more words she could string together without stopping the stronger the sense of fear and paranoia she can instill in the people who hear her. And Black Charles really just let her go. The only person to ever stop her was her husband who constantly interrupted her and asked a lot of truly valid and intelligent questions.

But Black Charles was deep within the throes of her power and was probably going to terminate some of his henchmen's contracts. That wasn't her problem. She got up, strode out of the room with confidence as the paranoia burrowed deep within the substandard villain, and got her spouse out of the small prison cell.

"Hey honey, let's go home."

"We gotta feed Missile Launcher, I'm sure she's super upset with us."

She tried very hard to stifle a laugh. "Of course. But now is not the time for you to be so disarmingly charming love."

"I am what I am," he said as he leaned on her a little bit too much.

As they left the lair together, her husband turned to her. "You're distant, what are you thinking about?"

She frowned. "I think I'm going to have to do some favors."

"You're not going to..."

"No. No more costumes and fights for me. But I can't let this just go. The villains have gotten out of control. I can't believe I'm going to say this. Fucking Adrienne was right."

"How so?"

"This whole thing was set up to keep you from doing your job and protecting people. So that the villains can succeed in something in the next two days."

Her husband didn't say anything. He knew his wife better than to argue.

She pulled out a cellphone as they got to her car.

"Adrienne. It's Dark Revelation. Yeah. I'm in," she said. "Oh don't sound so smug. I'm not putting on a costume and I'm not going around causing the terror that I used to. But these idiots tried to take out my husband and I won't let that stand."

my kofi

[jackshiccup]

made matching hijack covers for my curated otnwas playlist that i've been having on repeat for the past month if any of u want to listen 🤞🏽