#And we'll continue to see some more of the Russians in the background!

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Please, Be Gentle with My Breaks - 1

Chapter 16/? - - - Read it on AO3

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Word Count: 5,204

Summary: There's a difference between being broken and having a few breaks. But a lot of these kids and been dealt a lot of blows, and not just from physical monsters of the Upside Down. There's stuff hidden just under the surface that they haven't been able to show just yet.

More ST Fics

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“And in a shocking turn of events, there’s a new story coming from southern Indiana to explain the strange occurrences that have been captivating viewers in recent days. With Hawkins’ own Nancy Wheeler running it.”

The news reporter spoke from behind the studio desk. Lifting up a copy of the very newspaper she was referring to as she read,” ‘The Truth to the Hawkins’ Murders: Eddie Munson’s Impossible Innocence.’ This article explains the convoluted web that led the small-town community to believe one of their own was guilty of a crime he was actually only a witness to. Edward Munson, Eddie, a senior at the high school who runs his own club and plays guitar in a local band, was the victim of a city-wide manhunt as the citizens looked to find justice. His crime? Wandering a little off the beaten path - or being sort of strange, by most folks’ standards - argues Nancy Wheeler.”

An image of Nancy, the school picture taken for the yearbook, appeared on the screen.

“The teenager herself is an honors student, the head of the school paper, and considered one of the town’s most promising young minds. She describes her own investigation, during which she questioned the suspect, his guardian, police officers, and even serves herself as one of many alibis accounting for Eddie Munson’s whereabouts while he was in hiding. She even writes a profile on the subject with comments from local figures including teachers and even the returned ex-chief of police, Jim Hopper, who many believed to be dead until today. Wheeler details the testimony she passed on to the police that they went on to verify against physical evidence. And, as of just earlier this morning, that testimony and the findings in the field have been used to officially strike Eddie Munson as a suspect in the crimes. The current Police Chief, Powell, explained the department’s side of things in further detail during their press release this morning, which we’ll run momentarily, but if you’re looking for more background on what exactly happened, per the people themselves, look no further than a local newspaper stand or try the collections bins outside the Hawkins High School to read these students’ own accounts of what has to be one of the worst Spring Breaks anyone’s ever had. Now onto the footage from this morning’s release…”

Following the mention of Nancy’s article, they played the news team’s recording of Powell outside the police station. Many camera crews had gathered and questions were being thrown at him from every direction. By the end of his statement, there was a little more clarity on “what really happened.” At least as far as the general public was allowed to know about.

The good news rang through thousands of homes that morning. There would still be some objections, of course. People would point to him being a known dealer as proof that he was no good. And Chrissy’s parents didn’t like the truth that she’d been looking to buy drugs that Friday night. Jason’s didn’t like the idea that he’d been the volatile one instead of the town freak. Patrick’s parents had been heartbroken to hear he’d gotten swept up in something too fast and turned on when he tried to walk away.

Most of the popular folks and those close to them didn’t want to accept the “slander” against the people in their inner circle.

But at the end of the day, it was just a couple dozen people and their opinions. Legally, Eddie was home free. The cops closed the case. And if anyone wanted to cause him any real trouble on their own… well, they had a Party that regularly kicks interdimensional ass they’d have to get through first. And they’d be hard-pressed to find lawyers to push a case like this one. Safe to say, it wouldn’t be very easy for anyone to harass him or do worse, if they were so inclined. He had people watching his back.

And one of the households that caught the news running that morning had been the Wheeler’s.

Ted was reclined in the living room in front of the TV while Karen whisked around the kitchen getting breakfast laid out. Holly and Amber were giggling back and forth on the couch between whispers and pointed fingers. Holly sat between Nancy’s legs while the older sister braided her long blonde pigtails, with promises made to the guest that she’d be next, of course. Amber’s parents had been downstairs on the phone all morning, still talking to family and insurance, making plans for how they’ll come back from their share of the disaster.

As the reporter referred to her article, Nancy could hardly believe it. Even when she said her name, it still didn't seem real. But then her picture appeared, and Holly turned around in her hands to look up at her sister, matching the face on the screen to the one sitting behind her. Nancy smiled and scrunched up her nose, leaning in close to her face and swiping little butterfly kisses between the tips of their noses as the girl erupted into further fits of laughter. And that felt real. Holly saw it too.

"Did they say 'Nancy Wheeler'?" Karen called from the kitchen, pride painting her voice.

Ted didn’t say anything.

He watched the news, cast his gaze her way, and continued watching. Didn’t say “sorry” for assuming she didn’t know what she was talking about. Ted Wheeler didn’t really do that sort of thing. But he saw it.

"They did! They did!" Holly sang joyfully instead.

And maybe Nancy felt smug as she tied off her hair band and tickled her sides before the girls switched places.

They did. They said her name, said she was right, and people knew about it. Ted knew just like the rest of them, even if he wasn’t going to admit it.

From the days of “Nancy Drew” only being allowed to run lunch orders to having her name recognized by a real news organization… the latter was a way better feeling.

She did that. While not exactly all on her own, she did that with her own two hands. There wasn’t anyone who told her what to do along the way, no one to steal the credit for the story she hunted down. She found the truth, and even if that wasn’t exactly what she could publish, with what she could she helped someone who deserved it.

She’d thank Robin, of course. And also Steve, Hopper, Powell, Jonathan, and Argyle. Vickie too, she supposed. They all helped make it happen.

But before any of that, she wanted to show it off to the person it was all about.

She ate breakfast with their household carefully crowded around the dining room table. After Mike wandered down from his bedroom sporting a messy bedhead and joined them, that is. But afterward, she’d decided that she needed to see the subject of her biggest story yet.

Nancy arrived at the hospital to find Eddie comfortably laid out in his bed, flicking the channels on the tv with an expression of mild boredom on his face. She slipped into the room quietly and threw down the paper onto his chest. Perching herself in the chair next to him before he’d even looked over to see who came in through the door. His eyes fell to the thin stack of paper on his sternum. Setting down the remote and picking them up with a quick look over the title. A grin spread across his face.

He’d caught the news story before he started looking for more entertaining television, and now he had the real thing right in front of him.

“So there it is…” he mused, a finger running under his name in big, bold print.

“There it is.” Nancy echoed, watching the way his eyes ran down it, taking it all in, not yet reading it word-for-word.

“It’s smaller than I thought it would be. It’s such a big deal, thought it’d be like twenty pages long.”

“If I made it that long and no one would read it,” Nancy told him. It was a big story with so many moving parts to overlap just right. It could’ve easily been longer. But even the few pages it took up between the pictures felt like quite a lot.

“I don’t know…” Eddie hummed, flicking the corner of the paper,” Suspect of a triple- quadruple- whatever murder seems like a pretty interesting read. I think you coulda gotten away with padding it out a little. I mean, was there even room to mention my sick, lifesaving guitar skills?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, we squeezed in an ad on the back for your little band.” She nodded.

Eddie’s eyes lit up and he quickly flipped the paper over in his hands. Disbelief and shock colored his voice as he started,“ You did not-”

Nancy couldn’t help the teasing chuckle at his disappointed expression when he met the end of the article, no real mention of Corroded Coffin,“ You’re right, I didn’t.”

“Ohhhh…” he dropped the paper onto his lap,” That was a mean, mean trick, Wheeler.”

“I needed the laugh.” She sighed, her eyes catching on his IV before she asked,“ How’re you feeling?”

“Patched up. Not really looking forward to duking it out in the next big battle, but I would like to get back to my leisurely days in the Shire at this point. So, bring on the army. Let’s get ‘er done.”

“Well, we still have prep to do. We’re going to try to do a better job than we did last time.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We’re still putting one together. I’ve been told Murray is making a mess of Steve’s spare bedroom with papers pinned along every wall trying to sort something out. But before we can do any of that, we need to make sure you’ll have your back covered. Need your favorite song.” She nodded, once more reaching for the notebook tucked in her purse with the rest of the list.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Eddie only barely nodded in turn.

“It does. So, hand it over. We need everyone geared up with headphones to make sure our big bad doesn’t get anyone else like he did…”

A quiet came up between them. Max had just been moved into Eddie’s room that morning before her mom had to go to her job. Eddie told Susan he’d keep an eye on her, along with all the other people who’d probably stop by over and over again until she woke up. Nancy took a peak past him at the girl in her bed. “Make sure he doesn’t get anyone like he did Max” was the sentence that went unfinished.

“Favorite song, huh…”

Nancy bristled and looked back at him, clicking her pen to refocus,“ Yes? What’ll be yours?”

“I don’t know…” he mumbled into his hand,” How does someone pick just one favorite song anyway?”

“Just, whatever seems right for you.” She gave a light wave of her hand.

“But there’s so much that would go into a decision like this, Nancy!” he burst out.

“Okay, Eddie, it doesn’t need to be that big of a deal. You can have a couple different options on the lineup, I’m pretty sure we’re all gonna squeeze as many of our favorites on our own tape as we can. But we do need your best guess to make sure someone can help you if they need to.”

Eddie remembered the fear that hit the seven of them when Nancy just stopped answering. They scrambled and panicked and yelled through his trailer, without any clue what to use to help. Feeling so helpless and terrified. Thinking they were about to lose one of their own, right when they thought they were safe. It was up there with facing down the tornado of demobats as being one of the scariest moments of his life.

He knew it was important to pick one. But knowing it was so serious made it even harder to choose. Because what if he got it wrong?

“But, I mean, do I want to pick one of my favorites that I’ve loved for a long time? Like should I pick something from my childhood- is nostalgia gonna help me in this case? Or one I’m really into right now? And this is going to be my soundtrack for charging into war, so maybe I wanna pick one that has a good vibe for that. Or is it more important that it’s something that’ll bliss me out, rather than rev me up? Or-”

“Eddie-”

“Okay! What about- What songs did everyone else pick? How’s the team mixtape shaping up already?”

It didn’t really make sense. What everyone else was going to listen to didn’t really matter for what he should decide on. The “team mixtape” didn’t need to mesh well together.

Nancy shook her head with the thought, but began to answer him anyway,” Well, your little mini-me said he liked ‘Highway to Hell’ because of the cassette you lent him.”

And as if that was the most important topic of conversation - not finding his own savior song - Eddie’s head cocked to the side slightly.

“He did?”

“Yeah? Is something wrong with that?”

He wondered to himself,“ No, I just… I know he’s still getting into my stuff, but I didn’t really peg him for that one. At least not as, like, a favorite or anything.”

Nancy shrugged and continued,“ Well, Dustin and Lucas made more romantic picks. Stuff that reminds them of their girls, of course.”

“Alright, fair enough for those two lovesick nerds, and what’d you choose, Wheeler?”

His whole face quirked up into a strange expression when she answered. Like even more than he didn’t believe Mike Wheeler really liked the AC/DC track, he didn’t believe Nancy Wheeler really liked ‘Take My Breath Away.’

He eventually asked her to clarify,“ You mean that love song from Top Gun?”

“Yeah. What? I like Tom Cruise.” She gave a joking huff and continued when his face didn’t really settle,” Okay, now what?”

“I don’t know. Guess I was just expecting something else.”

Eddie considered it to himself. Sure, Nancy Wheeler, the one he saw around the halls of the high school, would like a love song aimed at her favorite celebrity crush. But Nancy Wheeler, the one that led a campaign through desolate wastelands and commanded her team to make it back home? Twice? Was it really just a slow, drawn-on love song that made that girl feel… alive? Or fulfilled? Impassioned?

He wasn’t sure he bought it. And maybe he should have, because they’ve barely interacted before he was on the lam. But, in the time he’s spent near her since, in the time he’s had to see her exist in a different way than she usually did… well, he became sure that there was more to her than that.

“Maybe you don’t know your Wheelers as well as you thought.” She hummed,” Well? Have you been inspired?”

Eddie picked back up the newspaper and thumbed at the front page. Under his name was a picture of him. Blown up from the ones they’d taken of all the Hellfire members at the beginning of the school year to advertise the club. It wasn’t the one where he tried to look tough, it wasn’t the one where he tried to look wild, it wasn’t even the one where he’d been smiling so stiffly for five minutes that his cheeks hurt because no one would stay still for a clear shot.

It was the one where he turned to the side, looked at Jeff making a dumb face, and laughed so hard he had to brace himself on Bruce’s shoulder. His whole face was getting red because he couldn’t even breathe.

It was a good one. Genuine laughter and joy instead of the character he often played up. “The Freak” was someone he’d grown to know pretty well since it was given a name. But sometimes it felt like he lost track of the other stuff. Sometimes it felt like he barely knew the real guy printed on that page. What was that guy’s favorite song? He honestly wasn’t sure.

Nancy followed his gaze to the image of his own open mouth smile, eyes scrunched up by his flushed cheeks. And in some strange way, she knew what sort of thing he was feeling. Because maybe she knew how it felt to be so unsure of who was really smiling in all her pictures.

“Well…” she broke the silence that had bloomed between them again,” I guess if you need a little longer to figure it out, we don’t plan to waltz back into the Upside Down tonight or anything. But you can’t procrastinate. Because, if Venca comes back before we’re ready for him, you’re not going on the battlefield without a lifeline.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he gave her a stiff salute, which she returned with another roll of her eyes.

The two of them ended up chatting a little longer. Nancy had only really planned on stopping by for a bit and then heading off to help the rest of the gang fix up Hop’s cabin, but she found it surprisingly easy to talk to Eddie. They hadn’t really spoken at all before Spring Break, and they hadn’t had any time during to see how well they got along... but turns out, they did.

Plus he did need to know the school’s plans. There were calls rung around town about starting classes back up on Monday. That was news he was a little less eager to hear. Compared to an article trying to repair public opinion of him, returning to the halls of Hawkins High School wasn’t an exciting thought.

He let out a groan and scrubbed his hands down his face,” Shit… I was kinda hoping they’d just call the whole year a wash and let everyone graduate anyway…”

“Come on, it’s just a couple more weeks to push through, and then we’ll all be out of there. Should be way easier than saving the world as an extracurricular.”

“For you, it might be. I’m sure with your stellar grades you could practically check out for finals and still pass just fine.”

“Well, that’s exaggerating a little bit-”

“Whereas, I’m going to have to bust ass between demon fights to even scrape by.” Eddie dramatically slumped back into the bed,” Fuck, man. This next month and a half are gonna be so awful, I’ll actually be able to say it was worse than hell on Earth.”

Nancy looked at him wallowing in his woes for a second before she wondered,“ So why don’t we get through it together?”

Very quickly, Eddie sprang back up a few inches,“ What?”

“Well, I’m still waiting for your answer on what your favorite song is, and it’s always easier to study with someone else there. More fun too. So, surely we can pull each other through finals and safely into graduation.”

“I feel like you’re signing up for the lion’s share of pulling, Wheeler.” Eddie pointed out.

She just raised an eyebrow at him,“ Are you saying no?”

“No! I am not saying no. Nancy Wheeler helping me drag myself through Ms. O’Donnell’s end-of-year essay sounds like way better odds than I was previously rocking with.”

“Oh… you’re stuck in Ms. O’Donnell’s?” Nancy’s voice pitched with pure sympathy. The woman was pretty well known as the one English teacher to avoid getting assigned to if students wanted to pass their classes and have any kind of social life over the last quarter of the year.

“Yup.” Eddie popped the “p” and knocked his head to the side,” I tried to get ‘em to move me into Mr. Fitzpatrick’s instead - you’d think on a third go around they could throw a guy a bone - but the front office still put the witch on my schedule anyway.”

“But you’ll get through it this time,” Nancy assured him. And there was just something about seeing Nancy Wheeler declare such a thing. She seemed so sure about it that he just kind of had to believe her.

But Eddie still shrugged,“ If I don’t, you can just let me bleed out on the battlefield this time. No, siree, I’ve been swearing for years now that I’m going to flip off the principal when I walk across the stage, so Eddie Munson isn’t coming back at all if he can’t shove it to Higgins at the end of all this bullshit.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

It was a little bit morbid. To joke about leaving him for dead the next time considering it was such a close call to get him back at all. But it was funny, and Nancy needed the laugh. Somewhere along the way she ended up saying the "thank you" she’d thought about when she was sure it was over for them. For giving Mike a safer place to be a freak, where he wouldn't get hurt. Eddie laughed and said he didn’t do much. He was just some guy who prowled the halls for the other nerds he could snatch up.

Nancy named it a noble calling.

They both laughed some more.

Nancy ended up at Hop’s Cabin with the rest of the crew to get to work later.

She’d been set with Jonathan to work on covering up the empty windows - they planned to get the glass replaced down the road. The kids were mostly unpacking the house of all its items and broken furniture, throwing it out into the clearing in front. El was organizing the things that survived, and Will swept out the dusty, dirtied floors. Argyle had apparently spent much of the morning wandering around the wooded vicinity and exploring the local foliage. But since then, he’d taken t looking over the scrap pieces and making claims like “Yeah, yeah, I could make something work with this…” Seeming to think he was going to rebuild a whole family’s worth of home decor from the trimmings left behind by the meat monster.

Murray was sitting on a box, tugging at wires and making notes of the setup running through the house. Fussing over the electrical while Hopper worked on getting running water out of more than just the kitchen sink. And by the time Robin and Steve finally rolled around after looking over things at Family Video, most of the working day was done. Excuses of well-worn backs from cleaning up the store and figuring out how to run the place filled the air as they leaned against the wall and watched Joyce and Jim bicker about if the shower pipe was actually rusted stuck or just not being wrenched hard enough.

As the sun began to set around them, folks made their goodbyes and started heading back for home again. The boys had plans to go call the other Hellfire members and visit Eddie and Max the next morning. Erica vowed she’d be there too, but Will and El said they’d help Steve and Robin finish sorting the tapes on the shelves and mailing back the ones corporate was supposed to send a list for. And they'd carry all the supplies they were going to buy at Radio Shack for Murray’s idea of combining radio comms with the cassette players. Dustin also wanted to get in on the action with developing, much to Murray's protest.

When Steve and the rest of his houseguests drove up towards his house, there was already another car in the driveway. Two people stood outside on the concrete, their backs to the street, looking up at the house number over the front door while holding a map out in front of them. They both turned around as soon as they heard the beamer and pizza van begin to roll into their usual parking spots and not merely pass the house on the corner lot by.

The taller of the two had to be in his thirties or forties. Short, dirty blonde hair and a defined mustache over his lips, dressed in loose-fitting jeans, boots, and a peach-colored tee-shirt that said “Grand Canyon, 1986” over his slightly muscular build. The shorter of the two was clearly a teenager. He had a curly mop of lighter blonde and was leaner. Sporting light wash denim shorts and a black long-sleeve top, printed with a stylized landscape of, assumably, the Grand Canyon in shades of terracotta orange and red.

The two of their eyes watched him pull into place before they looked at the car behind him. Hopper rolled down his window and shouted out “THERE YOU TWO ARE!” in joyful greeting. The older man’s lips immediately curled into a smile. Haphazardly closing the map and throwing it into the seat of their car, stepping up to those just arriving.

“Almost thought you’d given us faulty directions, American. No one answered the door.” He’d said, thick Eastern European accent on display as he approached.

Hop climbed out of the van and fired back,“ I have a life now that I’m out from behind bars, don’t you know?”

As the stranger laughed, they closed the distance with a quick hug. The kind where they both smacked a hand on the other’s back before they parted. Kind of like old friends, but more like brothers of war. Which is closer to what they were to each other, in some sort of way.

“I take it you made it over okay?” Hopper asked him, casting a look at the boy standing just behind him.

“Oh, yes, it was a smooth drive from California,” he assured,” No speeding, no policemen. But perhaps we made a stop or two along the way. We are first-timers to the country, after all. Said we should ‘see the sights’ while we had chance to.”

“Didn’t think defeating monsters beyond all conceivable horror was a good enough reason to get here as urgently as possible?” Murray questioned the man with crossed arms and a judgmental tone.

“What? If the monsters ended up no big deal, figured you’d have the problem all cleaned up by time we arrived. Otherwise, you’d still be in trouble, and I help out now. You all look fine as I last saw you, so first option?”

Hop scoffed,” Like it’d be that easy.”

Eventually, they all run through the necessary introductions; Dmitri and Mikhail to Steve, Will, and El. They all helped unpack what was really Joyce’s car that’d been stuffed with more clothes and personal effects for the journey across half the country. Boxes and bags were loaded into the house along with a tour to the second guest bedroom that the father and son would be sharing in the meantime, while Karen’s provided lasagna started getting reheated in the oven.

They ran through updates about what had been figured out over the last few days and gathered around the dining room for dinner.

Maybe about twenty minutes into casual getting-to-know-each-other topics, Steve thought about music.

“Oh, we’ll need to make sure we have songs for you two too. Nancy’ll want to know-” but then a thought occurred to him that he hadn’t really considered before,” Wait… did you guys even have music over there?” Joyce, Jim, and Murray had mentioned all the sorts of stuff their smuggler had at the warehouse - peanut butter being treated like a controlled substance seemed ridiculous - so how much did they have?

Immediately, Dmitri’s expression fell. He set his fork down on the plate and put his hands together. He was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke again it seemed like his accent was heavier, more sullen than it had been just a minute before.

“Oh no. In Soviet Union, we have no songs. Only national anthem.” He’d said, English more broken and stunted than Steve had heard from him throughout the evening.

Next to him, Mikhail piped up.

“Only national anthem,” he repeated from his father,” Is only song I ever heard in whole life. They made sure, for propaganda to take. Only fascist tune, otherwise peasant revolt.”

Steve was stunned to hear such a thing,“ Wow… that’s…”

But then Dmitri and Mikhail’s grim faces began to break under the pressure. Smiles bubbled up and broke through the surface as they both started snickering.

“Wait a minute…” Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, little American, that was a joke.” Dmitri admitted as the rest of the table fell into laughter around them,” We had music back there. They only tightened up on such things in recent years. I myself much enjoyed The Beatles. Had many albums back home. Mikhail always said I played them too much-”

“Because you did-” the boy tried to point out.

“And you liked tempting fate, nearly trying to get in trouble. He liked the rebellious things. Always running off or sneaking away to some secret concert in those- those rock revolutionaries' circles. Lucky he never actually got caught at any.”

“I am quick on my feet,” the kid said with a hint of a cocky attitude.

Must’ve performed that stunt enough times that he thought he was invincible, but his dad knew much better than that. Dmitri ruffled his hair and told him not to act like a big man when he was still a child. Mikhail rolled his eyes and shoved his dad’s hand away.

They seemed good. Steve hadn’t admitted the thought to anyone, but he’d been a little worried. Russians in their town again, one that used to be a prison warden… it could’ve been familiar. People talked about that kind of stuff, soldiers being shellshocked and triggered even after they made it home. Even if Steve was safe in his house, surrounded by people he knew wouldn’t just let something happen to him, it could’ve made the memories too fresh again. Brought back nightmares he thought he laid to rest.

But, thankfully, so much between Dmitri and Mikhail was different from the bowels of the Starcourt Mall. He met them outside, basked in the warm sunset glow, wearing touristy clothes and smiling with sincerity. It wasn’t like being trapped, inside cold walls and dim lights, surrounded by uniforms and cruel expressions. Steve wasn’t starving and covered in drying blood. Steve wasn’t alone, or thinking that someone was going to die because of him.

It was very, very different. And that made it all the easier to be in. To laugh and joke, because it didn’t feel the same.

And while they might’ve not been able to find the same artists Mikhail had enjoyed back there, they started making plans to get him some stuff to listen to by musicians they had playing in the States. Maybe Eddie’s tapes would be making all the rounds, or maybe he’d like the kind of songs some other member of The Party held on to. They’d just have to explore.

So Mikhail was assigned the homework of playing through tapes like a wine tasting, and Dmitri was going to help with things around the house and Hopper’s cabin.

[elegomez]

Russian Central Asia, 1867-1917: A Study In Colonial Rule, Richard A. Pierce (This is from 1960. "This book describes events under Imperial Russian rule, treating the period in the light of the conflict between nineteenth-century concepts "the white man's burden" and the awakening aspirations of colonial peoples, and as part of the contest between Western imperialism and the Islamic world." I'm curious to see what's said, but I think I should save this reading for later.)

Pre-Tsarist and Tsarist Central Asia: Communal Commitment and Political Order in Change, Paul Georg Geiss (READ THIS NEXT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It at least claims to talk about various central asian cultures! Follow the bibli like the oregon trail)

Everyday Life in Central Asia: Past and Present, Jeff Sahadeo, Russell Zanca (Part 1 Background, Part 2 Intro, 2, 3, and some skimming through the rest of the book, especially in the beginning to try to find gender contexts. Read chapter 22 and 23 if time/for curiosity.)

Thus Spake the Dervish: Sufism, Language, and the Religious Margins in Central Asia, 1400-1900, Alexandre Papas; Caroline Kraabel (Interesting date cut-offs, most continue until 1917. Is there a reason, other than the convenient millennium? This is mostly about Islamic mysticism, or sufism, but it might be worth it to skim)

Russia and Central Asia: Coexistence, Conquest, Convergence, Shoshana Keller (Intro, Chapters 1-4, maaaaaybe the start of 5. Curious how this person is going to interpret "centuries of sporadic war" into "coexistence", not sure I trust this one. We'll see!)

The Russian Conquest of Central Asia: A Study in Imperial Expansion, 1814-1914, Alexander Morrison (This is more war focused, I might look it over once I'm more comfortable with the dates/cultures I actually want to work inside)

Central Asia and the Himalayan Kingdoms (Armies of the Nineteenth Century: Asia), Ian Heath (not sure I actually trust this one. I'll grab it, but it's low on the priority list)

Muslims in Central Asia: Expressions of Identity and Change, Jo-Ann Gross (editor), Edward A. Allworth (editor) (worth checking out, 15th century to present. Hopefully useful for understanding what Islam looked like to women at this point - not sure the character/s will be Muslim, but useful nonetheless.)

Beyond the Pass: Economy, Ethnicity, and Empire in Qing Central Asia, 1759-1864, James A. Millward (worth peeking at, not sure I'm going to go this far east, but hey.)

The Early Coinage of Central Asia, Michael Mitchiner (I don't need this, mostly grabbing it because the idea of including a tiny detail that makes exactly 1 historian wig out over seeing it entertains me)

Central Asia: One Hundred Thirty Years of Russian Dominance, A Historical Overview, Edward A. Allworth (preface, part 1, part 2: 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Might be useful, especially as it seems to focus on some culture!)

Silk and cotton: textiles from the Central Asia that was, Kushner, Robert;Meller, Susan (yaaaaaaaaaay images to give some set dressing and reference! I want to find some sources on clothing, too)

History of civilizations of Central Asia, Bosworth, Clifford Edmund;Osimi, ̄ Muhȧmmad (Part of v.4 (historical, social, economic), more important v.5, start of v. 6. By the time I read this I'll probably Get It.)

Inside central asia: a political and cultural history of uzbekistan, turkmenistan, kazakhstan, kyrgyzstan, tajikistan, turkey, and iran, Hiro, Dilip (gimme that sexy sexy culture. Yet another preface without table of contents samples)

A ride to Khiva: an adventure in Central Asia, Burnaby, Fred;Hopkirk, Peter;White-Spunner, Barney (not sure if this will be useful. at all.)

The Bukharan Crisis: A Connected History of 18th Century Central Asia, Scott C. Levi (Possibly useful for putting some of the world around Tselemun into context)

Slavery and Empire in Central Asia, Jeff Eden (first book that starts off mentioning slavery. I'm very curious as to why this one does, and the hundred or so other books I've pawed through don't. Also curious about these lines: "Slavery strained Central Asia's relations with Russia, England, and Iran, and would serve as a major justification for the Russian conquest of this region in the 1860s-70s. Challenging the consensus that the Russian Empire abolished slavery with these conquests, Eden uses these documents to reveal that it was the slaves themselves who brought about their own emancipation by fomenting the largest slave uprising in the region's history." Fascinating and alarming, if no other book has mentioned this.

The Rise and Fall of Khoqand, 1709-1876: Central Asia in the Global Age, Scott C. Levi (more context!)

Sufism in Central Asia: New Perspectives on Sufi Traditions, 15th-21st Centuries, Devin A. Deweese; Jo-Ann Gross (I probably only care about the first half of this book, if I care at all)

Monuments of Central Asia, a Guide to the Archaeology, Art and Architecture of Turkestan, Edgar Knobloch (I'll take a peek at it, not sure how useful. Can't hurt to have.)

A History of Russia, Central Asia and Mongolia, Volume II: Inner Eurasia from the Mongol Empire to Today, 1260–2000, David Christian (might have done this already, I coiuldn't find it; more history! Yay.)

Being Muslim in Central Asia. Practices, Politics, and Identities, Marlène Laruelle (most interested in: "The volumes discusses what it means to be a Muslim in today’s Central Asia by looking at both historical and sociological features, investigates the relationship between Islam, politics and the state, the changing role of Islam in terms of societal values, and the issue of female attire as a public debate.") Potentially useful!

Waqf in Central Asia: Four Hundred Years in the History of a Muslim Shrine, 1480–1889, R. D. McChesney (How important is this? Is this something a Muslim character in Bhukhara would know about? In any of the other khanates? We'll find out!)

The Surrogate Proletariat: Moslem Women and Revolutionary Strategies in Soviet Central Asia, 1919–1929, Gregory J. Massell (Worth checking out, has some historical background)

Islamic Central Asia: An Anthology of Historical Sources, Scott C. Levi, Ron Sela (kissing you <3 yaaaay primary documents)

Visions of Justice: Sharīʿa and Cultural Change in Russian Central Asia, Paolo Sartori (mostly interested in what convictions changed from rather than to)

The Empire of the Steppes. A History of Central Asia, Grousset R. (LOTS OF DIFFERENT TRIBES!!! Ilu so. This is from 1939, and also originally in French.)

History of civilizations of Central Asia. Volume V. Development in contrast: from the sixteenth to the mid-nineteenth century, Chahryar A., Habib I. (more culture yaaaay)

Xinjiang: China's Muslim Borderland, S. Frederick Starr. (Not sure if there's much useful here.)

The Russians in Central Asia : their occupation of the Kirghiz steppe and the line of the Syr-Daria : their political relations with Khiva, Bokhara, and Kokan : also descriptions of Chinese Turkestan and Dzungaria, Valikhanov, Ch. Ch.; Michell, John,Michell, Robert; Venyukov M.I. (second hand source babyyyy)

Music and the Play of Power in the Middle East, North Africa and Central Asia, Laundan Nooshin (not sure how useful, but worth investigating, even just to give musical flavor)

Central Asia and Caucasus, Journal of Social and Political Studies (might be the wrong era, we'll see)

Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, Frederick S. Starr, Frederick S. Starr, Baktybek Beshimov, Inomjon I. Bobokulov, Pulat Shozimov (i want intro, chapter 1, 2, 3)

Islam after Communism: Religion and Politics in Central Asia, Adeeb Khalid (This author again! The book I read was wonderful. I don't know how useful this will be, but it talks about insights from the study of Islam and Soviet history, so I'll check it out)

Central Asia Reader: The Rediscovery of History, H.B. Paksoy (only parts 1 and 2 are of interest, and I'm not convinced they will be useful)

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – One // Wanda Maximoff

story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter two

author’s note: here’s the long-awaited first chapter! i do hope you all enjoy!

Also a quick one – Y/B/N = your brother’s name, Y/M/N = your mother’s name and Y/D/N = your dad’s name

"You move anymore and you're gonna hit a waiter."

I gave my brother a disapproving look as he grinned at my dismay. "Easy for you to say. You're wearing a suit and not a dress that's heavier than your body."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Y/N, you complain too much. Look where we are! You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

Taking a look around the room, I saw a hall filled with people I didn't know mingling with one another. Flutes of champagne were on almost every hand and laughter filled the air as everybody enjoyed their evening, soaking in the luxuries of a ball somebody I didn't know was hosting. Orchestral music was drowned out by conversations and servers moved through the hall like mice, scuttling around and constantly topping up champagne. I wasn't a fan, as usual.

"Are you both ready? Your father is bringing the Maximoffs here any second," my mother's voice grabbed my attention. "Y/N, at least try to look happy to be here." 

I forced a smile, making her give me a knowing look before looking to my brother and fixing his tie.

"You both know how important this is," she told us for the millionth time, fussing over my brother's appearance. "They're expecting–"

"Well-behaved, respectful individuals," I finished for her. "We know, mum. You've told us only a gazillion times."

She pressed her lips together, hands on her hips as her eyes fell to me, displeased. "If this engagement is to go as planned, I need you on your best behaviour."

"I'm always on my best behaviour," I reassured her. "But okay. I'll lighten up."

"Thank you," she said with a grateful smile, before glancing over her shoulder. "Okay. Here they come. Smiles, please."

My brother looked to me, showing me his teeth. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

I cracked a smile to make myself feel better. "Gums."

He gave me a disappointed look. "You know men don't like women who are smart arses." 

I rolled my eyes at his comment, knowing men didn't like women who didn't like men. But, of course, I didn't say that.

All her and my dad had been talking about for the past few weeks was this engagement. My brother, a very successful author, was to be engaged to his publisher's twin sister, some girl called Wanda. The Maximoffs were an esteemed family and their unification with ours was in everyone's best interests, especially my brother's who was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city.

I didn't know much about the Maximoffs, only that their son and my brother's 'boss', if you will, Pietro, ran a successful publishing house. It had been in their family name since their parents emigrated to England from Sokovia when Pietro and Wanda were children. They'd built themselves up from nothing and were now high members of society, the perfect family to be involved with.

Y/B/N was to be engaged to Wanda, their daughter, since she was getting to that age where they wanted to find someone for her. My brother's name was put into the mix when Pietro recommended him and the rest was history.

Tonight was the first unofficial meeting with them and my mother had been nonstop lecturing me on the dos and don't's of how to act, as if I was a child that couldn’t behave. Of course, it was only a mere greeting. The true engagement was to be proposed tomorrow night, but that didn't matter to my fussy mother who was insistent on making a good impression.

I found myself straightening up and pressing my hands down my dress to rid it of creases as my brother adjusted his blazer. The Maximoffs were being led our way by my father, the four of them all with smiles on their lips and flutes of champagne in their hands.

"Dear, I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs Maximoff and their lovely children, Pietro and Wanda," my dad introduced, stopping before us, before looking to the Maximoffs. "This is my family. My wife, Y/M/N, and my children, Y/N and Y/B/N."

"Please, call me Oleg and my wife Iryna," the twins' father, Oleg, said with a kind smile. He held out his hand to my mother, adding, "It's a pleasure, Y/M/N."

They shook hands and then looked to my brother and I, exchanging quick greetings with us. As they were saying something to my brother, probably gushing over his writing as everyone did, I took a look at the quiet twins behind them.

I vaguely recognised the guy and his striking silver hair from my brother's work, knowing he was Pietro. But I'd never seen the girl before and knew immediately that if I had, I wouldn't forget her face. She was stunning, it didn't take a genius to see that. But not the stunning that you glanced once at and forgot about. No, she was the stunning that knocked the breath out of you and made you forget what your name was.

"...lovely to meet you again!" my brother was saying all the right things to impress his soon-to-be in-laws, but it went over me as I found myself unable to tear my gaze from this mystery woman.

Further introductions went on in the background, before the green eyes I was so enthralled with were looking my way, making me blink suddenly. I instantly looked away, afraid I'd been caught, and zoned back into the conversation that was taking place.

"It's great to finally put a name to a face," the girl, Wanda, was saying to my brother with a honey sweet smile and sultry Russian-accented voice, and judging by his expression, he was just as caught up in her beauty as I was. "I look forward to getting to know you more."

"And I you," he returned with his signature grin.

Her eyes fell to mine once again, lips curving into an amused smile. "And of course, Y/B/N's beautiful sister, Y/N. How lucky a man he must be to have a sister as stunning as you."

The others chuckled, clearly taken by Wanda's smooth way with words. In their eyes, it was flattery at its finest. After all, she was to be welcomed into our family and sucking up to the sister was the best way forward. But I guess, I'd like to believe that there was some truth to her words as her entrancing green eyes sparkled with delight.

"You don't need to win over my sister to get on my good side," Y/B/N joked before I could speak, stealing Wanda's attention away momentarily.

She suppressed a laugh, tilting her head as she studied him with an unreadable expression, before looking to me with curious eyes.

"Thank you for your kind words, Wanda," I finally said to her, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," she quipped, biting her lip to contain her smile.

It was oh so wrong of me to even slightly check her out as she did, knowing that it was not only inappropriate since she was to be my brother's bride, but also wrong since she was a girl and I wasn't supposed to do this. A heat crept up neck as I avoided her teasing gaze, wondering if she knew what she was doing or if she was just a naturally flirty person.

"I'm Pietro," her brother spoke, making me look up again. He was directing a charming smile my way as he continued, "It's an honour to finally meet my best author's younger sister."

I put out my hand for him to shake, but he simply grabbed it and pressed a gentle kiss to the top. I flushed at the contact, a nervous smile on my lips.

"Er, it's nice to meet you, too, Pietro," I returned, subtly wiping my hand when he let go of it.

The twins stood side by side, smiling our way, and I realised just why all the chatter in our social circles revolved around them. Charming, distinguished, good-looking – they were the whole package.

Our parents continued to talk, catching up and talking about stuff I didn't care much for. Every now and then, Y/B/N would chime in if a question was directed his way, or Pietro would add his two cents, or Wanda would say something funny, and I would pretend to get along with all of them when I so desperately wished to go home and go to sleep.

Admittedly, my eyes veered over to my soon-to-be sister-in-law every now and then, unable to look away. She was drop dead gorgeous, with bright hazel eyes that looked green like the earth at this moment, and long brown hair that was pulled back out of her face, revealing her charming smile. Sometimes, when she would smile really widely, a dimple would expose itself on her left cheek at the corner of her mouth, and I was sure that nothing else was cuter than that. Y/B/N was one lucky man.

"...would love for you all to come to our home tomorrow evening for dinner," my father was inviting them all over, bringing me back to reality. "It'll be a great way to get to know each other in a more intimate setting. And it'll give the kids a better chance to get to know each other."

Iryna smiled brightly. "We would love to, Y/D/N. Tomorrow evening is great."

"Perfect," my mum said excitedly. "We'll see you all then."

"Do enjoy the rest of your evening," Oleg said, looking to us all, before looking to my brother. "And Y/B/N, it was good to meet you tonight. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"You, too, sir," Y/B/N said, shaking his hand with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Oleg and Iryna gave us all a smile before turning to leave. Pietro and Wanda did the same, though when Wanda's eyes flickered to mine, she waved her fingers slowly and with a playful smile on her lips. My mouth opened slightly, unsure what to do or say, but nobody seemed to notice as she turned and left, leaving me standing there with confusion.

"Well, I think that went well," my mum said, and I tore my gaze from Wanda's retreating form. "Couldn't have gone better actually."

"I agree," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my mum's waist with a smile. "Tomorrow night will be splendid." He looked to Y/B/N. "What did you think of Wanda, son?"

Y/B/N looked like he was on top of the world with his love struck smile and relaxed posture. "She's beautiful. And did you hear that accent? Wonderful."

My mother chuckled. "How sweet. You're already smitten."

"What did you think of her, Y/N?" my brother asked, and all eyes fell to me.

I straightened up. "Oh, I– er– she's very nice. A beautiful young woman."

"Right?" he said in agreement. "I feel like she really likes you, too. How cool is that? You guys can become friends and be, like, close sister-in-laws."

I forced a small smile. "Yeah. Something like that."

Of course, for everyone's benefit, getting along with Wanda Maximoff was the best bet. But something about her was different and I was yet to discover what.

—

The following evening was when we saw the Maximoffs next. As invited, they turned up at our front door dressed less glamorously than last night, given the occasion, but appearing just as excited. Our servants were quick to take their jackets and hang them up elsewhere as we exchanged greetings in the hall.

The Maximoff parents were genuinely kind and humbling people to be around, I'd come to learn that when they thanked our servants for their help and asked them how their day was, making friendly chatter. Not many people did that when entering our home – it was certainly refreshing to see. They greeted Y/B/N and I kindly before moving onto our parents.

The Maximoff children were just as kind, though with a hint of mischief in their stride as they moved to greet my brother and I. Pietro approached me first, lips pulling into a smile as he bowed playfully. In the corner of my eye, I could see Wanda and Y/B/N exchanging greetings.

"It's a pleasure to be in your presence yet again, Y/N," Pietro said generously. "You look lovely this evening."

A smile appeared on my lips at his kind eyes. "Thank you, Pietro. You look very handsome this evening also."

"Apparently it's lamb for dinner, is that true?" he asked, taking me by surprise. I wasn't sure if he was serious, but when his sister slapped him on the arm, I figured he was.

"Don't be greedy, Piet," she scolded him like this was a regular thing.

"What? It was a simple question," he said with a shrug, before looking to my brother with a grin. "Ah, Y/B/N Y/L/N, my favourite writer."

As he moved over to greet him, Wanda looked over to me with a knowing smile.

"It's good to see you again," she said softly, maintaining eye contact.

"You, too," I played along with whatever was happening, the usual script at a time like this. "I'm sure tonight will be something special for you and my brother. It's good to have you here."

She tilted her head intimidatingly. "Bol'shoye tebe spasibo."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued by her ability to change languages so smoothly. Though, it made sense since she was Sokovian, making Russian her first language. Didn't make it any easier to not be attracted to though.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. disguising my attraction with genuine confusion. "What does that mean?"

She smiled, a hint of smugness present as she answered, "Thank you very much. That's what it means."

I pressed my lips together, humming in response. She held my gaze for a second longer than usual and I wanted to look away, but I was drawn in by the beautiful golden flecks swirled into her irises, captivating and chilling all at once. She didn't seem uncomfortable with the eye contact, instead revelling in it with a content smirk when she saw me squirm. I ended up looking away first, unable to hold a pretty girl's gaze for more than a few seconds without panicking.

"I have something to show you!" my brother was saying excitedly to Pietro. "It's in my study, c'mon."

The two of them wandered off before my mum could stop them.

"Don't be too long, boys!" she called after them, before sighing and looking to Wanda and I. "Y/N, dear, why don't you show Wanda around upstairs, maybe? Hopefully the boys should be back after that and we can all eat dinner together."

I swallowed hard, glancing at a still-smirking Wanda, before looking back to my mum. "Erm, are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, go on, it'll give you ladies a chance to get to know each other better!" she insisted, before ushering me away. "Don't take too long though. Dinner will be ready soon."

Licking my lips nervously, I nodded, watching my mum return to the conversation my dad and Wanda's parents were having. They were led into the living room as Wanda and I were left standing in the hall, her waiting for me to say something.

"This way, I guess," I got out awkwardly, purposely avoiding her eyes as I motioned to the grand staircase.

"After you," she said politely, and I said nothing as I took the lead.

I ended up showing her around the upstairs rooms, including the library we had and the many guest rooms. It was a big home with lots to show for it, so the tour wasn't too boring.

Wanda stayed quiet throughout it, sometimes dropping in a comment or question every now and then, but otherwise listening intently as I explained everything as interestingly as I could. When she did speak, she would leave me fumbling for words or forgetting how to speak altogether. I wondered if she was teasing me on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, or if she just wasn't aware of what she was doing.

But every time her mischievous gaze fell to me with a matching smile, I knew that she had to be aware of her actions. Nobody was that teasing without wanting to be. So, that led me to my next question. Why?

Eventually, the last room on the tour was my bedroom. I stepped inside first, holding the door open for her as she followed after and looked around with amusement.

"This is your room," she stated, feet taking her further inside as she took in the appearance of my desk, my bed and my wardrobe. "Fascinating."

I was curious to know what she meant by that, but realising that this woman was an enigma in more ways than one, I knew she wouldn't give me a straight answer. So, I said nothing as I followed after her, remaining close as she soaked in my belongings.

Stopping at my desk, her eyes gazed over the papers spilling from closed notebooks, books marked with string and pens littered across the wood. Thankfully, nothing was open and she didn't seem to be the nosy type, so had no intention of going through anything.

"I see you like writing," she noticed, fingers hovering above the notebooks but not quite making a move to touch them. "Runs in the family, doesn't it?"

"I guess," I said, unsure what she wanted to hear.

She looked up at me, smile tugging at her lips. The same damned smile that had been directed at me since she got here.

"Do you write like your brother?"

I tried not to laugh. "More like he writes like me."

She watched me closely, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's the author in the family."

I mirrored her smile, though mine was fake. "Published author, love. Doesn't make him the only one."

A chuckle flew from her lips as she looked across my messy desk again, clearly not offended by the hint of annoyance in my voice. I shouldn't have been so offended by her words – she didn't know anything about me – but it always ground my gears when people stuck up for Y/B/N like he was God's gift.

"Do you write?" I asked, half interested and half wanting to change the subject. The least I could do was try to get to know her a little better.

"I prefer painting," she answered without mischief. "It's my favourite thing to do."

Her eyes lit up at the mere mention of art, but she did a good job at reigning it in. She was still studying the books on my desk, distracting herself with the spines instead of facing me.

"And what do you like to paint?" I asked, genuinely interested now that I was beginning to see her actually fond of something that didn't involve making me flustered.

She shrugged, but I knew it was a pretence. "Scenery. Landscapes. We have a beautiful garden at home and it's a pleasure to paint." She finally met my eyes again, a smile of adoration on her lips as she continued talking about the garden. "The flowers, the trees, the little pond we have. It's the perfect subject."

The smile that appeared on my lips was automatic as her passion for her hobby was contagious. The way her whole face lit up, eyes bright with excitement and lips unable to do anything but smile, was intoxicating and I tried not to get lost in the moment. It was true though, what people said. Nobody looked more beautiful than when talking about something they loved.

"I’d love to see your work sometime," I told her earnestly.

Playfulness returning, she hummed in agreement. "Only if I can see yours."

I laughed, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe not."

"Well, that's a shame," she said, still playful, though when I looked up, I almost believed her.

She did that thing again, where she stared at me and held my gaze as if reading my innermost private thoughts. Intimidating wasn't the word, yet it was the only one in my mind as I watched her attempt to decipher me. Clearing my throat, I looked away, suddenly aware of how close she was stood.

"So, my brother," I changed the subject yet again, noticing the entertained expression she wore. "You like him?"

"We are to be engaged, are we not?" she asked with a quirked brow, like the answer was obvious.

I hid the smile from my lips. "That's not what I asked, love."

She licked her lips, pursing them as she saw what I was trying to do. My eyes were immediately drawn to her mouth as she did, and I almost forgot to look away until she started speaking again.

"My parents arranged this," she admitted, not losing composure. "Y/B/N is a gentleman and he seems like a kind man."

I noticed how she still avoided answering the question, but decided not to say anything about it. My eyes studied her curiously though, wondering why exactly she'd agreed to the marriage then. Maybe it was a sense of duty, like every woman had nowadays. Eventually my time would come too and maybe I would be stuck in the same position as her.

"I adore his writing though," she added, like she needed to say something genuine to make up for her lack of answer.

"You and every other woman in the city," I mumbled knowingly.

Wanda let out a breathy laugh. "I'm aware of his many admirers, yes, but can you blame them? He has such a fantastic way with words. And don't get me started on that first piece he ever wrote..." Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction. "It's my favourite. I had no idea who he was back then, but the words he wrote were enough to make me fall in love. I guess it's convenient that my new husband is to be your brother, the author."

I crossed my arms as I leaned against the desk, trying not to break out into laughter. Not because of Wanda's words – they were actually quite sweet – but because of the whole situation. It was hilarious to me, since I was the reason Y/B/N got his big break as a writer anyway.

Following in our father's footsteps, Y/B/N wrote manuscript after manuscript with hopes of getting published. But unfortunately, he never got anywhere with it. I was also a writer, having been taught by my father like Y/B/N when I was a young girl, but unlike him, I was told to stop when I got older because it was 'unladylike' and 'not a woman's place'. That didn't stop me however, and I continued to write like no tomorrow.

Y/B/N's big break, and the first manuscript of his that got published by Pietro – ironically the one that Wanda was discussing right now – was written by me. I gave it to my brother, hoping he could get inspiration. He ended up sending that in and getting signed because of my work. And even now, I occasionally helped him work on pieces that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day.

But nobody wanted to hear about the young, unmarried woman who writes about other women like they are God's best creation. So, Y/B/N keeps the fame and credit whilst I write in private, unable to share any of my work with the world unless it's in excerpts of my brother's books with his name on the front cover.

"That first piece was pretty good, wasn't it?" I played along with Wanda's words, a hint of bitterness in my tone of voice.

Wanda studied me up and down, teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, milaya."

I hummed in acknowledgement, feigning a smile in response, though I wasn't sure what that last word meant. Probably another Russian term she was using to throw me off. Of course she'd assume I was jealous of my brother's recognition. She didn't know the truth and she never could. She was also to marry my brother, the perfect author, soon; my bitter state was merely a jealous sibling and maybe it was easier to let her think that way.

"Dinner should be ready now," I told her, straightening up. "Let's head down."

She followed after me and I said nothing else as I led her back downstairs, trying not to think about how much of an ego-boost this dinner would be for my brother.

There was nothing better than hearing everyone gush over the work your brother took credit for that you actually did, right?

"Ah, ladies, perfect timing!" said my mum when we reached the dining room where everyone was taking their seats. "Please, sit and we can get started. It's a lovely roast from the kitchen tonight."

As I made my way to my usual seat opposite my brother, I saw Pietro fist-pump the air at the mention of the lamb roast, making Wanda roll her eyes and me smile at his action. Y//B/N took his seat and Wanda's parents seemed to take the two chairs beside him already. My parents took to each end of the table, leaving the Maximoff twins no choice but to sit beside me. I sat at the same spot as usual, at the edge of the table so my left-handed self wouldn't bother whoever was sat beside me, and take a lucky guess to who sat on my right.

"Wanda, dear, how was your tour?" my mum asked her as she got comfortable beside me, leg and shoulder almost touching mine and making me both nervous and disgruntled.

With a grin wide enough to impress my mother, she answered, "It was great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs Y/L/N. And Y/N was a lovely host."

At that last comment, I felt her eyes glance towards me and I wondered if she was having fun making me squirm because I knew for sure that I was anything but a lovely host.

"That's reassuring to hear," my mother responded as the food was brought out and placed in the centre of the table. She seemed like she was joking, but I knew she was just glad I'd been on my best behaviour. "And please, call me Y/M/N."

Wanda nodded gratefully as my dad began to cut into the roast. Food was served up and drinks were poured as everybody began to dig in. The Maximoffs sent their compliments to the chef, admired our home and were the perfect guests, just as they were expected to be. My family complimented Wanda and Pietro's manners, talked about how business was going and laughed at every joke Oleg and Iryna uttered, just as they were expected to be. It really was a picture-perfect scene and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Okay, maybe I was acting a little cynical. The Maximoffs weren't that bad, at least not as bad I'd assumed they would be compared to my parents' other friends. They were down-to-Earth and humbled people, a welcoming change from the usual. I just hated forced dinners and being scrutinised under my mother's eyes to behave, hence the clipped attitude.

And just on cue, the topic steered towards something lovely.

"We can't forget to talk about Y/B/N, bestselling author over here!" Oleg beamed, motioning to my brother. "I have to admit, son, I'm amazed at your writing. You clearly have your father's talent."

My brother smiled bashfully as I watched on with narrowed eyes and a tight grip on my fork.

"You flatter me," he said, but Iryna shook her head.

"I have to agree with my husband here, Y/B/N," she said. "Your writing is superb. Pietro, obviously, loves it, and Wanda is a huge fan, too."

At this, my brother glanced towards Wanda with excited eyes and she merely smiled and looked elsewhere, either embarrassed to be mentioned or playing coy. Rolling my eyes came naturally at this point.

"Tell me, how did you think of what to write for that first book?" Iryna asked with intrigue. "It was my favourite one."

Ah, yes, the first book. Apparently everyone's favourite one.

"Oh, it's best not to bring all that up–"

"I'd actually like to know, too," Wanda cut him off, her curiosity getting the better of her as she leaned forward onto the palm of her hand and watched him under long eyelashes.

I couldn't keep the smile of delight from my face as I too leaned forward curiously, eyeing my brother. "Yes, dear, brother. Please, do tell us of how you came to write such an honest, heartfelt first book."

At this, I felt both my parents send me a warning look as they knew the truth. But neither of the Maximoffs noticed as their attention was solely on my brother.

Luckily for him, he was a great liar and he smiled his charming smile and nodded, looking between the four guests.

"I guess it started after my third failed manuscript," he began, very believably. "I realised that there was something missing from my pages. Something real and genuine. Something that would appeal to my readers and make them question just how much they were appreciating their partner, you know?"

As he rambled off into another literary spout of nonsense, my smile faded and I gritted my teeth, wondering how he'd gotten so good at lying without giving away a sliver of pretence. The Maximoffs were hanging onto his every word, fascinated by the mind of a writer. I tried not to let it get to me as he butchered the meaning behind everything I had written in that first novel. Some things were better left unsaid.

When he finished, questions were fired his way and my parents watched on with pride in their eyes, as he answered them with ease. I chose to stay quiet, as usual, letting him soak in the credit for something he didn't do.

"And what do you think, Y/N?" Wanda's voice included me in the conversation, and everybody's eyes fell to me. I was only looking at her as her lips were pulled into a wide, suggestive smile and she continued, "How is it being the sister of one of today's bestselling authors?"

The usual forced smile that accompanied my lips whenever talking about Y/B/N because present, but my eyes were questioning Wanda's as she was clearly trying to get a rise out of me yet again, especially now that she assumed I was jealous of her husband-to-be's fame. Her stupid beautiful smile and stupid pretty eyes and stupid attractive accent were all taunting me.

"It makes me proud to know that he's come so far from when we were younger," I said, and though I was irritated by the way it had happened, my words weren't entirely false. "He's a talented man and he clearly has a way with words. What more is there to say?"

The elders seemed touched by my words and when I looked over the table to meet my brother's gaze, I saw the gratitude in his expression, hiding behind his smile and reserved for me. I nodded subtly, letting him know I was happy to keep his secret as long as he wished, just like we'd agreed.

Chatter and compliments soon turned to the real reason for our presence – the engagement. I tucked into my dessert as I let them talk about dates for the engagement party, logistics for guests and all the other details I could care less about. Only when my brother mentioned my name did I look up, surprised to see all eyes on me yet again.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked politely, glancing around.

"Y/N, honey, lay off the chocolate cake, will you?" my mum said with a smile that I knew was code for 'put the bloody fork down'.

I forced a smile of my own as I lowered my fork and sat up straight, very ladylike, and looked to my brother.

"I was saying how I'll be sure to pick a beautiful engagement ring for Wanda here," he no-doubt repeated for my sake. "And maybe you could help me choose, to make sure it's something she may like."

A genuine sarcastic smile broke out on my lips, though not because I was interested in ring shopping with my brother. I knew absolutely nothing about dear Wanda or her taste in jewellery, but a woman was to do what she was best at – shopping! So, without sharing my true thoughts on the situation, I nodded respectfully and hummed in agreement.

"Of course," I said what everybody wanted to hear. "I'm sure we can find something to suit Wanda's taste."

Everybody resumed chatter about the wedding as I sighed quietly and got back to my cake. My right hand rested by my side and I jumped, startled when I made contact with Wanda's fingers.

"Sorry," I apologised, moving my hand a little from hers but keeping it there. "Left-handed an' all. I tend to forget."

Green eyes pierced through me with a matching sly smile. "No problem, milaya."

Again with the 'milaya' talk – what did that even mean? I returned the awkward smile as I continued eating, but I didn't fail to notice the way her hand would brush against mine throughout the rest of the meal.

Either by accident or on purpose, I'd never know, but I had my suspicions.

[mxtcha-tea]

domestic shiratorizawa

⊹summary; the life inside the dorms of shiratorizawa

⊹pilots; gn![y/n], ushijima, tendou, semi, yamagata, reon, kawanishi, shirabu, goshiki (pairings showed; yamagata x reader, goshiki x reader)

⊹genre; fluff, crack and some cursings (no proofread)

⊹flight details; i've once made a domestic imagines in my old blog so imma make a small reboot of it <3

random shopping

normal day, normal life. you could've seen yourself laying or even napping in your room while a compilation of minecraft songs plays in the background. but no. instead, you're inside an antique shop with Yamagata, Ushijima and Tendou.

you have no idea when, or how did the process happened but you surely is done with getting dragged inside the shop by Tendou and Yamagata.

while Ushijima's stuck on a section, you don't know where, but he's definitely stuck there, "[y/n]! look at what i found,"

Yamagata called you as you turned around to see him holding up a pretty heavy doll. you raise your brow, "what the hell is that?" walking towards him and taking a closer look at the object in hand,

"i think it's a, um, i think a matryoska doll? matroyska? is that how you say it?" "why're you asking me, i don't know jack shit about russian stuff,"

"ah you mean, matryoshka doll?" Tendou butted in, startling you two, "it's also called a 'nesting doll' and did you actually know that it was actually originated from china?"

Yamagata's eyes practically sparkled at that with a surprised look, "from china? really?"

you can only roll your eyes, "and how can you even know all that?" Tendou snickered and put on a smug face, "i'm actually very smart, y'know. ya'll just don't know about it," "says the person in class 2,"

"i blame the mathematic old hags for adding letters in math, and the apple that fucking hit my man Isaac," you tsk'ed and walk towards the next section. Yamagata passive aggressively put the matryoshka doll down and follow after you along with Tendou,

"also, we need to find ushijima, i think he's stuck in some section between here...ah there," you stopped walking and turn to your right where you find Ushijima reading a book.

Tendou skipped towards him and smack his shoulder, "you okay, wakatoshi-kun? you sure did took longer to look at the stuff here," while Tendou chats with Ushijima, Yamagata look up at the shelves as something caught his eyes.

he tried to reach it while tip toing but due to his height, he can't reach it. then, he jumped from his spot to grab the object but end up hitting his head onto the board, "AGH, FUCK!" which causes you all to look at him, watching him hold his head while shivering from the pain,

"are you okay, yamagata?" ushijima ask, putting back the book on the shelves, "yeah, yeah, i'm just tryna get that," he shakes his head before pointing up.

you followed his finger and caught a glimpse of an old polaroid. it's a little bit dusty but other than that, it looks new. Ushijima reached it from his spot and managed to grab it, "here,"

he hands it to Yamagata as he instantly recovered from his recent pain and snatch it from Ushijima's hand, subtly thanking him with a grin, "why do you even need a polaroid?" Tendou asked, leaning his arm over Ushijima's shoulder with one brow up,

"pfft, for journaling of course,"

a gust of wind went through you while staring at him with a poker face, the same with Tendou with a small cat like smile. Ushijima just looked the same,

"okay," "WHAT'S WITH THE TONE??" you blinked and just knit your eyebrows, "i mean, since when you started journaling? you're not even the type of person to do something aesthetic,"

he pouted and just crosses his arms, "so what? that doesn't mean i can't do it, right? have faith in me god darn it. and honestly, my journal looks good so far," "well, fine,"

you waved your hand at him and continue going through the other section. and just like that, "hey wait!" Yamagata tailed after you.

Tendou snickered at the two and focus back on Ushijima, who's still watching the display yet again, "have you thought of what to buy wakatoshi-kun?" "i'm not sure, there's a lot of interesting stuff here," "well, you've only been in this section but okay~"

studying

"agh, why did those idiots really have to call me at this time...?"

you groaned, slowly walking through the halls with a slouched figure. tracing your fingers along the wall with a dejected look. you're suppose to sleep today.

an hour or two long sleep. it's finally the weekend which means the time for you to sleep all of your problems away. drifting into slumber with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, enjoying your dream as long as you can.

until your ringtone annoyingly rings next to your ear. you answer the call, and again greeted by the most annoying human in the planet,

"[y/n], we need you at the gym right now!"

"huh? oh fuck off Tendou, i need to sleep right now,"

"nuh uh, you can sleep later after you go to the gym,"

"why? are you, i don't know, practicing or something?"

"you have to find out. if you don't move your ass from that bed, we'll send Hayato to wake you up~"

". . ."

and now, you find yourself standing in front of the door of shiratorizawa's volleyball gym. not only that Tendou wakes you up from your sleep, you also had to WALK all the way from your dorm to the gym,

"i'm gonna add more time to their practices after this..."

sliding the door open, you expect them to be doing serves or maybe spikes.

but instead, you're seeing them—as in the 3rd years—all sitting down at the middle of the court, with books around them.

and what's even more confusing is that they somehow managed to bring a table inside. no, not the flip-able table.

literally a whole ass table.

Reon looks up from his book and notices your figure standing on the door way. he waves his hand at you, you did the same but still with a confused look.

Yamagata was next to see you as he abruptly stand up from his spot, shaking the table in the process,

"Hayato! stop shaking the table," "oops, sorry. ah, wait, [y/n]!"

that caught all of the boys attention as they look at you, "what taking you so long to arrive?" Tendou asked, a pen rested in between his upper lip and nose.

Semi smacked him in the face—earning an 'ow'—before shaking his head,

"their dorm is literally far from the gym, and why do you even proposed your idea of studying at the gym anyway?"

you make your way towards them, Reon patting the empty spot next to him. you sat down on your spot as Yamagata did the same. seemed like he was waiting for you.

Tendou rubbed his nose and pouted at Semi, "this was the best place to study anyway! it have much more room,"

"we should've gone to the cafeteria OR the LIBRARY," Semi groaned, looking back at his book before writing on it,

"pfft, the cafeteria's no fun. and i got banned from the library," Reon looks at Tendou with confusion, "well, it's not surprising,"

Tendou shrugged, "i was also banned from the library," Ushijima said, not looking up from his notes as you knit your eyebrows at that,

"you're also banned from the library? Satori, what did you and Ushijima did—" "anyways, um,"

he cut you off, fidgeting with his pen before pointing it at you, "right, you need to tutor us on this subject~!"

you blinked, looking down at the book they're studying about, "haven't the teacher covered this already?"

"well, i'm sorry, class 6. but we have no idea how this thing works. maybe only Reon, but look at Semi,"

Tendou wrapped his arm around Semi's neck, practically head locking him, "he's from class 1 and i think you should teach him about this the most," "I'll rip your fucking head off, Tendou!"

while both of them tried to strangle each other, Yamagata caught your attention next,

"and also, it won't be fun without you, y'know," Reon nodded, "and don't forget that you can't leave me alone in this,"

"oh right," "hm? what was that?" Yamagata asked. you just shake your head with a defeated smile, "nothing..."

after clearing your throat, you snatched Semi's book away before flipping through the pages,

"okay you scumbags, it's time to learn,"

oblivious enough

the birds chirped from the tree, the hallway's as loud as ever. Semi and Tendou's leaning against the window, each of them drinking apple juice and eating yakisoba bread.

it was silence between them before Semi spoke, "hey, Tendou," "yes Semi-Semi?" "y'know,"

Semi turned his head to look at Tendou as the redhead did the same, "have you, noticed the relationship between [y/n] and Yamagata lately?"

the latter made a thinking face, before nodding, "hm, seems so,"

"do you think, either one of them ever noticed about it?" Tendou shakes his head at the question, "nope, i don't think they do. in fact, they might be completely oblivious to it,"

Semi snickered, "right, like that one time..."

"[y/n], do you think my lips are dry right now?"

you look up from your clipboard, seeing Yamagata pointing his lips, "hm, nah. they're fine, but if you want, i can but on some lip balm,"

his eyes sparkled at that as he nodded his head with excitement, "sure!" you walk towards your bag with Yamagata following you. opening the zipper and search inside it, you pull out your lip balm,

"here, hold still," you put a hand on his cheek while the other applies lip balm onto his lips. it was a slow process but he managed to not move at all while making eye contact with you.

once you finished applying, he pop his lips before humming, "mn, cherry," "let me know if you need anything else,"

he nodded with now flushed cheeks as he smile at you. you did the same, gently patting his arm.

from a distance, Shirabu looks at them with a disgusted look, "ugh, can't they be more subtle about it,"

Kawanishi shrugged, "just let them be,"

"how can i redo my memory? i don't need to see that this early," "well, what if it was us?" "i would be twice as grossed, i can put my own lip balm," "hm yeah, you're right, i honestly would be like that too," "good,"

"haha yeah, now that i think about it, they do it all the time right?" Tendou nodded at Semi's statement before hearing the all too familiar voice just a few meters away from them,

"[y/n]!"

you turned your head around while still sipping your drink. Yamagata stood in front of you, holding out his visibly crumpled necktie with a small smile,

"my necktie!" "ah again? whatever," you give your drink to him as he hold it for you.

grabbing the necktie from his hand, looping it around his collar shirt and started tying it with a concentrated look,

"i can't say that it'll be clean when i finished tying it," "it's okay! that's why i'm asking you to do it, messy or not, at least i have it on," "hm, yeah,"

after you finished tying it and patting it a little, Yamagata hugged you, "thank you!" "yeah, you're welcome,"

the aura literally radiates on the slightly crowded hallway as some of the students who passed you talked among themselves.

Semi and Tendou stared at you two, expressionless eyes but with a small smile,

'ah, right,'

Tendou sighed, intertwining his fingers together and lifting it up to his cheeks, "ah, young love~"

"we're all the same age,"

"young love~"

bonus; reliable kouhai

lifeless.

is what goshiki would say when he took a few glances at you from his book. you promised to tutor him about this subject he's struggling on. but didn't really expect to see your slouched form walking inside the library.

he's not even sure if you even hear anything you're saying right now, "get a shovel and two-" your head hit the table, creating a loud sound and catching the attention of almost everyone inside the library,

"[y/n]-senpai, um, are you okay??" you groaned and rapidly blink your eyes, covering your forehead, "yeah, 'm just..."

a yawn escaped from your mouth before you can even finish your sentence, "...tired. those stupid senpais of yours need help tutoring too even tho being grown ass men,"

goshiki closes his book and creating a small 'thump', snapping you out from your mind,

"well, if that so then you didn't have to come, you could've just tell me and i would be fine with it!" your hoarse laugh caught him off guard as a shade of red ran across his cheeks, "i can't break a promise, tsutomu. why do you even think i agree on tutoring you?"

"uh, cause you want to help me with my studies?" "one of it, and cause i enjoy tutoring you," he can feel his cheeks heating up more when you made eye contact with him, a small smile laced upon your face,

"and honestly, you're smarter than i thought. class 4 right? that's cool," he looked away, trying to calm his nerves down, "t-thanks! a lot of people thought i was in a lower class, so i, i appreciate it,"

goshiki took a peek at you, now burying your face onto your face, "also, senpai," "hm?"

"you should take a nap for now, i think i can start understanding this formula," you slightly look up at him, "you sure? i was prolly talking craps just now," "yeah! your health is more important anyway,"

you hum, offering him a warm smile, "thanks, i know i can count on you," you rested onto your side and close your eyes. lips slightly parted and just like that, you're deep in your dreams.

he pursed his lips, slowly leaning against the table to look at your face. it's calm, peaceful and beautiful, kissable lips. he wonder if he could lean in a little closer until you two-

goshiki instantly jolted up and hit himself on the head, face's covered in the color red, 'no! don't think about that, curse you Tendou-San for introducing me to those mangas...'

Tendou's faces ran across his mind as he grunted,

'why're they so pretty??'

[kneamet]

Angel of cards (7/16)

Trigger Warning: yandere, obsession, obsessive thoughts.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter seven: unexpected guests

Harvey just couldn't think rationally the last day. Blake. His beloved niece, whom he had so fiercely protected and so passionately cherished. She was his favorite relative, the only person who supported him in what he was doing now.

And now, he was standing in an elevator with an equally beloved man, a beloved woman, Rachel Dawes, who was the most beautiful person in his life. The love of his life. Rachel had always been sympathetic and untruthful to him, and there was nothing he could do to repay her. Except to propose to her.

Harvey, as well as his Rachel, were now at a" party " with Bruce Wayne, with whom his beloved had known since childhood. And that's fine, even when Bruce, with his pretentiousness, infuriated him. But that was just a small thing, given that he'd called him this afternoon to let him know that he'd do everything he could to find Blake.

Dent looked at Rachel, who was biting her lip in her usual way and looking a little worried. He knew that his beloved, as well as he himself, did not particularly like all these social events, and they liked an ordinary evening with delicious wine and an old movie more.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped and opened its doors, giving Harvey and Rachel a view of the rich people standing around each other drinking champagne.

"Harvey Dent, scourge of the underworld... Rachel suddenly began, beginning to circle slightly around Dent and look at him with what Harvey, and probably Bruce, thought were beautiful eyes. "...scared to death of the powerful, " she said ironically, but she still understood that Harvey was having a hard time, which he basically appreciated. Suddenly her eyes caught on something, and she smiled and looked back at Harvey. "I'll be back soon."

"Rachel," Dent said softly as she left, and suddenly a familiar voice came from the left side.

"Would you like some courage, Mr. Dent?" said a man who looked very familiar, but Harvey had some doubts that this was the man Rachel had told him about.

"Thank you. Alfred, right?" Harvey decided to make sure as he accepted the glass.

"That's right, sir," the older man replied with a polite smile.

"Rachel talks about you all the time. You've known her all her life," Dent knew that Alfred was one of the only people who cared about Rachel. She always praised him.

"Oh, not really, sir," Alfred corrected quickly, shifting the tray to his other hand.

"Should we be wary of her crazy exes?" Harvey looked away and looked into the crowd, looking for Rachel.

"Oh, you have no idea how much," Alfred advised and disappeared into the crowd, disappearing unnoticed and smiling cunningly. Harvey looked up at him in surprise, his mouth slightly open.

But no, I need to find Rachel now.

***

The social gathering, as the rich people called it, or the simple party, as Rachel, Bruce, and Harvey would have called it, was going well. People were drinking champagne and wine, and the music played in the background in a quiet background, only adding to the charm.

Everything was fine. Bruce Wayne, surrounded by a crowd of Russian ballerinas, arrived in a private helicopter, saying that he was a little late. He even thanked Harvey for his contribution.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," a loud and drawling baritone voice suddenly rang out, drawing the attention of people who turned their drunken eyes toward those who had arrived, until they noticed his makeup and heard the sound of a cracked lamp somewhere above.

Shouts were heard from the sides. The Joker grinned. That was exactly what he wanted. It was so nice to see their frightened faces. He took a step forward, stepping out of the elevator and passing on, looking for the people who were now looking at him in pitiful fright.

He felt like a God now. A God who can control people's feelings and make them do what he wants. Oh, how he wanted his angel to listen to him. His lovely, frightened little angel, probably begging hard for help right now. She was glad to be with him, though.

"Now we'll entertain you," he said again, grinning at the people around him. "I have one question:" he drawled, walking slowly towards the people and even slightly dancing and jumping up and down. His usual manner, no wonder. "Where's Harvey Dent?" he shouted loudly to the entire room, taking a glass of champagne and spilling most of it as he stared at the man. "Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know him?"" he turned to the other man, placing a glass of unpleasant alcohol, which he did not particularly like, on the snack table.

The Joker slowly surveyed the people. He saw in them the whole spectrum of negative emotions, ranging from anger to contempt with horror. How ugly they all are. And no, not physically, like the Joker, but morally.

"You know, me and his family will be fine," the Joker said to no one else, making his usual smacking lips.

"We can't be intimidated by bandits," the voice said. It seems that someone was very brave, Joker thought, and turned to the owner of the old voice.

That's right, there was an elderly man standing next to him, raising his head up and up. It seems that someone wanted to show their superiority.

"Listen..." the Joker muttered, pulling a small pull-out knife from his nearest pocket and sliding it up unnoticed, his other hand shaking as he straightened his hair. "...you look like my father, " the man said with disdain in his voice, literally running into the older man with quick movements and putting a knife to the corners of his mouth. "I hated my father," he said with hatred, only pressing harder and feeling the indignant and frightened feeling in the man.

"Okay, wait," came a sudden voice from the left side. Voice. Female. Slightly squeaky, but quite pretty. Such voices do not wish you well. They will surely only be able to do harm.

The Joker turned his head and lowered his hands to look in the direction of the voice. A woman was looking at him, hands on her hips. A pretty woman. Brown hair, softly tied up in a bun, and blue eyes. She was really beautiful.

But the Joker had always known that beautiful girls were equal to loss and suffering. So no, especially since she reminded him too much of the woman he hated so vividly and despised so fiercely. His mother.

And even more so, this woman was no more beautiful than his angel. No, his angel was perfect. She was simply incomparable and he must protect his angel. Definitely should.

"Hello, beautiful," the Joker said gently, as some might think, and very mockingly, smoothing his hair with the hand that held the knife. "You must be Harvey's chick," he said gruffly, pointing at the woman with the knife as people backed up around her. But no, although he allowed himself to communicate with other women in this way, he would not allow himself to communicate with his angel in this way.

Joker could see the contempt on the face of the Harvey woman, who was looking at him with defiance and a little fear. Really brave.

Finally, the Joker moved even closer to the woman who came up to his chin. How low. He looked down at her and lifted his hand, smacking his lips lightly. "You're so nervous. Is it because of the scars? Tell me where they're from?" he asked her, asking impossibly stupid questions. She turned away and looked away as the Joker quickly cupped her face in his hands, pointing the knife at her mouth. "Hey," he said, treating her very roughly. "Look at me," he advised, leaning closer to her father and creating a dangerous effect. "I had a wife. Beautiful as my angel, " he saw her surprised and frightened look, felt her gears turning with her brain. "She told me I was too sad..." he put the knife in his mouth."...that I need to smile more often. “She was a gambler, and she owed the sharks a lot. Hey, " seeing her not looking at him, the Joker took offense and only pressed harder on the knife. "They cut her face once," he continued, only squeezing the woman's face harder, which only made her wince. "We had no money for the operation. It was killing her, " he whispered softly. "I just wanted her to smile again. I wanted her to know that I didn't care about the scars. 'So...' He only paused, as if amplifying the effects of the silence. "...I put the blade in my mouth and did it... he explained, tucking a curl behind his ear with his free finger. On the one hand, it might seem that he was just flirting with her, but no. He is faithful, and will always be faithful only to his angel. "...by myself. And you know what? She couldn't see me," the Joker said in mock bitterness, raising his eyebrows and continuing to press with shaking hands. "She's gone. Now I see the irony. I'm always smiling now, " he drawled, when suddenly Rachel felt a kick in the balls.

Oh, he covered it with his hands, but also quickly removed them. The Joker looked at the woman and shook the knife slightly.

"You like to fight. I like it, " he remarked, and was about to move closer to her when a painfully familiar and filtered voice came from behind.

"Then you'll like it."

Batman. The Joker smiled, not even turning to look at him. It's time for a great game.

***

"What have I done," a small boyish voice whispered. The guy opened his eyes in amazement and fell to his knees in surprise, continued to look at his hands full of blood. The red blood that had oozed from his mother earlier.

He looked at his mother's corpse, still not believing what was happening. What's happening?

"You did the right thing," the voice said. Such a familiar voice in my mind. The joker. He mentally patted the main person on the shoulder and roughly kissed his forehead, which was lowered down. "You've done well, but I'll take your place now, my dear boy Tom."

[movienotesbyzawmer]

August 30: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

(previous notes: Mission: Impossible III)

I bet the powers that be at the Mission: Impossible movie factory didn't lose any sleep over the stupid colon in the title that screws everything up. I mean, just look at that up there with the colon after my date, then the colon in the middle of the OG title, and then it's like, well, you can do whatever you want with punctuation but we're adding a subtitle after it now and you just have to deal with it. On posters and stuff it's just "Mission: Impossible" and then underneath those words they put "Ghost Protocol" so they don't have to deal with it. What a mess. I tell you it is a damn mess is what it is.

Anyway, we have arrived at the M:I movie that, more than any of the others, just really hit the spot for me when I saw it upon its original release. I saw it at the end of a frustrating and tiring work day and it was exactly what the doctor ordered. At some point in the middle I realized that I was enjoying it thoroughly without having to tolerate the kinds of flaws that were apparently part and parcel of this kind of movie. Maybe there were flaws that I just wasn't registering. We'll soon see.

Continuing the tradition of making very hip choices for the directing duties, here we have the live-action directorial debut of Brad Bird, who started off directing episodes of The Simpsons before moving on to no less than The Iron Giant and The Incredibles. Dude had two Oscars on his mantle by the time he showed up for this. Press play already!

Um Sweet Christ those opening shots look gook in 4K like HOO boy

Whoa, neat opening where Sawyer from Lost is chased off the top of a building in Budapest but his jacket deploys an air mattress right as he almost-hits, but then he's shot by Lea Seydoux in an alley, rat-a-tat-tat with the action here, like what is up

Simon Pegg is back, and he's being tricksy with the tech in a prison! He's opening cell doors and the prisoners are surprised and delighted with that twist! He plays them a jazz standard on the intercom and Ethan Hunt suavely emerges from one of the cells. Fun silly things ensue involving Ethan's rebellious and confident independent strategy and a small riot that seems kind of like a bar fight.

He has made a pal in the joint and he's breaking him out. Some kind of cool tech creates a really sweet vortex-y hole in the floor and they are swooped up by their helpers, it's fun.

We're introduced to Paula Patton who is a new team member, and then the credits roll, and they are spirited in a way that recalls the first movie, also showing real scenes from later in the movie.

Flashback to the thing that was happening with Sawyer shows how that botched operation, something about a file and a courier, got Sawyer killed because lots of bad guys were all over the place there. AR contact lens technology figures prominently, and that is a good idea (plus we totally might have those soon, right?).

0:18:16 - Once again we begin the movie without the leading lady from the previous one, but we're starting to get an explanation here. Or just a tease of one I guess.

And quickly we get a sneaky-style self-destructing message that sets up that Ethan has to disguise himself as a specific Russian and sneak into the actual Kremlin. This movie 100% gets what a Mission: Impossible movie is supposed to be.

This time, they aren't using fancy masks or voice shifter things, just costumes and a fake mustache. They comment about that in the dialogue but don't explain why.

0:24:52 - Dialogue mixed SO QUIET here I have no idea what SP just said. It seems like you're supposed to have heard it.

But that is quickly forgotten when they use the coolest spy gadget of them all - a screen that is placed in a corridor that makes the guy at the other end of the corridor think it’s the corridor, but it's a screen and SP & Ethan are hiding behind it and it is super super neato I love it

Then just when it's cool that that is going well, it's suddenly cool how NOT well it's going because someone is spying on their spycraft! The thing they were going to heist isn't there, and someone deliberately makes their comms thing be heard by the bad guys!

And THEN we see something we really didn't think we'd see and it is kind of mind blowing - Ethan escapes from the Kremlin with a very smooth quick-change of his disguise that we see him do in all one shot… but then the Kremlin totally explodes and it explodes all over Ethan as he's running away! It looks amazing!

Right after that there is some fun with subtitles - Ethan is in the hospital all damaged and concussed and stuff, and the news is talking about the obvious big story, and the subtitles are in Russian. At first I was like, "hey is my home theater tech busted?" but no, the subtitles become gradually more in English as Ethan starts to come out of it. Then we see with subtitles that Ethan is reading lips about the police people that want to be bad guys to Ethan.

After Ethan escapes, we shift to a wholesome-looking Russian family we haven't seen before. The scene is a nice little piece of drama about how the dad sees the Kremlin news and wants to get the family out of there, and very quickly that goes south and thugs have them all at gunpoint, it's nicely done

Ethan is being extracted by two new characters played by accomplished, Oscar-nominated actors Tom Wilkinson and Jeremy Renner… the conversation is dire and I don't want to type during it gahhh gah gah gah I am watching because holy shit this goes south too! TW informs Ethan that the DoD is going to frame him for blowing up the Kremlin and his only choice is to escape. He's telling him HOW to escape in a funny way, but they are attacked and it's visually very interesting and TW is headshot and they are in the water and it is such bad news for Ethan and his new colleague played by Mr. Renner, I probably typoed a lot during that because it was so hard to look away.

So Ethan is on the hook for the terrorist attack of the century and he's being chased by a little battalion of thugs who just shot that important spy boss, and he's in Russia. It is very not good for Ethan.

He's with JR and JR is playing a different character for him. He's a bookish analyst guy who feels very out of place in action-land.

We're learning about the main bad guy, Hendricks, who was the guy that screwed everything up in the Kremlin. He's a super-smart theoretical physicist or something who has big, well-thought-out ideas about destroying the world with nukes, and he took nuke codes from the Kremlin. So things are just really really hairy and it's effective storytelling is what I'm saying.

Also effective is that they met up with SP and PP on a neat secret train car thing that is well appointed with spy gear

And VERY VERY EFFECTIVE is what happens next, which is a series of establishing shots of Dubai which KILL ON MY TV. I am glad I have a 4K panel, kids. This begins what I recall as being an extended sequence of sweet-ass suspense. Ethan has to break into a server room by climbing the outside of the 130th floor of the Burj Khalifa using glove-gadget tech that will hopefully work. There is at least some actual Tom Cruise clinging to the side of that building. It's so cool looking. And to make matters worse, a dust storm approaches! Or should I say "to make matters even cooler looking". Yes I should. Please read that part.

Paula Patton's character seems underdeveloped so far, especially compared to her teammates Simon Pegg and Jeremy Renner.

Jeez you guys, if you like suspenseful action scenes about barely surviving climbing a skyscraper this movie is for you.

1:05:34 - In the middle of a tense conversation we see that they were using the maskmaker but it wasn't working. They just don't want us to have mask fun in this movie. They hate mask fun. Why does Brad Bird hate mask fun.

Oh then this scene which is neat - bad guys are meeting with LS… but Ethan and JR are taking their place, and PP is taking LS's place for the real bad guys one floor down. The movie explains it better than me, but it is pretty exciting, the two meetings happening at the same time with opposite trickery.

Hah, SP does a sweet fake-hand trick to get the diamonds from the bad guys so he can get them to Ethan and JN, and JN is doing the thing where he uses the contact lens tech… gosh why are you even reading this, just watch the movie. I really like the tricksy espionage.

It all falls apart because LS spots the contact lens in JR's eye. The plot is moving along in a way that, I'm once again noticing, would normally require more half-assed-ness. It's just a solid spy plot. Which probably makes these notes more boring. Poor you.

LS dies by getting kicked out of the open window of the Burj Khalifa with a brewing sandstorm in the background! Neat looking!

And then a thing where Ethan is in a thick dust cloud and he's tracking the important paper thing with his tracker device, and it starts moving quickly at him and we realize just as it's too late that it's in a car that's gonna run him over! Then that mechanic gets used in a car chase in a dust storm, which we don't see very often outside a Mad Max movie, and that climaxes in a really cool looking collision, followed by the reveal that one of the nuclear code bad guys was Hendricks in a supermask. So we DO like mask fun after all! Except why do we care that it was Hendricks?

A scene where JR is confronted for maybe being a double-crosser has a beautifully choreographed gun-get-grabbity-grab thing that was probably super fun for the actors.

1:27:05 - JR tells a story that at first we think is that family we saw briefly almost scramming, but no, he's talking about Ethan, and what seems to be a story about Ethan's wife (Julia from the last movie) getting killed in Croatia, and Ethan killing six Serbians for revenge, and that's why he was in prison in the beginning? It's still a little mysterious and kind of complicated. It doesn't quite fit with what we think we know.

Dubai imagery is pretty. I have been to Dubai. I am standing by for your marriage proposals now.

I didn't really follow how we got to this point, but Ethan went for a walk and met with some underworld Dubai person and made a deal the ended up with a huge cache of spy gear and a private plane to India. I went to India like right after Dubai. I have my own car and a job kind of so you might need to calm your hormones at this point.

A probing exchange with PP establishes that indeed Ethan's story is that he killed the men who killed his wife. Doesn't really seem legit, though. There's more to the story, clearly.

One of the tech things they play with on the plane is the most magic-seeming one. It is a suit that looks like tight chain-mail, and it floats over a cart, like a magic carpet that you wear.

We're introduced to Brij Nath, whose name I had to look up so I could tell you how it is spelled. He has an access code that they need, which seems like they just kind of simplified the situation, and he's one of those only-kinda-bad bad guys that's really just a pawn, for our heroes as well as for these storytellers.

The wearable magic carpet gadget is fun and funny! SP has to remote control JR wearing the floaty-suit and JR is trying not to freak out too badly, and maybe on purpose it recalls the scene from the first movie where Tom Cruise hovers parallel to the floor.

Hendricks is now in a secret room in the place where they all are, and he has a bad-guy briefcase computer and orders some subordinates to do something with a virus, and I don't actually understand what's really happening but am I to believe that Ethan et al are thwarting literal nuclear terrorism here in Mumbai? Right here at this pleasant party at the palace of an only kinda-bad bad guy?

1:48:30 - Ha, the climax of the wearable magic carpet thing involves JR barely surviving by doing an acrobatic stunt that seems oddly intuitive and satisfying. You'll just have to watch the movie to know what I mean.

The spy-tech car they have is rad.

They fail to prevent the launch of a nuclear missile! We see it come out of the sub and start missiling toward its destination which we have learned is California! Hendricks mutters things about how that should get the ball rolling making world powers hate each other and nuke each other and may there be peace on Earth, he also, yes, says that.

A chase on foot has Ethan and Hendricks suddenly brawling on an exotically elegant robotic parking ramp. Platforms move around mechanically and transfer unmanned cars to different areas, and it is against that video gamey backdrop that Ethan and Hendricks struggle to get that sinister suitcase which is all bouncing around that environment. Unexpectedly, Ethan's hope of grabbing it is thwarted by Hendricks suicide-jumping down several stories! We see it! He definitely does that! Ethan drives a car off a thing to follow him, plummeting down hood-first, and the airbag saves him! He gets the briefcase and barely saves the day in time!

Again a denouement making it very clear that everything is really shockingly okay and tidied up. Even the thing with Ethan revenge-killing Serbians and the thing with his wife is cleaned way up, but with an elegance and sweetness that elevates this movie above the others. She's not dead after all, just fake-dead for her protection. And they're only where they are in Seattle so he can glimpse her lovingly across a marina.

So! I feel strongly that this is the best Mission: Impossible movie! It is an extraordinarily deftly-constructed spy thriller! It's got all the funnest types of things that are in the other movies, and other fun spy thrillers, but with so much less garbage! They did a great job and they should be proud.