#cue the ‘that’s all folks!’ end screen

[peachypie-puppy]

Secret Admirer, turns out my guess was right. Maybe I’m a detective, or maybe you wanted me to know. 💚

[thesassypadawan]

Come Clean (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You finally get to go along with Hayden to a con!  And you, being the little dork you are, insist on getting a pic with your bf…just like everyone else!  Everything is going smoothly, but this one sleemo in line just won’t leave you alone.  It’s almost like they know about what’s going on between you two.

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. 

Notes: A little something for @jediskywalkerblog!  I really enjoyed writing this, made me feel all warm and giggly!  Hope you like it! ❤️

- What would happen the day the rest of the world finds out about you two? The day you finally come clean.

- In the back of your mind, the thought was always there. Normally you wouldn’t pay much attention to it. Since you both are so careful and keep such a low profile. But on a day like this one…when you’re literally surrounded by his fans. Well, it was kind of hard to ignore.

- To be fair, this was, mostly, your idea. You’ve wanted to go along with Hayden to a con for a while, because you’re so proud of him and, dammit, you support your man. But now that you’re here, seeing all these people, you can’t help feeling a tiny bit nervous. Maybe you should have stayed behind the scenes, instead of insisting on getting a photo with him like everyone else.

- As if on cue, the sound of Lord Vader’s breathing comes floating from his hoodie, that you ‘borrowed’, pocket. ‘Wonder who that could be,’ you joke to yourself while fumbling with your phone.

- Sure enough, it was a text from…

♡Big Dork♡: Have I told you how good your butt looks in those leggings? 😘

- Smiling, you discreetly glance over your shoulder. Hay was, of course, not standing there; only a wall of privacy curtains. But the longer you stare at it, you notice someone looking back at you through the crack.

- Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to your screen…

♡Little Dork♡: Shouldn’t you be taking pics with all these nice folks right now, instead of checking out my ass? 🤣

- Lord Vader breathes again…

♡Big Dork♡: I stepped out for a moment to enjoy the view. 😘 And to check up on you. Still doing okay? ❤️

- You give a small nod for him to see…

♡Little Dork♡: Yep. Now get back out here so I can get my turn with you. 🥰

- More breathing…

♡Big Dork♡: Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. 😉

- You roll your eyes and lock your phone. But, when you do so, you’re met by yours and the person behind you in line’s reflection.

- It was clear that they were reading your whole conversation with Hayden. Not wanting to make it into a big thing, you quickly shove it back into your pocket. Trying to act like you didn’t even notice.

- No such luck. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” they try to fakely apologize. “I hope you don’t think I was prying. I was only checking the ti-”

- Thankfully that’s when Hay stepped back out. The clapter and cheering of the crowd cut the sleemo short, ending the very uncomfortable chat. Or at least that’s what you hope.

- Spotting you, Hay instantly flashes you a smile. Which you, naturally, return.

- You don’t think much of it, but the sleemo certainly does. “Seems like Hayden and you are pretty friendly.”

- Your back stiffens. ‘Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!’ And you keep you eyes forward as you calmly reply. “Sorry, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

- “No?” The sleemo persists. “You smiled at each other just now. Could you possibly be-”

- “Next person, please!”

- Perfect timing. Refusing to let them ruin this special moment, you brush the sleemo off and go walking up to Hay.

- You two exchange mock pleasantries and pose for the camera all cutely (but not too cutely). Nice and smooth and totally discreet. Well, it was, until you turn to leave…

- “It was nice to meet you, angel. I hope to see you again real soon.” Hayden, out of habit, gives your bum a tap.

- You pause for a second. ‘Did he?! Really?! REALLY?!’ Then as quickly and nonchalantly as you can manage, you get the hell out of there. Praying that no one saw that.

- Pretending to act all nice, the sleemo follows you. “Miss! Excuse me, miss! You forgot your photo!”

- Trying your best to ignore them, you continue to weave through the crowd. Moving closer to the restricted access area. The one that Hay told you to go to if anything happened, that you’ll be safe there. ‘Come on! Come on! COME ON!’

- You almost make it too; the goal is just barely in sight. But as you’re fishing out your special pass, a hand grabs you by the shoulder. “I’m talking to you, little miss Hayden’s secret girlfriend!”

- Completely freezing up. You frantically think of what to do next when…

- “Hey! Take your hands off her!” Hay comes bursting out from behind the curtains, the most pissed off you’ve ever seen him. Like literal full blown Vader mode.

- The sleemo immediately lets you go, and you run over to him. “Hay!”

- Burying your face into his chest, he wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s okay. I got you, angel,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

- “So she is your girlfriend!” The sleemo, who was paparazzi all along, shouts as security begins to surround them.

- By now a crowd has gathered. It’s almost deadly silent as they all wait to hear his answer.

- Gazing down, he flashes you a quick grin. “Yeah, she is! Happiest I’ve been in years!”

- “Me too,” you grin back. Standing on your tip toes, you capture his lips in a tender kiss.

- A beat more of silence…before it explodes in cheers and applause.

- “Guess it’s no longer a secret,” you giggle.

- “Yeah,” he chuckles. “Sorry.”

- “Don’t be, it’s nice to finally come clean about it.”

[bairdthereader]

Time to pay homage to the Spring Queen, Tori.

[This is a long one, folks. I have lots of feelings. Sorry, not sorry! TLDR can just look at the gifs for the gist of the story.]

Having read Solitaire, This Winter, and Nick and Charlie in addition to Heartstopper, my thoughts on Tori and how she's portrayed in the show are a bit difficult to organize and express. Since we don't get her backstory in the show (yet), we see her exclusively engaging with Charlie's story; this leaves out a lot of her depth and complexity, or at least leaves it to the viewer to piece together. BUT . . .

The specific ways she goes about protecting Charlie say so much about her.

It's established from their first on-screen interaction that Charlie feels safe with Tori, both to be himself and to confide in her that he's ended his pseudo relationship with Ben, a relationship no one else knows about at this point. Tori automatically assumes the fault was with Ben, which is not only peak awesome older sister behavior, but a cue to Charlie that she knows him well enough to trust that he was not only not the offending party, but that the breakup was a very positive move for him. She's affirming and bolstering Charlie without any platitudes or unsolicited advice, a sign of her care and respect for him, as well as her understanding of him and his needs.

In Solitaire, Tori explains that she rides the bus with Charlie when he's dealing with particularly bad mental health struggles, which puts the scene toward the end of S1E7 in a slightly different perspective. She knows that something is deeply wrong, but also that Charlie isn't ready to talk about it. She keeps an earbud out just in case, but doesn't pressure him in any way, another sign of respect and silent support.

And of course the moment when Charlie is desperately vulnerable, scared, admitting his darkest thoughts to her, when she realizes for the first time (in the show timeline) just how deep the pain goes, she takes it seriously. She knows what it could mean. Though we as viewers haven't seen it yet, Tori knows her own version of this particular darkness and recognizes it in Charlie. She grounds him with firm, safe, physical touch and a truth that only she can give--which makes it the truest kind of truth, a bedrock truth for Charlie to stand on--that he is valuable to her and vital to her life.

After Charlie tells his parents about his relationship with Nick (with fairly negative results, but that's a whole other post), Tori's concern for Charlie is immediate. Not only does she remember how terrible the bullying Charlie experienced was, but she also knows how fragile his newfound happiness really is. Charlie misinterprets her question--whether intentionally or not I think might be up for debate--and assumes that her concern is mainly for Nick, asserting that he can protect Nick. Tori knows that Charlie will need that protection as well, maybe more, but also respects his choice to view the situation in this way. [Side note: respect is like Tori's secret love language; she doesn't give it very willingly.]

"Look after him or you die" seems funny, but Tori is dead serious. Her later accusation that Nick doesn't keep his promises feels harsh at first, and he doesn't really deserve it, but we have to see it for what it is. Tori is trusting Nick with a responsibility that she usually puts on herself, and she doesn't take it lightly; very few people can care for Charlie the way Tori does, and to her, failure to do so is indefensible. Nick's failing her test in this moment, though she's a complete enough person to recognize that it's a momentary lapse and trusts Nick with Charlie later in the story.

And of course there's the infamous Nelson dinner party, where Tori does in reality what we ALL want to do in spirit and knocks David down several pegs. She sees in him exactly the kind of person who bullied Charlie and made his life miserable, and she's not about to let it happen right in front of her. No real commentary here, just a deep appreciation for Tori's sisterly rage and complete disgust with David.

And then there's this:

Oh, season 3 Tori is going to be something to behold. I absolutely cannot wait. All hail the queen.

[sarahghetti]

absolutely purr-fect; m.k. x reader

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: you and the boys adopt a cat.

warnings: none! only fluff 'round here, folks.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

if there’s one thing the boys all have in common, it’s that they’re all cat people.

steven thinks they’re particularly cute, and has always liked the idea of having a cat curled up beside him as he reads.

jake got attacked by a dog during a mission once and has been wary of them ever since.

marc just appreciates their independence—the fact that their trust needs to be earned with a little more effort, a little more patience.

(you give him this look when he says that, and steven snorts from inside their headspace. marc pointedly ignores you both.)

they’ve always wanted a cat, but the logistics of it never worked out given their vigilante schedule.

getting someone to drop by and feed gus the ii and his friend once a day? no problem. but leaving a cat at the flat? even if it were in the care of one of their neighbours, the idea makes them uneasy.

but then they met you. and since you’ve moved in with them, the opportunity has become much, much more feasible.

steven often looks through listings from the nearby adoption centres, cooing over the cats they have available.

steven lets out the most precious little gasp, excitement illuminated by his laptop, and you can’t help but lean over to see what he’s looking at. a picture of a scrawny-looking shorthair with a pronounced snout is pulled up on the screen.

“his name is scream,” steven supplies, utterly enamoured.

“scream,” you repeat, and he nods. “well, the flat does have good soundproofing.”

he scrolls down some more and almost instantly, there’s a fluffy mess lounging on the back of a couch that catches your eye. your hand falls on steven’s to stop him from going down any further.

“kit kat!” you take control of the trackpad to circle kit kat’s adorable face. steven shakes his head, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, but does kit kat hold a candle to margarine?” margarine is a kitten so small that she looks like she’d immediately get lost in the mess of books and knickknacks strewn about the apartment.

steven’s posed an impossible question. you pout a little. “I want both.”

he sighs. “me too, love.”

jake sends you a picture of every single cat he spots on the street. they vary in quality—some are so close that you can count each whisker while others are nothing more than a fuzzy blob in the night.

the utter quantity is enviable. you have half a mind to think that they just spend their entire night patrol looking for cats around the city.

that said, if you ask, “did you get to pet it?” the answer is almost always no.

for all of yours and steven’s window adopting online, marc is the one who ends up bringing a cat home.

not even an hour after marc left to patrol, you stir awake to the sound of the front door banging against the adjacent wall. your boyfriend’s quiet voice hisses, “shit.”

“marc?” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. usually, he’s mum as a mouse when he comes back, cautious not to disturb you. you squint at him in the dark. “are you okay?”

“’m fine.” his silhouette moves into the living room, and one of the softer lamps is clicked on. “just—”

a sharp little mrow interrupts him, and you both fall silent as it rings out in the flat. was… was that—?

mreo-o-o-ow!

“marc!” you throw the blankets to the side as you jump out of bed, scurrying so fast to his side that you nearly trip over your own feet.

he’s still in the suit, mask and hood retracted, and held gingerly in his gloved hands is a dirty bundle of orange fur. the little guy is dwarfed against marc’s broad chest; narrowed green eyes watch your movements suspiciously. you bring your hand up to let the kitten sniff you, but marc leans away. “careful—he’s a bit touchy.”

“you’re holding him fine,” you point out, and he snorts.

“hardly.” as if on cue, the kitten lets out another piercing cry, squirming and scratching so fiercely that you’re sure it would leave some marks if not for the suit. marc grimaces as he tries to maintain his grip without hurting him, but his eyes widen when you sigh endearingly. “oh, no, don’t you dare—”

“can we keep him?”

while marc knows that he can’t say no to you for very long—a fact that’s going to be the end of him someday, he swears—he does effectively put that conversation on hold until the kitten can see a veterinarian in the morning.

trying to convince you to go back to sleep is a lost cause. you’ve brought home a stray kitten, marc—there’s no way you’re leaving him to try and figure out what to do on his own.

the commotion also wakes up steven and jake. you can only hear marc’s side of the conversation, but it’s clear that they’re as excited as you are for your new guest.

marc’s staring down the mirror, brow furrowed at whatever his alters are telling him through the reflection. the kitten is nonplussed by the argument happening over its head, only sinking further into marc’s arms.

“no, we can’t keep him—”

“aw, come on!” you interject. marc, unable to do anything that could bring you down when there’s that much excitement in your voice, only responds with a restless noise.

“he could already have an owner somewhere,” he reasons. one of them must offer to take over, because his mouth twists into a stubborn scowl soon after. “I’m fine.”

getting marc to take care of himself is a herculean feat, so you switch tactics, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think they just wanna meet the kitty.”

still, he bristles, and holds the kitten almost protectively against his chest. “the meet and greet can happen after we figure out what we’re doing.”

he steps away from the mirror then, and you pump your fist when his back is turned.

there’s a chance.

it’s the most intense googling research session you’ve ever been a part of.

marc gets most of the grime off its fur with a damp cloth, handling the kitten so gently that it might as well be made of glass. he still won’t let you touch it—too worried that it’ll hurt you somehow.

(you go along with it because yeah, if it does bite you, there’s no way marc’s letting you guys keep it.)

an old cardboard box is pulled out of recycling to serve as a makeshift bed, and some spare towels are neatly spread out on the bottom to provide some bedding.

you watch marc have a staring contest with the kitten as it sits inside, every muscle in his body tensed and ready as if anticipating a fight. the kitten, a valiant opponent, doesn’t seem to show any fear at the sight of your boyfriend, ancient ceremonial armor be damned.

it’s not until it’s contentedly chomping down on some boiled chicken you prepared that marc finally gives up the driver’s seat, getting some rest at yours and the others’ insistence.

jake comes in with a wide, wide grin, immediately crouching beside the box with a disbelieving sound.

“so small,” he comments, twiddling his fingers in a way to entice the little guy. the spark in jake’s eye is enough to know that he’s on your side in the keep-him-or-don’t conversation.

which means that finally, you can ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“what should we name him?” after the impromptu bath, the orange of its fur gleams a little warmer in the low light of the flat, but you wait patiently as you let kitten sniff you. you bite back a giggle when its whiskers brush against your hand.

jake winces in a way that tells you that he must be getting an earful from inside the headspace, but presses on. “juice? naranja? OJ?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you really want to name him after orange juice, huh.”

“yeah well, steven says some egyptian god.” he rolls his eyes. typical.

“and what does marc say?”

“marc says—” his voice shifts to a monotone drone “’—oh my god stop trying to pet the cat it’s still dirty and hostile and why are we trying to name the damn thing it’s only been here for like an hour it’s not staying jake shut your mouth you’re not funny—’”

your laugh startles the kitten but you can’t help it, burying your head in your arms to muffle the sound to no avail. if you looked up, you’d see the smug look jake is pointing at his nearest reflection.

there’s a nudge at your side as you quiet down. “and what about you, carino? what do you think?”

“hmm.” you tilt your head. “where did marc find him?”

a pause as he listens, then, “in a dumpster. behind that chinese place we like.”

your mind whirs, and you can see that jake is following the same train of thought. egg tart. chicken chow mein. mapo tofu.

you gasp, “dumpling.”

the look on marc’s face when you put ‘dumpling’ on the forms at the veterinarian’s office is priceless.

for what it’s worth, the kitten is in surprisingly good shape. some washing up, a round of vaccinations, and one microchip later, he’s released back into your care with little fanfare, but you’re positively buzzing.

you guys go a little overboard at the pet shop. jake fills the handbasket with an assortment of toys while steven and marc argue incessantly about the best food to buy, which bed he’d prefer.

“thought you didn’t even want to keep him!” steven snarks into the gleam of a metal shelf at some point, and you can practically hear marc’s ensuing scoff.

when you guys get home, jake dumps all the toys on the ground at once, a colourful mess of bells and feathers that almost blend into steven’s existing mess.

to no one’s surprise, dumpling plays more with the disposable plastic bag than the toys themselves. still, that doesn’t matter—jake can lay on his stomach and play with him for hours.

steven, mediocre human food chef, becomes a master cat food chef.

“good god,” you comment as he comes back from the store with his arms full of fancy looking packages. what started as mixing wet food in with the dry has seemingly become a new pinpoint of steven’s focus, and your eyebrows raise a little more with each label you read.

chicken liver, mussels, duck egg—all freeze dried and decked out in cartoony illustrations. dumpling jumps up to take a look, sniffing inquisitively at each bag.

“you’re gonna be eating better than us,” you quip. he’s still a little cautious, shying from sudden movements, so you just let him explore and don’t push when he slinks away.

“little guy only deserves the best, doesn’t he?” steven pulls out dumpling’s fish-shaped dish. you watch, mesmerized as he carefully begins to put food on it; he’s even pulled out the kitchen scale to properly measure everything.

steven talks as he goes, telling you (and dumpling) about each element with the same vigor he would apply to egyptology. organ meats for nutrients, bone broth for hydration, oils for a shiny coat—dumpling looks as baffled as you are.

although—he also looks quite impatient. steven keeps having to push him back to keep him from the dish before it’s ready. his little paws slide on the counter each time.

“ta-da!” steven presents the finished product to you with a flourish. it’s surprisingly well-plated for someone who sometimes eats straight from the pan.

though it doesn’t last long. the second he places it down, dumpling is ravenous. broth is splashed onto the ground. bits of dehydrated powder get caught in his chin. you worry a little that he’s gonna choke somehow.

steven manages to pull his attention away from the scene for a second, turning to you. a proud smile pulls at his lips. “think he likes it?”

with all your efforts, it doesn’t take very long for dumpling to get comfortable; the flat becomes his kingdom.

you find him lounging on the top shelves of steven’s bookcases and leaving stapler-like holes in marc’s research notes with his teeth.

jake is constantly running around looking for his driving gloves because dumpling always manages to get his paws on them and always squirrels them away in separate locations, somehow.

you wake up more often than not to a mouthful of fur—he loves to sleep on your pillow, regardless of whether or not your head is already on it.

“why. why.” marc dangles dumpling in the air by his front legs. an entire piece of sushi—swiped from marc’s plate on the coffee table—hangs from the kitten’s mouth, nearly the size of his head. there is not a hint of remorse. “steven’s putting a dent in our finances to buy you organic beef hearts or whatever-the-hell and you come over here to steal my food?”

the defendant remains silent. marc lets out a low grumble and deposits dumpling onto his lap, sushi and all, keeping his hand on him to stop him from taking anything else.

you lean into his side. “thought you said we shouldn’t give him any scraps, hm?”

it’s true—while jake folded immediately, often sneaking bites to dumpling under the table, and steven excuses a bit here and there just as a treat, love—marc is the strict cat-dad who stubbornly ignores those big, begging green eyes whenever they pop up during a meal.

or at least, he was. marc chews slowly, an obvious delay to answering your question, and so you hum again, prodding. it’s not that he’s hated having the cat around, but for a while it was clear that he was the sole holdout to keeping him.

finally, he swallows. you wait with bated breath as he sighs. “he can have a little bit. just this once, though.”

the last part is said directly to the culprit, who’s purring like a motor with the soils of his hunt. your grin is blinding. marc goes back to eating, but you and dumpling come to the same delightful conclusion—

yeah, it’s not going to be just this once.

[thalialunacy]

[written for the @calaisreno FABULOUS MAY PROMPTS FEST! This is the last one from me, folks. Thanks for being along for the ride. 💋]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) 31: pride

'End, begin, all the same.' - Aughra, "The Dark Crystal"

The tannoy at the train station nearest Sherlock's parents' house is phlegmatic enough that John almost doesn't catch their names being called.

He exchanges glances with Sherlock over the top of Rosie's head, but the detective is of no real help. 'Fine, then. Let's go at least see what it is.'

Sherlock makes his Calculating Risk face, then nods. 'The odds of it being an assassin are low.'

'Comforting,' John replies dryly as they exit towards the car park. Then he sees what's ahead of them. 'Are you sure?'

Because in the waiting zone is an understated but incredibly expensive car, and there's a well-suited, quietly brick house-like man standing by the driver's side door.

'Fairly,' Sherlock says, mouth twisting. 'He's one of Mycroft's.'

'Not reassuring, really.'

The man assesses them blandly as they approach. 'My only objective is the car hand-off, gents. You're to drive yourselves.'

John shifts Rosie to his other side. 'Yes, erm. Where… To?'

'Dumfries,' the man says shortly, handing a thin dossier to Sherlock. 'Cheers.'

Sherlock watches him go with a scowl. 'If Mycroft could stop being an interfering busybody for one moment-- Oh.'

John glances at his expression, and clearly there's something of note in the dossier--presumably a case--but he has a toddler to wrestle into a car seat. Because of course there's a carseat. Interfering or no, Mycroft is an incredibly detail-oriented busybody.

Sherlock's scowl stays in place as they get underway, and John clears his throat. 'Want me to fire up the old GPS?'

Sherlock looks for a moment like John's vocabulary pains him -- it probably does, John thinks with not a little bit of amusement -- then nods.

This is unusual-- Sherlock likes to show off his navigation skills, and to be fair, John finds them impressive-- so John complies without issue. He pulls open the dossier and scans it for the name of their lodgings, which he puts into his phone absently. 'I've not been to this part of Scotland since I was a kid. There's a triangular castle with a real siege weapon, and--'

He stops. Stares at the phone screen.

"Gretna Green," it declares as their destination.

'I see you've figured out Mycroft's cunning plan,' Sherlock intones.

John lets out an incredulous laugh. 'Is he taking the piss?'

'He's hired us a car which is probably worth more than the one he owns, so I'd say not.'

As if on cue (and that will never not be creepy, John swears) John's phone pings with several texts.

Consider this a hint.

The case is more than adequate, if my brother complains.

Don't let your country, or my mother, down.

MH

John opens his mouth, but Sherlock cuts him off. 'He sent me a similar message.'

'Lovely,' John mutters. 'Well.' He considers. 'The hired house looks like something out of a very brand-conscious fairy tale, so that'll be amusing for Rosie.'

'Grimms tales, maybe,' Sherlock mutters. John's lips quirk.

They're silent for a while, comfortable, listening to Rosie smash plastic toys together in the back-- she's very fond of dinosaurs, particularly the bloodthirsty kind-- and not really watching the countryside go by.

John's scrolling through podcast options on his phone when Sherlock eventually breaks the silence. 'Do you know--' he starts.

'Probably not,' John says easily.

'Gretna Green have actually been very reluctant about relinquishing their old-fashioned image.'

John watches his face. 'Meaning… white?'

Sherlock's mouth quirks. 'Among other things.' He glances at John, who only takes a moment to get the inference.

'Ah, I see. Well.' He considers it, then his risk-loving brain decides for him. He plucks Sherlock's free hand up and presses his lips to one knuckle. 'Feel like upsetting some apple carts?' he asks, smirking.

Sherlock's hand tightens with his answering grin. 'God, yes.'

Fin fuckin finally

[Y'all, I have been to Gretna Green and it's reeeeal heteronormative, despite technically offering same-sex weddings (eg that's literally the only queer-coded picture on the site afaik). I just love the idea of J&S causing chaos there by being extraordinarily traditional while also being two blokes, and, you know, being themselves.]

[triscribeaucollection]

Slowly losing my mind, there are now six whole stories I want to write that involve dropping people from future timelines/alternate universes into the DCAU, mostly specifically between Justice League Unlimited seasons one and two, but I can't settle on which I want to write fiiiiirst

Within the shared universe:

-Batman Beyond's Justice League comes back in time for an unintended visit, the usual handful plus a few of my OCs, including a new Amazon princess aka Bruce/Diana's grown daughter, who argues with Terry incessantly but she will dropkick the first person who says anything disparaging about the next Bat, that's her psuedo little brother thank you very much (and also her half-sibling but shhh they don't know that yet)

-I've got this very convoluted AU for a Batman Beyond Nightstar that I won't bother explaining all of right now, but I want to take that iteration of a 14yo Mar'iand'r Grayson from the future and toss her waaay back to Batman: The Animated Series, when her dad is still Robin and her grandpa hasn't really socialized with any other heroes yet, and this poor kid is not well versed in the past that's now suddenly the future, but as long as she's stuck with this much younger and smaller version of her family she is Going to Do Her Best to make sure things work okay

-There exists a background character in the Elseworlds comic of Kingdom Come confirmed to be the daughter of Supergirl and Brainiac-5, and I have thoughts about this kid, I want to make a DCAU version of her to be yoinked from the 31st century back a thousand years to meet her Uncle Kal-El, BUT with a friend with a mystery background and this one is sad, guys, I made myself cry at work thinking about ultimate sacrifices and failing to save someone at the last moment and honoring the memory of those who are gone but not forgotten

Then from *alternate* universes, I've got the newest brainrot of picking up 22yo Clark with Lois and Jimmy from My Adventures with Superman to gently deposit in this world, and let all three of them squeak over the differences (older Clark! Plus Kara! The whole League!) and this includes a moment of Jimmy seeing this more mature Superman and immediately going "Ohhh no, nononono, you are not allowed to get BIGGER and BEEFIER! I am putting my foot down!" to the general amusement of everyone else nearby.

Not quite as shiny but just as funny is the thought of nabbing Jon Kent from the comics and tossing him across the path of DCAU Lois Lane, give her a chance to shine while getting the kid in touch with someone who can help send him home, only to find out Oh Hey there are a bunch of other superhero kids who came along with him, including a rather prickly Robin who demands "Where have you been, Kent?" which causes Lois to bluescreen for a minute (cue Clark somewhere off screen going 'oh I'm in danger')

And then, I want to go back and do a re-write of my old Young Justice S1 dropped into JLU S2 fic, my skills have improved a fair amount over the past, oh, six-ish years, and there are some different ways I'd handle various introductions. Not to mention I think I'd actually include an ending, this time, instead of losing steam over a plot I didn't really vibe with and leaving the whole thing unfinished...

Just. The DCAU, folks. I'm stuck ping-ponging between ideas that I sadly don't have the energy to work on right now, but eventually that will change and then WATCH OUT

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

La Seduction Vengeance // Part Two.

CW: mentions of violence, manipulation

The rope was tight. Enough. Coarse, tied securely around the trunk of a blossom tree outside the house, I observed my setup. If my amateur calculations were correct, the breezeblock suspended from the tree should fall directly onto the bonnet of Mr Thompson's car. It was midnight, people on my street known for getting early nights. That was the lucky thing in my situation, the residents of Blossom Close either over the age of 80 or so inundated with money that they'd be visiting their multiple holiday homes as soon as the sun burned the streets warmer. My dad and I were the youngest on the street, keeping everyone feeling youthful and hopeful with the sitcom-like happiness that used to radiate from our home.

Now, Mr Thompson wasn't a terribly behaved man, he just had some what he called 'old-fashioned' ideals about the way the world was changing. And it was those outlandish opinions shared a little too loudly to those on our street that made me choose him for this particular mission. I needed to get that SUV down this road, and I needed to speak to that officer. Double checking that none of the houses lights had switched on - elderly folk up using the bathroom at witching hour - and when I was sure it was clear I pulled out the shiny engraved switchblade my dad had bought me for my 18th. "Every young woman should have one of these. In case of emergencies, you know?"

I'd consider this an emergency, Dad. Slicing the thick rope in one swift cut, the breezeblock came tumbling down onto the grey metal, the alarm instantly blaring to alert the street. I ran away to my house, three doors down - thankfully - and ran through my screen door. Sweat formed on my brow as I peered through my living room curtains, making sure to keep all my lights off. As I heard commotion and angry yells from Mr Thompson; I knew that was my cue. Wrapping a large hoodie around my frame and pulling it over my head, I pulled an eye mask over my head too, letting it nestle on the rim of my forehead as I slipped on some slippers. Heading out into the cold, dark night once again, I found Darcy coming out to our side of the road.

"Looks like Jerry's in a bit of trouble there." Darcy spoke with a slight giggle. She didn't like him either, not many of the residents of this street did. Looking down the pavement at Mr Thompsons arms flailing about angrily as residents began to gather at the chaos, the all too familiar silhouette of the black SUV came swinging around the corner of the street. Bingo. Clunky black DM's hit the concrete as the young man stepped out of the car, sucking back a disgusting cloud of flavoured smoke from a vape I could see was electric green from down the street. He came towards Mr Thompson and his beautifully wrecked car (you're welcome) before looking around at the other residents. His eyes landed on mine for a moment before drifting back to Mr Thompson.

"He might just be the dishiest officer we've had around here, you know. Your age too." Darcy mumbled as she folded her arms, trying to hug herself away from the chill of the night. I knew what she was trying to do, trying to hook me up with the not entirely unattractive sheriff, but she had no idea of my ulterior motive. I chuckled lightly in her direction, keeping my eyes on the officer. Shit. He was walking towards me. If I end up in a jail cell I'm screw-

"Good evening ladies, or should I say mornin'?" The young man spoke with a sideways smile. Darcy and I smiled in response, her bony elbow nudging mine subtly. I nudged her back. "You lovely ladies see what happened to Gerry's car?"

"No, sir. I was sleeping. Woke up to the alarm blaring." I replied innocently, pointing to the eye mask atop my head. His eyes flickered up to it, studying it for a moment.

"Sleep is for the week?" He read the lettering on it aloud, chuckling to himself as he turned towards Darcy. "What about you, Ms Brook? Know you ain't too fond of the man. Got some weightlifting trophies we don't know about?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his ridiculous attempt at humour, my eyes looking over his uniform and his features. He had beauty marks dotted over his skin, ironic considering his cocky personality was so ugly. But the way his kevlar hugged his frame, his cap rested almost over two big chocolate eyes was getting a little intense. He didn't seem that attractive when he was perring out of the SUV window, but I suppose that's a distance away. Doubt flooded my mind that this young man could have possibly killed my father, but I needed to get answers nonetheless.

"Well here's a card with my details on. You know, incase something comes to ya." He said, shoving a little piece of cardboard into just my hand, Darcy peering over my shoulder at the writing. Gator Tillman. Tillman sounded familiar, but i couldn't think where from. I nodded up at Gator, tucking the card into my dressing gown pocket. He walked away, taking one more quick glance over my shoulder at me before patting Mr Thompson on the shoulder; seeming to have made amends with the old crony about fixing his car. Hm. I needed to speak to him more, I thought to myself, as I bid goodnight to Darcy and headed back into my house to sleep. And plan.

Like some kind of crazed, grieving magician I'd been working on my next trick for just a few days. The middle of the night worked best, as it seemed Gator was on call a lot more nightly as of late. I'd decided to make this one a little personal, meticulously planning out a break in. Of my own home. I'd wait until the street was silent, all the elderly folks resting peacefully in their beds - bar Gerry Thompson who I could practically still hear grumbling about his car even still - and I'd smash my front door window in. My dad had left some money in piggybanks in the basement and it was a little window, easy to fix. In he'd come, like a knight in shining camouflage and then I'd out him. Or whatever, I hadn't actually thought of the crux of the trap yet. The onyx sky rolled around quickly, as I bound multiple tea-towels around my fist and headed through my back door and around the porch towards the front. Punching straight through the glass, I unlocked the door and snuck in; making sure to use a pair of my dad's old shoes to tread in the glass. I did the same to my back door, punching out the glass towards the patio so the 'attacker' could escape.

Unwrapping the tea-towels and putting them back in the kitchen drawer, I was relieved that my fist was unharmed. The next part was to wreck my beautiful kitchen, making sure the drawers were emptied and the knife block was menacingly strewn onto the floor as it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Grabbing duct tape from the drawer, I wrapped it around my wrists, pulling it and securing it tightly with my teeth. Some feat. I threw the duct tape underneath the sink. Holding two strips in between the fingers of one hand and my mobile phone in the other, I headed upstairs to my dad's bedroom, sitting in the corner opposite the dresser and tying one of the duct tape strips haphazardly around my ankles. Calling 911, I took some quick breaths in succession before they picked up. Just as an unfamiliar male voice answered, my tied feet kicked the dresser and let everything crash from its top. I screamed for help as the person the phone confirmed someone was on their way. As I covered my own mouth with the final strip of duct tape, I muffled some fake screams through it as the call handler tried to reassure me. Rolling my eyes I took the final step, adrenaline running through my veins at my intricate plan; drawing my head back hard against the wall and slumping down with my eyes.

I came round to a deep voice and a firm hand pinching my shoulder. "Ma'am? Can you hear me?" Groaning and mumbling, I blinked my eyes open to see two officers knelt beside me, holding pieces of duct tape from my body and bottled water. "Is he gone?" I mumbled, mentally noting that I should absolutely write a speech for my upcoming Oscar. "Is who gone? We found signs of forced entry, you're looking at getting two new doors replaced. No perp though." One of the young officers spoke softly. Neither of them were Gator. My entire plan had been to get Gator into a corner, like a little rat. A rat who, no matter how intelligent he may have seemed, had no idea that the person holding the cheese had backed him up into that corner on purpose.

With an inspection of my head and more numbers to call if I was 'alarmed', the officers headed back to their station as I packed a bag to stay at Darcy's for the rest of the night. The officers warned that the 'perp' may come back with my broken doors, so they'd asked my sweet, oblivious neighbour if I could crash at her place. She was kind, as always. Opening the door in her fluffy robe and matching slippers, her smile as warm as the heating that rushed out of the door of her home. "Come on dear, tea is ready for you. Lord knows you must be shaking like a willow in a storm." Her soft voice carried me into her home, as I settled on her floral-patterned couch. We drank tea, as I allowed my mouth to ramble about the horrors of what - I had orchestrated - had happened that evening. I felt awful lying to Darcy's face but the rigid ache in form of flashbacks and memories of my father pushed the lies right out of my mouth.

She gave me a kiss on the head as I stood in the doorway of her spare room. I felt my eyelids tingle with a sadness I hadn't allowed myself to process yet. "You'll be alright darlin'." Darcy's words were gentle, but her actions bore a heavy weight that I think she knew I needed. Then they came, what felt like gallons of tears washing over my cheeks as Darcy wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me against her chest. "Double squeeze." She whispered softly, her arms tensing around my shoulders twice. I pulled away instantly with a worried look on my face between sobs. "How do you know - about - about double squeeze?" I said weakly, my voice wavering with sadness. Darcy's face broke into a sympathetic smile. "I've known you since you were this big, darlin' -" She whispered, holding her index and thumb finger paralell to each other, "Saw you grow up. Saw how your father loved you. Saw how you loved him. He always told me how clever you were, how you were going to take on the world. I still see it. In your eyes, you're still that clever little girl, that clever big man raised you to be. He said to me one day," Darcy spoke with such passion, her elderly voice hinting with her own grief for my father as she grasped my hands tightly, "He said, if I'm ever not here, remind her. Remind her of her bravery and dont forget the double squeeze." I let out a sad chuckle as I kept the flow of sadness streaming down my face as her words clung to my skin like the double squeeze. My father would always hug me, tightly, sometimes so tight that my lungs felt like they could burst. He'd let go with a chuckle, kissing the top of my head as he'd wrap his arms around me tighter, squeezing twice as he mumbled 'double squeeze' into the top of my head. What I'd give to feel that from him again. Darcy's arms were thick, soft and plush and the squeeze felt too kind. I needed the air knocked out of me. With a sad smile, I hugged her and thanked her for her kindness tonight as I shut the door behind me and settled into the squeaky metal bed frame. I hugged one of her downy cushions tightly, letting a few more tears hit the pillow. "Take on the world." "Clever little girl." Darcy's words echoed around my head as I tossed and turned, staring up at the mottled ceiling. I needed to get to that smarmy officer. Pretty boy. Dangerous for an active murderer to wear such a sweet smile. I needed to come up with something better.

[letmeridethatstaff]

The Truman and (Y/N) Show

Chapter 3: 97.2 ST

Word Count: ~1.2 K

Do not repost with out my permission nor translate and repost. This is a parody of The Truman Show.

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of religion, also * means there is a note about it in the end notes, toxic mother in law, fear of life being a show, not editing because it do be midnight

~~~

The scene opens to (Y/N) driving Truman to work.

Radio Announcer: And it’s another beautiful day in paradise folks, but don’t forget to buckle up out there in radio land! [MALFUNCTION] Remem-

105.7 Channel 1

Radio: Good driver- good- good- good

90.7

94.1 ST

“What the hell?” Truman starts fiddling with the radio.

“Wait for the cue. Wait for the cue. Stand by for countdown. Stand by-“ the t.v. screen shows tv static as it is hit by Truman. “Hun- wait you might break it!”

“Eh it’ll be fine!” Truman starts using his foot to wack the radio in hopes of fixing it.

“Their heading West on Stewart.”

Finally a channel!

“Stand by all extras. They’ll be on you in about 90 seconds.”

Odd must be one of those channels that tells a story. She’s listened to a few mostly it’s a radio show reenacting the Christian Bible*.

“Props, make sure the coffee’s hot. Okay they’re making the turn into Lancaster Square.”

Now that caught their attention. Both of them looked at each other. Distracted: she swerves out of the way from hitting a woman.

“Oh my god! She almost hit her! Something’s wrong. Change frequencies!” All of a sudden a loud high pitched frequency fills the car. Everyone around them stops for a brief second and then continues on as if nothing happened.

Radio Announcer: Ouch. Sorry about that folks I guess we picked up a police frequency or something.

“Or something.” (Y/N) parks the car and takes deep breathes while Truman looks around.

“It sometimes happens, and it can drive you crazy! Okay, it’s Classical Clive back in here and we’ve still got some great music up ahead, but hey don’t forget to buckle up. Remember safety. A good driver is a safe driver. A safe driver is what? Yes -“ the radio announcer chuckles before Truman shut off the radio.

“Are you okay?” Truman turns towards her.

“Yeah yeah- I’ll be fi-“ (Y/N) stops herself when she notices a newspaper headline: CRACKDOWN ON HOMELESS: Seahaven Island City Fathers say “Enough is Enough!” Officials Respond to Public Outery Over Nagging Problems

Those words- the same excuse Truman’s mom stated. They got out of the car with Truman following her. They reached the stand and Truman saw the same paper- realizing the same thing. Both in awe and shock.

“L-let’s get you to work.” (Y/N) grasped Truman’s hand and walked with him. When they reached his work place they kissed goodbye.

Truman reached the revolving door, but for some reason Truman just kept spinning in circles. He walked out towards her, “Trust me?”

“Without question.” He walked with her a bit before deciding he needed to tie her already tied shoes. They walked further to a little picnic area where they people watched. Then abruptly Truman walked into traffic- “Truman!” The bus slammed on its breaks and so did the other cars. Truman started running towards her and grabbed her hand- “You know I hate running!” She yelled.

“You know I love you!” He then stopped abruptly and ran in the opposite direction towards another building. One they never went into nor needed too.

Truman calmed himself as (Y/N) did too when they entered. When going to the elevators they weren’t able to reach it in time and the door slammed shut. A lady next to them stood at another elevator. Security at that point walked up to them, “Can we help you two?”

“I-we have an appointment with Gable Enterp-“ Truman started to say, (Y/N) was shell shocked as the doors opened to reveal not an elevator but about 5 people sitting, reading what looked like a script, and eating. Truman finally saw it too once the walls-doors?- started closing. “What the heck was that?!” Truman demanded. The guards grabbed both of them- “Hey!”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” A guard stated. “You’ve gotta go ma’am and sir. We’re remodeling.”

“No you're not! What are those people doing back there!” Truman started to fight against the guard's grip.

“It’s none of your business!” The guard holding (Y/N) became too tight and she yelped from the pain- “Hey! Get your hands off my wife!”

“If you don’t tell us what’s happening, we’ll report you!” (Y/N) was starting to fight back now after the audacity of the guard’s hard grip. Finally they were tossed out of the building. Truman hit a man with his briefcase on the way out- no reaction- no “Hey quit it!” from the man- not one person looked at them. No one was reacting.

~

After a rush home and taking refugee. They went to the one place they thought they would be alone, safe, their spot.

“Maybe we’re being set up for something. Do you ever feel like our whole lives have been building up to something?” Truman and (Y/N) were sitting on a sandy dune in front of the ocean. She couldn’t answer- she knew it was- but if she admitted it, then that would make it real. A terrifying reality.

“The sunsets perfect…” she said quietly. Truman realized why she hadn’t answered him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’ve heard stories from Marlon about how perfect the sunset is…is because of the big guy** in the sky, with a great paintbrush- did you know that.”

“Yeah,” Truman told her dejectedly. “Between us…we should go away for a while.”

“Fiji?”

“Fiji.” She looks at Truman. Nodding in agreement. Sharing a kiss they head home.

~

An unexpected knock was at the door. (Y/N)’s nerves were high so Truman answered for them.

“Oh, mother! How unexpected of you!” Mother!?

Damn Angela and her unexpected visits.

~

Someway, somehow they had pulled up Truman’s baby photo album.

“Oh little angel!” His mother cooed. She of course sat right next to Truman with (Y/N) on the other side of him. Thank goodness she didn’t sit in between them like last time. After looking through multiple albums and multiple photos- “Mother don’t you think we should be getting you home?”

“Oh! Hold on a minute. Here’s us at Mount Rushmore! When your father was still alive. Such a long drive- Truman you slept the whole way there!”

“It seems so small.” Truman peered closer at the photo.

“Things always do when you look back, darling.” She quickly flipped the page, and picked up their photo album. “Oh look at you two! Didn’t she look amazing Truman!”

“Still does!” He exclaimed.

“A-and you know there’s still room for baby photos~!” She cooed to them. “At some point in time I would like to hold a grandchild in my arms Truman, before I go.” She started to wipe away “tears” from her eyes. Manipulative bi-.

“Angela we really should be getting you home!” (Y/N) pipped up.

“I’ll walk her out!” Everyone starts to get up-

(Y/N) whispers, “especially if you want a grandchild…”

“What was that dear?” Angela turned towards her.

“Oh nothing, just babbling!” Angela tutted at her.

“Oh you!” Angela quipped as Truman started escorting his mom out the door. (Y/N) started flipping through the albums. The ones she brought to their home were one of her favorites. The albums consisted of her mom, sister, and dad. Flipping through, page by page- she stops- flips back- her mom holding her as a newborn with her fingers crossed.

What the fu-

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

celebrity manhunt

Inside a small studio, a large desk wraps around two seats, an orange striped background and TV monitor decorating the set behind them. In one seat, a tight-faced, full-lipped gentleman with stark black hair holds a bouquet of cue cards. Next to him, a tight-faced redhead in a blue dress is holding a clearly empty mug. 

“It’s a beautiful night here in Toronto, perfect temperature for the TV event of the season- that’s right, everyone- it’s time for the Gemmy’s!” 

The gentleman fixes his bowtie. “We’re reporting live, just a block away from the action- it’s your faves, Josh-”

“And Blaineley!” the ginger cuts in. “Welcome to a very special episode of Celebrity Manhunt! Tonight is the night, folks- it’s time for gossip, cheer, and chatter about this year’s nominees!”

“Who will be taking home the gold? Stay tuned to find out!”

“Josh, that was my line,” Blaineley hisses. He rolls his eyes. 

“In only half an hour, our field reporters will be walking the red carpet with this season’s celebrity stars- until then, let’s catch up with the juiciest gossip from the past year,” Josh grins. “With a special focus on our personal faves, and the audience choice’s- the Total Takes Island cast!”

“Those teens braved it all on the newly-resurfaced Wawanakwa island, competing in death-defying challenges and looking fly while doing it!” Blaineley squeals. “Just to come back for another season of screams, screams, and crazy teens on the set of Total Takes Action!”

“Those are some brave contract holders, especially after watching what happened to the other casts,” John winks. “And like our blasts from the past, these teens have scored a nomination in the category for Best Reality Ensemble.”

“Let’s cross our fingers for them this time, Josh,” Blaineley chuckles. Her smile seems forced. “But before then, let’s catch our audience up to speed with everything that’s happened since Total Takes Action closed its doors- or should I say, gates?”

"Sure thing, Blain- from breakups to makeups to arrest records and more, our stars have had a lot going on for them!" Josh grins. "O has been living the high life back home, but not before starting an advocacy group for those who were negatively affected by the psychiatric healthcare system. Peter was spotted giving a promise ring to his girlfriend, Lois- still going strong! And Kitty's been banned from at least eight national parks in the United States so far,"

"Speaking of spectacles, let’s talk about Alistair’s award-winning performance as Disco Horatio in the viral Broadway musical 70’s Hamlet, a pop-infused retelling of the classic play,”

“Alistair’s performance was so good that he even found himself a brand new fanbase of Hamlet-crazed fangirls- some of which have been taking things a little too far,”

An image of Alistair’s character in a Miku binder fixes itself on screen. It's been autographed.

“Yikes- but hey, if he's owning it, then more power to him! Next up, we're talking about the pop sensation band that’s been on everyone’s minds- that’s right, guys, we’re talking the Takes Three trio!”

Blaineley grins as a sequence of images of McLovin, Sha-Mod, and Joner starts overlaying the screen. “Our Total Takes faves shocked the world when they released their first album, Boi Tearz, to widespread critical acclaim,”

“The rap-swing-darkwave fusion has been called “surprisingly tolerable” by critics, leading the Takes Three to their own claim to fame outside of reality TV. Make sure to stay tuned, because we'll have them right here after the break!”

---

The Celebrity Manhunt logo flashes across screen and then fades as the studio comes into focus. McLovin, Sha-Mod, and Joner are all sitting beside each other at the end of the table, wearing matching outfits.

"Takes Three- you've been called international pop sensations by at least six Twitter users. How do you respond?"

"We're just grateful for our fans," Joner says, shrugging. "Making music for the world to enjoy is a rite of passage where I'm from."

Blaineley blinks. "The Midwest?"

"Yeah, it's been crazy. We've been signing all kinds of notepads!" Sha-Mod nods. "Big ones, little ones, ones shaped like circles..."

"I didn't even know you could make circle paper," McLovin shakes his head. "Our tour has been world-changing."

"Eye-opening," Sha-Mod agrees. "And to thank you for inviting us on the show, we wrote a song for you. Ready, guys?"

All three reach under their chairs and pull out three sets of bongos. They look between each other.

"I though I was bringing the bongos," McLovin says.

"No, you were bringing the synthesizer. I was bringing the bongos!" Joner responds.

"I thought you were taking the triangle!"

Blaineley and Josh look at each other, then back to the trio.

“So, boys, how has skyrocketing to commercial and financial success affected your bonds on a scale from “a lot” to “IMPOSSIBLE to ignore!”?” Blaineley asks, grinning widely. The three stop bickering and immediately turn to her.

“You know, we’re actually closer than ever,” McLovin states, matter-of-factly. “Our music is a really hands-on creative process.”

“Yeah, can’t have rap-swing-darkwave without the swing!” Sha-Mod smiles, setting down the bongos. "Or the rap- or the darkwave!"

Joner nods. “It's been chill. Our new album-”

“BORING!” Blaineley shouts, pulling a lever behind her. The floor under the three musicians disappears and they scream as they disappear. "All I heard there was "blah blah blah" let's get to the real juicy gossip, shall we? It looks like it’s finally splitsville for Patjulia.”

Josh chuckles. “Oh, yes, after months of vicious dating, our sources indicate that those villains-to-be have finally called it quits- and publicly, at that. Our undercover reporters came across this juicy little tidbit. Roll the tape!”

---

The monitor fizzles to life and focuses on the inside of a restaurant that looks like a tornado went through it. A chair flies across the screen and the camera whirls around to one side of the room, where Julia is screaming and throwing furniture. 

“I should’ve NEVER even TALKED to you!”

The camera pans around to the other side of the room, where Patrick throws a handful of spaghetti back. “You should be HONORED I gave you the time of the day!”

“Your hair looks like a dead rat got glued to your head!”

“That’s rich, coming from a fake blonde!”

“IT’S NOT FAKE! We are so over!”

“You’re not breaking up with me! I’m breaking up with you!”

Julia throws a table and it sends Patrick flying across the room and straight out the back wall, creating a him-shaped hole in the plaster. He screams one final "YAHHH OH HOO HOOEY!!" as he goes flying.

---

“Yikes,” Josh chuckles. “That’s gonna leave a mark!”

“Where’s Scruffy during all this, you may ask? Well, they’re busy interning for Sierra of Reality, Weekly!” Blaineley announces. 

An image of Scruffy wearing a pair of sunglasses and an earpiece, walking beside a woman with dark brown hair in her 30s flashes across the screen. 

"What an upgrade from Total Takes, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh absolutely- especially after Wawanakwagate,"

Blaineley nods. "But, speaking of relationships- Bonsar- to date or not to date?”

Josh grins. “That IS the question! The two best friends were seen holding hands downtown, sending fans WILD! In a recent press statement, Caesar did little to calm the masses,”

---

The monitor changes scenes to a press conference. Standing before a crowd of reporters and microphones, Caesar adjusts his bow tie and clears his throat while Bonnie is sitting on the stage, playing on their Switch. 

“I just want to restate that Bonnie and I are under no obligation to explain anything to the press,”

A reporter waves his hand. “So are you dating or not?”

Caesar smacks his forehead.

---

"Looks like trouble in paradise to me, Blain!"

"You said it, Josh! You know who's been sailing on smooth seas lately, though? Maxchela!"

"OMG, totally! Fans are still swooning over Max and Michela after they were named Reality couple of the year by Reality, Weekly,"

“Unfortunately, we here at Celebrity Manhunt were unable to reach the two for comment. Luckily, our star reporter under the pseudonym “Noco”, was able to get the inside scoop!” Blaineley smiles.

The camera pans over to Noco, who’s half-shadowed to protect his identity. He clears his throat. “I just want to say, first of all, that my findings have reliable and true evidence behind them,” 

He stands and pulls a poster down behind him- revealing a screen covered in images of Max and Julia with strings between them. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that Maxchela was staged,”

The light above him suddenly flickers on. He sighs.

“OOOKAY THEN!” Blaineley says, redirecting the camera back over to her. “More on that later! In the meantime, we have a very special guest joining us today- one you Canadian viewers at home might recognize right away as the household name of the month!"

Josh grins. “When Chris McLean’s arrest became an international media sensation, sparking thousands of internet “memes” after his mugshot went viral, there was one name to take the claim to fame,”

“Toronto Environmental Coalition’s own leader, Albert, led an independent investigation of Wawanakwa after former contestant Scary came forward with a case- but it was him who found evidence of illegal radioactive materials on the island,” Blaineley continues, images of the investigation flashing across the screen. "The case brought international attention to the Coalition, and to Albert himself."

“The scandal broke the Wawanakwa mystery wide open. Here with us today is Canada's sweetheart, Albert,”

The camera zooms out and reveals a third person at the table. Albert- a teenage boy with dark brown hair, wearing a gray windbreaker- adjusts his lav mic and then smiles awkwardly. 

“So, Albert- since your case went viral, you’ve been called a top-notch advocate, a genius, even a national hero. How does it feel to be getting all this attention?”

He thinks for a moment. “Um… well, I suppose at the end of the day the only thing that matters is the coalition, and the attention has drawn in a lot of donations!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Blaineley chuckles. “You’re the star of an international scandal- you’re a hero! How does it feel?”

“Uh… fine. I guess. What I’d really prefer talking about is the monthly agenda for the TEC, we’re planning on hosting a protest at a meat processing plant in-”

Josh clears his throat. “Our sources indicate that you and Scary were an item at one point. Is this true?”

Albert goes pale. “I- um, no comment, thank you,” he then leans in to whisper. “I thought we were going to be talking about the coalition.” 

“On this show? No chance!” Blaineley shouts, startling him and sending him flying backwards. “Celebrity Manhunt is about the drama, drama, drama!”

Albert cringes. “Is there anything else we can talk about, then?”

"We can talk about the juicy, juicy drama happening on the red carpet right now," Blaineley chuckles. "Looks like the first of the cast has arrived to the Poultry Pals sponsored Gemmy's!"

Albert holds up a finger. "Um- what was that last part? The sponsor?"

Josh leans in, his palm against his face. He whispers. "Since ratings have gone down, award shows have corporate sponsors now. Turns out the meat industry is bananas for awards!"

"That's- that's the business I'm supposed to be protesting," Albert stands. "I have to go!"

He runs out of the room, and Blaineley rolls her eyes. "Guess we know why Chris McLean was acquitted and found innocent, huh?"

Josh chuckles. "That we do, Blain. That we do. But let's talk about these red carpet looks, cause honey these contestants are serving!"

---

The red carpet outside the Gemmy's is surrounded by shouting fans and photographers. O waves as he walks inside the building, followed shortly by Alistair, then McLovin, both so preoccupied with waving to the crowd that they crash into each other.

Another limo pulls up on the scene and Peter steps out with a short ginger. She shows off her promise ring to the paparazzi and giggles.

Peter and Alistair fistbump as they reach the door.

"Aw, how sweet. Friends forever!" Blaineley's voice overlays the scene.

"It's nice to see those teens getting along," Josh adds. "Ope- and there's Scary, just released from the lead prison she was stuck in from radioactivity!"

Scary arrives next, her hair dyed a warm honey brown. She makes a show of coughing and wheezing as he exits his limo in a wheelchair, then rolls up the carpet.

"My, my, aren't they looking just proper?" Blaineley tsks. "I love that shade of brown on her!"

A photographer gets too close with his camera and Scary stands, beating him over the head with her wheelchair, before sitting back down in it and rolling indoors.

"What a stellar start to the most anticipated award season EV-AR!" Josh squeals. "Let's check in with Noco on the field."

---

“Reporting live from… wherever I am,” Noco says, squinting. He’s holding a microphone and looking around, slightly annoyed. The cast looks relatively tame, most just merrily chatting with each other. “Here's, uh, I don't know. Austin or whatever. Hey, Austin, you and Kelly get back together?"

"No, baby, I've been single and free! To hell with monogamy!" Austin shouts, flipping on a pair on sunglasses, tearing off his shirt and running off screaming.

Noco stares into the camera. “Now can I do my Maxulia bit?”

“Um. No,” Blaineley says, still in the studio. “What is UP with these drama-less hacks?! Someone get Ass and Courtney here, pronto!”

Noco rolls his eyes and walks down the carpet, approaching Courtney, who’s catching up with Bonnie. “Comment?” Noco asks. 

“Hm?” Courtney turns, then blinks. “Um, comment on what?”

“Ass,”

“Ugh. None, thank you!”

“I heard that!” Ass shouts from across the carpet. Courtney rolls their eyes. 

Staci and Mal walk down the carpet next to each other, arguing about welding. Noco sighs. “Now can I-”

“NO!” Blaineley and Josh yell in unison. 

Michela, walking alongside Max, stops suddenly and puts her hands on her hips. “Does this venue feel a little empty to anyone else?”

The camera zooms out- the group is on a carpet, but there's no reporters, no photographers, no fans to be seen.

“No, I see what you mean. I was thinking there’d be more… I don’t know, people,” Max says, then sighs.

“Did we get the right address?” Scruffy asks. “I mean, we’re all here, so we got sent the same e-vite, right?”

Mal pulls out her phone and reads intently. “Yep. This is the place,”

Another limo pulls up and Julia and Patrick stumble out, shouting at each other and having a slap-fight.

Joner and Sha-Mod look between each other. "Hey," the latter says. "Did we lose McLovin?"

Kelly walks up to the two and puts their hand right above their eyes, shielding their vision from the fluorescent lighting. "I don't see him,"

"Who else are we missing?" Michela asks. But before anyone can do a head count, a voice rings out from the distance.

"WAIT! WAIT! DON'T GO IN YET!" it shouts. The crowd turns in the direction it's coming from and Albert runs up, then collapses on the carpet, wheezing. "Don't go in..." he coughs. "Protest..."

"What's this supposed to be?" Ass asks, putting their hands on their hips.

Albert takes a moment to compose himself, then stands. He dusts off his windbreaker and pants, then pulls a small card out of his pocket. It reads "TEC Charter: LEADER".

"My name is Albert, and I am condemning this award show on behalf of the Toronto Environmental Coalition!"

"What award show, Einstein?" Ass snaps. "There's nothing out here!"

Albert looks around. Nothing but crickets. "Oh,"

Bonnie sighs and walks past him, approaching the doors of the supposed venue. “Let me guess-” they open one and the entire front of the building collapses. "Yep. Thought as much," 

“It’s CARDBOARD?!” Caesar shouts. “My hair took FOUR HOURS to do!”

“This has got to be some kind of Chris thing,” Staci says, crossing her arms. “Maybe it’s a scavenger hunt.”

“Oh, no, no way. I am not playing these little games again,” Ass says. “I’m going home.”

“Hey, everyone, we're still missing people,” Kelly says. 

Austin pops out of nowhere. “Yeah, baby, where’s the rest of the party at?”

Courtney does a quick headcount, then thinks for a moment. "I don't see O, Scary, Kitty, McLovin, Alistair, or Peter,"

"Kitty's in an Australian prison," Patrick says nonchalantly. Everyone turns to him. "What?"

"Never mind that. We need to figure out what's going on," Michela says, hands on her hips again.

Mal chuckles from across the carpet. "Guys, you should see this,"

The crowd hesitantly approaches her, peering over her shoulder to see a live broadcast of the Gemmy's on her phone.

"And the award for Best Reality Ensemble goes to... the teens of Total Takes!" the announcer shouts.

Peter, O, McLovin, and Alistair look nervously around their seats, as if trying to catch a glimpse of where everyone else disappeared to.

"Oh, crap," Julia sighs. "We got sent the wrong damn address."

"Are you guys watching the Gemmy's?" a voice from ahead pipes up. The crowd diverts their attention from Mal's phone to see a scrawny boy standing on the street in front of them, drinking a slurpee loudly. "Cause it's a total hack. It's rigged by the woke police."

"Who are you?" Ass asks, crossing their arms.

"I'm Phillip, but you can call me Alejandro," he says confidently. "I was just out training, to fight SJWs. You know how it is."

He does a few karate punches. No one seems very impressed.

"Do you know where the Gemmy's are?" Courtney chimes in.

"Oh, yeah. They're way across town. They're wrapping up soon, anyway, you shouldn't bother with them. Everything comes to an end, after all,"

"Ooookay," Michela says. Max rolls his eyes.

"Do you guys ever think about how red slurpees make your mouth look like you've been drinking blood... heh... just me, then... I have a twisted mind,"

"Am I dead?" Ass turns to Courtney. "Did I die and go to hell?"

"Enough whining. I'm going home," Bonnie snaps.

"NOT so fast!" A voice shouts. The sound of a helicopter hanging overhead makes everyone jump and turn skywards. Chris McLean pilots the aircraft, making a smooth landing in front of the teens (but not before sending Phillip and Austin flying in the wind).

The disgraced host steps out of his helicopter, grinning. "You teens have a contract to uphold!"

"What is going on?" Caesar demands. "This wasn't in my contract!"

"Oh, right. You're "exempt" because of your "lawsuit"," Chris air quotes, rolling his eyes. "Bonnie, on the other hand..."

Caesar pales. Bonnie chimes in. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a brand-spanking-new season of Total Takes- that's right- we're doing TOTAL TAKES: WORLD TOUR!"

No one makes any noise besides Scruffy, who squeals in delight.

"Thank you. Glad to see someone's excited,"

"Okay, let me get this straight," Julia starts. "You lie to us about the Gemmy's location, drag us to the middle of nowhere in Toronto, make us hang out with these freaks-" she gestures to Albert and Phillip. "And Now you're saying we have to do ANOTHER SEASON?"

"Man, you guys need better lawyers," Chris chuckles. "You have a long, long few weeks coming for ya."

The teens look between each other nervously.

"And not only you- as your contract dictates, any and all at the time of casting are required to join- that means you," Chris points to Albert. "And you," he points to Phillip, plastered against a nearby wall.

"You cannot be serious," Ass says. "I want to talk to your lawyers!"

"No can do, buddy. This is set in stone. See you all soon!"

He chuckles as he gets back into his helicopter and starts off, leaving the cast abandoned. They look at each other one last time before the screen fades to black.

[olderthannetfic]

Thinking about your answer to https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/711971384704811008/im-aware-that-this-is-probably-a-dumb-question (the impact of a sex scene)

As a writer, I've often skipped it when, to me, it didn't feel necessary: the characters have reached the point where yes, they're together / committed / into each other, etc but I've had a few times (not often) readers say they'd have liked to have the sex scene, in fics where for me it would have been totally pastede on: the arc is done, the deed happened / will happen off-screen, etc, so it doesn't bring anything to the story or characters. But I think for some, it's unsatisfying if the dicks aren't out and the tongues battling for dominance; if it's not shown but only implied, then it's not as satisfying to them as readers.

Similarly, as a reader, I've often found myself skipping over the sex scenes when it felt, to me, only here to fulfill expectations, a reward for the readers who enjoy sex scenes independently of whether it's useful in the story, even if commenters are raving about it or the author is praised for their sex scenes. Ficcers aren't writing assignments to please a paying customer, after all, but themselves and hopefully their community, and many do love reading and writing about The Boning. But in that case, when I don't see the point of it, I just skim quickly so I can spot if there's anything interesting plot/characterization-wise. It's rarely the case when it's just added at the end IME, though I guess it's here as some sort of... emotional climax? or something? for some folks? I can't see it, but it's there for people who aren't me, and that's fine.

So I'm not entirely sure that I 100% see what you mean when you say that it's obvious when it's needed or unneeded ;-) it can be obvious to me that it is such when the exact opposite is obvious to another reader/writer, so I guess there's a degree of YMMV about it.

And yeah, I'm ace, and yeah, I do read and write sex scenes; it's not that I'm a prude! I just think there's a degree of sliding scale to it. Is The Sex Scene Necessary / Does It Make Sense Plot-Wise etc? You say that it's obvious when sex scenes (or gore, etc) are distracting or unneeded in a badly written fic, but 'badly written' may not quite mean the same thing to everyone, and perhaps depends on what the reader wants to find there.

(Cue me angsting about adding a sex scene in a fic because Gah! People want their smut! And I read So-and-so say that they only read Explicit and Mature! Must add sex to fics! And then write a porny fic, and see someone say the opposite! Woe! ;-)

--

I meant it's often obvious to the writer, but yes, readers may disagree. I think the sex scenes at climaxes are particularly prone to people disagreeing for exactly the reason you say: they're a sort of genre expectation for some. I do, generally, find a long emotional build unsatisfying if we don't see the characters get together beyond just asking each other out, and a sex scene is one way of showing them together.

It's the sex scenes in the middle that happen well before the emotional climax that I feel are particularly obvious. Maybe it only comes with experience, and I'm sure not everyone will agree because there's nothing in art everyone agrees on, but I think a lot of people will agree on which ones feel extraneous or missing... or at least which ones feel like they're there to be hot vs. which ones seem to be doing something else in addition.

Let me give you an example of a sex scene that should not have been missing:

In the film The Quick and the Dead, Sharon Stone finally had enough clout to get the sex scene removed. Good for her... but sadly, it's one time it really should have stayed in because it happens between two characters who don't trust each other and have only sort of drawn closer the previous day. On the morning after the sex scene they're scheduled to fight a duel to the death. They concoct a secret scheme to get out of it. We don't see them coming up with this because it's supposed to be a surprise, which is fine, but we also don't see any scene that really explains when they had time to come up with it or why they trust each other enough to carry it out. The sex doesn't make it sensible to trust each other, but it does explain why they might suddenly be filled with new feelings and do so anyway. It also explains when they had time to discuss a plan in private without others wondering what they were up to.

The scenes that are most obviously needed are ones that are structural: They contain some major emotional beat that isn't in other scenes. Something about the status quo is radically different between the scenes on either side. A character makes a major decision even if we don't know exactly what it is yet. Those kinds of moments should be on-page/on-screen.

[coffeetailor]

GTober Day 13: Scary Movie

(A/N: It was hard to keep this one as short as I did! Still ended up being 3k.)

"This movie is crap."

"Shh. I'm trying to listen."

Shang Hua blocked the elbow that tried to dig into his side, sticking his tongue out at his grumbling friend, only to have a big chunk of popcorn shoved into his mouth. "Mmph!"

Still keeping the rest of his piece for himself, Shen Yuan settled back into his seat. Kind of a seat, anyway. The open box stuck, on its side with a stack of napkins tucked inside for padding, wasn't exactly furniture. But it was comfortable and kept anyone who might glance up at the projection window from seeing two miniature silhouettes sitting there watching the movie. Shang Hua still wasn't sure about the other man's friendship with the human projectionist, but it had its perks.

Because when you were six inches tall, you couldn't exactly just go buy a ticket to watch a movie like normal people did.

"If they had a collective IQ of more than eight, they'd have figured out it was a vampire ages ago," Shen Yuan muttered, frowning at the screen. "Or if they just listened to the expert!"

Shang Hua rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't have a story if they caught onto everything right away. And it's Dracula. First story of the genre. You can't expect the characters to be all genre-savvy."

"Still! You have one girl dead, and then the other starts-" The oncoming rant abruptly cut off as Shen Yuan went still. "Shit."

"What is it?" Shang Hua whispered, taking his cue from the other's reaction. There were reasons for people like them to freeze in place, and they generally weren't because of good things.

"Someone's looking at us," Shen Yuan hissed back, pointing with his chin. "In the audience."

Following his friend's indication, Shang Hua looked away from Dracula advancing on his victim to peer down into the seating below. And sucked in a breath at the two pairs of eyes looking up at them. Were… they glowing?

"They shouldn't be able to see us, right?" he said, half asking and half trying to convince himself. Surely they couldn't. There was the bright light of the movie projector shining right over their heads, and they were way up here. But he couldn't shake the feeling that they were staring right at them.

Shen Yuan swallowed. "They shouldn't."

Shouldn't didn't mean couldn't, they could both hear without it being said.

"They can't get in here though," Shang Hua said, wishing he sounded more confident. "The door's locked."

Swallowing, the other man nodded his head firmly. "Not unless someone let them in. And Qi-ge wouldn't."

Right. Shen Yuan's human friend. Who, more reassuringly than it'd been before, was a big wall of muscle and knew exactly where they were. And had promised the two that no one else would be allowed inside.

Shang Hua moved slowly to peer around the edge of the box, but he already knew the big human wouldn't be there. He'd gotten them set up, started the movie, and moved on to the next screening room to get it ready. When he turned back around to check the dark room below them again, the eyes were gone. Replaced by two empty seats.

"Where'd they go?" he whispered, jumping up from his seat. If no one was looking at them, there was no reason to hold still anymore.

Shen Yuan was already ahead of him, grabbing his coat and throwing it on in a hurry. "They got up and left. I don't think I want to wait around for the movie to get over."

"Read my mind, bro."

Together, they hurried across the projector table to where the power cord hung down to the floor, taking turns sliding down. Shen Yuan could apologize for ditching without telling his human friend later. Right now? They were going to do what folk like them always did when they were seen. Vanish.

Feet hitting the floor, Shang Hua looked frantically for a place to hide. They'd been carried in by pocket, and the door wasn't exactly an option! But seeing him stop, Shen Yuan grabbed his hand and began to pull him towards the wall.

"This way. There's a hole," he said, turning to look towards the door when there was the sound of footsteps. And a shadow cast on the frosted window. "That's not Qi-ge."

Shang Hua turned his head to see what he meant, meaning neither of them were looking where they were going when the shadows rose up and a man stepped through. Just in time for them to run directly into the side of his boot.

Crashing back onto his ass with a yelp, Shang Hua stared up at the giant of a human in horror. Icy blue eyes fixed on the pair before flicking towards the door. "Junshang."

A sword sliced a gash into the air, a second figure stepping through into the supposedly locked and safe room. He looked down at them, face splitting into a bright smile. "Shizun, Shishu. We found you."

"Sorry, you must be mistaking us for someone else," Shang Hua said, his mouth running on automatic just to keep his brain from shutting down in terror. A detached part of it marveled at just how beautiful they both were, looking like freaking supermodels with shiny hair, muscles, and the prettiest faces he'd ever seen. The rest firmly pointed out that they were huge and could see them! "Don't think either of us have ever taught anyone, even if that was a pretty cool trick with the sword thing, so we'll just be going. Good luck finding your friend!"

He tried to pull Shen Yuan the other way, but the moment they took so much as a step, a wall of ice rose up in front of them.

"No," the first human (though that ice trick had him seriously starting to question that part) said as the wall expanded to encircle them, trapping the pair inside. "There is no mistake, Qinghua."

"Um… that's not my name." It was close to his name though, scarily close.

Almost as scarily close as blue eyes were as he knelt down to get a better look at them. He nodded as if coming to some conclusion by himself before glancing up at the other. "The witch told the truth."

"In another world, only changed. could the memory problems be part of the curse?" the man with the sword said with a nod of his own. "Shi- no, Shen Yuan, do you remember me?"

Named correctly, Shen Yuan froze, his eyes wide as he clung to his friend's hand like it could protect him. "H-how do you know my name?"

"This is what happens when you start making friends with humans, A-Yuan," Shang Hua hissed, surely too softly for a human to pick up from that far away. (Not far enough!)

But apparently not quiet enough for these two to hear, because they both looked right at him, blue-eyes raising an eyebrow to give expression to his otherwise coldly expressionless face.

"Shishu, are you suggesting that the two of you aren't human?" the one with the sword asked slowly. Shang Hua absently noticed that there was definitely red in the pretty dark eyes. Maybe he should call them red-eyes and blue-eyes until they gave their names.

"Isn't that obvious?" Shen Yuan answered for him, snapping at him. "And for someone who called me shizun, you're being a very poor disciple, trapping us like this!" He swatted at Shang Hua as he tried to shut him up. "I order you to release us immediately!"

"You're going to make them mad!" Shang Hua hissed, even if they'd already shown excellent hearing. He peeked up at red-eyes heart pounding at what he was sure he'd see.

Only to have to stop and look again, because surely he was hallucinating. There was no possibility that the man who'd just cut through space with a fucking sword was tearing up after a little scolding from Shen Yuan. And yet, big red eyes were turning glassy as big fat tears started rolling down handsome cheeks.

"Shizun…"

"Junshang," blue-eyes said, stressing the title like he was scolding him for the behavior. "We've been here long enough."

Trying to reign back his tears, red-eyes nodded his head. "Shizun, I beg your forgiveness, but we have to go."

"Yes, go," Shen Yuan said quickly. "And I'll forgive you for scaring us."

Shang Hua nodded in agreement, looking between them. But not so intently that he didn't notice to ice pen growing to spread under their feet and arching to close up the top. "Hey! You were supposed to let us go!"

"Apologies, Shizun, but we can't do that until you're yourselves again," red-eyes said, sounding apologetic like he wasn't picking up the cage even as he spoke. "You'll be kept safe with this one, I promise. Mobei."

Blue-eyes (Mobei-Jun, my king, something in his memory whispered) raised a hand and shadows gathered once more in the room, red-eyes holding their cage and taking the lead to step through.

The pair inside the cage clutched at each other in fear, shuttering at the bitter cold they passed through before the shadows split… and they were nowhere near the theater they'd visited. They couldn't be. Because the gilded walls and painted ceilings stretched high overhead could only belong to a palace.

"Where are they taking us?" Shang Hua whispered. Being seen was bad enough. You had a chance at getting away when you were seen. But there were barely even stories of what happened when someone was actually captured. Because no one ever heard from them again.

"How should I know? You're the one who's always watching humans and making up stories about them," Shen Yuan hissed back, trying to pretend he wasn't completely plastered to his friend's side as they were carried down the hallway.

"You're the one who actuallye talked to one! Maybe he told them we were there!"

"Excuse me? Qi-ge would never-"

"Shizun," red-eyes said, making them shut up and look up at him motionlessly, no matter how deliberately gentle his tone was. "We're here."

Here was an outside space, where tall bamboo stalks shot up towards the sky. A red sky. Their captor gave them an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach his eyes (which had no right to look so sad when he was in the process of kidnapping them), carrying the cage into a house that looked quite humble in contrast to the palace hallways. But as they went inside, Shen Yuan couldn't quite shake the feeling that it looked… familiar. And comfortable.

"I'm going to let you out, but please don't run," he said as he placed the cage down on a low table. "Give us a chance to explain."

"Explain why you broke into the projection room and kidnapped us against our will? Yes, I'd like to hear how you're going to explain that," Shen Yuan snapped, looking away from the room to glare at red-eyes. Who still had the nerve to sulk. "And how did you know our names?!"

As the cage around them melted away like it'd never been there in the first place, Shang Hua found his attention drawn to blue-eyes again, even though he'd largely remained quiet. The way he was silently studying him made his heart race.

"It might be a long explanation, Shizun," red-eyes said before perking up. "Perhaps I could get you some tea and snacks to enjoy while you listen. As an apology for scaring you."

Shen Yuan eyeballed him, reminded strongly of a puppy who had been raised around them. Big, still dangerous, but trying so very hard to be harmless. And he was hungry. They both were. A piece of popcorn was not a meal.

"Fine," he said at last, folding his arms. "But it doesn't mean we're agreeing to do anything but listen." Trying not to tense up when red-eyes sprung up to his feet, he scowled at him. "And for fuck's sake, at least tell us your names! Since you already know ours!"

It was a little gratifying to see their giant captor blanch, his cheeks going red. "Oh! Forgive me, Shizun! This one is Luo Binghe, and my companion is-"

"Mobei-Jun," Shang Hua said automatically. When three pairs of eyes looked his way, he ducked his head. "You said his name earlier."

Red-eyes, now titled Luo Binghe, raised an eyebrow as he reclaimed his composure. "Right. Of course. This one will return shortly with food."

He ducked out of the rooms, leaving just the two on the table and Mobei-Jun as their quiet watcher. Though despite how hard his face was to read, there seemed to be a kind of… satisfaction in the still expression. The kind that made Shang Hua want to squirm in place right where he stood, especially since it was specifically aimed at him. Like Shen Yuan wasn't even there.

Not that anyone could ignore Shen Yuan for long, especially not when he demanded your attention.

"You aren't actually humans, are you?"Shen Yuan asked, pointedly stepping between his friend and the possibly-not-human-but-still-large-man staring at him.

Mobei-Jun frowned at having his view obstructed before simply opening a flap of his jacket and grabbing something inside. The two tried not to jump as a piece of yellow paper rippled into existence between his fingers, followed by the rest of him just shifting.

If Shang Hua had thought he was good-looking before, it barely compared to the beauty that sat in front of them now. Blue eyes turned into chips of dark ice. He could probably cut himself on his cheekbones. The xanxia-style robes he wore half open to expose a chest that he could die happy against did not hurt. Nope.

Neither did the very distinctly pointed ears that stuck out from his hair. Which were, frankly, adorable.

"Do you have fangs too?" he blurted out before he could stop himself, stepping around his friend for a better look. Hey, they were just watching Dracula. Who could blame him?! (Other than Shen Yuan. He could find an excuse to blame Shang Hua for anything.)

Beside him, Shen Yuan groaned and covered his face with a hand. "A-Hua, you are an idiot."

"What? He's not human," Shang Hua defended. Humans were the dangerous ones, after all.

"Do I really need to point out that he's even bigger than one and already kidnapped us?"

"Kind of noticed that on my own, bro."

"And you don't think that makes him even more dangerous?!"

"This king has promised not to harm you already. Qinghua, more than once," Mobei-Jun said, interrupting them before Shen Yuan could start hair-pulling. Shang Hua's hair may not have been particularly long, but he still had enough to keep in a ponytail. "And yes, for your question." He raised a finger when Shang Hua's mouth opened to obviously ask another question. "I do not suck blood."

Called out, Shang Hua pouted. So maybe that was going to be his next question.

"Forgive my friend," Shen Yuan said dryly. "The things he's written have rotted his brain. I'm afraid he can't help it. But I have questions as well. Beginning with where you have taken us. I can tell it's nowhere in Beijing. The city may get polluted at times, but I have never seen the sky that red."

"Mm. This is the Demon Realm, in the Underground Palace," Mobei-Jun said with a nod. "It is under the rule of Emporer Luo Binghe."

Shen Yuan blinked, turning to look back at the way Luo Binghe had gone. "That guy is the Emporer? With how easy he cries?"

Mobei-Jun snorted but didn't respond verbally, just giving another nod, though Shang Hua could definitely see the amusement in his face.

"So, this is the demon realm and Binghe is the Emporer, meaning I should be correct in assuming that you are both demons?" Shen Yuan continued, starting to pace. "You've claimed to intend to keep us safe, so if we take the risk of believing you, why?"

"That's part of the big explanation," Luo Binghe said from the doorway, bringing in a tray and waiting for the two tiny men on the table to move aside before he set it down. They were almost distracted enough by the delicious smells coming from every dish to miss the fact that his appearance had changed too. No pointed ears, but he'd had his own glow-up (and Shen Yuan didn't want to admit how pretty he was) and his own change of clothes. He smiled at them before starting to serve them each a bowl. "I hope the dishes are good enough. We didn't know when we would find you, so I couldn't cook ahead."

"You were looking for us before you saw us at the theater?" Shang Hua asked, surprised. That didn't stop him from accepting the bowl from clawed fingers. When had they stopped being scared of them?

Binghe nodded his head, somehow still managing to resemble a puppy even with claws, fangs, and, apparently, the title of demon emporer. "We've been looking for years. Though some of that was finding the witch who made the trap."

Shen Yuan paused, frowning with a miniature dumpling halfway to his mouth. "… what trap?"

The story and explanation Binghe had to tell them was unbelievable. The pair of them once being human, from another world that, as far as the demon could tell, closely resembled the one they'd been brought from. Except they had been human there too, and had died before being brought to Binghe's world. Shang Hua as a baby, and Shen Yuan taking the place of Binghe's once cruel teacher.

After all of the adventures wrapped up and they were (married!) living happily, the two of them had run into a cursed booby trap that hadn't even been set up for them, their souls flung from their bodies into another timeline. The one he and Shen Yuan had lived in the last twenty years, growing up as members of the hidden ones. Twenty years during which the two demons had been jumping from universe to universe to find them.

It was a wild story, and they could tell that the demons were leaving things out, yet… it didn't feel like they were being lied to. Especially with the way they were being looked at, with a fragile kind of hope. It made Shang Hua squirm in his seat on the table, feeling the way that Mobei-Jun's eyes never strayed from him.

When Luo Binghe wrapped up his impossible story, he fell silent and waited for them to respond. Well, for Shen Yuan to respond. For all that he'd been talking to both of them, Shang Hua could tell that his friend was really the one he worried about the most.

"If… if we choose to believe you, what do you intend to do next?" Shen Yuan asked slowly. "We have no memories of our life here, and even if you try to protect us, we're used to staying hidden. That doesn't exactly sound like royal consort material."

"Shizun…"

"The witch who laid the curse and led us to you suggested that it would be possible to merge your two lives together," Mobei-Jun said, speaking up for the first time in a while. "The effect of the difference in form will still have to be seen."

"So, you'll be using us in an experiment," Shen Yuan said flatly, folding his arms over his chest only to immediately unfold them to accept another treat from Luo Binghe.

"We will not allow any harm to come to you," Mobei-Jun reminded them again before turning his attention entirely away from Shen Yuan and the emperor falling over himself to pacify him. "Qinghua."

"Yes, my king?" Shang Hua responded without thinking. As it sank in what he'd said, he stared up at the demon with wide eyes.

Mobei-Jun looked down at him with satisfaction just oozing from his gaze. He brought his hand up, offering his large palm to the tiny man. "Trust this king."

Shang Hua swallowed, staring at the hand, at the claws that tipped each finger. He wasn't Shen Yuan, who was brave enough to make friends with a human. He'd been nervous enough when Yue Qi had let them climb into his pocket to transport them into the theater. But even then, the human hadn't actually held him!

Pulling his eyes away from Mobei-Jun's waiting palm, he looked up into the blue set patiently waiting for him to decide.

"Promise you don't suck blood?" he asked when he found his voice.

The demon's lips curved into a small smile. "Qinghua has my word."

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, Shang Hua moved forward and hauled himself up into Mobei-Jun; hand before he could chicken out. "Okay, let's see if your husband's hiding in the back of my head someplace. So, how do we do this?"

Before Mobei-Jun had time to answer, there was a shriek from across the table, where a red-faced Shen Yuan yanked hard on the lock of Luo Binghe's hair he'd managed to get hold of.

"You think the cure is what?!"

[barkercast]

457 : Nightbreed Intrada Soundtrack Release

In the Clive Barker Podcast, long-time fans Ryan and Jose interview guests, bring you the news, and take deep dives into Barker-related stuff.  In Episode 457 We go over the new Nightbreed Soundtrack 2-disc CD Release from Intrada. Available in Podcast Audio and Youtube Video.

Sponsor : Don Bertram’s Celebrate Imagination | ETSY Store

Check Out  “Stained Glass Tulip” on his Facebook page. 

Check Out his videos going over the original painting “The Bug Brothers” and his intro to the 35th Anniversary screening of Hellraiser.

There are some paintings on his Etsy shop to check out. Mother and Child II, The Star Gazer, The Folk Singer, The Pearl, The Portal, Top of the World.  And don’t forget about his books, The Chimney Sweep’s Tale and Celebrate Imagination

Discussion: Nightbreed Soundrack Intrada 2-Disc Release

Liner Notes

Disc 1 – Music Cues

Disc 2 – 1990 Soundtrack Release, Plus Extras

Buy it From Intrada

Intrada YouTube Channel Soundtrack Trailer

Patreon Members Shout-Out (Become a Patron)

David Anderson

Erik Van T’ Holt

Daniel Elven

Returning Sponsor: Don Bertram’s Celebrate Imagination 

Feedback From Listeners

Coming Soon for our Patreon Subscribers

Collector’s Corner: Jericho

Coming Next 

Jericho Squad 77 Returns

Phantasmagoria Hellraiser Interview Book

Review of 4K Rawhead Rex

More Boom Hellraiser comics discussion 

Hellraiser Quartet of Torment Coverage

And this podcast, having no beginning will have no end. 

web www.clivebarkercast.com

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Music is by Ray Norrish

All Links and show notes in their Entirety can be found at http://www.clivebarkercast.com

New episode of the Clive Barker Podcast

[disniq]

Season 1, episode 3, "Origins"

Prepare to get flashbacked, folks.

So, previously; Dawn was thrown off a roof, Rachel was kidnapped by The Family. And now, conveniently, Kori is parked below just the building right in time to see Rachel bundled into a sensible family car.

We get an entirely unnecessary flashback of Kori finding a photo in Rachel's house and killing a cop, which does nothing to show how she got from there to here but just go with it.

She follows The Family, who are on route to their boss. They stop at a gas station, and Kori takes the opportunity to burn Dad alive. (She also blows up the bathroom Rachel is in, but it’s fine, shh, “I think you’re safer with me.”)

This is what every family trips feels like when you're a queer neurodivergent

Dawn is in a medical coma at the hospital, and this somehow leads into another flashback of a young Dick with his social worker.

Bruce Wayne wants to foster him! Isn’t that great news, sure that won’t end badly for anyone.

Young Dick is taken to the huge castle-esque manor (which i love, btw) and shown to a bedroom so bougie it has it’s own chandelier and a walk-in closet already filled with teenage-boy sized clothes.

Bruce, dude. You’re coming on a little strong here.

Alfred is the only one a little dubious about this development;

(This is why the killed Alf off-screen.)

Unsurprisingly, Dick takes this as his cue to run away.

Back in the present, Dick gets a lead from a police colleague despite the fact that he just walked out a week ago and never went back to work lol. She helpfully tells him Rachel has been spotted on cameras with a a six foot black woman with magenta hair, who leaves charred bodies in her wake.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Kori head to the place in the photo, Saint Paul’s convent and bond over having uncontrollable powers and a total lack of understanding about themselves!

They stop at a diner, and Kori fucks some guys up for harassing the waitress to a disco soundtrack which is, undeniably, pretty dang cool.

More flashbacks - I’m so sorry, the pacing of this episode is a mess - and Dick social worker is very insistent that Dick give Bruce another chance. If only you knew, lady.

I do like the stylistic choices here, though. Having Bruce being almost entirely absent from these scenes makes his presence feel like the looming, intimidating thing it probably was, especially in the shots of the big, broody, empty Manor that young Dick is left to wander alone.

During one of those wanderings, he finds the garage full of classic cars and, rapscallion that he is, takes one for a joyride.

Remember when you antagonised the police, Dickie. Fun times.

Kori and Rachel reach the convent, which it turns out they have both been to before. Rachel was sheltered here as an infant with her fake mom, and Kori came by a year ago in her search for Rachel. It’s all very Nuns of the Chattering Order, and yes that does make Rachel the lost antichrist.

There’s an arcade down the street that Kori has a mysterious locker key for, so she takes Rachel there and exchanges the key for… a second key!

Rachel gets to eat, play some pinball, and meet a fellow protagonist!

Dick - who used his super secret Bat-tech to track Kori’s numberplate - also turns up at the arcade. For plot convenience, he gives Kori the benefit of the doubt despite her record thus far and both of these untra-violent people actually talk out a problem from once! Yay!

You, ah. You forgot the *checks notes* six counts of murder so far.

Turns out the cops think Rachel killed her fake-mom, so Dick, who a day ago was looking to wash his hands of this kid, suddenly feels responsible for her. Kori, who gently kidnapped Rachel for entirely self-serving purposes, has also apparently decided over the course of the last half an hour that she too can't let Rachel out of her sight, so they all go back to the convent together.

This is, unfortunately, what counts as relationship development in this show.

We get one final Baby Dick flashback, wherein Dick admits to his social worker that he’s not running away and stealing cars for fun, he’s running away and stealing cars so he can hunt down his parents’ murderer and kill them.

Bruce overhears this conversation, and leaves Dick a letter offering him a job better way.

Elsewhere, The Family (minus Dad) report to Dr Adamson, a creepy guy with an egg fetish who really wants Rachel to open the door. He magnanimously decides to give them one more shot.

Bet you thought I was kidding about the evils of heteronormativity, huh

ANYWAY, back to the convent and the A plot!

We get this conversation between Dick and Rachel, which I think informs a lot about Dick’s relationship with Bruce, and also his attitude towards Jason later.

Dick: Listen I need you to-- Rachel: What?! Trust you? “Other people can help”, is that it? No they can’t. They’ll just make promises, but in the end they’ll fail. They’ll all leave, just like you. Dick: Yeah, you’re right. Rachel: What? Dick: You’re on your own. No one can help you, not really. I was just like you once. Thought if I leaned on someone, if I trusted them, all the pain would go away. I was wrong. Anybody that tells you any differently is lying. The loss is here for good now, there is no getting over it. But you can control it, you can channel it. No one else can do that for you. Just you.

Kori takes the opportunity to steal Dick’s car, to head to the storage locker her second key opens, and Dick chases after her. Depite both of their promises not to abandon Rachel again, there they both go!

And, surprise surprise, the nuns immediatly drug the kid!

Turns out, the nuns want to lock Rachel in the basement to keep her away from her father and prevent her from being used to unleash evil upon the earth.

It… doesn’t go well for them.

Kori finds her Connecting the Dots meme storage locker, full of alien writing and pictures of Ravens. Dick shows up, and together they piece together enough of the murderboard evidence to decide Rachel is the Devourer of Worlds, part of a prophecy. WooOOoooOOOo *spooky hands*

They’re interrupted by a sudden earth-shaking explosion, because guess what?

Rachel BLEW UP THE FUCKING CONVENT

[Titans Rewatch]

[biglisbonnews]

Finn Wolfhard on Playing a Narcissist in 'When You Finish Saving The World' Twenty-year-old actor Finn Wolfhard Zooms into our call from NYC's swanky Park Lane Hotel, wearing a vaguely iridescent purple button-down that shines as he thoughtfully reminisces on the complicated journey of playing the corny and egocentric character Ziggy Katz in When You Finish Saving The World. The film is actor-turned-writer-director Jesse Eisenberg’s directorial debut, hitting select theaters on January 20. The indie coming-of-age tale is clever and flippant, exploring the boundaries of lived and idealized politics through satirical, self-mocking characters whose blinding narcissism repels those closest to them. Wolfhard plays the delusional folk-rock music influencer, opposite Julianne Moore, his do-gooder mother, Evelyn, an NPR-and-Chopin-listening counselor who runs the local women’s shelter.Related | Finn Wolfhard Reacts to Millie Bobby Brown Saying He's a Bad KisserThe project began in 2020 as an audiobook, which was then expanded into a shrewdly understated feature script, with Wolfhard reprising his Audible role on screen. Produced by Emma Stone and Dave McCary, the film made its first splash at the Sundance Film Festival last year.Eisenberg’s signature dry wit and allegorical mini-scenes take the blundering characters on misguided misadventures, often ending in cringe-worthy scuffles. “I’m going to be rich and you’re going to be poor,” Ziggy shouts at his mother. Self-absorbed and deluded, Ziggy struggles to pick up on his peers' cues (or really anything happening in the world around him). In stark contrast, Wolfhard offers kind and articulate insights into the project, where he gave a stand-out performance — perhaps solidifying his career and proving his talents can translate to complex and character-driven roles.This will no doubt be a career-defining year for Wolfhard. Besides starring in this film, Wolfhard hopes to witness the release of his pet project (co-directed and co-written with WYFSTW co-star Billy Bryk), he continues to write and perform music with his band The Aubreys and he's gearing up to shoot the final season of Stranger Things.In a conversation with PAPER, Wolfhard shares what it was like playing the infuriating Ziggy and expands upon what happens after the climactic and ambiguous final scene of the film. Read our interview with the actor below.Ziggy is a really compelling portrayal of the chronically online, teenaged demographic. Where did you draw inspiration for this role?You'd be surprised how many kids my age are like this and have this skewed idea of who they are because of how powerful social media can seem when you're on it, but then when you're in your real life, it actually doesn't really mean anything. Do you relate with Ziggy at all? Are there aspects of his character you find in yourself?Definitely. I relate to his need to perform and find human connection. I find him to be a very funny character. I also have pity for him. I feel sad for him. I'm sort of laughing with him. But also, I want to kill him. I want to slap him in the face. And I've been trying to strike a balance between someone that you might hate but also someone you feel pity for. I also found him really likable at times. He's charismatic and self-assured. I know music is also really important to you in your off-camera life. How was it to play a character that shared your love for music?I was so pleasantly surprised that Jesse Eisenberg and Emile Mosseri, the composer, let me run wild with some of the songs. Jesse wrote the lyrics. Emile wrote the music. And at least for the song "Pieces of Gold," which starts and ends the movie, they just gave me the project file and were like, Alright, sing over it and add whatever instruments you want. It was so cool to be able to improvise a few songs in the film and write the music to one of the songs.That sounds so fun.It was so fun. For [Eisenberg and Mosseri], it added a level of authenticity to the role because I was making music in character. It made me feel more comfortable playing the character, too, because music has always been something that I do for myself. l can just escape to it. And Ziggy feels the same way. You have a long history as Mike Wheeler from Stranger Things. How was the transition from your character Mike, who cares so deeply about his friends and the people around him, to Ziggy, who, at times, really struggles to see outside of himself?Yeah, and he can't seem to care for anyone but himself. I cared about Ziggy almost as much as Mike cares about his friends. Someone who's loyal to themself to a fault. And the reason why he's so self-absorbed and obnoxious is that he doesn't really know how not to be. He's been in a house where he's not been supported in what he's been doing. All he wants is his mom to respect what he does. And it makes him so mad that she doesn't.And on top of that, he has this skewed view of himself, because on the internet, he's so loved, but then in real life, no one really cares about him. And so that comes out as a defense and an arrogance, because, in his mind, if no one's gonna be his champion, I guess he has to be. He actually is capable of caring for people, he just has a really weird way of going about it and at times doesn't know how. By the end of the film, he realizes that the world is bigger than him and that his mom actually does something really amazing. I was just going to ask you about what happens after the cameras stop rolling. There are a lot of conversations about wanting to be political versus actually doing the work to be political. And then there's this open-ended final scene. Does Ziggy end up doing "the work?" Should he do the work?By nature, Ziggy isn't very political. He likes making songs. He likes making money and being a capitalist. And his mother Evelyn has been trying to make him someone that he's not for years. But his mother realizes that he can't be who she wants him to be and that he actually does something pretty cool.He wants to be [political like his mother] deep down, but maybe that's just not who he is. But he can try. By the end of the film, he actually has more respect for his mother and social justice than he thought. And it gets him to think about what amazing things his mother has done. To me, after the cameras cut, there's the meet-in-the-middle thing where they both realize that they have been misguided and wrong for so long. It's a really beautiful end to a really self-centered movie.Are there any larger takeaways you had from working on this movie and existing in this world for so long where politics and identity are really at odds with each other? What did you learn from these characters?It's given me more empathy toward people. Anyone, including myself, that has said something selfish, or acted selfish, or done something wrong, or was arrogant or whatever: I've found more empathy [for them]. It's given me more humanity and more than anything has made me sad for people that are so lost.What was your favorite part about working on this project?I loved the crew so much, every single one of them. And working with Jesse as a director, he really got me as a person and as a performer. That made me feel really good. Jesse really humanizes being an actor. There's a lot of people that like to have acting be some mysterious thing and Jesse's just like, "Listen, we're all really scared and neurotic idiots and we're just trying to make stuff that we identify with and teaches us something about ourselves and other people." Also, acting with Julianne Moore every day and getting to act with one of the best people and best living actors was just the best. She really let me try stuff and vice versa. We had so much fun. My favorite scene to film was the scene where we're screaming at each other in the kitchen. I just remember thinking, This is so fun.You got to let loose a little bit.Exactly! We were really working some stuff out.Do you have any projects coming up? What’s next for you this year?Well, I directed a film. It's called Hell of a Summer. I co-wrote and co-directed it with Billy Bryk, who plays Kyle in When You Finish Saving The World.That's incredible. Congratulations!Thank you so much. So hopefully that comes out this year. And then I get to shoot the last season of Stranger Things which I'm really excited about. I haven't read anything yet, but I'm so excited.Is that like going back to camp?Basically! Yeah, it does really feel like that. Next is the last season so I guess that's like the graduation.Photo by Beth Garrabrant https://www.papermag.com/finn-wolfhard-saving-the-world-2659280745.html

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Mashing Solarpunk and Cyberpunk to Wage War Against War in The Creator

I saw the movie The Creator last night, which turned out to be a brooding love child of cyberpunk and solarpunk. I think we need a name for that genre mashup because there’s some interesting threads there to mine. The Creator also made me wonder, when did films get so beautiful. Every last frame of this film is a work of art of exceptional composition and clarity. And the sound... just wow, from the stirring yet perfectly integrated musical score to the map of sounds happening around you as the action progresses. If nothing else (and yet much more), The Creator is exactly why we should be fighting for the lives of our movie theaters. It breaks my heart to think of all the young’uns out there who are going to watch this film on their phone and will never have any idea what they’re missing by not having seen it on a big screen with a top–notch sound system. Even watching a film like this on the best HD TV you could hang on your living room wall would be like looking at a print of a Picasso instead of seeing its power in person.

The Creator takes place in an alternate timeline where we dove into AI and robotics with such gusto so early on, there were AI robots in spacesuits in space missions on NASA’s Space Shuttles (circa early 80s to early 2010s), not to mention acting as mother’s little helpers in the kitchens of the 1950s (if my memory is accurate of the “news reel” that rolled for the rocket ride that is the film’s opening montage). In short, The Terminator films clearly not existing in this timeline, humanity made the mistake of leaving the AIs in charge of defense systems and Los Angeles got nuked. And that’s just the first 75 seconds of the film (more or less).

Despite the fact that hardly anyone one who doesn’t live in Los Angeles cares a whit about the place—in fact,lots of folks actively fantasize about its demise (I’m thinking, most recently, of Kim Stanley Robinson's meanly gleeful and scientifically inaccurate drowning of the LA basin within about the space of a day via atmospheric river storms in The Ministry for the Future)—the USA goes full post-9/11 and declares war on AI. This means hunting down and mercilessly exterminating hotbeds of AI development in “New Asia.” Cue violent raids into New Asian countries by squads of American commandos with mind–bogglingly mighty tanks; a permanently airborne war station that locates targets, coordinates attacks, and launches savage missile attacks; and the most arrogant, single-minded, and cruel military characters imaginable.

That is, except for the protagonist. Sure, he’s an elite commando, but (SLEDGEHAMMER OF A METAPHOR) he’s a little bit robot himself, with all those bionics to replace limbs lost (in combat, presumably, given that his more innocent explanation sounds like an evasive lie). He fell in love with and married a New Asian woman while infiltrating her “terrorist” troupe of AI developers. This splits his sympathies. Considerably. Still, the top brass puts him in charge of re–infiltrating New Asia to seek and destroy the AI “weapon” the “terrorists” have developed. But this “weapon to end all weapons” turns out to be the AI equivalent of a human child who holds the key to the protagonist reuniting with the protagonist’s seemingly terrorist wife. As well as maybe also holding the key to world peace. Meanwhile, the child AI needs the love, protection, and guidance of a parent to survive and develop deeply human emotions. (Because, you know, emotions. They’re what make people do good things, right?)

Movies being movies, a lot of people and seemingly sentient machines are going to have to die in splatters of gunfire and spectacular explosions before we can find out who wins: the US military meanies or the AI robots and their friends, who just want to live free in peace and harmony.

Thematically, there’s a lot going on in The Creator. It’s very anti-colonialism, for instance. It also wonders how sentient robots will feel about being, essentially, slaves. It wants to tell us that maybe AI will be good for us. Instead of wanting to exterminate us—we who are actually the violent ones who refuse to see the humanity in others—maybe AI will want to be our friends and partners. Maybe AI will help us to develop the humanity lurking somewhere within ourselves and make us better human beings.

But for me, the overarching theme of The Creator is rage at America’s arrogantly militaristic habit of seeing things in black and white (US vs them, good guys vs terrorists, humans vs AI) and of annihilating the enemy at all cost, including that of the lives, livelihoods, housing, and villages of the civilians we don’t see as mattering. Watching this bitter rebuke to “shock and awe” was especially moving right now, on the brink (at least at the time of this writing) of Israel’s potential offensive into Gaza that will be Israel making the same mistake America made after 9/11. We could have taken the world’s sympathy and support (for we had it!) and used it to make the world a better, more equitable, more peaceful, much less impoverished, and more just place. Instead, we spent decades extracting bloody, violent revenge for a single terrorist act. Yes, our pride was wounded, and yes, nearly 3,000 people died as a result of the 9/11 terrorist attack, but the damage and death we caused in response with our mighty military machinery and soldiers gained us nothing, not even satisfaction. All it did, besides kill people and destroy their homes, was take the world into a dark, unstable place where there are now so many sides (within societies and between them) and they all hate each other. We all hate each other and this is ripping the fabric of our societies apart and making life more horrible for everyone. Rampaging like a million Godzillas on methamphetamine might feel as good as smashing glass when you’re mad, but it’s not right. It’s what evil empires do and it has terrible geopolitical repercussions. Especially when you wrap up your claim in the mantle of morality that you don’t actually have.

Of course, few movies are without their flaws. A lot happened in this movie that strained all credibility... and for the most part, it wasn’t the speculative elements. If the plot consisted of a lot of interlocking threads, every last one of them went full circle and tied itself into a tidy little bow by the end, which was ridiculous. Related to this, foreshadowing struck often and always like a sledgehammer. And there were far too many implausible events... characters who just happened to stumble in the right direction to end up in the right place at literally exactly the right time to make exactly the connection (that had gotten set up in another implausible and convoluted set of circumstances) that was totally unexpected (but that you saw coming 30 minutes previously because of the sledgehammer foreshadowing), etc. The AI child has extraordinary powers over machines when the plot needs it to but doesn’t have those powers when the plot needs it not to. The US military people are all such hardcore, single-minded, murder–all–the–AIs–at–all–cost lunkheads that the tragic backstory they give at least one of them to excuse it just comes across as laughable. Also, come on. Los Angeles gets nuked and only a couple of million people die? Does the alternate timeline not know that nearly 20 million people live in the Los Angeles megalopolitan area? Also, why barrage AI hot spots with bombs and missiles, doing so much collateral damage, when a great bit electromagnetic pulse would be far more effective while simultaneously sparing human beings and their homes?

Despite this, the movie is a moving spectacle. And it felt new. Which is not easy to do, as anyone who has sat down to try to write sci–fi could tell you. Sci–fi is so far beyond the first flush of its youth, unless you're really good, that just about any story you come up with has been written several times before. Despite the clunkier aspects of the plot, whoever wrote The Creator is really good. This sci–fi movie broke ground.

These days, I rarely stay for the credits of movies, but I felt compelled to for The Creator. It was so magnificently made, I’d found myself wondering how you would even go about writing a prospectus for a film like this. It was filmed at so many different places around the world and it had so much excellent CGI, there was only one moment in the movie where I was like, oh, that’s totally obviously CGI (and normally I scoff all the time at CGI). How would you even begin to figure out how many people you’d need to make a film this epic and detailed, much less how to coordinate their efforts. How could you begin to calculate how long it would take to make a movie this ambitious or how much it would cost so that the end result was excellent? (Turns out, the cost is $80 million, which is between a quarter and a third of the cost of a typical Marvel movie.)

My best guess—before and after watching the extensive credits—is that it took at least a thousand person-years to get this film made. There were so many animators. And they all seem to have done a painstaking job.

So, kudos to The Creator, the art with which it was made, and the themes that it tackled. Now get thee to a proper movie theater. In fact, the shiniest, newest, most up–to–date movie theater you can find. Movie theaters need our help to survive in this world of streaming, and spectacles like The Creator need to be seen on a big screen.

[auratale]

Every time I come to this stupid palace once every fortnite. It's always the same. We all dress in our most extravagant dresses, meet for social, and then we gossip about other, less unfortunate, individuals for hours. It's daft.

These are the days I cherish most, but dolefully, I must experience one day when I am truly not myself. Any other day, I care only for the menagerie, the town park, or even the library room at the home of the palace at which I reside in currently.

Today, instead of Le comte de Gabalis, it was Pauline de Buanderie. Oh Pauline, you poor, poor girl. I don't mean literally! Figuratively. Although... Nevermind, I'm getting off topic.

These ladies were mean. They could pretend all they want to be nice, but I could tell how the common folk looked at us. I give the same look to others of higher standing. I suppose it may not truly matter, one day they'll have the crowd to them for all to see, and what an occasion it will be.

Admittingly, I'm the same. I sound just like them. I try not to be as blunt as they are, but it's almost contagious. Besides, if I don't keep up this charade, I will lose all status and ruin my family's good name.

I love them. My parents. They truly are kind. I know not if my mother is as pretentious as the ladies I socialize with, for her private life is kept to her own. I don't want to know. She is kind to her maids, kind to the servants, kind to father, and of course to me.

Mother is extraordinary. And so is father, even if I rarely see him these days. He tries to keep what he is doing in secret from us, but I know he goes into town to meet with others about the state of the economy. Is my father for the peasants of the land, or is his money glued to the life of luxury? I know not.

What I do know is that I am incredibly bored. Three hours of bickering about Anna Marie's latest fling. You filthy lady, you shouldn't see Pierre while he tries to woo another lover's heart!

The end grows near, as the moon rises. We are now escorted by servants of the palace to our guest quarters. Finally. I can put this day behind me. Next time I wake to this fantasy of luxury, I can wander in peace, observing the floral that my dear friend Aimée waters everyday.

Bonne nuit, France.

The alarm goes off, and I swipe the button on my screen. I hate it here. My room is always a mess, I don't know how to clean it properly. Maybe I just don't want to. Or maybe I lack motivation.

My mom and the guy she married the year of the Y2K scare are screaming again. It sucks. I hate him.

I have to get to school, but if it means going past my argumentative parents, I'd rather skip today. School is horrible anyway.

I go to the sink and mirror that's conveniently in my room. It's not convenient. It leaks. It smells. But at least I don't have to go downstairs.

I pick up my razor. I can see stubles again. I don't like shaving, but I don't want facial hair. If only I was born a girl.

The sounds of yelling have become ominous silence. That's my cue. I don't like the silence before the storm.

Storm... Perfect. It's raining. The bus arrives and I get on. I overhear the popular girls bickering about something as I pass them. I scowl their way. I look away quickly and feel bad as one of the girls give me a soft expression. I know that look of being in the high place being looked at from below.

School is hell. I don't want to be here. But it's safe at least.

Lucas looks at me. He is my only friend. He asks me why I was so absent minded yesterday. I give him the same exuce as always. "I just have my off days, you know."

History class is my final class of the day. How fun, I love history. Not.

Today's topic is the seventeen hundreds. Whoo, what a time to be alive.

Wait. The French Revolution? Oh yeah, we learned about this in Middle School. All the rich people die. I'm not looking forward to that part.

I speak in old French to show off my French knowledge. It impresses everyone, even the teacher.

Class ends and the usual bully calls me a common French slur. What an ass.

The one benefit about this life is my crush. Her name is Amy. We talk every day at the end of the day. She asks me how life is going. I joke about how I go to upper class parties and I sometimes hang out in a garden with a girl with a similar name to hers.

She laughs.

"That’s funny actually. I love gardening. I've always had a knack for it. I don't know where it comes from." I blush, but then look away.

We get on our different busses and I head home.

I see mom crying at the table. She cries about the husband she married. She calls him my dad. I don't like that. I try not to say the wrong thing. She's temperamental.

We enjoy a pleasant talk today. I go to get up to start dinner. At least I can cook. My mother showed me how. It always impressed mom how good I was at cooking.

I finish and hear him get home. I go upstairs and leave my mom alone. I study and do my homework. Tonight wasn't too bad. They sounded like they talked it out. I don't think they know I can hear them, but the floors are thin, and the vents are like a conduit for sound.

Finally I head to bed. I'm excited to wake up in the morning.

Good night, Boston.

You are subject to a quite unusual curse. You see, you were born twice, one day after the other, in two separate times and places. As such, you live half of your days as a noblewoman in pre-revolutionary 18th century France, and live every other day as a male millennial in the US.