#i did that with doing comms very young though which... im not sure how possible that is anymore/w how much competition there must be now

[oooocleo]

👀 Hullo there

I just wanted to stop by to- for one- tell you that your art is absolutely beautiful! You have such a fluidity and waterlike quality to all of your drawings, they remind me of single frames from old school Disney, like they should start dancing around my screen at any second.

I was wondering, (I'm sorry if it's annoying, you probably get this kind of question a Lot 😭) how long did it take you to get where you're at? Or- how long did it take you before you were satisfied with your artistic quality? I'm a baby artist (if you could count me as such, I started last week 😭) and I know it's gonna take me probably 5+ years to get where I want, but I can't help the insatiable curiosity

Oke das all thank u I wish u nothing but boundless inspiration and perfect ellipses on the first try

hmmmmm! im in my late twenties now and have been drawing on and off since primary school (tho i had a big gap in middle/high school before picking it up again a few yrs into uni) and can only say that i only got to Some sense of satisfaction a few yrs back, which coincided with going fulltime freelance and Drawing A Ton All The Time because of that (paired w/ the external validation of having folks wanting to pay for my work)

i also became more conscious of what demotivates me when it comes to art, being comparing myself to others mainly, and am now usually able to nip that in the bud before i go into a wild death spiral lol.......... i dont know that ull ever be completely satisfied & thats fine, as long as it doesnt stop u from trying again 🤔

i always say to beginner artists that if u can help it, really try to keep the *process* fun for urself, whatever that looks like - dont think abt how marketable it is or how many likes or whatever u get, bc when ur just starting out that stuff is just going to make u feel bad

when u think about what u want it to look like in the future dont beat urself up if it feels like ur not getting closer - tbh, by the time 5 yrs have passed what u want from ur art might be really different from what ur thinking now & thats All Good Babey

hmm what else... it might be interesting to know that ive never taken any formal art education/classes besides middle sql 'drawing' - i think that shows in certain aspects of my work (perspective LOL) and potentially slowed down my progress but personally when i find artists i Really Like and that stick out to me theyre usually also self taught!!

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange part 3

Marinette, she had no idea how this happened, she swore, somehow got lost in gotham during an Arkham jailbreak. All she knew was one minute she was talking to Uncle Ed and then the next there was explosions and then she was... wherever she was.

Apparently Two-Face recognized her on the streets and grabbed her... only she didnt know him.

Her response was to flip him over her tiny shoulder and flee with a vengence. Guess which member of the batfam saw?

If you guessed Tim before he became a Robin because Dick was still Robin—albeit in charge of the Titans and not in Gotham at the time.

Tim did the reasonable thing and somehow convinced the freaked out french girl to go into a cafe while they called her parents.

Two-Face, convinced that tiny Tim kidnapped tiny Marinette and somehow his family would hurt tiny Marinette. Which given that she has how many Rogues around her little finger—Strange, Joker, Quinn, Ivy, Riddler, Penguin AND Zsasz. He did a coin flip to see if he should save her from being in the public eye and possibly expose her family. The coin was in favor of keeping Marinette from being on the news with pictures.

Two-Face decided it was safer to kidnap her from said public place and bring her to Ivy and Harley.

So he grabbed mutliple machine guns, raided the cafe and threw tiny Marinette over his shoulder and sent out shots at abyone that tried to get near them. He wasnt dying becuase of this kid, ok?

Of course said kid is super-powered, terrified, and did i mention its sunny out so her treatments are wearing out faster? No, well they are. This means everything is much scarier and louder and overwhelming that bwing thrown over a stranger that shot at people should be in any situation.

Tiny Tim is very scared for her. He finds Batman and alerts him to the tiny foreigner’s kidnapping—nearly getting killed by Mr. Freeze in the process to boot.

Batman is angry for many reasons, manages to take down Mr. Freeze and tells Gordon to be on alert for Two-Face who kidnapped a tiny french girl.

Only it gets worse.

Superman saw what was going on in Gotham and went to help out—his freind was dealing with a mass prison break of very dangerous criminals, why wouldnt he help?

And on hearing a tiny kid that freaked out in french was in danger? Well, what was he supposed to do Bruce? Ignore her?

He sent Conner after her while he helped out with a number of distrubed individuals, including a pyromaniac (firefly).

Conner manages to track down the pair on his own and almost loses it when he sees tiny Marinette kick Two-Face hard enough he falls down and the girl bolts a lot faster than a normal kid should. He comms in that the girl is a scared foriegn meta, and requests backup.

Kidflash is the one who answers, and takes care of Twoface while Conner tries to track down a terrifed tiny meta that screams in french.

Conner sees her running to a greenhouse and follows her in. Especially as the tiny girl jumped a lot higher than she should and it felt too familiar for comfort.

He manages to sneak in, followed by Kidflash, and they have an ‘oh shit’ moment when they see the scared girl run to a younger Poison Ivy with brown hair, crying. This teen holding a crying child is Rose.

Rose is visibly pissed. “Do you want me to kill him? J called dibs on his brother this time and Harley’s aiming for Tetch after last week.”

Tiny marinette shakes her head and delivers the best line for the young justice members, but worst for a baby Rogue.

“I dont want him to die, i just want him to stop hurting people.”

*remember, she is Jill in Gotham.

“Jilly bean, the world isnt nice. If it was, then batsy wouldnt have dropped me onto an ecoterrorist when i was a week old, and i would be allowed to leave the greenhouse. You wouldnt need to have nearly as many aliases as you do. You can try to make it nice in a lot of ways. I’m happy to handle extermination sicne thats the only thing i have shot at besides the rkc.”

Tiny marinette is frowning. “But then the world wins. I want to beat the world, not lose by being like it.”

Conner is (understandably) confused. Kidflash is processing that oh fuck. This is a meta raised by villians. And another meta raised by villians and goddamnit batman, why did you give a villian a baby? (He didnt. He gave ivy a ten year old. He thought she was her kid and she was raising her or something.)

Tiny Marinette is not happy with Rose’s conclusions.

“Can we call Ghoul and Frost? Maybe they can help with their dads?”

“And why not Puzzles?”

“He has asthma and he cant dodge.”

Rose considers for a moment before nodding. She grabs a plant and talks into it. “Ghoul, Frost, i need you at HQ. Someone has to reign in our dumbass parents. Bring the nuetralizers and tranqs.”

A voice came from another flower. “Should we have zsasz come with?”

“No! He’ll switch sides again!” Marinette yelled.

“Oh. Nets, what the hell are you doing at HQ?”

“Two-Face stole me. I ran.”

“Well, Fuck. Be there in five. Uh, how are your treatments holding?”

“She’s getting lighter. Might want to break out the rocks again.”

“Double fuck. Ill force Frost out of lab. Be there in a few—any crews to aviod or...”

“If they have a green arm band dont give them the fear toxin fixes, and Jerimah’s cult is back,” Marinette added.

“Fuck me up why dont you Gotham!” Ghoul cursed.

“Hey, she’s a kid!” Rose snapped

“Im older than you though!” Marientte chirped.

Conner had a lot to process with this information. Kidflash put together that they were applarently going to try to help the gothamites rather than the rogues, and decided they should leave and focus on helping the others.

Given that Marinette didnt catch the pair (she was still trying to focus on near things) she doesnt know that anyone but Batman and maybe Batgirl is fighting.

So she doesnt hide her abilities, flying at low levels to aviod Batman’s attention. But Kidflash and Batman see her and have a Moment of ‘which of us is telling Superman he might have another clone?’

Marinette, oblivious to this, is seen beside Jason Todd giving people Fear Toxin Antidote and Joker Gas Nuetralizer. Marinette is getting and distributing the antidotes. Jason Todd is making sure she doesnt die by wielding his baseball bat and riding his bike while she flies.

The day ends with most going back to Arkham and Marinette and Jason hiding from heroes for obvious reasons—including a teen and small child ignoring evacuation orders and avoiding GCPS.

Batman is aware of Marinette’s existence as “Jill” and “Nets” and that she helps a group of Rogue’s children that are content to undercut their parents crime. And now he knows Rose is either mcuh younger than he thought when he gave her (he thought brought her back home to) Poison Ivy. And is feeling guiltyTM

If you thought he was having a case of Serial Adopter Bruce Wayne, you are correct. He is now actively looking for these kids and where they are hiding since they moved post-breakout.

Zsasz is only slightly disappointed that Marinette didnt kill Two-Face. Jerome thinks its great and somehow convinces him to apoligize to her by offering to make up a number of contracts between rogues and the gotham underground in general to make things more organized so she and other rogue kids have a safe way of handling situations like that in the future.

Why dies JEROME of all people think this up and not Eddy or Riddler? The answer is he stole the idea from them, gave them no credit, and yes, is doing this as an attempt to score a few extra of marinette’s cookies. He has no shame in this, and riddler hates sweets so he isnt mad. Ed is too busy teaching Marinette Science to realize what happened until long after it did.

This puts Marinette and the RKC in a very odd position. Not only is The Batman trying to find them now, but they have to handle the Rogues trying to baby them. Ghoul and Frost are almost an adults, most people think Rose is almost an adult when irl she’s 5, and yes, Marinette is very much now Gotham Underground’s Princess as the Council is basically set up to ensure her safety.

Marinette knows none of this, as she is small child that just wants to cuddle her stuffed kitty Chaton and sleep on her Father (Strange) while he finishes up in his lab. She does this.

Mr. Freeze and Scarecrow got pictures. They use these to insert themselves in the Teach the Kids Science and Dangerous ThingsTM.

At one point marientte learns how to diassemble a bomb, reassemble one, and diffuse various bombs.

Riddler starts to use bombs more when she’s around to help her practice. Batman is confused as that is Not his usual M.O. Robin/ Dick gets called in and thigns get messy for the Batfam dynamics (he saw the research on the RKC and is pissed that He Was Right! Ivy Didnt Have Rose! and then saw plans for new batkids and reacted BadlyTM due to Teen AngstTM).

The summer ends with Batman having a bad fallout with Robin, Marinette thinking No One knows she’s kyptonian. When Conner suspects, Batman and Kidflash put two and two together, and no one has told Superman yet because um. Well.

They need the girl as proof and would rather not send Clark into another spiral about havig kids he wasnt aware of, ok? He just got decent with Conner. No need to rock the boat, right? (Wrong)

[spaceiplier]

SPACEIPLIER: Homestuck

((THIS IS A JOKE. IT’S JUST A JOKE. IT'S NOT CANON. HAPPY HOMESTUCK DAY.))

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 28th of June, 3516, is this young man's birthday. Though it was twenty-five years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

What will the name of this young man be?

ENTER NAME.

SALLY MCSAGGYTITS

TRY AGAIN, SMARTASS

TRY AGAIN.

MARK FISCHBACH

✔

EXAMINE ROOM

Your name is MARK. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY. A number of CAKES are scattered about your room. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR PILOT. You also like to play GAMES sometimes.

What will you do?

Mark: Quickly retrieve arms from drawer.

Your ARMS are in your SPACE CHEST, pooplord!

Remove CAKE from SPACE CHEST.

Out of sympathy for Mark's perceived lack of arms, you pick up the CAKE for him and put it on his BED.

Mark: Quickly retrieve arms from SPACE CHEST.

You retrieve your FAKE ARMS from the chest. You use these for HILARIOUS ANTICS.

You CAPTCHALOGUE them in your SYLLADEX. You have no idea what that actually means though.

There are other items in the chest.

Mark: Examine contents of chest.

In here you keep an array of humorous and mystical ARTIFACTS, each one a devastating weapon in the hands of a SKILLED SPACEFARER or a CUNNING PRANKSTER.

You are neither of these things.

Among the ARTIFACTS are: TWO (2) FAKE ARMS [CURRENTLY CAPTCHALOGUED IN YOUR SYLLADEX], ONE (1) PAIR OF TRICK HANDCUFFS, ONE (1) STUNT BLASTER, ONE (1) PILOT’S HELMET, ONE (1) PAIR OF BEAGLE PUSS GLASSES, SEVERAL (~) SMOKE PELLETS, SEVERAL (~) BLOOD CAPSULES, and ONE (1) COPY OF COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF SPACE FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY, and ONE (1) COPY OF HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY.

Some of this stuff may come in handy at some point. For now, you decide to just take the SMOKE PELLETS.

Mark: Captchalogue the smoke pellets.

You stow the SMOKE PELLETS on one of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS in your SYLLADEX.

You still aren't totally sure what that means, but you are starting to get the hang of the vernacular at least.

You have two empty CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS remaining.

Mark: Equip fake arms.

You aren't totally sure if "EQUIP" is a verb copasetic with the abstract behavioral medium in which you dwell, but you give it a try anyway.

Unfortunately, you cannot access the FAKE ARMS! Their card is underneath the one you just used to captchalogue the SMOKE PELLETS. You will have to use the pellets first in order to access the arms. But this is probably unadvisable, since you'd just make your room lousy with smoke!

Your SYLLADEX'S FETCH MODUS is currently dictated by the logic of a STACK DATA STRUCTURE. You were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept puzzling and mildly irritating.

But with any hope, perhaps you will advance new, more practical FETCH MODI for your SYLLADEX with a little more experience.

Mark: Examine Space Sleuth Poster.

Is it even possible to get any more hard boiled than that? You really doubt it. This poster was one of your wisest purchases.

There is a nice spot on the wall next to it. You've been meaning to hang another poster there soon.

Mark: Read note on drawer.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU”

This note is rich with the aromas of MOTHERLY HERBS AND SPICES.

Beside the note is a ROLLED UP POSTER.

Mark: Take poster.

Another BIRTHDAY ARTIFACT. You wonder what is printed on the poster.

You'll need some way to hang it on your wall.

Mark: Acquire hammer and nails. They will come in handy.

You first place the HAMMER into your SYLLADEX.

But now all of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS are full. You wonder what will happen if you try to take the NAILS

You guess it doesn't hurt to try.

Mark: Take nails.

You captchalogue FOUR (4) NAILS into the top card, and push all the ARTIFACTS down a card.

The FAKE ARMS are pushed entirely out of the deck!!!

Oh well. They're probably completely useless anyway. But you probably don't want to do that again, unless you want to drop the SMOKE PELLETS and suffer the consequences.

In any case, you now feel like you have gathered enough things to get down to business and do some really important stuff. The next thing you do will probably be exceptionally meaningful.

Mark: Squawk like an imbecile and shit on your desk.

This is the dumbest idea you've had in weeks!!!

STUPID STUPID STUPID.

And yet the polished surface of your desk...

It beckons.

Mark: Combine the nails and hammer.

You MERGE the top two cards.

The HAMMER and NAILS are now captchalogued on the same card and can be used together.

Mark: Use hammer/nails on poster.

You use the HAMMER and NAILS card IN CONJUNCTION with the card beneath it.

Mark: Nail poster to wall.

You use the HAMMER, NAILS, and POSTER on the blank space on the wall.

It's glorious. Exactly what you wanted. Your mom really came through this time.

Mark: Examine Con Space poster.

PUT THE KHARAPIN BACK IN THE BOX.

I SAID, PUT THE KHARAPIN BACK IN THE BOX.

WHY COULDN'T YOU PUT THE KHARAPIN BACK IN THE BOX?

Mark: Examine Deep Impact poster.

Morgan Saorman's genteel, homespun mannerisms were perfect qualities for a president residing over a crisis.

STARS RISE. PLANETS FALL. HOPE SURVIVES.

WOW.

Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you. Plus, a Velm president??? Now you've seen everything!

Mark: Examine calendar.

You've marked your birthday, the 28th of June. Another day you marked was supposed to be the arrival date for the highly touted SBURB BETA LAUNCH.

It's been three days already. It's starting to become a sore subject with you.

Mark: Eat cake.

You are sick to death of cake!!! You've been eating it all day. And you have no intention of clogging your SYLLADEX with it either. The CAKE stays put for now.

You hear a notice from your COMM. Someone is messaging you.

Mark: Examine incoming message.

You pick up your COMMUNICATOR. This is where you spend most of your time. You decorated your screen with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which you made yourself. You are really proud of it.

Your COMMUNICATOR is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. You are so bad at programming sometimes you wonder why you even bother with it.

Your PESTERCHUM application is flashing. Someone is trying to get in touch with you.

Mark: Open Pesterchum.

Only one of your CHUMS is logged in. He's sent you a message.

Mark: Open message.

-- turntechLizardhead [TL] began pestering ectoPilot [EP] at 16:13 --

TL: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today EP: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny. TL: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking scarlix day up in here EP: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage? TL: but TL: the seal on the bottle is unbroken TL: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory EP: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle? EP: try using your brain numbnuts. TL: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like TL: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous EP: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice. TL: ok i can accept that TL: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters TL: also fred savage has a really punchable face TL: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it TL: did you get the beta yet EP: no. EP: did you? TL: man i got two copies already TL: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring TL: did you see how it got slammed in game bro???? EP: game bro is a joke and we both know it. TL: yeah TL: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now EP: alright. Mark: Look out window.You see the view of your yard on VENTOS BETA from your window. Hanging from the tree is your TIRE SWING. In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle. That is to say, HE CAN HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A TERRIBLY PROPER GENTLEMAN AT ALL. And there beside your driveway is the mailbox.

[sanerontheinside]

political horror stories from the frankenAU

- because apparently now that’s a thing that I do

I’m going to preface this particular snippet with an explanation and strong warnings. This is part of a backstory for one of my OCs, who appears in the frankenAU, which I haven’t been particularly open on the details of. I don’t know how these snippets fit overall into the arc, but they occur in the same AU, so I’m posting this separately in several parts as I go. 

Alternatively, this part can be read as a standalone. Actually, I may even keep it that way, post the full form on ao3 later. 

Warnings for current snippet: discrimination against an LGBT character, politics that may strike close to home, manipulation. (Particularly for any followers who experienced the grand experiment of communism, but current events will sting enough.)

Alik raised her arms over her head and stretched, letting her spine click. It didn’t dispel the tightness below her shoulder blades, but it was better than nothing.

In the soft yellow light of her desk lamp, she eyed the blue digits on the chrono and snorted. Well past time for sleeping, but she was already long trapped in the pleasant hum of wakefulness, and craving caff again. Time is a lie, she thought, rising and sighing heavily. Certainly after her return from the neighbouring system, where she’d covered the famine that was beginning to affect their shipments, Time could say whatever it liked about its own progression. Alik’s mind and body were awake and that was that.

Careful not to wake the other few stragglers in their offices that night, Alik gingerly picked up her mug and slipped off her shoes, padded barefoot to the kitchen, and sealed the door behind her with a soft snick to set the kettle.

She could still hear her father’s voice in her head, though they hadn’t spoken a civil word to each other in a very long time – journalism is a thankless job, it never pays enough and no one wants the truth! Well, he was right, of course. Alik worked for one of the best papers in the capital city, but she’d just had the great honor of watching her latest report be quietly suppressed and shuffled down in the ranking.

Oh, it got the proper opening burst of viewership, and even now a few enterprising young souls were probably circulating the link on the HoloNet. It wasn’t news. It wasn’t interesting. The licks and hints and tantalising bites that the local correspondents had had dangled under their noses by a few of the high generals, though, those were interesting.

Alik ground back against a weary, frustrated sigh. They did this every year, or every few months, whenever things got boring. They’d dangle hints and nice little tidbits, but nothing would really come of it. She was almost convinced nobody even believed it anymore, this possibility of a military coup. People were so weary of the tense back-and-forth between the military and the Minister – who seemed to be a public favourite – that they’d relaxed, like an elastic band stretched too many times.

Then again, she thought, throwing the vidstream a crooked glance as she poured a generous measure of cream in her burnt bitter caff, now would be the perfect time to strike, at that. Their main trading partner was struggling with a governmental meltdown, and a number of the neighbouring planets they had dealings with were also showing signs of instability. Things hadn’t been this bad in years, maybe even decades.

Alik hummed softly to herself, pursing her lips at the vidstream in some concern.

3 months later:

“No, I’m trying to tell you –"Alik pressed the heel of her hand against her eye, where the headache was now a constant dull throb. “Maysun, listen to me: Lor assigned coverage of the protests to me. I was there, so was Gaspar. We’ve been arrested.”

The comm crackled. “Where are you?”

“The Intendant’s offices.”

“Why the Inten- you were in the Square?”

“Maysun,” Alik held back a sigh and swallowed her sarcasm, though she couldn’t quite take the edge out of her voice. “Yes, we were in the Square. They asked us to report on the protests in the city centre.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to our legal aid, see if they can get you out. Should I tell Edi?”

Alik snorted. “Has he asked where we are and what he’s paying us for?”

“Of course.”

Alik could hear Maysun’s smile, and it warmed her, just a little. “Then do tell him. He may be lucky, this time,” she added, eyeing the door apprehensively. “I don’t think the Intendant is particularly concerned with legalities.”

“What do you mean?”

The sharp thrum of worry in Maysun’s voice was also reassuring, but not quite enough to settle Alik’s stomach. “My friend, he hasn’t told us why we were arrested,” Alik said quietly. “We’ve been held here without questioning, and I haven’t seen Gaspar since they brought us into the building. This is not normal procedure.”

A beat of silence met her from the other end. Then, “I see.” Alik shivered at the schooled tone, held her breath through the long, unsettling pause. “We’ll do everything to get you out, Alik, I promise you,” Maysun said, far more gently.

“I remember what this means.”

“I know you do, Alik, but maybe it’s not come to that just yet. You only get one comm transmission, right?”

“Right. Five minutes.”

“Right. I see. Is there anyone you want me to call?”

Alik hesitated. “You said – you said it may not be that.”

“Nevertheless. Alik, your instincts have been right more often than not. Please. You’re the one who always tells me to prepare for the worst.”

Logical, that. Alik wanted to groan, wanted to drop her head onto crossed forearms. She’d long since lost all the family that would give half a damn about her, but maybe – “Tell Gaiane.”

“All right. No one else?”

Alik shrugged. “Well, you know. You can tell our lot. Gaiane will tell everyone I care for outside of work.”

“Good. I’ll start with Edi, then tell the others. He’ll be glad to take you off the books, so please come back.”

Alik laughed – a mirthless bark, but it left her feeling lighter. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Blessings, Alik. Hold on.”

The connection cut off. Alik dropped the comm to the table and looked up at the door, staring at it as though a determined, flat glare could show her the other side. The Intendant would come in, he would either apologise and let them go, and then that would be all, or she would be charged with disturbing the peace. Legal counsel would argue that she had been covering a nonviolent protest, and –

The door slid open. The Intendant strode in with a brisk, clipped step, not once looking her way, before he stopped at the edge of the table where she sat.

“Alek im-Norayr?”

Alik blinked up at him. “Alik, and it’s am-Norayr,” she corrected, with a strict emphasis.

The Intendant looked at her, a piercing, predatory gaze, and a sharp sweep from the crown of her head to her feet. “Quite so.” He stepped around her, behind her, passing far too close not to raise the hair on the nape of her neck. “Tell me, Alik – may I call you ‘Alik’? Or is there a more formal, complete form you would prefer?”

“‘Alik’ is the name I wish to be called,” she said firmly, back too straight, shoulders far too tense.

“Very well, Alik. What were you doing in the Square, six hours ago?”

“I will not speak without my company’s legal counsel present,” Alik replied steadily.

The Intendant smiled. “You are not here under arrest, Alik. No charges have been filed against you.”

Yet, her mind added ominously. “Yet I’ve been kept here for six hours, though I have not been charged with anything.”

“A bureaucratic error, I assure you,” he said, waving the issue out of the air like a passing nuisance. “I only have a few questions – I need to clear up a bit of confusion, compare testimonies of the protestors against other accounts. You work for – which company?”

“I work for the Daily Inquiry,” Alik answered levelly.

“The Daily Inquiry, very good – you’re one of their best correspondents. You know how important the facts are to us.”

Alik shrugged. “Then I see even less reason to ask a journalist.”

The Intendant chuckled amiably. “Ah, good, you’ve a fine sense of humour, Alik. You and I will get along very well, I think. Now: you were covering the protests?”

“My superior assigned coverage of the protest to me and Gaspar im-Suf-”

“Oh, yes, I know about your friend, Gaspar,” the Intendant interrupted lightly. “We have already spoken to him. He says you were responsible for the fighting that broke out in the crowd.”

Alik opened her mouth, then closed it again. No he didn’t, she thought, with a taste in her mouth like burnt metal. “The crowd was not violent, where we were -”

“My officers say it was violent,” the Intendant cut across her smoothly, and this time his voice was harder, cooler. “Are you calling them liars?”

Alik stared. Her mouth snapped shut.

“I thought not. Let’s try again. Your companion claims that you threw the first punch. Did you do this?”

Alik schooled her expression to pleasant blankness. “I am sure there has been a mistake. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak no further without legal counsel.”

“As is your right,” the Intendant nodded, agreeing. “But you know it will be held against you, of course.”

“But you say I have not been charged.” Alik dared a slight surprised widening of the eyes, an innocent blink.

The Intendant’s expression sharpened, and he looked up at her again, reevaluating his opponent. “Oh, come now, Alik. We know you started the riot.”

Oh gods, gods all. She knew this game. She knew it so well, she’d grown up with these stories braided into her hair, wound tight against her skull. She kept that knowledge out of her face, the fear that quaked within her trapped behind the mask of sudden blankness that slammed up over her expression. That was a tell like any other, she knew, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care, so long as it wasn’t her fear.

“You realise, of course, I don’t need to charge you with anything.”

Of course you don’t. “That would be illegal.” Not that anyone would care.

“There are certain – exceptions,” the Intendant smiled with his teeth alone, “for dealing with dangerous elements, enemies of the State.”

Right. Horrible-sounding laughter rang in her ears, a low voice of despair that had seen this coming, knew this was going to happen, it was only a matter of time, you chose journalism for this, didn’t you, Alik? She ignored it. “You know that will never hold in the courts. My company's lawyers –"

“Will not defend a traitor,” the Intendant cut in. “You have taken advantage of your position at the Daily Inquiry to corrupt the minds of the people with your fear mongering and your perversions of the truth. I’m sure they’ll even thank us for taking you off their hands,” he added with a twisted smirk, “after all, they have a responsibility to their readers.”

Now would be the time to show fear, Alik thought. Now would be the time to beg and scream and cry out, even though no one would come. More than anything else, though, she kept thinking that it didn’t make sense, that these threats hadn’t been made in decades. Of course they never died, but – why now?

Old methods of control and terror never died, and there was still no way to win against them. If anything, Alik should have known, from the moment they separated her from Gaspar, that she wasn’t going to walk out of here on her own two feet.

She wasn’t about to let the knowledge cow her.

The change in her – the acknowledgement of that finality – must have been evident. Her face smoothed, her voice dropped to a lower, more confident register. “You seem certain of these allegations,” Alik said, the tension in her body flowing out, replaced with readiness and an air of challenge.

“Are you going to deny them?” the Intendant asked, almost as though the spectacle before him were amusing.

“You don’t need a confession from an enemy of the State.” She must have looked weary, her eyes sliding aside to the dirty window and the dark wall. And the floor, she noticed, was dark. She wondered how scrupulously clean the Intendant kept his offices.

“No, I don’t. But it would make things so much easier for you.”

The corners of her mouth twitched in the very slightest of resigned smiles. No, not at all. Confessions are only meant to break you. To gauge how weak you are.

She turned her head back to him, and grinned – a wide, toothy, sickly grin.

You can’t have me yet.

*Note: yes, he deadnamed her.