#also watch me matrix having to draw eyes again

[bugtails]

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

i got clip studio!!! this is my first attempt with all the new stuff i can use

[cycat4077]

Gator's room: foreshadowing & clues

I went back to take a look at the scene of Gator in his room. While the "flag", girly posters, blaring heavy metal and handcuffs were an immediate stand out to all of us, I wanted to have a look to see if there were any other clues to who Gator is.

First up, here's his room:

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR EPISODES 1-8

Let's look a little closer at the obvious foreshadowing.

Based on the previews and the Instagram post from the makeup artist (along with the subtle nods to Oedipus), it appears Ole Munch is going to torture Gator. We see him holding a knife to his eyes, and in the original trailer, Gator is bloody and blindfolded while being led by a noose.

Gator's own posters, decor, and drawings seem to depict this fate.

#1 The poster immediately behind his shoulder depicts a man with no eyes - potentially gouged out.

#2 The drawing below it has the eyes blocked out in colours that suggest necrotic (dead) tissue.

#3 The animal skull on his wall obviously has no eyes.

The Oedipus parallel and removal of his peepers were foreshadowed right in Gator's room from episode 3.

Linda's fate (mommy issues)

We learned in the last episode that Linda is dead. Roy tells Dot that he can burry Dot right next to Linda. When Dot confronts Gator and tries to win him over via his mother, Gator gets visibly emotional and shaken. We see hope and heartache run through him simultaneously. I think Gator knows instinctively that his mother is dead, but some small part of him hopes she is still out there.

I also think Gator's drawings depict his mother.

#1 This drawing not only depicts a person with eyes blacked out, but the drawing is clearly of a woman - possibly a corpse. She has breasts and long hair but is drawn in purples, reds, and blues; colours that represent bruises, blood, and dying flesh.

#2 The other drawing with missing eyes is also of a woman. This drawing once again has long hair, but she is smiling.

Perhaps Gator accidentally saw his mother's dead body. He has a drawing that represents a scary corpse (reality) and one that represents an almost comical one. Maybe the smile is how he tries to remember Linda - dead but somehow still smiling for him.

Other little things

#1 Robbed of childhood innocence. Gator's room is filled with "tough boy" items: swimsuit model photos, car photos, alcohol, heavy metal posters, etc. But he also has children's toy cars. The hot rod photos are in direct contrast to the toy cars on his shelf. The boy trapped inside the man. A boy robbed of his childhood by abuse and traumatic events.

#2 Jack Skellington. I'm probably one of the only people on the planet who have not yet watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, but the Jack Skellington parallels go beyond just the mask Gator wore. To me, it looks like he also drew Jack - and yet another reference to death. The skull's mouth is sewn shut too, just like Gator is sworn to obey his father and not speak the truths about what Roy has done.

#3 Red or Blue Pill? Again, I have failed to watch yet another classic film: the Matrix. But this poster seems to be a clear reference to it, I think.

According to Google, "The red pill and blue pill represent a choice between the willingness to learn a potentially unsettling or life-changing truth by taking the red pill or remaining in the contented experience of ordinary reality with the blue pill."

And if there's anyone with the last name of Tillman who will be forced to see reality (and potentially change), it is Gator. Gator will likely be forced this "red pill" by Ole Munch, either finally seeing the reality of his father's ways, or by becoming the next sin eater.

Whatever the outcome, the poster must have some sort of meaning!

That's all for now 😊 But I really love all the subtleties in this show! It's fantastically written and acted, and Joe is doing such an exceptional job playing this mutli-layered and morally ambiguous character of Gator!

***EDIT***

A post by @familyfriendlyhoho got me thinking about the drawing on Gator's wall. I was thinking that his drawings represent his dead mother, Linda and that he may have accidentally seen her corpse. The post theorizes that:

"I feel like Gator knew Linda was dead. but worst, I feel like Roy showed it to him."

And I think that this is the most-likely scenario. Roy is sinister enough to do something like that to his own son. I can imaging Roy telling Gator to stop being a loser and become a winner and, to drive the point home, he could have led Gator to Linda's corpse warning "this is what happens to losers".

If so, Gator's drawings would depict the corpse he witnessed. Even here, before Gator gives himself the "I'm a winner" pep talk, we see him glance towards the drawing - a reminder of what happens to losers. He then feels the need to convince himself that he is not one, despite what his father says.

[walks-the-ages]

Now imagine if the reveal about ~The Timeless Child~ had been *dun dun dunnnnn*

The Master is the ~Timeless Child~, and he destroyed Gallifrey because

[ID start: a gif of a grocery store, with a Black man looking at the camera wearing a retail suit uniform with a dark blue apron on top. He snaps his fingers and raises his eyebrows as he emphatically says "Why? 'Cause fuck 'em, that's why!" In text that appears on the screen in large yellow caption as he speaks. END ID ]

something something something, The Master has always resented the Time Lord's for many reasons, least of all them ruining his lives for their own gain in The End of Time, and this is just him finding out he's existed merely as a tool for the Time Lords to use and throw away For longer than he even remembers, and this is his revenge against their society for how they have wronged him again. (Oh, and he also finds out Neverland and the other hidden horrors of the Time Lord crimes against life)

On an unrelated note. If they wanted us to care AT ALL that the Master ~destroying Gallifrey~..... Then they should have shown us that.

Seriously.

Please. Imagine for me. We see an unknown, "younger" incarnation of The Master finding out about the Timeless Child. From the offhand comments of the other Time Lords before they know anything is wrong, we learn that this Master is the next incarnation after """"Missy"""""" who is still determined to be a force for good in the universe, or whatever.

(That all changes when they find out about what the Time Lords did to them. Here's a handy dandy explanation for turning the Master into an antagonist again. Right here. On a silver platter that is infinitely more interesting and handily explains all of the Masters more uhh..... Odd abilities in the offshoot media (Specifically, snake and weird eyed Master in 8s beloved hilarious movie), much more interesting than The Doctor being the ~Timeless child~)

This new Master finds out they're the Timeless Child after breaking into the Matrix.

They calmly stroll out of the room, and music starts to play, faintly at first as they stroll through the halls, slowly growing in volume as a festering anger slowly forms on their face.

The song is something pop, something fun, brash, and wholly juxtaposed to the violence about to start.

As the first line of the song starts (personal favorite would be "Supernova" by Within Temptation which would be absolutely PERFECT irony), the Master reaches out, grabs the nearest Time Lord guard and snaps their neck.

Another guard immediately shoots at the Master as he advances on them with the first guard's weapon. The Master doesn't even blink as he twists around the energy bolt and kills the next guard, shooting them enough with the energy weapon that they can't regenerate.

The Master slowly, relentlessly, unstoppable-force makes his way through the Citadel as Supernova plays over the scene, cutting down all the Time Lords in his path, not even batting an eye as he himself regenerates *multiple times* during the endless battle as he now knows his lives are infinite, and each regeneration just makes him colder and angrier as he realizes anew each time just how much the Time Lords used him as a resource to be used up and tossed aside at their convenience as he moved more and more past the set "13 regenerations limit".

We watch as the Master goes around killing all of the Time Lords (some of them multiple times as they regenerate), trashing the Citadel in more golden explosions, and razing the entire city to the ground.

The Dhawan!Master, dozens of regenerations later as Supernova finally draws to a close, stands what should have been triumphantly, watching the golden city burn.

Instead, he falls to his knees and stares silently at the destroyed city, the rage slowly fading to leave just the cold horror of his life behind. The song fades away as the scene fades to black.

[hopekiedokie]

The Dreaded First Day of School (single dad!jimin)

SUMMARY: On his son’s first day of school, we learn that the badass, leather jacket wearer, and tattoo clad single dad might not be so tough after all. Or maybe, his soft little son isn’t as pure as he ought to be. (In short, Jimin’s baby is growing up and he’s not prepared for it.)

GENRE: fluff, humour, maybe angst if you squint hard enough

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

NOTES: So Jimin isn’t supposed to be a mean or awful dad here. He’s just still not totally equipped to be one even after five years now. This might become a mini series with Ms. Y/n being Haneul’s teacher in the future. Who knows? Also, the photo is not mine.

POSTED ON: 26th March, 2021

What the actual heck is this??

Jimin has seen a lot of crazy things in his life but this, whatever is happening in front of him, is something he truly cannot believe.

You see, today is his son's, Haneul, dreaded™ first day of school.

The kid was up until 3 in the morning, crying his eyes out. He kept begging Jimin to not let him go, saying things like “I’ve been a good boy.” or “I don’t know those people.” or “Please, daddy, I don’t want to go!”

Half of the time, Jimin didn’t even understand what he was saying because he was crying so much.

The worst part is that Jimin had half the mind to give in to all these excuses and to just let Haneul attend school next year.

Contrary to popular belief though, he’s not entirely an awful example of what a father should be. In general, yes, he’s done a lot of questionable things. But in particular, as a father, he does like allowing his son to eat whatever junk food he wants, watch whatever is on the tv, or letting him up way past his bedtime (as late as 4am).

BUT he still has a smidge of decency left in his being and he actually wants his son to grow up decent.

(Which for the most part, is going along fine since Haneul is probably one of the sweetest and softest kids he’s ever seen. How though? Jimin has no idea.)

So with tired eyes and barely 4 hours of sleep, he dragged his son to school.

Even during the drive, Haneul was still adamant about skipping school and all the while, he kept using his cute crying voice that ALWAYS turns Jimin into mush.

Not this time though.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’ll meet a lot of friends and you’ll play with them! It’s gonna be fun, I promise.” This is one of the many things he said to lift his son’s spirits up.

All his efforts are still not enough to pacify Haneul as the tiny boy kept throwing a tantrum. Jimin even had to carry him after getting out of the car and during the entire walk to the school gymnasium where the assembly is, Haneul held his arms tightly around his neck.

To be completely honest, Jimin thought that it would be embarrassing but actually, he found the entire thing quite endearing.

Maybe it’s the narcissistic prick inside him that’s talking but seeing and hearing his son say that he’d rather spend time with him makes him feel like perhaps he’s not so bad of a dad after all.

Which brings us to the present.

To reiterate, Jimin cannot believe what’s happening.

One moment, his son is clinging to him for his dear life, then in an instant, he watched him grow up right in front of him.

In the worst way possible.

Not to be dramatic, but it was like watching his entire life slip away from his grasp.

The beginning of the end started when Jimin pointed to these three boys and insisted Haneul to introduce himself.

Boy, oh boy, oh boy, BIG mistake on his behalf!

He probably should’ve pushed his son to the “nerdier” looking kids. That would’ve helped him in the long run, as well!

At first, he watched in awe from a far as Haneul progressively turned less tense and more comfortable with those boys. They started with cute small smiles but it quickly turned into wildly animated gestures while comparing their Paw Patrol themed trolley backpacks.

“That’s my boy! Already making friends and it’s only been 5 minutes.” Jimin proudly thought to himself.

Okay, maybe Haneul is going to be fine. All that crying thinking Jimin did the entire night was for nothing! His cute soft son can totally do this.

Now, Jimin’s life altering moment comes. The time to actually say goodbye is here.

A teacher announces that they’re taking the kids to their respective classrooms and even if they cry or make a huge fit about it, the parents or guardians should stay where they are. They should refrain from “babying” their child.

Alright, now’s the time for Haneul to cry again! There’s no way he doesn’t cry even just a tiny bit…....Right?

Jimin makes eye contact with Haneul and, without any second thoughts, proudly mouths “I love you” while pointing to him.

Normally, Haneul is quick to return the gesture. Heck, he even goes as far as drawing a huge heart with his tiny pointer fingers!

But today, he doesn’t do that. No no no no no!

Instead, Haneul discreetly looks around him to check if anyone is watching him then……….

He shakes his head towards his father then faces back to his new friends.

Gasp! What is this???

Jimin has never felt so betrayed in his entire life! Not to mention, by his OWN son too.

This irks him so much.

So much so that he stands and gets close to his son, opposing the teacher’s instruction of letting their kids be.

Bitch, no. He’s getting his “I love you” from his son no matter what.

As he walks towards Haneul, it’s apparent that the kid had somehow done a complete 180 from his mood 10 minutes ago.

How can this be? How is he suddenly so cold towards his own man?

When he finally gets to Haneul, he literally, no joke, had to call his name 4 times to get his attention. The actual audacity of this kid!

“Hey, Haneul. Daddy’s gotta go!” Jimin says with his world famous “no eyes” smile.

Haneul’s face drops.

Bingo!

This kid is about to get a huge reality check or so Jimin thinks he is.

He’s waiting for any signs of despair, a sniff or maybe some glassy eyes but nothing happens.

Come on, where are the water works?? Where are all the hugs and kisses???

Haneul is like (・-・) to Jimin.

O-okay…….

“...”

“...”

“...”

Nothing???

“There’s a lot of scary strangers here……”

Okay, so that was really mean for Jimin to say bUT HE ONLY WANTS TO SQUEEZE EVEN JUST A DROP OF AFFECTION FROM HIM. Sue him!

Haneul finally opens his mouth.

Jimin quietly anticipates his son to return to his warm and loving self that he still doesn’t quite know where he gets from...

“So what, daddy? I’m a big boy! I don’t need you.”

(´⊙ω⊙`)?！

Uhm exCusE mE, but W H A T??

Needless to say, that statement hurt Jimin like a buttcheek on a stick.

However, he’s not gonna break away from his badass persona in front of all these people, especially around these little shits that they call “children”. He has an ✨𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲����✨ that he strictly abides to, people!

And frankly, he’s not gonna let his son walk all over him.

So without any word, Jimin leans down to give Haneul a kiss. If he’s not gonna receive any affection through words then fine! He’s gonna get it through a different way.

Jimin’s lips are almost in contact with Haneul’s plush cheeks. They are literally a hair away that Jimin can feel the heat emitting from it but all at once, that heat is gone.

You know why?

Because Haneul is quick to do that matrix shit where he bends his back to avoid his father’s lips.

Then he saunters away, leaving Jimin hanging.

(๑´⊙ ₃ ⊙`๑)

Jimin calls him a couple times but again, he did not look back.

S I G H

Alright, then. He doesn’t normally raise his voice towards his son (nor disciplines him tbh) but oh boy, oh boy! This kid is practically asking for it.

He doesn’t give a fuck if he’s five, no son of his is gonna be allowed to treat him like that!

“HANEUL! GET BACK HERE. NOW!”

Well, that got him looking back towards his father.

Jimin points in front of him to which Haneul begrudgingly complies after taking a peek from his new found friends.

Haneul hears the other boys snicker behind him as he trudges towards his slightly pissed father.

When he’s standing right where his father wants him, Jimin leans his cheek down again for him to kiss.

Now, the other boys are blatantly laughing at him.

Maaaaaaaan. He can’t be a laughing stock on his first day of school! He needs to be as cool as his daddy!

As Haneul contemplates his life choices, Jimin patiently waits for his kiss. There’s no way Haneul is gonna reject him for the third time in a row within a span of two minutes!

Within a few seconds, he feels Haneul’s lidol babie hand against his cheek.

O M G

How 😭 cute 😭 is 😭 this 😭 ??

This has got to be one the softest moments they have shared together. AND it’s in front of all these people!

Take that Namjoon hyung for saying I can’t be a gentle and tender loving father!

Jimin is about to place a hand over Haneul’s small one to caress it but then Haneul pushes his face away.

“Just go, daddy!”

Before Jimin is able to process what just transpired, Haneul is already strutting towards the other kids, feeling like a king or a boss for bitch-slapping his own father.

This little fUqer!!!

Who does he think he is to act like this towards Jimin iN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE??

This is what happens when he lets his son spend too much alone time with his Uncle Jungkook and Uncle Taehyung.

But to be fair, Haneul is still Jimin’s son at the end of the day so…..like, maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised??

Yet, still, he truly cannot believe it.

All it took was 5 minutes and a rowdy set of friends, then his kid has grown up.

He apparently “doesn’t need him” anymore, according to the kid.

To think that Jimin got up early to make him those cute bento boxes. He even specifically made them look like various pokemons that Haneul fancies!

Wow. Just. WOW.

Excuse him, but he’s just gonna get in his car and crank up “Slipping Through My Fingers” by ABBA while he ugly sobs.

[labelleofbelfastcity]

fig and gorgug’s excellent adventure

word count: 1.7k

read on ao3 here!

“Bill, my most esteemed colleague…”

Fig looks over at a quietly snoring Gorgug, his face softly lit by the shadows of Bill and Ted on her crystal. Even after a year of knowing each other, a few months of which were spent in a cramped cell together, she hadn’t known he snores. It had never been quiet enough, she had never been quiet enough, to notice that about him.

If Fig focuses, she can feel the rumble of the tour bus against her back, and, if she leans her head against the metal wall by her shoulder, the vibrations of tires over asphalt rattle around in her skull. They’ve only been on the road for a week, with just two concerts under their belts, and Fig is already kind of exhausted.

It’s a lot. The managers and the calls home and the makeup assignments for missed schoolwork. She probably wouldn’t even be doing the latter, but Gorgug spends his allotted midmorning time sitting at their extremely tiny table, with papers of Barbarian Theory and Engineering 1 scattered around him, and she’d feel like an asshole to just watch.

Fig hasn’t been sleeping well, either. The little bunk seems to press in around her, shoving her into an even smaller version of herself. Which feels stupid to complain about, because Gorgug is over a foot taller than her, since his growth spurt over the summer, and he’s sleeping just fine.

As if to prove her point, Gorgug shifts in his sleep, curling closer into Fig’s side. It’s just past one in the morning, and they have a gig tomorrow so Fig should really be sleeping too, but she’d felt like crying, for some reason, alone in her bunk. She’d crawled into Gorgug’s, instead, and pulled up Bill and Ted while he blinked blearily at her. It didn’t take him much longer to fall back asleep—now with his arm tucked around Fig’s shoulders—and Fig continues to hide from her emotions by watching Ted philosophize.

“Hey, Gorgug,” Fig hisses, burrowing her head into his chest in a way she knows will stick him with her horns. “Gorgug.”

“Hrmgh,” he grumbles, shifting more so that Fig can’t really poke him anymore. “Go to sleep.”

“No. Gorgug, hey. Come on, dude, I have an idea.” She doesn’t, really, more the idea of an idea, just like how Bill and Ted only operate on negative brian power and a pretty homoerotic bromance.

Homoerotic. She must’ve texted Kristen too much yesterday.

“Sleep is my idea,” Gorgug says, but it’s more of a sigh and a yawn wrapped up together and stretched like a yawning cat.

Fig’s brain unhelpfully supplies an image of sleepy Riz—ears cocked all funny and pupils absolutely giant. She shoves it back into the little chest lovingly marked “Bad Kids” that she’d constructed the second they drove away from Elmville because Fig is great at compartmentalizing and hiding her feelings. Totally.

“I’m bored, I want to do my idea.”

“You’re watching Bill and Ted.”

“No, I’m not. I’m talking to you.”

“Then stop talking to me and go to sleep.”

Fig huffs, about to say something just into the realm of mean, but then she feels Gorgug smile against the top of her head, and she relaxes a little.

“What’s your idea?” He asks, still sleepy, but also endearing in that goofy and sweet Gorgug way.

There’s a pause, while Fig tries to come up with her idea. The bus trundles along and Bill and Ted continue to kidnap historical figures. Finally, she says, much quieter than is warranted, like it’s some big secret she’s been holding close to her heart, “I’m gonna find a chronomancer so we can go back in time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug yawns again.

“Absolutely not, Augefort doesn’t have Rufus energy.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Maybe not a chronomancer, then, but like, someone who’s fucked with time, ya know. It would be cool to hang out with someone who’s fucked with time.”

“Like Augefort?” Gorgug says, before amending, “No. Wait. Rufus.”

“Yeah, Rufus,” Fig agrees. “Except if Rufus were hot, I think it would be more fun if our Rufus was hot.”

“Rufus is already hot. He’s got… sunglasses.”

Fig giggles and Gorgug snorts too. “You need your eyes checked, dude.”

“We watched the,” he yawns, “the Matrix last month. That’s what you said about Neo.”

“Uh. Neo is Keanu Reeves so just, automatically hot. Which. Speaking of. Bill and Ted are right there, dude.”

Gorgug laughs, quietly, voice still gummy with sleep, as he pokes her gently in the side, “I thought you liked older men.”

Fig makes a face that is very scandalized and very affronted. “That doesn’t mean I like Rufus.”

Gorgug shrugs, as best he can while in cuddle-mode. “I don’t know…”

Fig huffs and whacks him on the arm. “Maybe we should go to sleep.”

“Works for me,” he says, and settles back down.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t go back to bed, Gorgug. I’m still talking.”

He grumbles and turns his head even further into hers, trying to shield his eyes from the crystal’s light. “Watch your movie.”

“This is our movie, Gorgug. It’s ours.”

“It’s too late for it to be ‘our’ anything.”

“You’re no fun, you know that? No fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Gorgug says, way too sincerely for her to continue down that line of teasing.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. You’re tired, I should let you rest.”

Gorgug’s hand moves where it’s on her shoulder, rubbing over her sleep shirt, and then pausing, “Hey, is this mine?”

“Um,” Fig says, because it is, in fact, his. He’d left one of his Owlbears t-shirts on a chair, right after they unpacked all their stuff onto the tour bus, and she’d thought about it for approximately three seconds before snatching it and chucking it at her pile of clothes.

That first night, neither her nor Gorgug had gotten any sleep, sitting on the floor of the bus between their bunks, anxiously going over lyric and style choices for the next night’s show. So the shirt had waited until after their first concert, when both of them had been too tired to do much more than change out of sweaty, smoke-filled clothes and fall into their respective beds. It had smelled comfortingly of the Thistlesprings’ homemade fabric softener, but Fig’s varying states of cleanliness have not helped the smell stick around.

Now, though, cuddled up against Gorgug’s chest, she doesn’t miss the shirt’s smell. It’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“It’s okay if you took it,” Gorgug says, cracking a small smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Since when do you have an eye for fashion, Mr. Hoodies-In-Summer?”

He reaches around and pokes her on the cheek, “Hey, my hoodies are a catch for women ages thirteen to twenty-eight.”

“We did sell, like, a literal ton last night,” Fig says, snorting.

There’s a lull in the conversation. Bill and Ted shred some sick air guitar.

“...It’s a little weird,” Gorgug says, eventually, in that introspective tone of his that promises paternal questioning.

“What is?”

“That we’re sophomores in high school and have so many people, like, caring about us. Or, I mean, watching us. Like, I guess we’re famous, or something? That’s weird.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” Fig’s been too caught up in the whole being famous thing to think about what it means for her, a fifteen year old, to be famous. She isn’t a fan of thinking about it, actually, and decides to put it off even further. This is why Gorgug’s the thoughtful, considerate one.

“That’s probably why you’re better at songwriting than I am,” Gorgug muses. “You just do what feels right.”

Fig shifts a little, so she can look at him better, his features cast in the shifting colors of the crystal. “Dude, that’s like all drumming is. Like, just playing your emotions and not overthinking it. And you’re literally the world’s best drummer.”

“Oh,” Gorgug laughs, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“You are. What other teenager gets to go on a tour while they’re still in high school?”

“Um. The Jonas Brothers?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you compare our music to the Jonas Brothers again I will stab you with my horns.”

“I really don't think they’re poky enough to do that—”

“Stab, Gorgug. With force. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wo-ah,” Ted says, on the crystal.

“Wicked,” Bill chimes in.

“What if we talked like them at our next concert?” Fig asks, “Just come out with full Bill and Ted voices and keep them up the whole show.”

“That sounds… hard.”

“No, it would be fun! Like, um,” Fig switches into the voice, drawing out her vowels and smiling dumbly, “we’ll totally get babes like this, dude.”

“You can get princess babes,” Gorgug says. “I’ve got Zelda. That’s basically the same thing.”

“Oh my god, you’re too cute,” Fig burrows closer to him, back in her usual voice.

She can tell Gorgug’s blushing by the bashful tone of his silence. “Um, thanks. I should probably call her tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I join too? I really like her, she’s nice. And sick as hell.”

“Yeah, that would be fun! We can show her our set, maybe.”

“Totally! If school wasn’t on right now we could’ve brought her along.”

“I don’t know, wouldn’t that, like, Beatles us?”

“Did you seriously just mention another boy band? Also, beyond that, did you use the Beatles as a verb?”

“Er.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how you ever made it into the punk-rock scene. And then I remember that I invited you.”

“Thanks for doing that,” Gorgug says, wrapping his other arm around Fig’s shoulders. “I never really said it before, but, thank you. This has, um, it’s meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, dude.”

“It’s, like, kind of everything right now, Fig.”

“Oh.”

“So, I guess, um, thank you. For inviting me to join a band with you and taking me on tour.”

“I, uh… Of course. Thanks for being my drummer, Gorgug. I’ll always take you on my adventures.”

“And I’ll always go with you.”

Bill says, “Excellent,” on the crystal screen, smiling at Ted with big eyes.

Yeah, Fig thinks, as Gorgug sighs and smiles into the top of her head. Excellent.

[lesbian-deadpool]

The Assistant

Part Two Of Two: And There Was Funny Business

Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Platonic!Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 3,886

Warnings: I don’t think there is anything. It is mostly dialogue tho.

Request: For the @ryostephi who donated to the Australian Bushfires. (I’m sorry the tag doesn't work)

Summary: When was retirement again?

A/N: I am shocked at how much I got wrong in the first part, after re-watching Iron Man 2 as I wrote this part, and for that, I am so sorry lol. So... I know there’s still a lot of Tony in this... and I have no excuse, other than it’s based in Iron Man 2, and there's not much “Natalie” plot for me to go off of, and have it be all that good (in my opinion). So, I hope you don’t mind lol.

(Not my GIF)

***

“Explain!” Tony practically ordered you, his voice close to a screech, more than anything else.

“I’m an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you told him blankly.

“Yes, I see that-!”

“How?” Natasha started, “I- I mean you can't be an Agent, I would have seen you.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is a big place, Natasha.”

“You always knew who I was.” She leaned back in her seat, beside Fury, regarding you.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course I did.”

“Agent Y/L/N here, has been away for business for a short amount of time now,” Fury informed them, gesturing a hand to you.

“No offence, Nick. But I don’t think eight months, is a short amount of time,” you replied, causing the man to scoff softly at you, his lips quirking in a small smile.

“So, that’s where you’ve been, this whole time?”

You tuned to Tony. “Yeah, that’s why slept so much when I got back.”

“Anyway,” Fury began, drawing everyone’s attention back to him, as he spoke to Tony, “You’ve been very busy. You made your girl your CEO, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit-”

“Wait. Hold, up,” You paused him, raising a hand, “Rhodey took a suit?”

“He sure as hell did.” Fury said. “Now, if I didn’t know better-”

“You don’t know better. I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

“Oh, well that's better,” you said offhandedly, as you rested your chin in your hand, watching the conversation go down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. She’s right.” he pointed at you. “He took it? You’re Iron Man and he just took it? The little brother walks in there, kicked your ass and took your suit? Is that possible?” He turned to Natasha.

“Well, according to Mr Starks database security guidelines, there are redundancies to prevent unauthorised usage.”

“Whoa, those were some big words...”

Tony snorted softly at both your words and hers. While Natasha threw you a light glare.

“What do you want from me?”

And that was the hidden queue you were looking for. Knowing what was coming next. You sat up straight in your seat, ready to make the move.

“What do we want from you?” And there Natasha goes, sliding out of her seat. You followed in her lead. Pulling yourself up by the table, and spinning yourself around to sit next to Fury. “Uh-uh. What do you want from me?” He continued, repeatedly pointing to the man, as you wore a shit-eating grin by his side, the scene almost painting out like you were watching your sibling getting chewed out by your parent. “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not the centre of my universe.”

“But I am, right?” He raised a lone finger to you, without even looking, to silence you, as you only smiled harder.

“I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with.” You rolled your eyes as your boss continued rant, wanting for this to be over. When your eyes spotted Natasha coming back.

Fury snapped his fingers, and told Natasha to, “Hit him.”

Tony let out a startled sound, moving back in pain. “Oh, God, are you gonna steal my kidney and sell it?” He asked as Natasha checked his neck over, sitting down beside him, and watching the poisoned veins recede, “Could you please not do anything awful for five seconds?”

Turning to you and Fury, he continued to ask, “What she just do to me?”

“What did we just do for you,” Fury corrected him.

“Hey, that cleared up the Matrix puzzle, really well.” You smiled.

“That’s lithium dioxide. It's gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work,” The man by your side explained, “You should thank Agent Y/L/N over here, she was the one who requested it, and made our Science Department's lives a living hell, until we got it.”

“Wait. You had something to do with this?” Tony asked, turning to you, notes of touch in his voice, showing you he had just realised how much you truly cared for him.

“Of course I did,” you scoffed, “You really think I was gonna let you die?”

You watched as billionaire’s lips twitched in a smile, before he returned to his stoic, guarded nature.

“Give me a couple boxes of that. I’ll be right as rain.”

“It’s not a cure, it just abates the symptoms.”

“Yeah, what the thesaurus said, over there,” you agreed, gesturing to the red-head. Who in turn kicked you “lightly” in the shin. Making you hiss out a small, “Ow.”

Not paying you mind, Fury continued, studying the other man's neck, “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix.”

“It never is with us,” you said.

“Trust me, I know. I’m good at this stuff.” You could see behind Tony’s eyes just how helpless he was feeling. “I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

“Am I the only one here who didn’t understand a word of that?” you asked the table, “No? Am I being ignored? That’s nice.”

You weren’t being ignored, however. If the smirk, that was quickly wiped away, that Natasha wore was any indication.

“Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven't tried them all.”

“Well... on that note.” You spoke, “I think it’s time I took my leave.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Tony told you childishly.

Well... two could play at that game.

“Yeah, well at least Rhodey and Pepper aren’t mad at me,” you fired back, as you got up from your seat. Practically hearing the man's jaw drop behind you.

***

“Antony Stark!” you yelled, as you strolled through the open door to Pepper’s office.

“What did I do now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did you do now’?” you seethed at him, coming closer.

“Anything else, boss?” Happy asked.

“I’m good, Hap.”

“No, I’ll be just... another minute,” Tony and Pepper said at the same time.

“Well, that was awkward,” you said.

“I lost all three of the kids in the divorce,” Tony laughed at his own joke. “Nothing?” he asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder at you and The Head Of Security. “No.”

Tony cleared his throat.

Oh, don’t do it.

“Are you blending in well here, Natalie? Here at Stark Enterprises?”

You were so gonna throttle him.

“Your name is Natalie, isn’t it.”

Murder.

That’s what shone in your eyes, as your nostrils flared, just as it did Natasha’s.

“I thought you two didn’t get along,” the billionaire gestured between the two.

He better shut his mouth.

“No. That’s not so,” Pepper told him.

“It’s just me you don’t care for.” Pepper said nothing in reply. “No? Nothing?”

“Actually, while you’re here, maybe you and Natalie could discuss the matter of the personal belongings.”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said.

“Which loosely translates to, ‘get your shit out of my office’,” you informed the man.

“Yes, I got that. Thank you, Y/N.” You nodded your head once at him, with a fake smile plastered upon your face. You were so gonna kick his ass.

Tony watched as Pepper walked away. The blonde giving you a short nod as she passed you, and exited the office with Happy.

“I’m surprised you could keep your mouth shut,” Natasha said, as soon as the coast was clear. Making Tony spin around in the chair once again.

“Boy, you’re good. You are mind-blowingly duplicitous. How do you do it? You just tear things... you’re a triple imposter.” Tony turned to you. “Can you do that?”

“Of course I can, I'm a professional.”

“How did you even get into this business?”

“Later,” you told him.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” he continued, turning back to Natasha, “Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?”

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” Natasha responds immediately, gathering up documents, and beginning to take her leave.

“It turns out she can.” You shrugged.

“Which means? Wait. What? What did you just say?”

“It means you can drive yourself home or I can have you, and Miss Y/L/N, collected.”

“Wait what did I do?” You asked insulted, “Also, that’s not what she said.”

Natasha chose not to answer you. Instead, choosing to say, “Control him.”

“You think I can?” You asked the shorter woman, spinning to watch her walk away as you did.

“Hey!” Tony whined behind you. “You’re good!” he called to the red-head, as she slammed the door.

“Well...” You looked at Tony. “That was a shit-show. What the hell are you doing?” you asked, as he fiddled with one of Pepper’s ornaments. “What? Not talking to me?” Sighing he stood up, taking a bite out of a strawberry, before dumping the rest into the trash. “That’s a waste. And, yeah, no it's fine. I didn’t want any, anyway.”

You sighed, throwing your head back in exasperation, as you watched the man looking at the scale-model up against the wall. Who was currently peering through his hand, as if it was some sort of a telescope.

It really was like having a child dealing with him, sometimes... most times.

“Help me with this.”

“What?”

***

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THIS PLACE?!” you roared, taking in all of the destruction around.

Yep. You were never having kids.

“I made a new element!” Tony told you proudly.

“You. Made. A new. Element.”

“Yes? Why is that so hard to understand?”

“I-... How?!”

“It’s all... science stuff. You really want me to tell you?” Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. Not really.”

You took another look around the place, slowly inhaling and exhaling, as you nodded your head. “Well. Well done.”

“Thanks. It worked,” Tony said, showing you his chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You smiled. “Now... why are you assembling a suit?”

“Vanko’s still alive.”

You stared blankly at Tony for a moment. Watching him. Making sure that he wasn’t bullshitting you. When you deducted, that he was in fact, telling the truth, you asked, “He’s what?”

***

The absolute deafening cheering going on around you did nothing to drown out the sound of your heartbeat pounding away in your ears, as you were bent over your encased legs, hands on your knees, hoping that you could manage to pant away your incoming panic attack.

You had to.

You had a job to do right now.

Vaguely you registered Tony say, “We got trouble” inside of your metal helmet.

“Tony, there are civilians present,” Rhodey said, as you followed Tony on unsteady legs, “I’m here on orders. Let’s not do this right now.”

“God,” you breathed, “I hated every second of that.”

You mirrored the man you thought of as your brother, on Rhodey’s other side. Waving to the crowd, as Tony told you too.

“All these people are in danger. We gotta get them out of here,” Tony said, “You gotta trust me for the next five minutes.”

“Yeah, I tried that. I got tossed around your house, remember?”

“Listen, I think he’s working with Vanko.”

“Of course the sonofabitch is,” you growled, glaring at the man through the mask of your borrowed suit.

“Vanko’s alive?” Rhodey asked, slightly sceptical. Which he had a right too. God, knows how you didn’t want to belive Tony. But you knew he believed Tony, he would never lie about this.

As Tony squared up to Hammer, asking him about Venko. You scanned the crowd, looking for two people in particular.

“Found Natasha and Pepper,” you notified him.

“Who’s Natasha?” Rhodey asked. You we’re about to answer him, before he continued, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“What’s up-? Holy shit!”

You jumped back in alarm, at the giant mini-gun attached to Rhodey’s back, moved to aim at Tony.

“Is that you?” Tony asked.

“No. That- I’m not doing that. I’m not doing that,” he stuttered, you could hear the panic rising in his voice, “I can’t move. I’m locked up. I’m locked up!”

"Motherfucker!" you hollered, stumbling back, as the military-themed drones pointed their arms towards Tony, too. Getting ready to fire.

"Get out of her. Go! This whole system's been compromised," Rhodey ordered.

"Y/N, with me," Tony said, "Let's take this outside."

"Oh, God, that means I have to fly again."

And with that, he blasted off, with you hot on his trail. As the drones and Rhodey's compromised suit started to rain fire on Tony, and consequently, you... and the glass ceiling. I think Vanko might have taken that phrase a little too seriously.

"Uh-Oh." You wished you hadn't looked down now. "Tony, incoming."

"Jarvis, break-in. I need to own him."

"Weird way to word it there, buddy," you quipped, "Are we really fucking doing this?"

"Yep. We're really fucking doing this."

***

"Tony?" You asked as you landed next to the crashed men, "How good did you say the filtration in the suit was?"

"It's pristine. Why?"

"Because I just pissed myself."

Just then Tony and Rhodey -Or rather, Rhodey's suit- began fighting.

"Oh, shit, Tony! How do you work this hunk of metal?!"

"Just go with your instinct's!"

"Oh, yeah. That helps!" you yelled, looking at your palms, where the repulsers lay. "Come on, you piece of shit! WORK!"

Well, you got it to work. However, the bright light shot out and hit you square in your mask. But, hey! You still got it two work! Silver-lining people!

"Ow," you uttered as you fell, landing on your back in a daze.

To say you were useless with these things, was an understatement.

You finally regained yourself, a few long seconds later. And had seen that Tony had managed to kick Rhodey's ass, as you got up on wobbly legs.

"Hey, guys? Can we not tell Natasha what just happened?"

"Not tell me what?"

You jumped at the sudden sound of her voice. Since when did she have access to talk through the suit?

"Nothing!" you spoke hastily.

Natasha hummed, not believing you, moving on to her next point, "Reboot complete. You got your best friend back."

"Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff."

"Well done with the new chest piece. I am reading significantly higher output and all your vitals look promising."

"Yes, for the moment, I'm not dying. Thank you."

"This moment better last long," you mumbled.

"What do you mean you're not dying?" Pepper? When did she get here? "Did you say you're dying."

Oh, God. This is awkward. It's so awkward.

"Is that you? No, I'm not. Not anymore."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't want to alarm you."

"You were going to tell me? You really were dying?"

You were glad the suit hid the cringe on your face, as you were trapped here, to bare witness to this, a confession. Your metal hand coming up to scratch, uselessly, at your metal helmet, out of awkward discomfort.

"You didn't let me-"

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Pepper interrupted.

"I was gonna make you an omelette and tell you."

"Yeah, because omelettes make death confessions, so much better," you quipped, only to have it fall on deaf ears.

"Hey, hey. Save it for the honeymoon."

"Yeah, because they're gonna fight on their honeymoon..." You took all of a second to think about it, before changing your statement. "You know what, I don't doubt that."

"You've got incoming guys," Natasha continued. "Looks like the fight's coming to you."

"Awesome," you said sarcastically.

"Try to hit them and not yourself this time," Tony told you.

After this was done... he's a dead man.

"Pepper?"

Oh no, not this again.

"Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine. Don't be mad. I will formally apologize-"

"I am mad!" she yelled, and you sighed, getting into a fighting stance.

"-When I'm not fending off a Hammeroid attack.

"Fine."

"We could have been in Venice."

"And I could have been asleep."

"What is it with you and sleep?" Natasha asked.

"It's sleep!"

***

“She fights like a badass,” Happy breathed, inside you helmets. While you watched as drones landed all around you.

“I know, I’ve seen her.”

“Stalking much?” You could hear the smirk in her voice.

“You say that like you didn’t look me up when you found out I was an Agent.”

“You’re an Agent?!” Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper yelled at the same time.

“Old news guys, however makeshift terminators over here? New news.”

And then the fighting started.

Just like you would be on the field, splatters of battle coted you. But rather than blood, this time it was oil that painted your suit, as you tore, shot, and blew up drones.

Okay. So the suit wasn't all bad.

Tony told you and Rhodes to 'get down'. You watched as bright neon red lasers, chopped through the drones -and trees-, like a hot knife through butter.

"Can you show me how to do that?" you asked.

***

"Heads up. You got one more drone incoming," Natasha said. "This one looks different."

"What?" you asked, "Like it's got a makeover?"

"No," she said clearly, "Like the repulser signature is significantly higher."

"So, it's a boss drone then?"

Any reply Natasha had for you were cut off, thanks to the giant-sized Iron Man suit landing in front of you.

Oh, could this get any worse?

Yes. Yes, it could.

The real-life, yet no way friendly, Iron-Giant's face retracted back. Revealing, Ivan Vanko.

"God, that's not a good makeover."

"I swear to God, Y/N, I will disable your microphone."

"Hey, you two. Stop flirting," Rhodey said.

"Good to be back," Vanko said. Unknown to what you were saying, and, thankfully, to how your cheeks tinted red at Rhodey's words.

"Oh, this ain't gonna be good."

"Yeah, you're telling me," you agreed. "Ah! Whippy-things!" You moved back, startled, at Vankos sudden weapons.

"I got something special for this guy." Rhodey strutted up towards him. "I'm gonna bust his bunker with the Ex-Wife."

"The what now, please?"

"With the what?" You and Tony asked at the same time.

You waited in anticipation, watching as the shoulder of Rhodey's suit opened, and counted down. Blasting off a tiny missile right at Vanko. Which hit him. Then dropped to the ground, and fizzled out.

"Hammer tech?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah."

You flew up into the sky, shooting Vanko from above, as the other two fought on the ground. It was gonna take a lot to bring this sonofabitch down. Tony flew up to join you but didn't get far, as two bright blue whips latched themselves onto both you and Tony. Smashing Tony into a rock. And flinging you into a corner of the closed-off park. The last thing you heard before blacking out, was their voices shouting your name.

***

You awoke as you were flying through the air.

No, wait.

You weren't flying.

You were heaved over Rhoedy's shoulder, as he flew.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Hey, glad to see you're awake." Rhodey's smile could be heard in his voice. "The drones are set to self destruct."

"Did we beat him?"

"Yeah, we did," he said, as explosions were heard and seen, all across your view.

"Oh, my God! I can't take this anymore."

Great. Just when you had thought you had finally gained a minute of peace.

"You can't-?"

God, was this just their relationship?

"I can't take this."

"-Look at me."

Yep.

"My body, literally, cannot handle the stress." You peered up at Rhodey, from your seat on the floor, the man only shrugging at your silent question of, 'what the fuck?'. You both turning back to watch the two lovebirds have their spat. "I never know if you're gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company."

“I think I did okay!” Tony defended himself when there was a sudden explosion far in the background.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled, only the man sitting beside you able to hear what you said. Him chuckling lightly at your words.

"I quit. I'm resigning," Pepper panted, "That's it."

"What did you just say? You're done?"

Did they really have to do this shit in front of you?

Did they really have to be so blind, not to notice you and Rhodey right beside them?

Did you really have to have no popcorn to enjoy, as you watched this?

"That's surprising," Tony said, walking towards her, "No, it's not surprising. I get it. You don't have to make any excuses."

Pepper stuttered. "I'm not making any excuses."

You eyes rolled as far back into your head as they possibly could. Luckily for you, missing some of what the bickering couple said.

"You deserve better."

"Well..."

"You've taken such good care of me." Were those... tears in Tony's voice? "I've been in a tough spot, but you got me through it, so... right?"

They muttered some words that you couldn't hear all that well.

Blah, Blah, Blah.

And then they kissed.

A look of disgust appearing upon your face. And you were thankful that you, in fact, did not have that popcorn, you whished for not long ago.

"I thought it was weird." You snapped back into reality, from your unexpected daze, at Rhodey's words.

Thank, God. They had stopped kissing.

"You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

“Hey, hey, now Rhodey." You put your hand up to the man. "That's an insult to seals and grapes."

Rhodey laughed beside you, as the previously kissing couple grew uncomfortable and fidgety.

"Don't even try to make excuses," you told them.

"Yeah, we heard the whole thing."

“You two should get lost,” Tony says to you and Rhodey.

"We were here first," the Colonel defended. "Get a roof."

"Yeah, and I'm fine, by the way. Thank's for asking." You smirked.

"I thought you two were out of one-liners."

"That's the last one."

"Speak for yourself," you said standing up. "Oh, also. I am never getting into one of these flying hell suits ever again.”

“Aww, don't say that. You’ll hurt its feelings.”

"I don't care."

"Oh, yeah? Well, how are you gonna get home then?"

"After I get home," you clarified. "I am never getting into one of these things, ever again."

“Don’t lie. You like the suit. Now,” he said, gesturing his head to the side, “Go get your girl.”

“What? There’s no way I’m going anywhere near one of those things.”

Oh, she was still here, was she?

“Oh, c’mon Romanoff.” You smirked, taking flight, “Fly away with me.”

“Not a chance.”

You landed in front of the red-head, exiting the building. Startling her as you did.

"Agent Romanoff." You smirked, throwing your arms out by your sides. If she didn't know better, Natasha would have assumed you were Tony. "Your ride has arrived."

"Get away from me."

***

“So...” you started, looking towards the red-head standing beside you, looking out onto the ocean below you, “Wanna go out on a date?”

Natasha turned to face you properly, a small smile on her face, “I thought you’d never ask, Y/L/N.” Stepping closer, her hand on your bicep, she continued, “Tonight. We’ll watch a movie in my cabin.”

You smiled.

“Only a movie,” she clarified, “No funny business.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Romanoff.”

[amnesia-yourself]

can i have you for the rest of my life? (4/4)

Kara flushes. She could swear the room’s temperature went up a hundred degrees in a millisecond. Lena stares up at her, expectant. She’s so, so beautiful. Without thinking, Kara presses their lips together.

Before, Kara used to fantasize of this moment. Their first kiss. How Lena would taste like chardonnay from a bottle that Kara buys her, and how Kara would wait 3 seconds before taking her upper lip in her mouth, another 3 before taking her lower lip, and then another 3 before introducing her tongue.

The reality is nothing like that. Lena tastes like an icebreaker and the odd mixture of cheeses they just had at the picnic, and at the first touch of their lips Kara’s head clouds over and she presses kiss over kiss over kiss, sloppy and nothing like the methodical, controlled way she’d imagined. Lena keeps making these weird soft hot noises like she can’t breathe, but every time Kara tries to pull back Lena’s fingers curl around the collar of her shirt, keeping her close.

Lena pulls on her shirt and Kara stumbles forward, all the way across the condo, until Lena’s knees hit the bed. Lena climbs in, pulling Kara along and on top of her, their lips never separated for a single moment.

“Lena,” Kara pants, moaning when Lena bites at her bottom lip. “Lena, really? Really?”

Lena nods, “You wanna have dirty sex out of wedlock?” she murmurs, husky in that way that makes Kara blush.

“Rao,” Kara groans, and leans back in, taking Lena in a rough, long kiss, pressing her down into the mattress. “What do you like?” she asks, lips moving down to her neck- god she can’t believe she’s kissing Lena’s neck. “Tell me what you like,” she begs.

“I like when you figure it out yourself,” Lena tells her.

Kara groans, teeth closing over her neck and biting. Lena moans, louder, and Kara looks up, surprised. One of her hands, previously clenched around the sheet either side of Lena’s head, moves to palm over her neck, touch at the pink blooming there, because of her, because of Kara’s mouth. She did that. Kara presses, light, and when Lena moans, she wraps her entire hand around her neck and squeezes with the ends of her fingers.

Lena moans again, and Kara does with her, so loud that Lena dissolves into giggles. “Oh my god, Kara, calm down,” Lena says in between laughter, her hand sneaking under Kara’s shirt and grasping at her muscles. “Fuck, your back.”

“Can’t,” Kara breathes out. “ You .”

Lena tries to take the lead, to direct Kara, but Kara only grows more fervent and relentless, barely separating their lips to tear Lena’s blouse off, and then her jeans. She suckles at her breasts, and then down to her tummy, and then back up to Lena’s mouth, her fingers swiping her underwear aside.

“You have no idea how much i’ve wanted this, Lena,” Kara puffs against her lips, “you have no idea, Rao, Lena.”

Kara presses one finger into her, slow and debilitating, and then, when Lena accepts it easily, another, curling and touching her everywhere inside.

“Right there,” Lena keens, tilting her head to the side only for Kara to follow her, chasing her lips, “right there, fuck Kara let me- let me breathe, fuck .”

Lena arches, jaw falling slack, Kara licking into her open mouth. Her walls clench around Kara’s fingers, drawing them in deeper, and then unfurling with a flood of wetness.

Kara’s kisses slow down, and the haze that had flooded her mind dissipates. She can finally focus, now that she’s seen Lena, felt her, made her feel good. And she wants to do it again.

They go another round, and then two, until Kara can’t avoid her aching any longer and grinds down onto Lena’s fingers, parting her and finishing her off with unnecessary skill.

“Can I sleep on you,” Kara mumbles, sweaty and more exhausted than she’s been after any fight.

“No,” Lena groans. “You’re crushing me.”

Kara rolls off, sprawling on her back, the sheets sticking to her thighs.

“Let’s take a shower,” Lena says, still panting, hand flopping over to appease her, “and then I’ll sleep on top of you, how’s that?”

Kara hums.

-

They go to Al’s bar for drinks before game night together. Lena wears Kara’s corduroy jacket again, her hair up in a bun and her jawline looking killer, and she lets Kara wrap her arm around her waist as they walk there.

“Lena’s my girlfriend now,” Kara announces to the table. “So. There. Suck it.”

“Nobody was rooting against you, Kara,” J’onn says.

“Also,” Lena says, swiping her arm away and slinking into the booth, “I’m not your girlfriend yet.” she turns to the table. “She has to talk to William first.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Nia says, grinning, “‘cus he’s right there.”

“That is lucky,” Lena says with a pointed look.

Kara groans, puppy dog eyes and pouting, but Lena doesn’t relent. She shuffles over to the bar where William’s nursing a drink with a greeting that belies the news she’s about to give. She skirts around the subject for a while, glancing back at Lena pleadingly the whole time. “You know we’re not dating, right?” she finally asks.

William startles. “I wasn’t sure,” he says.

Kara tries to explain without backtracking for two straight minutes, stumbling over her words, until, finally, Lena appears by her side. Kara blinks at her, unsure, and Lena takes the helm, her hand slipping under Kara’s shirt to press against her stomach. “What’s taking so long?” she asks, head tilted up, and she looks exactly like she did before Kara kissed her and Kara can’t think of anything else. “Did the bartender ask for your ID again?” she asks with a smirk.

“No,” Kara says, affronted. Lena only taps at her stomach, hand retreating and extending towards William.

“Lena,” she says, “Kara’s girlfriend. I believe we’ve met.”

William shakes her hand, gaping the whole while. He rattles off some excuse without pause and rushes out the bar with his phone upside down against his ear.

“Couldn’t you have been less obvious?” Kara hisses, holding her face in her palm.

“You were taking so long!”

“It was only, like, two minutes! I was getting there!”

“Kara,” Lena says, “we’ve been watching you ramble for ten minutes straight. J’onn says he heard the words statue of liberty and cheesy icebreaker.”

“Ten minutes?” Kara winces. “Why didn’t you stop me earlier?”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Time to talk to Alex,” she says. “Listen carefully, this is exactly what you’re gonna say.”

They find Alex by the pool table. She leans on her stick, all her attention directed towards Kara. “It's possible…” Kara says, slowly, trying to stick with the script, “I was acting… a little more Kryptonian than human. I didn’t realize it, I'm sorry.”

Alex puts the pool stick down, looking at Kara in the softest way she has for months.

“I want you to see the place where I grew up,” Kara continues, veering a little off track from the script. She means it. She wants Alex there. Lena, too. “Would you come with me, next time?”

The stick falls to the ground. Alex tackles her in a hug. “I thought you’d never ask,” she says into her neck.

“And you know, the birthing matrix really would—”

Lena pulls her away faster than Alex can reach back for the stick.

“So,” she starts, leading them to a corner. She kisses Kara loudly. “When’s wedding season on Krypton?”

-

Every day is Lena day.

[thatringboy]

The Day Before Halloween - Supernerds

I had some people ask me how Matrix became a superhero so I decided to write out part of his origin story! Also, last name reveals for Oliver and Matty

Word Count: 2,306

Warnings: Blood mention

Matthew Oeste was a superhero, but not a usual one.

He had no flashy powers, striking physique, booming voice, nothing that would make him stand out. He learned from a young age that firewalls on the internet didn’t apply to him. Passwords? Nonexistent. He had the entire digital world at his fingertips and he could control it all with a thought.

Matthew didn’t ever plan on becoming a hero. He kept his head down, helped his parents around their bodega, got good grades and lived a normal life. He refused to cut his hair when it started growing down his back, went to prom with a pretty girl, got a scholarship for a two year degree at a local university and floated through life without many problems. With his powers, Matthew could easily rise to the top of the advertising and marketing world, being able to monitor trends all across the globe at once.

His parents always told him that the hardest part was not changing things. It was a cheesy line that they had stolen from some superhero movie, but Matthew thought about it often. Every time he checked his phone, he could feel his mind wanting to slip within the cyberspace and roam around, so he learned not to. Even if the digital world was usually much more interesting than his real life.

For the most part, Matthew’s life was also superhero-free. Sure, there was the resident team of superhumans that lived in the city, but the young man was never swept up in a battle that flattened city blocks, he didn’t participate in online forums about which hero was the coolest, he didn’t pay attention to which villains got arrested and which escaped prison. For the most part.

There was one incident in his childhood that always popped up in the back of his mind from time to time. He was either nine or ten, it was October 30th, he had just walked home from fourth grade and was thinking about how Mama and Papai had saved up enough money to get him a brand new superhero costume for Halloween. This year, little Matthew was going as “Cyclone”, the resident leader of the city’s heroes who enforced justice with his magnificent wind powers.

He had skipped into the Oeste’s corner shop with such a wide smile, happy to show his parents how well he had drawn himself in his costume. It was a very excellent stick figure, his teacher had said, the best she had ever seen. He was a little worried about telling his parents about how he broke two hair ties during recess, but he had also found two whole dollars on the street that could go towards paying for more. He was a big boy, a freaking fourth grader already! He could pay for his own dang hair ties!

Matthew had waved to the young cashier who’s name he could never remember and immediately went to the backroom so that he could pull out his drawing and get it ready for presentation.

While he worked on smoothing out the paper on the small plastic table he often did his homework on, Matthew heard a noise from the alleyway outside, the only thing separating him from where the dumpsters sat and the bodega’s backroom being a door that was only locked at night. Matthew got up and balled his small fists before stepping over to the door. He had superpowers, he could fight off whatever raccoon or rat was digging around in the trash no problem! 

Would you want to fight a fourth grader who could change the tv channel with a thought? I didn’t think so.

Matthew slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open before jumping out of the doorway with the scariest face he could put on.

Sitting on the street, curled up next to the dumpster was a boy only a couple years older than Matthew, unkempt hair falling in his face and arms wrapped around his frail form. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in over a week.

The younger boy dropped the hero act and ran to his side with a worried face. “Hey, are you okay?”

The older boy flinched and tried to scoot away from the child approaching him, but just pressed further into the dumpster. His clothing smelled of sewage and he had a blood stain on his cheek. Whether it was his blood or someone else's, Matthew couldn’t tell.

The younger boy thought for a second before digging the two dollars out of his pocket. “Wait here!”

He ran back inside and slapped the crumpled bills onto the bodega counter. “How much food can I buy with this?”

The teenager working the cash register gave the little boy a smile before pointing to a bag of chips on one of the shelves. “Two bucks can get ya one of those.”

It would have to do. Matthew grabbed the back and ran back to the backroom before locating a towel and wetting it in the backroom’s sink. He jogged back outside to see the older boy hadn’t moved at all, his breathing was slow and labored.

“I got you some chips! I would have gotten you some clothes, but mine are all too small for you. Sorry.” He offered the bag to the starving boy.

The older boy snatched it from Matthew’s fingers and tore it open before shoveling the bbq potato chips into his mouth with such ferocity that Matthew was impressed that he didn’t hurt himself.

As he ate, Matthew got a chance to rub the damp towel across his cheek like his own Mama would when he scraped his skin if he fell. The blood came away and luckily, it wasn’t from a wound. Well, lucky for the boy, not for whoever the blood belonged to.

“I’m Matthew, what’s your name? Do you go to school around here? Do you need my Papai to call your’s?”

The older boy didn’t answer him, opting to dig his fingertips into the chip bag to scoop up the crumbs. As Matthew worked, he ended up shifting the old jacket the older boy wore and noticed that he wore a faded orange uniform underneath it. Printed on his breast pocket was a single word and some numbers that Matthew didn’t understand.

[CHAVEZ #10824006]

“Is your name ‘Chavez’? That’s a funny name, my substitute teacher was named Mr. Chavez today, but you two don’t look alike.” Matthew continued to wipe the blood away. He had watched enough Fast N Furious movies with his parents to know that the uniform belonged to a prison, but why would a little boy be wearing one?

Chavez crumbled up the bag and tossed it aside before slowly getting to his feet, his worn sneakers digging into the pavement. He was over a head taller than Matthew when he stood up straight.

“Thank you.” He whispered to Matthew.

The younger boy opened his mouth to say something, but he heard his mother call his name from inside the bodega. 

He spun around and cupped his mouth with his hands. “I’m out here, Mama!”

She appeared in the doorway and looked around the alleyway behind her son. “Meu filho, were you feeding the street animals again?”

“Huh?” Matthew turned around and the older boy was gone, the balled up chip bag discarded on the ground.

Matthew still went trick-or-treating in his new costume after that, but he threw his drawing away and never wore the costume again. For the next week, the little boy had nightmares about the boy named Chavez in the dirty prison uniform, but he could never figure out why. After that day, Matthew stopped paying attention to superhero news, stopped drawing himself as a hero and stopped making up scenarios in his head where he used his powers to throw bad guys in jail. If locking up kids like Chavez was part of the heroing job, then he wanted no part of it.

It wasn’t until he was all grown up, almost twelve full years later, that Matty looked into what happened to Chavez after that fateful meeting behind his bodega. 

He was lounging in bed with Oliver after working out together and neither had the energy to do anything else for the day after they had showered. Oliver was reading a book with half of his body laying against Matty’s, his head leaning against the younger’s shoulder like he was a human pillow.

Matty had his phone in one hand and the other was tangled in Oliver’s hair, slowly petting the supervillain like he was a large dog lying on him.

“Hey, Ollie?”

“Hmm?” Oliver shifted so he could turn his head and look at his lover, setting his book down on his chest.

“What’s your last name?”

The supervillain pressed a small kiss to Matty’s jaw. “Why d’ya need to know?”

“You wanted help in finding what tribe you’re from, right? If I plug your family name into a database then the search could be easier.”

“Aight,” Oliver went back to his original position and pulled his book back up. “Chavez, Oliver Chavez.”

A common name, but it was a start. Matty gripped his phone and shut his eyes, his head falling back onto the pillow as he let his mind sink into the small device. He couldn’t actually see anything in this mode, but Matty could visualize a keyboard and a search engine appearing before him.

He didn’t have to move a muscle before his lover’s name appeared in the search bar and his mind dove deeper into the internet. But before he could move to plant the name into an ancestry tracking site, a news article from twelve years ago caught his interest. Matty willed the article forward to read the title.

NATIVE AMERICAN SUPERHUMAN FOUND GUILTY OF CITY-WIDE BLACKOUT & DEATH OF MAYOR

Oliver Chavez, an undocumented superhuman from the Docks District, has been charged with the murder of the late Mayor Murbenks on Tuesday, October 21st.

The image the article used of Oliver Chavez was hidden under several paragraphs describing how a superhuman with electric powers caused a city-wide power outage during when the old mayor was getting his heart operated on. The picture of the superhuman in question showed that Oliver Chavez was a young boy wearing a scared expression on his eerily familiar face.

The memory of the day behind the bodega flooded into Matty’s mind and jerked him back into his body, the feeling of his lover reading on his chest grounding him when his heart beat faster with the rage boiling inside of him.

Not once did the article mention the boy’s age. All the article spoke about was how the boy used his powers to overload the circuits in the power plants and caused power to go out in the entire city. Oliver Chavez was thirteen and all the article spoke about was that he was a Native American who grew up in the foster system and was from a poorer district of the city.

Matty opened his eyes and leaned over to press a kiss to Oliver’s hair, causing the older man to hum softly as he turned the page of his book. “That was quick, what'd ya find?”

“Found out that I was hungry, that’s what. Mind moving, big guy?”

Oliver grunted and groaned as he sat up, his muscles sore from his work out, but happy to let his partner slide out of bed and make his way to the door.

Matty took his time walking to the lair cafeteria and picking up two backs of bbq potato chips before heading back to Oliver’s bedroom and sliding back into his original spot, smiling when Oliver sat back up to let him back in.

The ex-hero dropped one of the bags onto Oliver’s chest and pulled open his own. “There ya go, Chavez.”

Oliver frowned and moved the bag out of his line of sight. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

Matty sighed and popped a chip into his mouth. “Funny, you didn’t ask for anything the first time I gave you some chips either. You just said ‘thank you’ like a polite little boy.”

The supervillain closed his book and set it aside, sitting up and twisting to make a confused face at his lover. “When did this happen? Am I forgetting something?”

The ex-hero snorted and gave his boyfriend a loving smile. “You don’t remember? Day before Halloween, a little over a decade ago, Chavez No.10824006? A little Portuguese kid giving you some food and cleaning you off?”

Matty watched as Oliver clearly raked his mind for the memory and how his eyes slowly widened in realization. “Holy shit, the little fucker in the stupid jacket was you?!”

“Hey, my Mama got me that jacket!” Matty pouted.

He let out a noise as Oliver’s large arms wrapped around him and he felt the weight of his lover fall on his chest. “Damn, I guess you’ve really been saving me since day fucking one.”

Matty hummed and kissed the top of Oliver’s head again with another smile. “I guess I am. But truth be told, your last name is kinda boring.”

Oliver lifted his head up with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, I think you’d do much better with mine instead.”

It took the supervillain a hot minute to run what Matty had said through his brain. When he did, Matty relished in the way his face burned and how he pushed his face into the ex-hero’s chest with a whine. “Matty-y-y-y, you fucking ughmmnm, that was smooth as hell.”

“I know.” He kissed Oliver’s hair again and attempted to pull his arm out of the embrace so he could grab his chips and pop them into his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

[battlestar-royco]

here is part 2 of my sci fi recs masterlist! again, i could’ve gone on with even more recs but i decided to draw the line here. this set for the most part errs on the darker side, thematically, visually, conceptually etc. i personally find it super thought-provoking and intriguing but that’s just me. i highly recommend reading the tw under the cut if you’re thinking of watching, especially the matrix and space gothic slides. please view at your discretion <3

part 1/2

If you like WLW (um idk why I only made this slide based on identity; it just kinda happened lmao but I think it works):

Siren: (tw: parent loss, grief, thalassophobia) a mermaid surfaces in a cove town looking for her lost sister. Polyamorous relationship between a man, a black/indigenous woman, and the mermaid!!!! Environmentalism! As a person who has thalassophobia, I didn’t find this too hard to watch. There aren’t that many underwater scenes, thankfully.

Black Mirror: San Junipero: (tw: grief, but otherwise none that I recall; it’s pretty lighthearted) two women meet in a beach resort in the 80s and fall in love. Interracial wlw!

Orphan Black: (tw: suicide, infertility, rape implication, VB, language, drug use) a woman realizes she is one of several clones and uncovers an elaborate corporate conspiracy. This is one of my personal favorites with great rep of complex women of all ages and bodily autonomy. Several central queer characters and a black male secondary character!

Starfish: (tw: grief, a few jump scares and brief monstrous imagery, blood) after the death of her best friend, a young woman breaks into the deceased’s apartment and discovers a chain of music tapes that could save the world. Weird, subtle, and experimental. Not to sound like a surfer but you kinda have to allow yourself to be in the vibe. The main character and her friend were definitely a thing imo.

Annihilation: (tw: body horror, VB, disturbing imagery) a team of women scientists explore an anomaly that rapidly mutates genes. There are canonical and coded wlw and multiple (light-skinned) POC in this but the rep is short-lived. I put it on because although it should’ve been more ambitious with the casting, I think it breaks *some* ground for Hollywood sci fi with the all-woman team and more than one WOC. Wack ending though.

Mad Max: Fury Road: (tw: rape implication, violence) I think everyone knows about this one but: in the apocalypse, a woman breaks 4 younger women out of a harem. A badass car chase across the desert ensues. A bit light on plot/worldbuilding, but sooooo cool-looking and very thematic!!!!

If you liked STRANGER THINGS:

It: (tw: VB) don’t actually watch this lmao I’m serious. It’s really stupid, and not in a funny way. But I do think Stranger Things was inspired by this story overall. The modern It films are better but they’re also really kjslsklskls stupid? Stephen King in general is obsolete imo.

The Thing: (tw: VB) an alien that can take the form of others wreaks havoc on a scientific facility in Antarctica. It’s dark and vibey, but I feel like it’s just Alien in Antarctica with truly terrible special effects tbh?? Others feel differently. It’s also classified as sci fi/horror, so stay away if you’re easily scared! Not too good on representation.

Super 8: (tw: some language) a group of preteens witnesses an alien-caused train crash as they’re filming a home movie. Not diverse but I definitely think it inspired a lot of sci fi for the 2010s, ESPECIALLY Stranger Things. Not too scary either!

ET: (tw: it’s been a really long time since I watched so I don’t remember but it’s rated PG) I think everyone knows what this is about!

Alien: (tw: VB) truckers in space discover a deadly evolving alien. One of my favorite movies of all time! I love the aesthetic and the mood and worldbuilding so much. Ellen Ripley is one of the first Final Girls in the horror genre. I personally found this more of a sci fi than a horror movie but I’d say stay away if you’re nervous!!

Terminator: (tw: VB) a deadly android is sent to kill a woman who’s destined to birth the man who saves the world. Terminator 2 is way better imo because it centers on Sarah rather than the dudes saving her and trying to kill her. But it’s still worth a watch, you know, for the culture.

If you liked CONTAGION:

War of the Worlds: (tw: blood) pretty straightforward aliens come to Earth to take over. Sorry to rec another T*m Cruise movie but I really like the alien design and the apocalypsey feel of this one. Baby Dakota Fanning is in it too!

Falling Skies: (tw: VB, body horror, rape) alien invasion yada yada but the alien lore gets more interesting as it goes on. It’s kind of cheesy and yeah maybe I did discover it by looking up the iCarly boyfriend (and what about it??) but it’s nice to have on in the downtime. An Asian woman co-stars.

Knowing: (tw: blood) school students unearth a time capsule that contains a sheet from a girl who predicted all the tragic world events between 1959-2009. This is NOT a good movie but it’s SO hilarious to me because of the acting and contrivances. Fun to group-watch!!!!

10 Cloverfield Lane: (tw: VB, emotional abuse) a woman wakes up in a bunker to a captor who tells her that the world has fallen to alien apocalypse. I think this movie elevates the original Cloverfield in pretty much every way. Again, super tense and moody. The conflict revolves around whether or not the captor is being truthful.

Train to Busan: (tw: extreme VB and disturbing imagery) a man and his daughter are on a train when a zombie hops on at the last minute. It’s Korean with an all-Asian cast; Choi Woo-shik co-stars. I definitely wouldn’t watch if you’re scared of blood and gore. It’s very gross and violent.

12 Monkeys: (tw: ableism, violence) a man from the 2030s is sent back to the 1990s to prevent the plague that will end the world. I think the aesthetics of this are really cool but otherwise it’s not a favorite. But I think it appeals to people who like apocalypse and time travel stuff!

If you liked THE MATRIX:

Strange Days: (tw: rape, sex, nudity, VB, racism, police brutality) memories can be saved to hard-drives and sold on the black market for exorbitant prices. Very problematic and triggering presentation of rape, but young Angela Basset stars and there’s a condemnation of police brutality that’s still relevant 20+ years after its release.

Upgrade: (tw: ableism, VB, fridging) a disabled man installs an AI in his spine to help him move and investigate the murder of his wife. The premise is glaringly ableist and I feel weird even recommending it tbh but it’s got great visuals and a few good twists.

Altered Carbon: (tw: VB, weird interracial body switching, uhhh I haven’t finished this one IDK) in a society where human bodies are interchangeable, a man wakes up in a new body after 300 years of his mind being dormant. A Latina woman co-stars, two Asian characters in a subplot, a few other POC here and there as well. I think season 2 stars a black man.

eXistenZ: (tw: VB, anti-Asian racism, general weirdness? IDK it’s hard to describe. There are guns made out of bones and weirdly sexual visuals.) after someone tries to assassinate her, a video game designer and her bodyguard must play through her virtual reality game in order to save the only copy of the game.

Minority Report: (tw: VB, eye removal/insertion) all crimes are predicted and criminals reported before they are committed. The main character is preemptively accused of murder. This one is really white but it was one of the first movies that got me into sci fi. Early 2000s Colin Farrell <3.

If you liked WESTWORLD:

Humans: (tw: uncanny valley, objectification) androids are household helpers and public assistants throughout Britain until one day they start developing consciences. It hits a lot of the themes of Westworld without all the unnecessary pretentiousness, “edginess,” and “grittiness,” and it stars Gemma Chan and Colin Morgan!!

Blade Runner 2049: (^) an android is ordered to find and kill a human/android hybrid. It’s not without its issues but it’s one of my favorite movies of all time, right up there with Alien. So beautiful, so thematic, so thought-provoking (to me, anyway. I know a lot of people thought it was way too slow).

Ex Machina: (^) a man is invited to a private estate to help test the intelligence of an android. It’s kind of predictable imo but you know Oscar Isaac and Sonoya Mizuno are in it so we have to stan, and so is Domhnall Gleeson, for the SW fans! I like how isolated and quiet it feels.

I Am Mother: (tw: blood, gaslighting) after an extinction event, a young woman is raised by a lone android in a human repopulation facility until one day a woman knocks. It starts off slow and a bit generic, but I’m obsessed with the 2nd and 3rd acts of this movie---good acting, dialogue, and fantastic visuals. It has that same isolated feel as Ex Machina with only three characters, all of which are women/woman-coded!!!

If you liked ALIEN (space gothic):

Battlestar Galactica (2004-2008 reboot): (tw: genocide, war, colonization, VB, uncanny valley, rape, infidelity) space opera that follows humanity as it fights the ever-evolving and powerful enemy of their own creation: androids named Cylons. Um? I  L O V E  THIS SHOW SO MUCH and I truly do think it’s everything sci fi should be. There is a really unfortunate Miss Saigon-esque romance plot in season 1 and a lazily-written love triangle involving a black woman in season 3, but otherwise it’s one of my all-time favorites and I highly recommend. It’ll spin your mind and tug your heartstrings for years.

Black Mirror: Men Against Fire: (tw: genocide, war, nudity) soldiers in the near future protect citizens from mutant zombies, but one soldier starts experiencing strange hallucinations in the field. This is such an underrated Black Mirror episode starring a black man. There’s brief objectification of a black woman but it’s very anti-military and it has an interesting sterile aesthetic that reminds me of Alien.

High Life: (tw: rape, black holes/space anxiety, very disturbing) prisoners are given the option to join a space expedition and serve as experimental subjects en route to a black hole. Please please stay away if you are triggered by sexual violence of any kind. There’s almost no physical violence in this movie but it’s psychologically haunting imo.

The Faculty: (tw; VB, drug use) high schoolers discover their teachers are being possessed by an invading alien race. I LOVE THIS MOVIE LMFAOOOO. The cast is SO wild---Elijah Wood, John Oliver, Usher, Salma Hayek, Josh Hartnett??? And I’m probably forgetting more. The combination of the cast, the terrible dialogue, and shitty special effects is PEAK comedy imo. But bear in mind it’s bloody!!

Prometheus: (tw: body horror, VB, uncanny valley) a crew of scientists heads on a deep space mission to find the aliens who created the human race. A prequel to Alien, but I kind of view it as its own thing. Despite the plot holes, I love this movie too! It was one of my sci fi gateways and the visuals are stunning. It’s pretty gory though so if that’s not your thing stay away.

Life: (tw: extreme VB) a lesser Alien, but it provides all the space gothic tropes (jokey crew, shots of space, really pretty spaceship, everyone dies, creepy alien) with a well-known cast---Gyllenhaal, Reynolds, etc.

The X Files: (tw: a few episodes contain 90s racism, sexism, queerphobia etc but you can skip them) a lot of people have watched this so I barely have to explain, but it’s one of my favorites. Two FBI agents investigate multiple aliens and get involved in government conspiracies along the way. A good gateway!

A Quiet Place: (tw: child loss, VB, tension) I think most people know what this is about too. Alien apocalypse with aliens that hunt by sound. The daughter in the family is deaf, and so is the actress who portrays her. The representation of deafness was critically acclaimed.

[chibimonkey]

I reblogged something to my ffamranxii sideblog the other day. It wasn’t political, or a shitpost, or fandom-related. All it said was “the person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dash.” I’ll admit I did it for purely selfish reasons. I wanted someone to reblog it from me. For them to see it and go “oh hey ffamranxii posts some neat shit” and to tell me through the act of reblogging that, even if I’m just posting some cute unrelated shit, or reblogging a meta discussion, or a cool fanart, that they notice me. That for one brief, microscopic minute I am a blip in someone else’s radar. That I exist, and for just a second, even if it’s because I posted some thing they also like, someone appreciates that I do.

No one reblogged it. Not a single person. I have over nine hundred followers on that blog, who reblog my fandom shit all the time, but this? In this one small thing, I’m invisible.

I know it’s stupid. It’s not like this is even the first time. All my oc posts, and anything where I try and talk about how I’m having a bad time, is just... overlooked. I talk about shouting into the void a lot, but that doesn’t really get my point across. I feel unseen and unheard. I feel completely invisible, no matter how hard I try not to be. I feel like a glitch in the matrix - unwanted, and not supposed to be here in the first place.

I’ve felt like this since I was three or four years old. I remember asking from a very young age what’s wrong with me, why can’t I be like normal kids? Why can’t I talk to people, and why don’t they listen? It’s like their eyes slide right over me, and my words go in one ear and out the other. I had a breakdown the other day to my mom. About how I’m not okay, how I’ve been very obviously not okay for years, and how I feel useless and ugly and incompetent. She just stood there and didn’t say anything, didn’t move a muscle as I was crying to her that I feel like no one cares about me or wants me around and how if it weren’t for my cats I wouldn’t even be alive right now. She didn’t follow me upstairs when I was done. She never brought it up at all.

I’ve been hearing “it gets better” since I was fifteen years old and that is absolutely not fucking true. Every single year, no matter how hard I try and how much faith I have in that statement - “it gets better” - my life gets worse. I’m thirty now, and in the past fifteen years I’ve been abused and assaulted and insulted; I’ve been thrown out of my home by my abusive ex and again by my father. I’ve been gaslighted and lied to and manipulated. I lost a child and had her replaced by cats - cats I love, dearly, but cats nonetheless; and I’ve had to sit back and watch them be abused by my then boyfriend and neglected by my parents, whose house I can’t afford to leave. I was overworked and bullied and harassed so horrifically at my past two jobs that I became suicidal and started self harming after having stopped for six years, and I am now so terrified of people I can’t leave my house, and barely manage to leave my bed. My therapist dumped me out of the blue, and said me and my life were too much for her. I and my cat children are regularly insulted by my father, to the point where I dread when he’s home, even if he’s asleep. I lost all my friends, and most days I think I never had any to begin with. I reached out, again and again, to my family and people who told me they cared, and been rebuffed or ignored at every turn. It doesn’t get better.

I spend between twelve and seventeen hours a day in bed, most of it asleep and the rest just curled into a ball. My appetite is gone. My hygiene is bad, because for six months during my last job I broke down every single day in the shower over everything happening to me, and the thought of standing in the shower now still fills me with dread and unease. I don’t have insurance, and my money is almost gone, so I can’t see a doctor and try to get medicated for my depression again, and I’m terrified of being dropped abruptly by another therapist. I lost a front tooth due to shoddy dental work and can’t afford to replace it, and no dental office or oral surgeon around takes Medicaid, even if I was on it, and I’m so embarrassed to speak with a missing front tooth that I just... don’t, most days. Nothing holds my interest anymore. I used to love to read and watch tv and draw and play video games and write, but I lose focus after twenty minutes, and my last attempt at posting my writing - the latest chapter to a fic that had a handful of followers - was met with silence, and now when I try I’m filled with self doubt so terrible I just give up.

And no one, no matter how much I blatantly state I want them to, has ever asked me if I’m okay. It’s like screaming in a crowded room and no one even notices me, not unless they need a scapegoat to vent their own frustrations. I can’t even open my mouth anymore without my father screaming “SHHHHHH STOP YELLING,” so I don’t. I don’t have a support system. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m not okay, and I just want someone to give a shit about that. I hate myself so much, and every single day I hate myself more and more. It doesn’t fucking get better. I TRIED. I tried so hard. But there’s something wrong with me, something about me that makes people look at me and go “fuck that bitch.” I mean, at my last job, my then boyfriend was diagnosed with cancer and nearly died, and I had to take time off to be with him because we thought he WAS going to die, and NO ONE ever asked me if he or I were okay. I came back my first day and was immediately written up for something I didn’t do and wasn’t allowed to dispute and my coworkers all called me “what’s her face” or “move.” Like. Who does that?

There’s something wrong with me, some critical update that other people got in their How To Be A Person software that I just don’t have. That’s glaringly obviously missing when I try and interact with people. And I know life isn’t the same as on tv but... other people have friends and family who support them, don’t they? Isn’t that, like, a real thing? Why don’t I? Why doesn’t anybody care?

Honestly, I’m expecting the same reception here that I got on my sideblog and with my mother. I just. Need. To get this off my chest, because I haven’t left my room in three days or my house in over a month or talked to another person in I don’t know how long and every time I bring that up as an example of not being okay I feel like no one else feels that way. Like maybe I’M wrong for thinking that’s not normal. And then I just spiral again about how there’s something wrong with me.

[inheritance-cycles]

Thorta Du Ilumëo

Trigger warnings for canon-typical graphic violence and torture.

Following the Siege of Dras-Leona, Murtagh and Thorn launch a successful attack against the Varden. During the fight, Eragon falls from Saphira’s back, and Thorn uses the momentary distraction to both wound Saphira and knock Arya unconscious. Murtagh, who originally planned to capture Nasuada, decides to take advantage of this rare opportunity, and during the chaos, Thorn and Murtagh manage to seize Eragon and spirit him away to Urû'baen. Canon non-compliant fic detailing Eragon’s capture, trials, and eventual rescue.

First chapter based heavily on Nasuada’s capture. 

Part 1 || AO3 (parts 2-6)

Eragon opens his eyes.

The first thing he notices is the pounding in his head; an almost percussive agony that brings him more fully to awareness. His thoughts, however, feel thick and slow, as if he were drunk with exhaustion. Turning his head makes the pain worse, so instead he stares with detached interest at the roof above him.

Tiles cover the dark, vaulted ceiling, and upon the tiles are painted angular patterns of red, blue, and gold: a complex matrix of lines that trap his gaze for a mindless while.

The soft crackle of a smoldering fire draws his attention, and at last he musters the will and energy to look away from the intricate designs. A simmering glow emanates from a source somewhere behind him, and he senses more than sees that the illumination is due to a brazier nearby. The glow is just strong enough to reveal the shape of the octagonal room, but not so bold as to dispel the shadows clinging to its corners.

Finally, he looks down, and notices the surface upon which he’s been restrained. It’s cold, smooth, and uncomfortably hard; the rough stone chafes irritably against his exposed hands and legs. A chill creeps into his bones, and he finds himself wishing for something warmer than the tattered tunic and loose trousers he had been wearing whilst drinking with Arya. Eyeing his lower half, he also realizes that he is weaponless, a fact that is unsurprising but disappointing all the same. Chances are, both his bow and Brisingr still lay on the grassy knoll near Dras-Leona where he fell.

But where am I now?  

With immense caution, he pushes his mind out- or tries to- but to his alarm, he only feels a soft, indistinct pressure surrounding him. It’s as if bales of wool are packed around his mind, and he finds that he can neither extend his consciousness outward, nor access the part of himself that houses his magic.

He’s unsure if he’s been drugged, but if this were done by magic, it was a magic that was completely unknown to him.

Eragon shudders, then tries to sit upright, but the padded manacles that he now sees encircle his limbs prevent him from moving more than a fraction of an inch in any direction. He furrows his brow and realizes that a thick leather belt holds his head firmly against the slab as well, preventing him from turning it more than a few degrees.

Even though he knows it’s futile, he strains against the bonds with all his strength, but they are too secure for even him to break. It’s this realization that causes him to truly panic.

Eragon allows himself a few moments of chest-heaving, muscle-trembling terror before he forces himself to calm, one carefully-controlled breath at a time. The only power he has in this situation is self-control, and he is not about to relinquish it willingly.

The pace of his breaths slow further. The regular, smooth flow through his throat and nostrils begins to crowd out all else. Then, once he’s reasonably certain he is not going to come undone, he allows his gaze to wander once more.

Turning his head what little it can, he glances out the window beside him, neck muscles straining with the effort. To his shock, he actually recognizes the landscape from a fairth he had studied while in Ellesmera.

He’s in Urû'baen.

His heart rate spikes once more, and he quickly loses what little hard-won composure he had gained.

Eragon is still working to calm his erratic breaths when he hears the footsteps in the hallway. His sensitive hearing picks them up easily: a group, some marching in rhythm, some not. The cacophony is so great that he’s unable to determine their exact number, nor their exact distance from him.

The second query is soon answered when the procession approaches, stopping directly outside the doorway to his chamber. There’s quiet murmuring, followed by two sets of clacking footsteps- the product of hard-soled riding boots, he guesses- then a single man enters the room.

The door closes with a hollow thud, and Eragon flinches.

Down the stairs the footsteps come, steady and deliberate. In his arms, the man carries a chair and places it somewhat near the brazier, his body only visible in Eragon’s periphery.

Silence reigns as he fills the copper brazier with charcoal, but then he moves it closer to the slab, closer to Eragon, and the motion produces a painful screech that drives into his ears like nails. Being well-restrained, all Eragon can do is cringe inwardly and watch, transfixed. The man takes flint and steel from the pouch on his belt and lights a nest of shredded tinder in the center of the brazier. The sparks smolder and spread, and the tinder glows like a ball of red-hot wires. Then, he bends, blowing on the incipient fire, and the sparks spring into lambent flames.

The man is not large: not fat, but broad-shouldered. A long black cape hangs draped around his well-built frame. Light from the coals cast his form in shadow, his features too dark to make out, even with Eragon’s advanced senses. Still, the shadows do nothing to obscure the outline of the sharp, pointed crown resting upon his brow, and they similarly fail to conceal the three long irons now resting in the heating coals.

Finally, the man drops into the chair with a near-silent exhale.  

One by one, he tugs on the fingers of his gauntlets, then pulls off his gloves. Tossing them carelessly aside, they land with a soft thump of hide on stone. Underneath the gloves, Eragon notices, the man’s hands are the color of tarnished bronze.

Then, the man speaks. His voice is low, rich and commanding, and Eragon shivers again. His skin prickles uncomfortably and he finds himself thinking of Elva, of all people, and her authority over people’s minds. He has no doubt that he is now in the presence of the king.

“Welcome to Urû’baen, Eragon, son of Morzan,” Galbatorix intones. “Welcome to this, my home, ‘neath these ancient piled rocks. Long has it been since a guest as distinguished as yourself has graced us with their presence. My energies have been occupied elsewhere, but I assure you, from now on, I shall not neglect my duties as host.”

The fire crackles menacingly as if to underscore the hard steel underlying the king’s tone, his words. Galbatorix leans forward, and Eragon can feel the weight of his gaze: boring into him, assessing, scrutinizing.

“You are younger than I expected. I knew you had recently come of age, but still, you are no more than a child.” He pauses for a moment, as if in thought. “Most seem as children to me these days. Foolhardy children who know not what is best for them- children who need the guidance of those who are older and wiser.”

Eragon sets his chin, not wanting to show fear or vulnerability in front of the king.

“Such as yourself?” He asks in a scornful tone.

Galbatorix chuckles. “Would you rather the elves ruled over us? I am the only one of our race who can hold them at bay. By their reckoning, even our oldest graybeards would be considered untested youths, unfit for the responsibilities of adulthood.”

“And by their reckoning, so would you.” With each word, his fear melts away, replaced by pure defiance and bubbling fury.

The amusement in the king’s eyes angers Eragon, but he stays otherwise silent.

“Ah, but I contain more than my share of years. The memories of hundreds are mine, whispering their wisdom in my ears,” replies Galbatorix, smirking conspiratorially. “You especially should understand of what I speak.”

Eragon purses his lips and refuses to confirm what they both know is true.

Galbatorix allows the silence to settle for a moment, then gestures at the room with his gauntlets, continuing unperturbed. “This is a place for truths to be told… and heard. I will tolerate no lies within these walls, not even the simplest of falsehoods.”

The legs of the chair scrape over the floor, and Galbatorix’s breath suddenly wafts, warm against his ear. “I know this will be painful for you, Eragon Shadeslayer, painful beyond belief. You will have to unmake yourself before pride will allow you to submit. In all the world, nothing is harder than changing one’s own self. I understand this, for I have reshaped myself on more than one occasion. However, I will be here to hold your hand and help you through this transition. Although we do not have much time, you need not take this journey alone. And you may console yourself with the knowledge that I will never lie to you. Not within this room. Doubt me if you wish, but in time you will come to believe me. You may ask whatever you want, and I promise you, that I shall answer truthfully. As the king of these lands, I give you my sworn word.”

Eragon’s jaw clenches painfully, and from between clenched teeth, he spits, “I’ll never tell you what you want to know!”

A slow deep chuckle fills the room. “You misunderstand; You were not brought here because I seek information. There’s nothing you could say that I don’t already know. You have no secrets from me, none whatsoever; it is pointless to insist upon holding your tongue, for it will only cause you pain and suffering.”

“Why then?” he growls.

Galbatorix moves to better meet Eragon’s gaze with his own.

“Why did I have you brought here? Because, my son, you have gifts far deadlier than anything magic or man could create. You are here because you have proven yourself worthy of my attention. I wish to have you by my side. A new order is about to descend upon Alagaësia, and I would have you be part of it. Voluntarily, if I can.”

Eragon squints, not trusting the king’s words. “Are you not going to use your mind against me?”

He shakes his head. “I have other ways to break you, my son. I could easily seize control of your mind and force you to swear fealty to me, but instead, I would have you make this decision of your own free will, and while still in possession of your faculties. For now, I am satisfied to discover just how brave you really are, Eragon, son of the Forsworn.”

Eragon clenches his muscles to prevent the growing tremors in his arms and legs from becoming visible.

“The Varden are fast approaching, desperate to rescue their Rider, so I will have to do this efficiently, and in a much shorter time frame than I would prefer.” A wickedly devious smile stretches Galbatorix’ cheeks. “Take this, then, as a sign of my regard for you, Eragon, that I must inflict such suffering to assure victory.” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in even closer. “I would not, however, wish to exchange places with you.”  

This is my final duty: resisting my interrogation. I will not break.

“Now, before we begin,” croons Galbatorix. “I’ll ask you one last time: will you submit?”

Eragon thinks of Saphira, and his resolve hardens. “Never.”

“So be it. Let us begin.”

[strad-214]

Sunday, 06/07/2020 Lightsaber:

The crystal is the heart of the blade.

The heart is the crystal of the Jedi.

The Jedi is the crystal of the Force.

The Force is the blade of the heart.

All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi.

We are one.

 My favorite subject concerning the Jedi Order: Lightsabers, the most iconic weapon in all of cinematic history. Every chance I got—and provided I had the funds—I purchased toy lightsabers, replicas, and unlicensed stunt weapons wherever they were available; I must have at least eight of those Ultimate Lightsabers you could build yourself in Disney World at the Star Tours Gift Shop, I built one every time I went. You could also buy the kits in toy stores once upon a time, then Disney bought them and you could only make them there after that. I have yet to visit the new Galaxy’s Edge, I haven’t been to Disney World in quite some time.

When anyone thinks of the Jedi, in universe or not, they first think of their weapon; the lightsaber is the closest thing to a possession that the Jedi have. It is a direct reflection of their personality, fighting style, and personal beliefs. The lightsaber itself is as much a piece of art as is the fighting styles the Jedi have developed to wield their weapons, and I am only too happy to describe them to anyone at any given moment. Once again, I will be drawing most of my discussion from Old Canon and a little bit from Legends, particularly from The Jedi Path and the rpg game of Knights of the Old Republic and the mmorpg, The Old Republic. I personally find that the New Canon removes some of the intimacy involved in creating a lightsaber, but it is part of the Universe, so I will give it its fair analysis too.

Across most versions of canon, there are four key components to building a lightsaber: the emitter matrix, the lens, a focusing crystal, and a power cell. The emitter matrix is usually made up of a lightsaber resistant material, usually the metal called phrik, and houses the lens. The lens is what the raw energy passes through to form the blade and can be made from various different things such as high yield glass or other crystalline material. The focusing crystal, in old canon, was a crystal compound that was of organic and inorganic matter, the root element of which was kyber. There were several types of kyber crystals, including adegan kyber crystals found on Ilum. In Jedi vs. Sith, The Essential Guide to the Force (JvSEss.), some lightsabers were made using other crystals instead of those that were kyber based such as emeralds and diamonds. There are also some accounts that say you could use more than one crystal, up to three crystals to be specific, in order to form durable and potent blades. The crystal(s) are placed into a housing constructed to conduct the appropriate amounts of energy into the crystal(s). The power cell of the lightsaber was to be installed empty, with no charge. This was because the Jedi building the lightsaber was supposed to use the Force to charge the power cell according to JvSEss. The rest of the lightsaber is up to interpretation, the switch assemble, the emitter housing, the hand grip, the pommel; all these other components are constructed to the Jedi’s specific designs, making their weapon unique to all the others.

image by Chris Trevas

In building the lightsaber, a Jedi would assemble the components and meditate on the mantra: “The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi. We are one.” As they did this, they would use the Force to telekinetically assemble the lightsaber, fusing the individual components at the molecular level as they went so that their lightsaber would become one entity. They would charge their power cell, align their crystal to the Force, and influence the lightsaber to take shape before them. Now, with a complete lightsaber at hand, the Jedi Knight may dispense justice and protect citizens across the Galaxy. In Old Canon—and according to The Jedi Path—Padawans would come to Ilum with their Master about midway through their partnership to build their first lightsabers. The lightsabers they carried before these would either be training sabers or ones gifted to them by their Masters once they were paired to each other. Now, having had enough training in applying telekinetics and knowing their fighting style and themselves better, they can make their own unique weapon. The Master would leave their pupil in the caves to select a crystal they liked—blue, green, yellow, or purple, not all were available in every cavern— then to select components they liked from the stores on site or build their own components, and meditate on their new weapon. In New Canon, Younglings, not yet Padawans, would join in a ceremony called The Gathering, where a Jedi Master would take the Younglings to Ilum in order to build their first lightsabers. Younglings had a limited amount of time to gather their crystals, as the frozen door to the caverns would melt open from the sunlight and refreeze over time as time grew closer to night. The Younglings couldn’t select any crystal, the crystal had to select them, already being attuned to the Force and attuned to the Youngling. They had to hear their crystal calling to them and face a trial that would teach them something about themselves in order to obtain it. Once the crystal was obtained, the Younglings would return to the temple and ride the Jedi Vessel named The Crucible back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Aboard this ship, a Mark IV Architect Droid named Professer Huyang taught the Younglings how to build their lightsabers and provided them with components. The crystal color would become evident once the Younglings attuned them to the Force.

gif by me, sourced from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vq8N4EAusL4 

I personally favor the version of Old Canon for lightsaber construction; it feels as though it has a lot more room for variety, independence of choice, and application of experience. The Force is supposed to guide our choices, meaning, follow your gut instinct: even if you attract to the role of a Jedi Consular, if you saw a gleaming, deep blue kyber crystal in the caves of Ilum and loved the way it looked, you could take that one to be your lightsaber crystal. Now, Jedi Consulars are known to have green lightsaber blades, but that doesn’t have to be law and it is stated all over both versions of Canon that the color doesn’t define the role of the Jedi, it defines their personality: Blue for those who are active, valiant, and are swift to action in the face of danger. Green for the patient and scholarly, those Jedi who are able to navigate the political battle field as well as the physical one, if not better than. Yellow for the Jedi who walks a fine line between civilian and protector, they often are sent out, undercover to hunt down agents of the Dark Side and are strong enough in their foundations to guard the Jedi from even their selves. Purple is for the Jedi who walks the fine line between the light and the dark, being able to summon strength from both sides without falling to either one in order to fulfill their role as a Jedi Knight. There are many more, but these are the most common. Given this analysis, however, Jedi Master Jocasta Nu, historian and librarian in the Jedi Archives, should have a green lightsaber, but something either made her pick a blue crystal or her crystal became blue (depending on which version you prefer), and that speaks volumes about her character.

In our real world, lightsaber technology is quite beyond our reach. However, in a thesis written by one Thomas William Noel at the University of Washington in 2014, creating a blade of solid energy was demonstrated to be possible. His experiments were conducted to see how a trapped Barium ion would react when spontaneously exposed to a positively charged photon. The result is that the two become entangled and form something like a solid wall of energy. Now, photons are particles representing a spectrum of light or other electromagnetic radiation. A photon carries energy proportional to the specific band of light’s frequency but has zero mass. Yet, when exposed to a specific variety of Barium Ion, the photon acts as though it has mass, acts as though it is matter, conversion of energy into matter without losing its properties of energy, a lightsaber blade. Barium is our kyber and photons are our Force. There are so many more applications far more practical than this, but the science is there. Perhaps, one day… (Source: https://depts.washington.edu/qcomp/pdfs/tom_thesis.pdf )

In the mean time, we have these:

I purchased my current lightsaber from UltraSabers.com; it’s a combination of three different models. The main body is the “Shock LE” model, the emitter is from the “Archon v2.1” model and the pommel is from the “Manticore Model”, the low grade version. The color of the blade is their guardian blue option, the switch lights up blue when activated, and I originally had sound on it. The speaker inside has since broken off when I beat the ever living hell out of a BB-8 piñata with it. This was after a couple years of love and usage. She still lights up brilliantly though… if I didn’t lose the batteries and the charger in a recent move. Between these two deterants and the fact that I’ve been eyeing other lightsabers, I think it’s time I’ve retired her.

I just recently purchased many components from Saberforge.com to construct a new lightsaber with. They have an adaptive saber component collection and their parts look far more movie accurate.

I can’t wait for the components to come in, I already have the emitter from a sale I jumped on ages ago. I like to admire it and dream of a brilliant blue blade coming from the end of it. I ordered a couple different pommels and switches so I can see what I like more on the finished product, but I like the way this 3D rendering looks the most so far. I got extra parts though because it’s one thing to see an image of it, and something else entirely to see it in person. Saberforge has really great stuff, they just take awhile to ship for some reason. So, if you don’ mind the wait, they’re an excellent company to get sabers from. UltraSabers also has really great products, very sturdy and lots of basic looks that you wouldn’t mind it if they got banged up. Like, I love the concept of my new saber a lot, but I know I’m gonna freak out the second it has a pit in the metal because I dropped it or it got wacked by another blade the right way. Unfortunate fact of ownership; these things are meant to be used, they get beat up looking after awhile. If you look closely at my current one, the thing is covered in nicks, smudges, and pits from years of love. And yes, they are expensive. However, for the quality of use, they could be more expensive, and they certainly help you become closer to that Galaxy far, far away.

I hope you gained something from this. Enjoy the rest of Jedi June.

May the Force be with you.

@jedijune​ 

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #692 (October 1993)

In this issue: Superman goes to the doctor and finds out why he's not dead anymore! But, before that, he's clearing some of the debris left by his fight with Doomsday when he finds... Clark Kent? Lois Lane is very happy to see Clark again, but Superman himself doesn't look very thrilled in these panels.

Turns out Clark wasn't dead as everyone believed, he was simply trapped in the basement of a collapsed building! The basement happened to equipped with plenty of food and gym equipment (explaining why he's still jacked, like Superman), but unfortunately not a single pair of scissors (explaining why his hair is now long, like Superman's).

Later, Superman bumps into Lex Luthor Jr., who demands to know where Supergirl is, but Superman gives him the runaround. Hmm, where could Superman's good friend who can change shape and pretend to be other people be? Anyway, Superman then meets Lois and Clark and... holy crap! Mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent is secretly Supergirl!

So yeah, Supergirl pretended to be Clark for a while just so he and Superman would be seen together and no one would question why both are suddenly alive again. Then Supergirl leaves and we move on to the second dilemma solved in this issue: How the hell is Superman alive again? To address that question, supernatural DC character (and fellow Jerry Siegel/Joe Shuster creation) Doctor Occult appears out of nowhere and rudely teleports Lois and Clark to a black void, where he replays moments from Superman's life... and death.

Occult explains that Doomsday DID punch Superman's spirit out of his body, but there was still solar energy keeping the body just barely alive. Superman's ghost ended up stuck between the living and the dead, attracting some nasty soul-eating demons. Fortunately, Pa Kent happened to be dying of a heart attack at the same time, so he and Superman teamed up to fight off the demons (as seen in Adventures #500). Superman’s soul returned to his near-corpse, which was taken to the Fortress of Solitude by the Eradicator and lovingly nursed back into health. (Okay, more like “coldly,” but you can’t argue with the results.)

Anyway, the point is that Superman's resurrection happened due to a convoluted series of events that could never be repeated, unless someone's willing to sneak behind Pa Kent and blow an airhorn in his ear or something. As the mystical exposition dump ends, Occult teleports Lois and Clark to Smallville, and the issue ends with the Kents finally reuniting. A tender moment...

...until two seconds later, when Ma smacks Clark in the back of the head for taking two whole issues to come see them (or that’s what I’d do).

Plotline-Watch:

Doctor Occult reveals that the moment when Bibbo shocked Superman’s body with a hyper-charged defibrillator in Adventures #498 actually helped keep him alive. Once again, Bibbo is the real hero of this saga.

Supergirl has a lot of experience posing as Clark, since she was stuck in that form between 1989 and 1992. That was also her in the only other photo of Superman and Clark together, taken in Superman #34.

While Superman is being interviewed by a news crew after rescuing "Clark", that lawyer from Action #689 barges in and demands that they stop calling Superman Superman, since that name is now trademarked by Superboy's manager. Damn, maybe he's gonna have to start calling himself "Supreme" or something?

Aww, Lex is happy to see Superman again. Sure, it's only because he wants to be the one to kill him, but still.

S.T.A.R. Labs is examining the Eradicator's corpse when they realize he's alive! Sort of. Later, Doctor Occult remarks that the Eradicator sacrificed himself "in mind, if not in body". Hmm. The doctors overseeing his condition are Kitty Faulkner, who can turn into an orange She-Hulk called Rampage after a workplace mishap, and a new character called David Connors, the only S.T.A.R. employee without superpowers. So far.

The JLA returns from the little space vacation the Cyborg sent them on, and we get the first instance in all of comics of Guy Gardner admitting he was wrong. Character growth! Don Sparrow says: “Nice to see some follow-up to the characters around the DCU and how they react to Superman’s return. No mention of the fact that they got suckered into a mission into space that went nowhere.”

When Doctor Occult shows up, Superman is like "aw, not this guy again!", referencing that classic tale of Superman's first encounter with the supernatural... which hasn't come out yet. Don: “It’s a neat forward call-back (is that a thing?) when Superman references his first encounter with Doctor Occult, given that we won’t see it happen until 1995, when DC does a line-wide ‘Year One’ series of stories. And wouldn’t you know it, that story is written by none other than Roger Stern (and even involves tentacles, as in the thumbnail image)!” #rogersternplaysthelonggame

Don Sparrow's section, on the other hand, can be read NOW, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

We open with the cover, and it’s one of the top ten best of this era, for sure.  Drawn by Kerry Gammill and Butch Guice, DC used this drawing on the “Return of Superman” cards.  I tend to favour simpler, iconic covers, even when they don’t necessarily represent the story within, but in this case, it’s showing exactly what the heart of the story is about: Clark Kent is back. 

Inside, we open with a full page splash of Superman’s shield, through tons of rubble, and it’s a great image, but without the face, it allows us to focus on the title of the story, a callback to the speech introduction of the old Fleischer Cartoons.

I don’t know if it’s from the writing, or the artist, but Action Comics has always seemed the most romantic of the Super-titles, and this one is no exception, as Clark and Lois have their hands all over each other for basically the whole comic. While it is a bit weird to remember that it isn’t Clark that Lois is caressing (more on that in a bit) in the early part of the story, it always feels intimate and romantic more than it feels graphic or titillating.  A tricky balance that this team pulls off well, particularly in their “reunion” on page 3. [Max: Every time I read this issue I think it’s Martian Manhunter posing as Clark and when they start flirting I’m like “ew”. Then I remember who it is and I’m like “nice”.]

I always enjoy seeing Superman flying upside-down, which I consider to be a Byrne innovation—I don’t remember him doing it pre-Crisis. It always seems so joyful and carefree, and it’s nice to see Superman savouring his powers. 

Jackson Guice uses tone very well in the scenes with Lex Luthor II in his aviators, and I quite like the sense of motion to Superman’s pose as he approaches the helicopter—almost like he’s swimming in the sky rather than floating.

It’s a good drawing of the Eradicator getting the post-Hoth Luke Skywalker treatment, with David Connor and Kitty Faulkner getting an eyeful.  My copy has a slight colouring error that makes it look like the Eradicator is awake in the tank, even though he’s supposed to be catatonic. [Max: Still looks like that in the collections. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleep with their eyes open?]

Superman embracing Lois after the ruse of “Clark Kent” is very cutely drawn, as is the Ghost-like backward embrace on the following page.  

The entire sequence replaying Superman’s death and rebirth is drawn well throughout, especially the dreamlike staging, and the darkness as Lois knocks the flashlight away.  It’s also moving that Superman can see the heroic lengths that Bibbo went to try to save him once Superman succumbed to his injuries.  

Lastly, it was wonderful to see Clark reunited physically with Ma and Pa, especially with the nice touch of the poem by DH Lawrence as the only narration.  Stern was always the best at referencing secondary texts in his stories, and it’s well used here.

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Is it me, or is Matrix/Supergirl a little too into this Clark Kent act?  I get that making their performances light and funny keep it from seemingly overtly dishonest, but “Clark” is pretty tender in these scenes. Lois does a good job of playing along, but it’s hard for me to fully forget that all this canoodling is actually with Supergirl.  So as a helpful tool, I created these graphics: [Max: Nice.]

It was cool that Lois specifically mentioned that Jimmy got a shot of the returned Clark Kent next to Superman, I always like it when that can happen.

In previous posts, I’ve talked about how creepy it is that Luthor has a sexual relationship with Supergirl/Matrix, when she is in so many ways (mainly mentally) a child, and I can’t help but read the scene where Lois chooses Superman over “Clark” this way.  The laughing and clapping has a whole different feel if you think of her as mentally diminished somewhat.  

So it’s not exactly a continuity error that Clark says on page 13 that he has to call Ma and Pa to let them know that “Clark” is alright (even though he already called them in a previous issue).  It could be that they want to tell the Kents the cover story of Clark’s return has now taken place, and they can act like their son is alive again when they go to the corner store, etc. [Max: Yeah, that’s how I took it. It would be awkward if their neighbors saw them all cheerful while their son is still “dead”.]

 I like to imagine that Dr. Occult looks and sounds like Robert Stack. [Max: It’s impossible for me to hear him as anyone other than Humphrey Bogart after Lois calls him “Sam Spade”.]

We’ve mentioned previously Jackson Guice’s tendency to use photo reference for his characters.  In this issue, Superman looks a lot like Jason Patric to me, who would have made a pretty great Superman had there been movies being made in this time.

I also appreciated this issue explaining both the physical and metaphysical reasons Superman was able to return—and that there’s no back door to the story—if Superman ever died again, he would be unable to return.  

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Higurashi New 2 | Wandering Witch 2 | Moriarty 1 | Taiso Samurai 1 | Kamisama 1 | Munou na Nana 2 | Golden Kamuy 3 1 (25) | Yashahime 2

I’m trying a seasonal challenge this time...so that means I have to leave some Crunchyroll anime to the side. That’s why I’m putting in the tags now.

Higurashi New 2

Apparently, now this Higurashi is called “Gou”…I dunno what that means in the context of this series, but *Saitama face* OK.

Is this girl…Rika? Or this Hanyuu girl I heard of on ANN? Update: Wait a bit from that point. You’ll get your answer.

Do they ever examine why the girls in Higurashi are what they are? Rika seems to have something supernatural going on, but Rena…is just a psycho girl right now, so it’s hard to care.

LOL, I was wondering where this “nipah” Rika meme came from, but it is present in the dialogue.

I predicted that Gilligan cu-er, transition far too easily…

Why is that kid’s face so tanned (?) in comparison to the rest of him???

How did these girls get up the building so fast??? (LOL?)

Wow, the cicada noise was pretty loud there, so…props to the sound guys for making that sound stifling.

Can we really trust what Mion is saying about Tomitake…?

I thought we were going to see Watanagashi in ep 3, but…okay.

Satoko speaks rather formally. She says kochira de gozaimasuyo! instead of kocchi! or kochiradesuyo!.

Who’s that blonde lady? Someone from Umineko?

The bright colours really help to sell the ominous nature of this ED and anime. I don’t think I understand everything that’s happening in said ED, though…

Gonna pause it here because I heard you need to watch the OG and Rei to understand this, now that the new Higurashi is operating under its “proper” name.

Wandering Witch 2

…Elaina’s a bit full of herself still…

…what the heck was that instrument playing over the titlecard? Bagpipes…?

LOL, it’s the Attack on Titan world!

Did Elaina lose her hat when she fell? That must be a very stable hat indeed.

Ooh, particle effects! However…there’s CGI here, although it’s only kinda noticeable.

Have you never heard of money…?

Wait, witches get discounts???

It seems Saya comes from Japan.

LOL, this is basically Quidditch without a snitch!

I like mushrooms, so I don’t get why people kick up such a fuss about them.

Saya seems to act like this is yuri bait…*sigh*

Saya’s crying like her sister died…c’mon, it’s not that bad!

I’m hitting pause. If this is actually how the series is, then it’s primed for a drop, but I can’t help but keep it on for the spectacular visuals and the fact it’s basically anime Harry Potter.

Taiso Samurai 1

I keep swearing I’ll finish my old simulcasts…but then new ones pop up like daisies…(I guess it’s better than having no anime to finish, right?)

I just realised how pretty Jotaro’s eyes are…! The fact he just sort of splats and then doesn’t get up shows how weary he is, unlike Sakura from Moon Land, who would’ve probably gotten up and never tried doing gymnastics again if he were in the same position.

Just by glancing over the results when I google for this Montreal gold, it seems it was done by a Kouhei Uchimura, but I might be wrong on that front…oh wait, there are 3 golds, so it’s not necessarily just that one…

You can tell this is 2002 because of that flip phone.

Intai Zamurai…it’s constructed the same way as the anime’s title. Two characters and then “samurai”.

BB (Big Bird) on the side there is so goofy, he’s…kind of distracting. <- Note the official website refers to Big Bird as BB, hence my use of it.

I was wondering if Rei was the daughter or the wife…so it’s the former.

Kinugawa Ropeway…it rings a bell, somehow. Maybe the Boueibu crew went there as DVD/BD extras.

…does everyone know that a ryokan is like a mini hotel with a traditional set-up?

*snorts* LOL, Keanu (Reeves, obviously).

That montage was a bit worrying…maybe the CGI took out part of the budget? I was a bit worried when I could tell there was CGI in that one starting segment.

…LOL, wut. Agent Smith (from the Matrix)?

Yamakasi seems to be a parkour thing which has its own movie.

…I’m sort of wondering: was that ninja a woman? If Jotaro gets another wife…I dunno if I’ll like the anime as much. Things could become far too dramatic if he did. Update: You do find out later in this episode.

I think – from lip reading – the ninja used -de gozaimasu. I remember getting it drilled into me that people don’t use that these days, but in the time of ninja and samurai, they did.

…another anime set in Ikebukuro. I knew from the station, but…’bukuro must be a nice place if people are reppin’ it all of a sudden.

Was Tomoyo an actress…?

“Kinugawa, as in the river where ogres get mad?” – See, that’s the pun I made about Boueibu’s Atsushi years ago…

This Takizawa guy’s so expressive, LOL.

Gotta love a man in a suit, yes…

…they keep building up to this retirement, only for him to not retire??? Which is it?! (LOL) That declaration works better in Japanese because the -shimasen goes at the end of the sentence so the weird sentence structure in the English translation actually makes Jotaro look like he really messed up due to nervousness speaking in front of crowds. Update: He just sounds like he stopped in the middle of a sentence in Japanese, which he obviously did.

There’s no time travel for sure, but there are ninjas! Plus dudes in jumpsuits!...plus, of course, gymnastics! It could still work, but I keep swearing there’s something supernatural coming around the corner for this…Also, this “gymnast trying to retire” thing seems to be drawing me in because of my whole current lack of direction in basically everything, much like Rikuo of Sing Yesterday for Me.

Kamisama 1

Hmm…Kamisama ni Natta Hi…it doesn’t say the subject stating this became a god, so the pronoun could be “she” or “you” rather than “I”, which seems to be the current standard for it. Update: It says on the title card “I”, so it should have an I then…I guess(?)

There’s a fish on the logo.

…this girl, I already know her name is Hina. That’s the 2nd Odin this season (the first is in Sigdrifa…or however it’s spelt)…she’s gonna be annoying, isn’t she…?

What’s this about a date…?

There are two Izanamis this season, too. The second is Hifumi from HypMic.

Looks like there was an accident, according to one of the signs.

…This feels exactly like a visual novel. I’m surprised it’s an original.

I was wondering why “Key Ramen” (Kagi Ramen) sounded weird…then it hit me. Key! You motherf**kers!!! *shakes fist* You were hiding right under my nose all along!

Hey, Potato-kun! (I know his name is Youta, but…eh, aside from having a possible girlfriend candidate and being a Nice Guy, he’s still a Potato-kun.) Stop staring in disbelief and do something!

…Why Potato-kun, anyway? Is it because his name means “become god”???

…This Izanami is so emotionless…it’s hard to imagine her cheering, Youta was right on that front.

…that style in Hina’s background…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it for Sailor Moon Crystal, but I’ve forgotten what the artist’s name is (the one that inspired that artstyle)…

I almost expected Hina to interrupt the confession, like Leo from Taiso Samurai.

I kinda just shrugged near the end of the episode and finished it just to see if the confession would be interrupted, so…big fat drop there. I must not like much Key beyond Angel Beats (and even then, it’s only okay because it’s the relic of a time gone by).

Moriarty 1

I’ve been picking up Sherlock-related things left and right ever since I was a fan of Detective Conan…not Sherlock, Elementary or that Robert Downey Jr. movie, but the stuff Conan Doyle had his hands in. (I’d also like to keep an eye out for that Miyazaki movie, but I don’t know if I can/should go out of my way for it.) Therefore, I was a pretty easy mark for a bishonen Moriarty.

Who’s this “El” guy anyway?

…That OP is basically Black Butler all over again. I admit I went, “Oh, stuff this” for a second when I saw Rasmus Faber’s name on credits – when I went to entire series for him, they always ended badly for me – but I couldn’t stop watching the episode (since I skipped forward to the actual episode due to background noise), so this might be the anime to change everything.

I’ll be real with you – aside from Japan, America and China (the former two of which I’ve gone to and the latter I’ve technically gone to Hong Kong, which I have stronger ties to anyway), I honestly don’t have anywhere on my bucket list. That said, anime (obviously, the London arc from DC was a big factor) and this one movie called What a Girl Wants have been pretty instrumental in making Great Britain…almost make the list of places I want to go to. Key word: almost.

…I want a dub. With accents like Princess Principal.

Also, I forgot Soma Saito was our Moriarty…LOL.

“…for Man of Standing” (sic).

Turn the other cheek, Mr. Tailor.

The eyes really tell you everything about a person in this anime.

Ooh, this has absolutely no holes in its logic. It’s a strong contender!

Yashahime 2

Holy s***, is that Kagome’s brother?(!) He kinda reminds me of Takagi from Detective Conan for some reason…

Come to think of it…writers like Takahashi don’t normally have androgynous leads like Towa, do they?

That was…not the best fight scene, man.

Ooh, naginata. I’ve read a bit about them, but I’ve never really seen one used in an anime before…not to my memory. Not even the naginata in Touken Ranbu (plural) can help with that.

…this Rainbow Pearl business reminds me of Sailor Moon’s…uh, whatever they’re called…Rainbow Crystals, that’s right.

There’s something oddly comfy about predicting the “it won’t be my crying face, it’s yours you’ll get!” line, as bad as that sign may be for predictability on the whole.

I’ve felt in the years leading up to now, the progressive nations are slowly causing the entire gender binary to unravel. The more I think about my own relationship with my concept of gender – I accept gender-neutral third-person pronouns because initially I wanted to be anonymous on the internet, but now I’m just generally fine with it, for instance – the more I can agree and yet also disagree because of the progress the LGBTIQ+ community has made in recent years.

Munou na Nana 2

Ah-hah! People were calling it that the enemies of humanity were actually the superpowered kids and this proves it.

Ah, I think this Shibusawa is Masuda. I was here for him, so here he is.

Nana just says konnichiwa, which is the most basic of Japanese greetings. I don’t think it was phrased as a question, so…why did the subbers go with that?

Nana keeps breaking her chopsticks by leaving a bit at the end.

Lemme guess…Shibusawa’s talent is actually reversing time, not stopping it.

Is…that Shibusawa Nana’s giving flowers to…?

Golden Kamuy 3 1 (25)

If this is episode 25, was this always planned as a split-cour with season 2? I wonder…

Lingonberries! Oh, lingonberries! They’re those berries Ikea puts into their jam, right? (I’ve never tasted a lingonberry, but…yeah. That’s how I know of them.)

The sign says “Hurep Honpo” (backwards, as some older Japanese/Chinese things do), so it really just says “hurep” (since “honpo” = main shop). Update: Hurep actually means “lingonberry” and not the berry wine like I thought it did here, so it says “hurep wine” after all.

Thank goodness for 2D bears! (LOL)

Ratel?...uh, honey badger! That’s what they’re called in English!

…uh, and then it turns out to be a wolverine. I don’t know my Mustelidae, it seems.

There’s nothing like someone throwing a wolverine to know this is Golden Kamuy…(as weird as that sounds.)

…what was that random line about boobs about…? (Maybe it was just said to be random…?)

…ohhhhhhhh. These yellow eyes work much better than the standard red eyes you see in Munou na Nana or Moriarty. They’re so sinister.

Why did it suddenly change to an interview style…? Weren’t we waiting for a fight? Update: Seems the answer is “padding”. Not that I mind, I think it was interesting actually. Do more of that if you can.

[christinefoley]

How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

I’ve been a teacher for nearly thirty years now, and so I should be red hot at knowing how to manage time. After all, the average classroom teacher regularly has so many plates spinning on a daily basis that every limb is a whirling blur in perpetual motion. Experience has taught me that allowing even one plate to go gyrating off its axis can bring chaos and catastrophe for the whole delicately balanced collection.

Blogging

But this blogging malarkey- well, that’s different. And I’m finding the whole issue of time management more challenging than I’d anticipated, to be completely honest. I mean, thinking about the whole idea of becoming a blogger was…well- just fantastic, really. I love writing, and blogging means that I can write about stuff that really interests me, and never again have to write about things that just don’t.

Primary School Teacher

To clarify what I’m talking about, you may not know this, but the average primary school classroom teacher is obliged to take an interest in such mind-numbing subjects as: rocks and soils, units of measure ( both metric and imperial), adverbial phrases and subordinating and coordinating conjunctions. Admit it- you’re bored already! Imagine having to feign interest in that lot- and a whole host of even more boring topics besides- for nearly thirty years! I don’t know how I’ve done it!

Working From Home

So, what I thought was: become a blogger: write about interesting things, things that get my fingers positively sparking over the laptop key board: it’ll be great! Hey- and you get to do it from home, and manage your own time! Goodbye M6! Goodbye difficult parents! Ta-ta to staff meetings and professional development and tedious meetings about assessment. No more report writing- hurray!!

This will be the new pattern of my Week

Monday morning: awakened at 7am by the alarm- no more 6:30 for me anymore! Up, dressed, breakfast and ready at my laptop to report for writing duty by 8:30 am at the latest.

Straight into writing/ preparing next blog post.

Timetable

9:30 am: take first break: wee, coffee, throw the ball for the dog in the garden for around 20 minutes, then back to the keyboard to work steadily through until lunch at around 12:00.

12:00 healthy lunch put together: salad, hummus, green stuff- that sort of thing- and eaten before 1pm before returning to the laptop for another hour’s work. That hour will be spent emailing, and suchlike.

FREE TIME!

2pm-5:00 FREE TIME! Wow! The whole afternoon off!!

Obviously ,this precious time will not be frittered away on any kind of pointless activities: no, it will be utilised for exercise, dog-walking and attending classes that I’ve really wanted to attend but have always been otherwise occupied teaching PE, the Egyptians or subordinate clauses or suchlike. No, now I will spend my afternoons attending French conversation sessions, singing, creative writing workshops and book clubs. I may even join a hiking club and enjoy hiking in the nearby Lake District.

5pm: teatime. Evenings will be spent working on my blog business- no more than an hour or so- and then I’ll actually go out: live music, pubs, the theatre, meals out- whatever I want, because there are no lessons to plan for the next day- and certainly no marking. Fantastic!!

Manage Time?

It’ll be a joy! No more telling myself I’ll do an hour’s marking, then I’ll fill in those assessment tables and then I’ll spend another hour and half preparing tomorrow’s lessons, before……..NO MORE, No more for me!

So, you’re asking, has it worked out like that?

Well, the fact is that I’m still teaching at the moment, so haven’t had the chance to try out this new lifestyle which I have planned out for myself just yet; but I’m having this creeping suspicion that I’m not going to be able to live that life exactly to plan.

Deadlines

Why not? Well, I guess I kind of like deadlines- I am programmed to respond to them anyway. I was always that one who started working on my essays well before the deadline at university, so that I had plenty of time. I was never the last minute panic type-no, I kind of used the whole two weeks preparation time to get pages of notes together and then panic over the last few days about how I was going to create anything of any value out of all that stuff.

Being My Own Boss

What worries me now, is that, as a blogger, working on my own blog, I am going to have to impose my own deadlines, and I’m not convinced that I’ll be all that good at it. It’s that thing about being my own boss- in one way, it’s what we dream of, but in another way it’s kind of scary. I mean, when you’re at work and things go tits up, the boss is ultimately the one who has to take it on the chin- not you. But if you are your own boss, and things don’t go right- well……it’s all your fault.

How To Manage Time and Work Like A Boss

So, before I cut the umbilical cord of a regular job and life pattern, I’ve been researching some hints and tips from the experts about time management- I’m in my note-taking preparation stage.

Find Your Most Productive Hours

Now, there’s a great idea! Work out when you are generally at your most productive and schedule most of your heavy lifting tasks for those times. A  first rate tip for time management- after all, how many people have you heard declare themselves a ‘night owl’ or ‘an early bird’? Loads, right?

Night Owl, or Early Bird?

So obviously that got me to thinking about myself: am I a night owl, or an early bird? A night owl, probably, because I’m used to working in the evenings after school. OK, so save all the deep-thinking stuff for the evenings. Yes…..possible, I guess.

Write a to-do List the Night Before

Undeniably a top idea! Apparently, only takes about five minutes and it means that the next day you can hit the ground running without any fiddling about. Hmmm, so- five minutes before bedtime…just a quick list…

You know what that would mean for me? Five minutes writing, followed by 45 minutes lying awake thinking it all through. Sleep well and up at 7:00 am to hit the ground running? Not on your nelly.

Back to the drawing board…next tip for how to manage time, please?

Start on the Most Critical Task First

Yes….now, that’s good….I get that. Get the thing that’s bothering you most out of the way first thing and you’re bound to feel better about yourself and what you can achieve.

Now that makes perfect sense! Thing is….that’s just not me. No, better for me to get a few little things ticked off my list first to get me stoked up with enough confidence to bring out the big guns and get cracking on those tasks that are going to CHANGE MY LIFE.

Sit down at my laptop and hit myself straight between the eyes with something that scares the pants off me and has probably kept me awake ever since I wrote it down on that to-do list the night before? That just ain’t happening.

Next hint, please….

The Eisenhower Matrix

What d’you mean- you’ve never heard of it? Well, I’m not a fan of tables, because they bring out all my twitches, but this one makes perfect sense- you may want to look it up. In essence, the idea is that you write down all the tasks you need to do- in one, long, terrifying list- then you categorise all the tasks. If it’s urgent, mark it ‘U’, if it’s important, mark it ‘I’, and if it’s neither of those, then cross it out.

Still following me?

Next, you evaluate how much time each of the remaining tasks on your list is likely to take and arrange a plan for yourself. Now, I must admit, I’m liking this idea of time management…especially the stuff that you can cross off the list altogether. The aim is to identify your genuine priorities: which tasks on your list are going to get you to achieve your objective the most quickly, and which, simply, are not.

Like it. Yes, this is one for me! Next tip, please…..

Use Time Constraints- Set a Timer

This tip to help you to manage your time advises using a timer to set time to achieve certain tasks, as the task will inevitably expand if there is an unrestrained time in which to do it. The idea is to beat the timer- complete the task in even less time than that which you allocated!

Hmm. Have I not escaped the 5-9 to escape exactly that- time constraints? The school timetable is gone, so I devise one of my own? Not sure I want to do that to myself, although I do understand the benefits of this time management idea, and every task does undoubtedly expand if there are no constraints in terms of time.

Hmm… I need to think this one through…….and while I’m thinking about it I might just make another cup of coffee and put a load of washing on…maybe iron those few shirts? Watch a bit of TV?

No, Christine, you’re talking about being productive, remember? Now, sit down and just get on with it.  

Next hint to ace time management, please.

No Distractions

No browsing your ‘phone, checking through emails, doing odd bits of housework. Now I have struggled with this trick of how to manage time, but have actually had a breakthrough in recent weeks.

What has worked for me, is to go out of the house- no dog wanting to play, no endless possibilities for making coffee and no housework-style responsibilities. The other benefit of being out of the house-for me- is no silence.

Silence

I’m not very happy with silence- it makes me a bit edgy. Never been very productive working in libraries and such places. However, it’s no good putting on music either, because then I start listening to that instead of concentrating on the job in hand.

Coffee Shops

I’ve found that coffee shops are my perfect place for productivity. Not only is there the gorgeous aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans wafting up my nose, but there’s just the right kind of background noise- neither too loud nor too silent to distract me. Obviously, a great cup of cappuccino also enhances the whole experience.

If you would like to learn more about how to manage time, and tips that you could use to improve your own productivity, then take a look at this excellent article by Dan Silvestre: ’23 Time Management Techniques of Insanely Busy People.’

[eyeofnewtblog]

Chapter Ninety-One

Debbie catches sight of another three watchers, idling slowly through the junkyard, never really turning their backs on her family. She adjusts her grip on the 18 inch adjustable crescent wrench she’s holding, and angles her body towards Mary. She holds three fingers over her heart and scratches while she makes eye contact with her niece. Mary shifts her gaze, catches sight of them, and rolls her eyes. 

Zoh’ziof comes trotting up to them, brandishing something metal and complicated in his hands, yipping excitedly. 

“Baby, honey,” Debbie sighs, tapping her ear frantically.

“Yes, sorry,” Zoh’ziof finally manages, fumbling the translator on. “It’s just so surprising to find the kind of technology that we’ve been trying to build for the last ten years discarded in a junk heap. But anyway, this is going to take care of a lot of the hard drive issues we’ve been having. Now that we’ve welded wheels and very basic mechanical arms to most of the AIs, this is going to let them have even more autonomy! They can do data dumps of their core personalities onto this matrix, while still functioning in the real world like any other biologically made creature. I’m very excited about this! I wonder how you’ve managed to make the device so small; I bet it's some sort of derivative of quantum-”

“Zoh, I think the Doc is calling me, so I’m gonna do a perimeter sweep while I take this, okay? You go ahead and keep looking for stuff. You’re doing great.” Debbie pats him gently on the wrist, smiles, and tries to sidle away, especially from Mary’s glare. Sure enough, the Morin doesn’t care who he’s talking to, as long as he’s allowed to be excited at someone.

Debbie sweeps the yard with her eyes again, taking in the three she’s just spotted, the four that tailed them from the shipyard, and the two that were already at the junkyard when they’d arrived. Nothing special about them; plain clothes, a mix of species, but always at least one human. Guns strapped to their hips, maybe a few hidden knives, probably ex-fleet, but staying far enough away that they’re clearly just watching. Not looking for their own treasures, considering the fact that they never pause to look over anything that doesn’t have a reflective surface to watch them in. 

The human faces are vaguely familiar, like she might have seen them in passing more than a few times, but she knows for a fact that that she’s never had a direct introduction. It’s bugging her, an itch in her bones that’s growing like a missing limb, right up until she glances over at the entrance of the junkyard. 

One blond human male in a civie suit, flanked by five officials in riot gear, the refraction armor glittering in the weak sun. They scatter rainbows over the ground as they start toward her. 

“Mary, trebuchet! Zoh’ziof, Iditarod! Issac, circle the wagons! Adam, M’kxt, fast n’ furious!” Debbie screams across the junkyard, her voice carrying to every corner. 

Debbie white knuckles the wrench in her hand, feels her front teeth go dry from her lips pulling back. She knows the blond asshat in the suit; she walks slowly out to meet him, letting her family scatter behind her according to their coded instructions. 

She can feel the laser pistol in her hip holster rubbing against her thigh, the knife hilt rubbing at the small of her back, the wrench in her hand; the only thing she has to decide on is how to move her body. She can hope for movement of the watchers, but not court on them. 

“Harry. Hey. How professional do I look now?” She asks, stalking forward. 

“Well, considering the fact that you’re actually wearing sensible shoes, pretty good.” The blond man says. 

Debbie draws her arm back, flattening her palm, as she walks towards him. His eyes dart to her shoulder and back to her face, and she brings her arm around to slap him just as she kicks him in the balls. She brings the slapping hand down to her hip pistol as she pivots, bringing the wrench up to smash into the refraction shield of the nearest officer. 

The shield fractures, but she’s spinning away before her niece can fry a hole through brain matter. She doesn’t even bother with fighting the others, just draws her pistol and snugs the muzzle against the base of Harry’s skull. 

She waits for the whine of their rifles to shift to full power as Harry raises his hands above his head. 

“Not a smart move, Debbie,” he says. 

“You ever play blackjack twenty-one?” Debbie fires back. “I'm guessing not, because you really suck at counting cards.” 

She smiles as the crunch of gravel and the high whine of charged pistols sounds behind her. She doesn’t have to turn to know that the separate groups tailing her have come to her rescue.

“Harry, it’s only fair to warn you. I’m really fucking mad at you for calling my murder pumps unprofessional.” 

“I came here to arrest you, and you’re holding me at gunpoint over a pair of shoes?” Debbie grinds the muzzle into the base of his skull, wishing it was an antique revolver that made clicking noises. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna tell you the same thing Uncle Mike will. You made a bad play, and your plan didn’t work because you’re an idiot. Now, would my new guests care to introduce themselves, or do they want to remain anonymous creepy stalkers?”

“Nah, not right now. We just wanted to see if you were anything like Rachel. And if you were, we might want to negotiate some long term arrangements.”

“Harry, this is what good negotiation tactics sound like. In what way do I benefit from you arresting me? In another six months to a year, rouge AIs won’t even be illegal, so the thing you’re trying to achieve is pointless to begin with.”

“You really believe that the prime minister, the ACTING prime minister who was a designated survivor, can push through a bill that drastic-”

Debbie pulls the gun back and hits him in the back with the wrench. 

“I believe that Uncle Mike will want to see us for the holidays. Also, you’ve clearly never met him.”

“You’re not just violating the AI regulations, you’re also recruiting child soldiers-”

“You can keep talking, but I will bash your skull in.” Debbie waits, but she’s met with silence. “Alright, let’s get them cuffed and then get out of here.”

She holsters her pistol, then holds one fist up above her head. She extends one finger, makes a circle, and watches just long enough for Mary to get down and out. 

“Where you headed now?” One of her rescuers asks. 

“No idea. But you’re welcome to tag along if you’re interested.”