#never mind i can’t find the exact one i’m envisioning. perhaps i imagined it

[carsickcrow]

man. i have so many thoughts about malevolent it’s so fucking interesting!!!! morality and death and identity and such themes…. when i’m all caught up i need to immediately relisten and like take notes and analyze everything. cause i have so many thoughts. and all the characters are so fascinating and their interactions with each other.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  6.4

"What did you mean when you said they didn't escape?"  You had noticed Xiao's eyes never left the bird when he spoke to you, and finally realized the stupid piece of scrap metal was more than a knocking device.  When it had hopped to the other end of the hall you decided to take a shot and ask Xiao again.

"I meant exactly what I said," his eyes finally met yours.

"W-What? But--"  Movement near his legs attracted your attention and you saw that he was drawing letters on the tile's surface with the pad of his finger.  You watched him intently.

"All is not as it seems."

"Hm?"  Your brain hurt just trying to decipher it's meaning.  He gave you a final warning look before facing straight ahead again.

"Food."  A Fatui agent slid your tray beneath the door.  He glanced at the yaksha, but walked away without saying anything else.

You dragged the tray over so that it sat in front of the two of you.  "Would you like to eat something?"

"You know I can't stomach human food."  He pushed the tray over to you.  It was then that he noticed just how hollow your cheeks were, and the way your collarbones stuck out from your chest.  "Eat."

"I'll pass."  You watched his eyes narrow at you.

"Eat."  This time he shifted so he was facing you head-on.  "There's no point in starving yourself here."

"They can't achieve their agenda if I'm dead."

"They already have your blood samples.  They won't care if you die as long as they have me. So eat."

"But you could just break out of here if I die!"  You had only meant the words as a half-joke, but your vision was obscured by tears.  "I-if I die on my own accord, you won't have to worry about hurting me.  That's why you haven't done it, right?  That's why you haven't broken the seal, because you don't want another person's blood on your hands?"

Xiao observed you carefully before releasing a sigh.  His eyes cast downward and landed on his gloves, overturning his hands as he envisioned them coated in the blood of his comrades and enemies alike.  "Do you truly no longer care for your own life?"

"I'd rather die at my own hands than let them kill me."

"What about returning to Qingce Village?  Or seeing the Lantern Rite?"  He raised his gaze to you again.  "You were looking forward to that as far as I remember."

"It's like Childe said," you mumbled.  "There's no future even if we both escape."

"Childe?" His eyes narrowed and his voice was tinged with anger.  "Don't believe the things he's told you.  He's--"

"Why? He's right about this," you choked out.  "Even if we get out, they'll always chase after us...we can't hide forever, and..."  I'll always be chasing after the love of an adeptus.  

"There's no need to fear such things." Xiao eyed you carefully before scooting closer to you so that your knees were touching his.  He gingerly placed a hand at the nape of your neck and pulled you close.  His thumb gently rubbed against your skin.

"Heh," a small chuckle left your lips and caught the adeptus off guard.  

"What?"

"It's just...You did this before."  A warm smile crossed your lips, and Xiao frowned slightly at the myriad expressions you kept making.  He couldn't keep up with your feelings; you switched between them so fast.

You're still this strange after all this torment?  He was about to make the comment when you grabbed the hand that sat atop your neck and brought it forward.  Your gaze dropped as you enveloped his hand with the two of yours, stroking the plate that encased the top of his glove.  

Sooner or later, I'm going to die and it'll probably be in this cursed cell.  But...I can't say I'm ungrateful for the moments I've known Xiao or for his rescuing of me when I was a child.  It's a privilege to know him...but he will forget about me sooner or later, just as Childe said.  But even still, I can't help but...

Your touch was so...gentle.  Soft, even.  Xiao short-circuited and froze as he contemplated the gesture. What was its meaning? No one had ever done this with him before.  It was weird.  Too weird.  "Your body requires nutrition to function.  So eat it."  Xiao abruptly pulled his hand out of your grasp and handed you the tray of food.

When all you did was stare at the tray with a conflicted expression, the yaksha sighed in annoyance and grabbed the spoon.  He scooped up some of the rice and held it out to you.  Your blushing reaction wasn't what he expected.  "T-this is too embarrassing!"  You covered your face with your hands and shook your head.

"If you won't eat, I'll force you to."

"EH?!"  You peeked out from behind your fingers and saw that he was completely serious on doing what he said.  "F-fine."  You took the spoon from his hand and hesitantly brought it to your mouth, mindful that he was intent on watching you until you finished the plate.

........................................................

"Xiao!" You sprung up into a sitting position and gasped for a breath of air.  

"It's been some time since I've seen you awaken from a nightmare."  Xiao scooted a little closer to you and noticed there were tears brimming your eyes.

"I thought I--"  Your cheeks suddenly dampened from the onslaught of tears.  Your throat clenched up as you recalled the horrific dream.

"You're alive and here."

"No," you shook your head.  "I-I thought..."  Your exhausted body gently slid back onto the floor as your eyes fought hard to remain open.  "I thought you..."

I thought I lost you, your tired inner voice reached his ears.  Xiao watched you slide your hand toward him as you fell back asleep, almost as if keeping it near him somehow gave you comfort.  Your eyelids finally closed, and he continued to stare at your outstretched bony hand that rested atop the tile floor.  He's here, thank the archons he's right here, your unconscious thoughts continued to flow into him.  ...right...here...

Xiao wasn't sure how much time passed as he continued to watch you sleep.  His eyes always returned to your hand, following its outlines and grooves, from the tips of your fingers to your wrist.  She's been holding back on praying to me this entire week, yet she holds fear of losing a yaksha?  Xiao furrowed his brows as he contemplated your thoughts.  Why is a human so worried about my wellbeing?  Her and Aether both. He shook his head in an effort to rid his mind of what was probably some sort of human compassion for you.  Humans are difficult to comprehend, he dismissed.

Your eyes opened slightly to look at him, and he noticed.  You weren't awake, but your eyes glowed nevertheless as his inner turmoil somehow found its way into the depths of your mind. 'Perhaps you face and accept what is in your heart...and you will understand the meaning of my words.' Zhongli's advice was brought to the forefront of Xiao's mind as he watched your eyelids close again.

I hate this, the yaksha grumbled to himself.  A small sigh left his lips, and his gaze fell to your outstretched hand once more.  He had a feeling that this past week would have a lasting effect on you, and you probably wouldn't be the same person after the two of you escape this hell.  Something inside you was slowly breaking; he felt the despair and desperation in your daily prayers to him.  It reminded him of himself so many centuries ago.

'You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave.'  The yaksha rolled his eyes as he remembered another one of Zhongli's lines.  But...he's not wrong.  His agreement with the archon's words was already a big enough struggle; he couldn't imagine actually acknowledging and accepting his own feelings.  He continued to watch you, his expression hardening as he fell deeper into his thoughts.  Human minds are fragile.  She could break and come out stronger; she could break and become like me, or...she'll shatter completely.  My feelings may not reach her if the latter happens.

After thinking this and continuing the internal struggle for a bit longer, he finally placed his hand beside yours, fingertips barely touching fingertips.

..........................................

Xiao glared at the handcuffs that restrained him when he caught sight of the exact same seal that prevented him from breaking out of his cell.  The harbingers must've done a lot of research in order to obtain him.  He was forced to walk behind you after being blindfolded.

Unlike him, you were allowed to see where you were walking.  Apparently Dottore had thought of you more as a pest than a serious threat.  Not that you were offended, though; you were a pest without a vision.  Fighting was useless, and your only chance of escape was crushed in the damned Tsaritsa's hands.  Now that Xiao was here, it was your priority to get him to escape while he could.

'Out there, you will not survive.' Childe's words ringed in your ears much like a mosquito.

Speaking of which, here was the man himself, in the middle of Dottore's arena and accompanied by another harbinger you had seen in the Tsaritsa's throne room several days ago.  He was much shorter than Childe, more around your and Xiao's height.  He wore a strange outfit too, with the likes of an umbrella for a hat and shorts of all things in a literal winter wonderland.  You had the guts to stifle a laugh, and he glared harshly at you.

"You're walking just fine after being injected so much," Dottore held a strange grin and nodded to himself.  "Just as the Tsaritsa thought; healing abilities would be drastically increased along with the lifespan of the human in question.  Interesting.  Now then!"  He clapped his hands and signaled for the guards to halt your and Xiao's movements.  They finally removed the cloth from around his eyes.

"This here is the sixth harbinger, Scaramouche," greeted Childe.  Even he seemed to find amusement in his co-worker's height, a rare glint of joy in his eyes that quickly darkened when Scaramouche caught onto the glee in his voice.

"He will be in charge of testing your fighting capabilities," Dottore answered your confused expression with a thin smile.

"Fighting capabilities?"  The guard unclasped the cuffs around your wrists.  "I don't--"

"Another lie!" Dottore rolled his eyes and scoffed.  "Childe reported you fight much like this yaksha, correct?"  The harbinger nodded in confirmation.  "Now I sincerely doubt an amateur such as yourself would be able to wield a lance so proficiently when all you were learning to wield was a sword."  He nodded to Scaramouche.

"I'll break her in," he spoke almost to himself, and tossed you a metal staff that hung from a rack of weapons to the left of the arena.

The guards escorted Xiao to the right of the room, and Childe joined him.  He leaned down slightly and placed a firm grip on the yaksha's shoulder.  "My orders are to kill you if you try anything."

I sincerely doubt you could, Xiao thought to himself as he watched you catch the staff.  Your worried inward voice reached his ears, and he met your gaze without nodding.  This is...wrong, he watched Scaramouche assume a fighting stance.

"Fight me," the harbinger ordered.

Xiao?  Your eyes met the yaksha's, and much to your dismay, his expression was unreadable.  You didn't want to fight anyone if it were for the sake of this sickening research.  Your stare fell to the metal in your hands as you absently stroked it.

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" The harbinger spat out.  "Follow my orders."

You dared to look up at the harbinger and in an act of defiance, struck one end of the metal polearm onto the tile floor.  The ringing accentuated your now-glowing eyes.  "No."

"'No?'"  A light scoff escaped his curled lips.  

Childe's grip on Xiao's shoulder tightened immensely.  "She's made quite the mistake this time," he whistled.  Even the guards tightened their hold on the yaksha in preparation for what's to come.

"No," you repeated in a firm tone.  Your irises shone brighter.  "I don't want to."

"You don't want to?" Something snapped in the harbinger, and he threw himself at you with a catalyst in his hand.  A bolt of electricity hit the staff as you attempted to block his advance, and it instantly jarred your bones.

"Urk!"  Your back collided into the back wall of the arena.  Your body fell to its knees, your limbs violently twitching from his attack.  Xiao was also struggling a bit, but he breathed through the pain.  After all, he could handle more pain than your mortal body ever could.  "Hah.."  You started to get up even though your legs shook like jelly.

"I didn't say you could get up!" Scaramouche landed a hard kick to your stomach, and your head hit the wall again.  When you caught a glimpse of his face, it terrified you.  His eyes were pure malice, pure insanity.  They were cruel, and much more than Childe's ever were. The disregard for human life was on par with Dottore's.  Scaramouche yanked you to your feet by the collar of your shirt and slammed you into the wall again with a hand at your throat.  "When I give you an order, you follow it. Now do what you're told."

He backed off of you and let you pick the staff up again.  You wiped the blood away from the corner of your mouth and snuck a gaze at Xiao, remembering that he was feeling the exact pain you were.  Do I fight him? Your eyes wavered with conflict as you glanced back and forth between the harbinger and the yaksha.

This feels wrong, Xiao's conflicted thoughts plagued his decision of answering your question with a nod or  shake of the head.  I can't ask her to fight like this, but I can't ask that she avoid it either.  Both conclude with us battered and beaten--wait.  His brows furrowed at you.  Is she...trying to protect me?  Again?  A yaksha, who's known nothing but pain and death and can come out unscathed?  She's prioritizing me over her mortal self?  

Your gaze had long since removed itself from the yaksha, and you eyed the harbinger carefully while you twirled the polearm in your hands.  This man intentionally chose a pure metal object as my weapon so he could just electrocute me whenever he wanted.  Your shoulders shrunk back at this as you realized the true intents behind this 'exercise.'  One, to torture.  Two, to see if they can make you snap and prove their theories right.

You sure as hell weren't going to let them push you around if it was going to hurt Xiao.

................................

Coming up:  Attempted escape.  A couple more Xiao x reader moments ;)

[ragnarachael]

#12 fluff prompt; loki and the reader go on their first date, being all shy, awkward and cute and the date ends up with a kiss or something like that!

HI HELLO, SO UH THIS IS 1.2K WORDS OF COMPLETE SOFT??? CONTENT???? i think i’m just SO fucking soft for loki in thor (2011) so this is the era of loki i envisioned for this. i don’t know if i should say i’m sorry but i’m YEARNING so. ur welcome. (ironically i was listening to PARANORMAL by HUMORUS as i started to write this out, and it kinda… kinda set the Vibe™️)

LOKI TAGLIST:  @sadwaywardkid

finishing my 700 follower celebration with the rest of the drabbles i’ve received! (requests are OPEN if you’d like to send any in!)

The time leading up to your first date with Loki was nothing but anxiety inducing.

You are, afterall, courting the prince of Asgard. Officially.

Frigga was excited to hear of this news when Loki had returned from asking you officially to the date, and helped plan everything Loki asked for her help on.

Almost all the way down to what you wore, actually, except Loki was quick to pull his mother back due to her excitement.

Loki and you had agreed upon meeting in one of the gardens in the palace you used to play in as kids for a evening picnic and watch the sunset on Asgard.

You never read about first dates being as awkward as they were in the novels you had, but after all, they were novels.

“You.. You look…” Loki started before trailing off when he walked up behind you with a basket in hand as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, a shy smile. growing on your face as you saw how.. how taken he looked.

He looked floored, honestly. As if you recited the most heartfelt poetry that was to make even the strongest men cry.

All you had done was wear one of your more fancier ensembles that you didn’t mind getting too dirty, remembering that he had mentioned something about a picnic.

“You look great.”

“Thank you,” you replied nervously, quickly getting up from the stone bench you sat on to take his free hand. “So, are you to take me to the clearing?”

And so, the date started.

The both of you were tense after sharing a dinner that Loki admitted his mother couldn’t help but pack for the two of you in the picnic basket he had carried. 

You couldn’t hide the giggle you had as Loki recalled how much his mother actually helped make most of the things in this date happen.

“She must really like me if she’s helping you do all of this,” you teased, nudging Loki lightly which caused him to chuckle as well.

“I fear if she had the chance, she’d make you her daughter no matter the consequence.”

The both of you shared a soft pair of laughter before you realized the tension had lifted between the two of you.

It was relieving.

You and Loki lay in the grassy clearing that was hidden by the rather large garden in the palace where you usually stargazed, leaning into his side as Loki’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders.

Watching the sunset together with Loki was actually a very.. intimate affair.

Far more intimate than you could have imagined with Loki.

You, being tucked in his side and held firmly to his side? The safest you’ve felt in ages. Even if you felt the urge to move, you didn’t let yourself do so. You felt comfortable.

And Loki seemed to feel the same.

Once the sun finally set past the trees of the clearing, the sky still a mix of blues and purples with twinges of red, Loki started to talk about the stars. The constellations, to be exact. Casually tracing some out even though the sky wasn’t ready to reveal the map it had so carefully crafted millenniums ago. 

“My personal favorite is Ophiuchus, but you can’t see it too well from where we’re positioned,” Loki explained softly, as if he had to whisper so the constellations could come out. 

“Isn’t that represented as a man grabbing a snake?”

“It is, yes,” Loki answered as his gaze turned to look at you with a cheeky smile on his face, “very telling, I’m aware.”

You snorted as you readjusted yourself to have your head laying on Loki’s chest, the sky slowly turning a darker blue as you two continued to make small talk about any and everything just before you excitedly pointed out what looked like a constellation, Loki naming it in almost an instant.

You laid like that until the both of you started to yawn, and Loki insisted he take you home before you fell asleep on his chest, as if he didn’t know it was the most comfortable you felt in ages.

After some dramatic huffing, you agreed and took his hands he offered to help you up from the ground.

The walk back to your home was quiet, but extremely peaceful as you held Loki’s hand, not at all hesitating to swing it back and forth between you as the two of you walked at the same pace, the quiet thumping of the picnic basket filling in the silence.

You chose to continue what you were doing earlier as you laid in the grass.

“What’s that constellation?”

“Darling, you took the same class as I did, you know exactly what it is,” Loki replied before letting out a chuckle.

You tried not to let the pet name affect you. 

Darling.

“I like when you tell me about them, though. Your voice is much better than mine.”

“Now that I beg to differ,” Loki replied before slowing his pace with you at his side before looking up at the night sky to see what you were pointing at.

“That’s Lepus, and just below it is Orion.”

Letting out a pleased hum, you squeezed Loki’s hand in your own before laying your head on his shoulder. You listened to him talk more about the Orion constellation and its family as you continued the trek home.

If you weren’t walking, you would have most definitely fallen asleep just by hearing Loki’s voice carry on with twinges of excitement about the sky.

You were at your doorstep far too soon for your liking when Loki placed the basket down and grabbed both of your hands, pressing your foreheads together. You knew your face was heating up under his gaze, unable to hide the smile that was growing.

“I hope you enjoyed this date. I… I was worried that I would find a way to ruin it.”

“Loki,” you started softly, lifting your head so your foreheads weren’t touching and pulling one of your hands from his to cup one side of his face, “I had the best time with you. I couldn’t have pictured a better date—”

You were cut off with Loki’s lips.

And you melted completely into his touch.

You kept a hand on his face as his hands wrapped respectfully around your waist to pull you closer, which only deepened your kiss.

His lips were just as soft as you imagined and that made you realize you never wanted to leave this moment whatsoever.

However, you had to breathe.

And so did Loki, for he pulled away first, the both of you took shaky breaths after the exchange.

“Perhaps next time you kiss me when I’m not in the middle of talking,” you teased quietly, pressing your foreheads back together again as you both let out breathy giggles in the chill of the night on your doorstep.

“My apologies, darling.” Loki had a face splitting grin on his face as he spoke. And so did you. You were sure of it.

Letting out a skeptical hum in reply, you were quick to take a deep breath before connecting your lips again with more vigor letting both of your arms wrap around Loki’s neck as he happily kissed you back with just as much excitement, one of his hands trailing up your back to press you even closer to his chest.

[nadziejastar]

You mentioned that Monsters Inc. had many more guidelines than Toy Story. Was that the one that had perhaps the most guidelines or was there one that had even more?

Tetsuya Nomura: Frozen had the most.

I imagine if you want part of a level to be behind the Monsters Inc. factory, you could ask them what they think that would look like. You could ask them to try and provide some suggestions or fill in some of their vision. Whereas for Aladdin, for instance, that's not possible anymore. Being able to quiz those people. So is that also helpful in some respects?

Tetsuya Nomura: Since you mention Aladdin, I'll just use Aladdin as an example. Since there isn't anyone that we could ask about adding more areas to Aladdin, it was actually easier because we could just create them on our own.

I’m glad you recommended that video to me. I completely agree with it. The theory is that Arendelle was changed from how it was originally envisioned by the KH3 team. The original plot was supposed to revolve around Elsa and her struggle with the darkness. Her ice palace was a dungeon, she would be the final boss of the level, and the ultimate outcome was for her to give into the darkness. It all makes perfect sense.

Larxene: I mean, just look at how icy her palace is---made of magic she forced herself to keep hidden until now. What if it’s dark magic?

Sora: Elsa would never rely on the darkness!

Larxene: Actually, it’s still too early to call. Depends on how she sees it. If she believes her magic is darkness, that’s what it will become. Accepting her power, whatever it is, is the only way she can set her heart free.

This whole concept was wasted. Hans came out of nowhere, said nothing and felt so random. It definitely felt like he was added at the last minute. The video theorizes that Disney originally was going to let Nomura do what he wanted with the plot, but since the movie became such a huge hit, Disney became a lot more restrictive about what they let Square do with the I.P. They probably didn’t want Elsa being depicted as “dark” otherwise it will traumatize little kids...or something. In the end, Disney did more harm than good, since everyone thinks the Frozen level was a huge missed opportunity. 

Nomura: Usually when we think about making a game, we choose from works already available to the public. However for Frozen, when we were selecting the worlds, Disney showed us the preview before it was finished, and we liked it enough to continue the discussion to include it in the game. We decided on the inclusion before the movie was premiered, so we were lucky that it was a huge success (laughs).  

Nomura said hat he wanted to include Frozen in KH3 even before the movie ever released publicly. So, it had nothing to do with its popularity. And it’s not hard to see why he wanted it in KH3. Thematically, it is perfect for KH3. Elsa’s darkness was fueled by her thinking her power was bad. She isolated herself from everyone and it fueled her darkness. Darkness is not necessarily evil. It can be sadness, loneliness, fear, etc. 

Riku: I can't go home---not yet. It's still here. It's really faint, but I can sense him. So I think his darkness may still have a hold on me.

Mickey: Your darkness belongs to you. Just the same way your light does. Up till now, I thought darkness was something that should never exist. Then I spent time with you and changed my mind. The road you chose---I didn't know. Light and dark, back to back. With you, I think they might meet in a way nobody's seen before. Wonder where that road leads. I'd like to see myself.

It’s why a parallel was drawn between Elsa and Riku. He avoided Sora because he thought he had a dark power that he couldn’t control. He wanted to protect Sora, but was too ashamed to see him. It also ties into the power of waking. Although Elsa struggled with the darkness, she was still the one who was able to bring Anna back. And Riku was the one who was able to use the power of waking on Sora in KH3D.

Ansem: Sora was the only one able to return to his human form without destroying his Nobody. That is a statement to the love in his heart for other people, and the bonds that tie them together. Perhaps...he has the power to bring back the hearts and existences of those connected to him-- to recreate people we thought were lost to us forever.

The whole idea that love will thaw a frozen heart is seriously too perfect for KH3. It’s what Ansem’s research was supposed to be all about. 

Ansem the Wise: I am to blame. When I met Riku the first time he still had the appearance of a boy. Probably because he had such a strong heart. I asked him to find a young man named Roxas from Organization XIII, and bring him to me. When I told him it would help Sora awaken from his slumber, Riku left without a word. He fought Roxas. And I can only surmise Riku lost that fight. Riku must have realized then: to fight in the realm of darkness, he would have to immerse himself in that same darkness. And when he did...you saw what became of him. When Riku brought Roxas back to me, he was introducing himself...as Ansem. If that was what it took to awaken his friend, he was ready to live in darkness. Riku was the victim of my revenge. ...Oh, how my heart ached. I could only laugh to hide my shame.

Mickey: I guess it musta been after that when I saw Riku again. He said he wanted to help Sora...but he made me promise--- Promise that Sora wouldn't ever find out about what happened to him while he was out in the darkness.

Ansem the Wise: My friend, the time has come. I must make amends to these young people.

And Ansem the Wise was the one whose sacrifice allowed Riku to change back, too. Seeing Sora and Riku’s bond helped thaw his heart. Seriously, this world should have had a LOT more impact of the main story than it did. It’s sad that it was planned to be included so many years in advance, and most people thought it felt pointless to the main story.

“Missions… speaking of that, don’t you find what we’re actually doing pretty unclear?” Larxene asked, and then stood next to Marluxia.

“In order to take back our hearts,” said Marluxia, repeating Xemnas’ exact words.

Larxene cast her eyes down for a moment. “But I don’t really want or need a heart. It’s painful with a heart. Right now I’m pretty comfortable,” she muttered.

I’m pretty sure Larxene being the main villain of Arendelle world was also supposed to tie into her backstory. In the novel, it’s hinted that she was hurt in the past. She said having a heart was painful. It’s probably why she’s so nasty, especially to men.

“It makes me tingle to think how easily you were duped! So close—we were almost there. This was our only chance to turn the Keyblade master into our puppet! But that—that jerk Axel—he used Naminé and betrayed us!” Larxene spat viciously and stalked toward Sora.

Everyone’s just been getting in the way, she thought. The Keyblade master, Axel, Naminé—they’re all just getting in our way. Why do they want to screw up all our plans? All we want is…

Maybe she was supposed to have some kind of redemption to thaw her frozen heart.

[imagine-loki]

Irked

Title: Irked

Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal.

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #15 Rating: Teen

While continuing to grocery shop, Loki was piling things into their cart so quickly, he was able to devise a plan. Each time Shandi tossed in something unhealthy, he’d sneak it out, replacing it with an alternative. To her, it simply appeared he’d shuffled things about. Then once in line, he suggested she wait in the car, while he took care of the rest.

“I can stay and help.” She replied.

“Wouldn’t you rather relax in the air-conditioned car?”

“Its air conditioned in here too, I don’t mind.”

The moment the person ahead finished up, Loki ushered her past the cashier. “We’ve a lot of meat, darling. The cooler the car, the better.”

“It’s not ‘that’ long of a drive.”

“Elizabeth.” His penetrating gaze and kind, yet insistent tone, left no room for further discussion.

“Okay, I’m going. Sheesh.”

Loki came out shortly after, stuffed all the bags into the trunk and they started back to the house.

“What was that about?” She asked.

“I thought you’d prefer being off your feet while making the car cooler.”

“And for the sake of all that meat?”

“Exactly.”

Her brow crinkled. “Then why is everything in the trunk?”

“Well…what’s your point, Lizzy? Is there an actual point to all this?”

Once arriving, she went to use the washroom and when done, Loki was waiting at the door.

“Where’s all the food?” She asked.

“I put it away already.”

“That fast?”

He smiled. “Didn’t I say magic was a wondrous thing?”

On the return ride, they discussed a few things.

“Alice must be using the ovens of a local Bakery to prepare for the fair.” Said Loki. “It makes sense. One home oven could never prepare enough baked goods for a large, three day event.”

Shandi couldn’t help but find his comment rather amusing and it showed on her face.

“Still finding it difficult to comprehend a prince of Asgard, cooks?”

“Yep and bakes.”

“Of which I’m pleased you’re no longer concerned to eat. You still haven’t revealed what all the fuss was about?”

Shandi glanced out the window. “I’m not discussing that with you Loki.”

He stifled a smirk. “As you wish, but I’m not the only Alien Prince that does. Upon returning here, I was a buffoon in the kitchen. Thor took me shopping and once showing me some basics of cooking, left me to myself. After the appliances and I had some..disagreements, which Tony took delight in critiquing following his initial panic, I resorted to a diet similar to yours.”

“Why was he panicked?”

“He was passing by my apartment one morning at the exact moment I set something ablaze in the kitchen, heard the fire alarm and demanded entrance. Fortunately, magic saved the Tower from a visit by the fire department, as I hadn’t learned how to use the extinguisher yet.”

Her brows rose. “What happened with the appliances?”

Loki then mocked Tony’s voice. “So, tell me Cactus. How does one who can teleport and make clones of himself, fuck up two toaster ovens, then a top of the line microwave, a high end coffee maker and today, simultaneously set two pans of bacon and omelet on fire?”

She chuckled. “You did all that?”

“I did. Had he have had some patience, I might’ve dressed before answering, too.”

“Did you answer the door in your underwear?”

“I’m certain he would have preferred that.” Shandis mouth fell open and Loki smirked. “I told you the day we arrived here, I sleep naked.”

“But you were cooking.”

“I had been wearing a robe, but overheated and removed it.”

She chuckled, again. “Poor Tony. What did he say?”

“He was banging away as I casually approached, ignoring his flare for dramatics.”… “What the hell’s going on in there Cactus? Open the…MOTHER OF GOD!!! HAVE YOU NO SCRUPLES?”

That did it. Between envisioning Tony’s expression and the way Loki mocked his mannerisms, Shandi was in stitches. “What happened then?”

“He scurried past me, inspecting things while I sauntered towards my robe and nonchalantly re adorned it. Since then, he has Jarvis inform me when he’s coming to assure I’m ‘decent.’”

“I fully believe that. Didn’t you read any of the instructions for those appliances, or extinguisher?”

“Pshh, whatever for? I came from an advanced realm, a God no less. Certainly without aid, I wouldn’t encounter difficulty operating Midgardian gadgets.”

“Oh. Is that why you put too much liquid into the blender at the staff kitchen, then?”

Loki recalled the incident. “I hadn’t put the lid on tight enough, was all.”

“Well, there’s always duct tape if Mr. Preston has one you’d like to use.” She cackled at his eyes rolling. “So, you were saying about your diet?”

“It was atrocious, much like yours.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Shandi, as a God, I’ve the strength no human could fathom and as you know, a large appetite. The amount of processed foods I was consuming, with all their chemicals, was negatively affecting ‘my’ energy levels. I can’t imagine how it’s affecting you.”

“I guess having eaten like a Prince, you wouldn’t be used to such things. Most average people, are.”

“And in the process, you’re subjecting yourself to a slow poisoning.”

‘Man.’ She thought. ‘He gets weirder by the hour.’ “Loki, what’s with the big interest in my diet all of a sudden?”

“Alright.” He coolly replied. “Seeing you so ill the other day, I was reminded of my own unpleasant plight. If you wish, perhaps I can help you prevent that from reoccurring. It’s up to you.”

Shandi was baffled by his recent behavior and the troublesome wish it were sincere. More than she cared to admit. She recalled Nat revealing his actions towards the family of a boy killed by the Chitauri, along with Thor and Steve’s conversation about how upset he was after an incident with a little girl in a restaurant. Was there a warmer side of himself, purposely kept concealed? Why? Another thought secretly pondered came to mind. One she’d soon get an opportunity to ask.

“Thank you for your concern.” She kindly replied. “I’ll consider it, okay? I was thinking about Laura being so outspoken. If we keep interacting with her, she may inadvertently teach us more about the family.”

Loki noted how quickly the subject was changed and let it go. “Possibly, but regarding Alice. If Nat doesn’t report seeing her at Beth’s shop today and we don’t during lunch hours at the park, I think it unwise to visit that Bakery just yet. It would imply traipsing around town the entire day with a car full of food and one who’s quite pregnant. Not a likely scenario.”

“True.” Shandi replied. “Alice may not be inclined to socialize either, being so busy.”

“She may. According to Laura, we made an impression. If we miss her at both places today and tomorrow, then we’ll go. It’s still another window of opportunity, we hadn’t known existed.”

By the time they re entered town, it was close to lunch and Loki stopped at a small Deli, before heading to the park. Shandi claimed not to be hungry and waited in the car. Upon returning, he plunked a medium sized bag and two large drinks into her lap.

“We may be there a while, so I bought you a veggie Pita and frozen fruit, smoothie.”

Shandi eyed everything. ‘Yep. Definitely getting stranger by the hour.’

After seeking out the same shaded bench as before, they ate while Loki kept a close eye out from behind dark shades. People slowly began entering the park, but there was no sign of the ladies. In case they did appear, he advised Shandi to start enacting the exercises he’d thought of. The idea was, he’d remain on the bench, or follow her from a short distance, while she walked nervously, throughout the park. Should Alice witness this, it would hopefully open an opportunity to explain Shandis actions. He suggested she start by buying more birdseed and after briefly chatting with the kid who sells it, she returned.

“This town gets smaller all the time. His name is Dylan and guess who his grandmother is?”

“Who?” Loki asked.

“Mrs. Carter. He mentioned witnessing our interaction with Beth and Alice and you were right. The two use her ovens every year for the fair.”

“How did you learn that?”

“I mentioned they were nice and hoped to see them around again. Then he recommended Beth’s shop and said Alice is usually at the Bakery every day, from now until the fair.”

“How kind of him.” Loki approvingly remarked. After a brief walk, Shandi began feeding the birds and kept glancing in his direction. “Something on your mind, oh pot bellied one?”

“Very funny, Clifford. I was thinking of how I’m still trying to comprehend, that humans aren’t alone in the universe.”

“That was unexpected, yet I imagine most of your people feel the same. Did 'you’ think you were?” He politely asked.

“I hadn’t any definite proof otherwise, until you and Thor. The universe is a massive place though and I’ve always considered it naive, assuming ourselves it’s only tenants.”

“And to your benefit, you’re not.”

The compliment overshadowed a building knot in her stomach of what response the next question may elicit. ‘It’s only going to keep bugging you. Dammit girl, where’s your gonads? Just ask him!’ “As a race, do you guys think us inferior?” Loki froze, concealing a scrutinizing gaze behind his glasses. Unable to escape the weight of it, Shandi returned to the birds. ‘Great. Of all times to lack the ability to teleport.’

Loki wondered if this related to his previous actions against her realm. “You’re certainly behind in many aspects, but no. Why would you ask such a thing, Shandi?”

It wasn’t really Thor’s opinion she’d grown concerned about, but including him had made the question easier to ask. Confident she could never care for one who thought himself above her own kind, the hope was to gain an inkling into Lokis true opinion, by catching him off guard. The reasons behind not asking them both sooner, were true.

“Curiosity. I would’ve felt awkward asking Thor.”

'Interesting.’ He thought. “Why? I thought you liked him.”

“I do. He’s kind, gentlemanly and funny, but I hardly see him unless it’s work related. I haven’t had a chance to really ‘talk’ with him.”

Loki recalled the times she’d remained in her apartment, after seeing him about the Tower. "Between us both, who have you seen around more?”

“Does it matter?”

“I wouldn’t ask, if it didn’t.”

“Okay, you.” She replied.

“At any point until now, had you wanted to ask me such things?”

She shifted awkwardly, in her seat. “Look, why don’t we forget it Loki? I hadn’t meant for my question to make you feel uncomfortable.”

How she could even consider his feelings about anything, remained astounding to him. “You didn’t. It surprised me, was all. Had you ever wanted to?” He politely, persisted.

“Yes, but…” 'Damn.’ She suddenly thought. 'I shouldn’t have started this.’

Loki asked again. “But what Shandi, I’d really like to know?”

"Whenever possible I, avoided you.”

And Loki thought he felt like a dick, before. She’d really wished to talk to him and he’d senselessly, pushed her away. “Shandi, I…” His sentence was interrupted by a text. “We’re up Lizzy. Alice just parked and took food into Beth’s shop.”

All they discussed on route, was encountering Nat and Clint and upon entering, were greeted by an unsuspecting Beth, pricing items with her mouth half full. “Oh, hello. Please excuse me, it’s normally quiet this time of day and I was indulging. How are you?”

“Good thanks.” Said Shandi. “Don’t let us stop you.”

Beth smiled. “Goodness, if you sampled what I am, you’d understand. Wait, do you like strawberries?”

Shandi was about to respond, when Loki did. “She loves them. Blueberries, even more.” Her brow arched.

“Then you must try something.” Beth headed for the back room and moments later, returned holding open a plastic container. Inside were mini strawberry and blueberry tarts. The fruit sat amidst a rich, creamy custard with just the right sweetness and the pastry, practically melted in their mouths.

“Those are delicious.” They stated.

Alice spoke up from the doorway. “Why, thank you.” After greeting each other with pleasantries, she continued. “Those are only a sample of what will be at the fair. You really must come.”

Shandi lowered her eyes and Loki stroked her hair. “We’re thinking about it, aren’t we Lizzy?”

She nodded and uncertain what to make of their interaction, Beth retreated. “Very good. Let me know if you need any help.” She’d almost reached Alice when Shandi whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lizzy, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

Beth then raised her brows at Alice when seeing Nat notice Shandi, through the shop window. Seconds later, she entered and Clint remained near the door. Loki took a double take, then protective stance, towards Shandi and Nat froze, about five feet away.

“I won’t come any closer. I saw you and…” Her shoulders slumped as Loki and Shandi, remained stoic. “We’ve an only daughter. She lives far away and is about to have a baby and…”

“Ella.” Clint, kindly interrupted.

Nat sighed. "It’s no excuse and I shouldn’t have touched you.” She stretched out her arm, holding a small gift bag towards Shandi. “This is for your baby. I hope you like it and I’m sorry.”

Loki and Shandis expressions softened as she slowly took the bag. “Thank you.”

Nat nodded, then headed towards Clint and once outside, they hugged. Shandi pulled a small teddy bear from the bag, that played a lullaby and glanced up at Loki.

“I know what your thinking, darling. You don’t need to consult me, go on.” When Shandi went outside, he turned to see Beth and Alice with their eyes glossed over and winked. “It’s good to see her make a friend. We haven’t any here.” Moments later, she re entered. “I gather that went well?” He asked.

Shandi smiled. “It did. They’re vacationing here for the summer at a nearby cottage and suggested we meet for drinks.”

“Sounds like a plan. Did they say when?”

"No, but I got her number.”

“Perfect, yet you’re prohibited.“ He teased. "If you recall, one too many is how we ended up in this predicament in the first place?”

Shandi looked to see the ladies, smirking. “How thoughtful of you to remind me, Clifford.” ‘Brat.’ She thought.

Alice chuckled. “I’ve seven children, four of whom were conceived under the same circumstances.”

“Speaking of.” Said Loki. “We met your daughters at the grocery store, earlier. Laura, our first day in town. Both are lovely.”

The ladies thanked him.

“We understand you met one who isn’t so lovely, as well.” Beth commented.

“According to Laura, that’s correct.” Said Loki.

"Only Laura?” ‘Shit woman, what’s wrong with you?’

Loki almost cackled. “She was entertaining to say the least, darling. Perhaps you’d like a basket to shop with?”

“Yes, please.”

After retrieving one, he feigned interest in a crib display, hoping the three would talk more. It worked and once the ladies stopped within a respectable distance of Shandi, he heard their whispers, perfectly.

“Laura said Tanya failed at flirting with your husband?” Asked Beth.

Shandi nodded.

“Good, but take heed.“ Said Alice. "The first opportunity that arises, she 'will’ try again.”

Being such strangers, Shandi found their openness amusing, yet wanted to learn more about this woman. "Even though…”

Beth slowly shook her head. “She doesn’t care if your married, pregnant, or both, so keep him close.”

“Clifford’s a good man. He doesn’t get much time away from me.” Shandi solemnly, stated.

“Trust us.” Said Alice. “Whatever his reasons, consider them a blessing. Tanya is well known for her 'slutty’ tactics and has gotten to the best of them.” She smiled at Shandis widened eyes. “Bet you never expected to hear that from an old lady.”

Beth offered her another tart. “At least you know one to avoid, if you’re looking to make friends in this town.”

“I am.” Shandi replied. “And we’ll ‘both’ be avoiding her.”

Loki smirked at the sarcasm in her tone.

“Good.” Said Alice. “What about making friends with a couple of seniors? “We’re busy preparing for the fair right now, but once it’s over, you’re welcome to join us for tea. Or coffee, which ever you prefer.”

Beth gave her a look. "If you like referring to yourself as ancient, be my guest. I, for one, am still a spring chicken.”

Alice sighed. “Whose days of laying eggs, have long ceased.”

Shandi chuckled at their teasing banter, while startled by her luck and gave Alice her number. “I look forward to that very much.“ Then she noticed Loki inspecting different boxes of mobiles. "I’d best get over there, before he gets too curious.”

“Would he open something again?” Asked Beth.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, if he liked it enough.”

‘I resent that.’ Thought Loki. Seeing her approach, he purposely held up a model with what appeared to have miniature, hairy Teletubbies on it.

“You can put that back now, Clifford.”

He tisked. "Party pooper.”

[aimeesuzara]

Questions from Maiana Minahal’s Students in English 272, “Filipino Women Writers”...My Responses

Dear students and readers,

I’m honored that you’ve read my work and are interested in these facets of my life and craft as an artist. I love the challenge of being given questions to write about. So, here goes!

1. What is the best thing that writing, performing, creating, etc. provides you? It seems you have many talents, how do each contribute to the person that you are? What do you love about each?  

I’ve combined a couple of similar questions here.  First, thanks to whomever has said that I have many talents; I’m flattered.  I do believe I was blessed with a variety of areas of interest and natural “talent” that I got to explore and develop in different phases of my life.  I even felt split about whether to respond to the questions in writing and using my voice and image (because I love storytelling and the voice).

First, what do I love about writing?  And perhaps writing, as opposed to performing or creating other kinds of multidisciplinary art (plays, collaborations with dance, music, etc)?  

Writing is most private; it’s also a place for confession because in many ways, it’s hidden, is behind a mask.  Writing can be on one hand too analytical, but when it’s the most powerful it can also be magic-making, enabling a metaphor to be developed and breathe, an image to vibrate and have scent and color; a scene and characters to come alive with dialogue, backstory, and motivation.  It’s a place of invention, slower invention that has no immediate impact except itself on the page - as opposed to live performance which is more of an improvisation and collaboration together with an audience.

Performance, then, is that other thing; I believe performance happens on the page, in that invention, as well, but if we’re talking about performing on the stage or at a microphone, it’s a collaboration among many elements: space (architecture, weather), time, other people / audience, circumstance.  It’s also very natural, an ancient throwback to the griots and oral historians and singers and spiritual leaders making incantations...it predates writing.  The body is a vessel with so many faculties, and this is the most exciting set of possibilities.  Should this line or this word be whispered?  Yelled?  Projected on the body?  Who is my audience when I perform?  Are you my audience?  Is my audience in the past, present or the future?  Am I in the past, present or future?  What am I able to bring to life right now, and even co-create with you a new circumstance within the present moment?  In theater and in poetry, even if it’s the same exact play or the same poem, each rendering is unique.  Did someone laugh at a different part?  Did someone cry?  Am I feeling the spirit of my grandmother that day?  Or my future child? Also, the voice is vibrational.  There’s a way in which, when we perform, we are contacting others through the voice, through the heat of our bodies; we share a space and time that never occurs again.

Creating multidisciplinary work - I’ll differentiate as projects that are collaborative, that may involve production elements such as video-poems, dance theater, or collaboration with musicians and filmmakers: this takes the Performance and the Writing to another level.  Now, let’s add other people who are experts in their own fields: choreographers, dancers, composers, emcees, filmmakers.  I have had the opportunity to work with a variety of these, in making projects such as a “Tiny Fires” poem collaboration (click for excerpt) with San Francisco State University’s Dance Theater, in which my poem was translated into choreography and the dancers learned all of the lines; a recent collaboration with Alayo Dance Theater called “Manos de Mujeres” in which I researched, interviewed and wrote about the lives of Cuban Women and the dance company danced and choreographed to my words; a recent project called “Water and Walls” (click to watch) in which we all wrote verses to music about a shared theme and a filmmaker worked with us to produce a video. These are all exciting ways for the writing to live and breathe and thrive in different ways, through different mediums.  When it comes to plays, I do not even perform in the work, but get to see talented actors bring the stories to life, with directors at the helm and production crew helping execute a vision.  It’s like giving birth...and seeing someone grow up beyond you, doing things you could not do...

2. What are some influences on your poetry/work? (I reworded this one somewhat; I hope it is still fine!)

I think I’ve answered some of this in the above, in a way.  I am influenced by many art forms, and can’t see it any other way. I’ve never sat well with only poetry or only words, which can be limiting, and often, as referenced earlier, can become too cerebral.  Words are meant to be released, like songs are meant to be sung.  I am influenced by my early exposure to playing piano and dancing ballet, and later playing percussion and dancing West African and Afro-Cuban and Salsa and a slight bit of Filipino movement.  I am influenced by the work I love to watch - other theater-makers, poets, dancers.  Music influences me deeply, and often I hear poems come to me like strains of music, with melodies and rhythms.  The natural world influences me.  And history. As you have seen in my book, I can get nearly obsessed with history.  The way it was written, the way it omits, the glimpses it gives us into the minds of people.  Who is heard and who is not; who is rendered silent in the writing; who needs to be heard, if even in imagination.  History excites me and leads me to get possessed.  Lastly, change-makers and activists, because I came out of that.  I first wrote most fiercely and performed my first spoken word poems because I wanted to tell the story of a little girl, Crizel Valencia, who died at age 6 of leukemia after growing up on a toxic wasteland left by the United States military.  I lived in her community and in her home and we drew together.  When she died, after making dozens of drawings of herself envisioning her community and her own survival, I felt possessed to write, and speak. So, spirits influence me too.

3. About the book, SOUVENIR: What was the inspiration behind the layout and style of your poems? For example, the use of different fonts and inclusion of outside texts like in your poem "Manifest Destiny 1980."  I really liked how you wrote and organized your book by using exhibits (like in the museum, there's a story for each object or subject) I find it very creative. What gave you this idea or how did you think of it?

Each poem definitely has its own inspiration, but I can focus on the one you mentioned, first.  In “Manifest Destiny 1980″ I was basically writing parallel realities - one in 1980 (my own personal story of migration across the country) and the one in 1803 of the Lewis and Clark Expedition - both which moved from East to West.  In mapping out my own family’s road trip from New Jersey to the small Tri-Cities (Pasco, Kennewick, Richland) towns of the Pacific Northwest, where I remembered growing up with stories about Lewis and Clark and Sacajawea, I found that we followed similar route as Lewis and Clark. But, while our trip and our experience was about immigrants and their daughter adjusting and assimilating to White America, Lewis and Clark went to study and exploit the knowledge and resources, and the environment, of Native people.  We were subjected to being analyzed and studied and ostracized; they were, as well, but in the end were in the position of power linked to the destruction and removal of local people.  The parallel in the layout was meant to enable the two readings (top to bottom) and also one interrupting the other.

As for the exhibits: as you probably know, the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair (Louisiana Purchase Exposition) celebrated the 100-year anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase, which followed the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  In the 1904 Fair, Filipinos were displayed in living exhibits, forced to re-enact rituals (at far too many intervals, unnaturally, for show and even competition), eat, sit, and interact in the public eye, as the living conquests of the US Imperialists.  I realized that so much of our lives was and is performance as well - my parents needing to demonstrate their ability to work and function within the American context; my striving to fit in, disappear, or perform as the rare Filipino girl in often non-diverse environments.  Without being too literal, I was interested in how we can see our lives on display, and what is lost or gained in that performance.  And objects - what are the objects that are collected as treasures of war - including our own bodies?

4. In the poem, "My Mother's Watch,” did that situation really happen to you? If you do go back to the motherland regularly, does the profiling still happen to you today?

Yes; that poem is actually pretty true to life.  I wouldn’t have called it “profiling” in that I think that term carries meanings of power within a racist context such as the United States.  In the Philippines, it was more of curiosity, more of realizing that you could never really “go back” in a way that is simply nostalgic or “authentic” -- that once the departure from the homeland, and the living within the United States context occurs, we may appear similar in skin and features, we may be 100% the same as our relatives in some ways, but we are not because we have lost our native tongues, or cultural norms, or gestures.  And also - that I felt so much bigger and taller than other Filipinos speaks to the fact that many of our own relatives or people just like us back “home” had access to fewer resources and nutrition, whereas we were able to grow up on milk and in my case, packaged and microwaved foods.  Even in our bodies, we are altered forever.  There was an article/ interview about this poem here that may be of interest: http://www.lanternreview.com/blog/2011/05/31/process-profile-aimee-suzara-discusses-my-mothers-watch/

5. What was the hardest part of the book to write?

The whole thing was hard to write, but it was actually harder to write the “colonizer”/white man/government/military and scientific voices because they were so emotionless at times, so declaratory, and in many cases, so condescending, if not overtly racist.  To dwell in the language in which Filipinos were called “niggers” and “rabbits” and that torture of Filipinos seemed to be so much fun; or that Native and Filipino and Black people’s skulls and genetics were inferior (according to the scientific racism of the time); and also that so much of it seemed to ring true to today.  It’s much easier to write personal narrative, lyrical narrative.

6.  What do you hope for readers to remember the most?

I hope that readers can see themselves reflected in the glass of the museum exhibits.  That regardless of their background, they see how Filipino-American History is American History and not some niche piece of history, but actually demonstrated some of the most egregious cases of scientific racism and exploitation, the epitome at the end of the 19th century, of colonialism and imperialism.  I hope readers check out more of the history, and also reflect on themselves and where they come from.

7.  What is the most nerve wrecking thing about becoming a mother for the first time? (Congratulations by the way!)

I put this at the end because it feels, in a way, like a bonus question, but also something very relevant to our lives as artists.  Becoming a first-time mother involves putting everything aside - my writing, my teaching, my projects - in service of my health and the health and protection of the child I am going to birth.  I have birthed many other things: projects, plays and poems, but a human being -- this requires the most sacrifice and faith I’ve ever had to summon.  At the same time, I think it’s very important for you, readers, to know that as artists, our lives are our art, just as art is our life.  We never stop being one or another (people, mothers, playwrights, performers).  If I believed I would stop being an artist, I could despair, but if I were to stop being an artist, what kind of mother would my son have?  He deserves my full self.  So, while our time becomes more limited and we have to focus on the child, we do not lose ourselves; we simply change.

Thank you for your interest and I hope you’ve enjoyed my answers!

[ernmark]

God bless you and this amnesia au 🙌🙌🙌🙌 May I ask to see what happens next?

I keep writing this and somehow my outline keeps getting longer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

As a thief, Peter’s familiar with the transformations of day and night. He’s been in this office after hours, when its drawers were cavernous and the filing cabinet along the wall was never-ending. Now that the lights are on, the room feels cramped, crowded by three bodies that feel far too many: his own in this chair, Juno on the other side of the desk, and Juno’s secretary on the other side of that door. Juno, too, seems transformed– in the night he was vulnerable and needy, his body soft and pliant under Peter’s touch; now he’s closed off, all sharp corners and hard edges, leaning on the desk like he’s bracing up a barricade. 

Peter has seen these changes a thousand times in a thousand places. They’ve never made him feel remorse before. But this isn’t the time to dwell on those feelings.

“You said you’ve done some digging on your own,” Juno says, curt and businesslike. 

“I’ve searched for all of my aliases, and I’ve come up empty.”

“Isn’t that the point? Being hard to track down is kind of your thing.” 

“Juno–”

He cuts Peter off before he can finish the thought. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

And so Peter walks him through it. First backwards– first boarding the spaceship, then arriving at the spaceport, then fencing the golden record, and then the heist in exacting detail– and then he has him go over the whole ordeal in the proper order. Juno writes down every detail, every name, every place, every object of note.

Theories are starting to accumulate on the far side of the notebook.

Security guards?

Mutagenic dust on the record?

Pissed off insurance agents?

But there’s one note his pen keeps coming back to: Ancient Martian tech?

Extinct aliens seems rather far-fetched, doesn’t it? 

“Maybe it happened more recently?” Peter suggests. “As far as I know, you’re the last person who saw me. Was I with anyone when I left you?”

Juno doesn’t look at him. “You’re not the one who left.” Before Peter can ask, he changes the subject. “I’ve got what I need. You go back to… wherever the hell you’re staying, and I’ll let you know what I find.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay.”

“It’s not.” Juno’s eyes are as hard as his surname. “Which part of ‘get out of my life’ is so hard to understand?”

Peter only wishes he knew. “Perhaps there’ll be something to jog some memories?”

Juno tries to stare him down, but he can’t hold Peter’s gaze for long. “Fine. Whatever. Stay here if you want, just keep your mouth shut.”

Really, for all the drama and aesthetic, a surprising amount of detective work is incredibly boring. Juno spends most of the day on his comms, calling one name and then the next, while his secretary provides him with numbers and background details that might be useful. So much of it is drudgery that Peter genuinely doesn’t know whether Juno is ignoring him, or whether he’s just hurrying from one call to the next because there are so many of them to make.

Peter watches him intently, listening for any detail that might spark a memory, but nothing comes. His mind keeps going back to what Juno said earlier– you’re not the one who left.

A week ago, Peter would have called the notion absurd– he’s the one who does the leaving, after all– but it doesn’t seem quite so far-fetched when he looks at Juno Steel.

He envisions something not too far removed from what he experienced so recently: a tender night followed by a lonely morning. Perhaps not entirely like the one he recalls– what he imagines is devoid of accusations and shouting and bitter, painful laughter. In his mind it’s a quiet disappointment, waking up to a broken promise and an empty bed.

He doesn’t need to guess why that thought hurts so much, not when he’s woken up with Juno beside him.

Finally Juno hangs up.

“Any luck?” Peter asks, but Juno is too busy writing something on a fresh sheet of paper to reply, and then he holsters his blaster.

“Rita, I want you to put a call into Julian. There’s lab work I need done and it has to do with their copyrights. If he gives you trouble, let him know that this might save him from a few potential lawsuits down the line from unhappy customers.” He grabs his coat and hat off the hook by the door and dons them with a flourish. He’s showing off– he must be. He must realize that he cuts a fine figure in that coat. And so it’s understandable that Peter takes it as an invitation. 

But Juno simply stares at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“With you, of course,” Peter says. 

“No, you’re not.”

“But detective--”

“You can go back to your hotel or wherever the hell it is you’re staying, or you can stay here and help Rita look up some more of your aliases.” He smacks down the sheet of instructions on Rita’s desk for emphasis. “But you’re not coming.” 

That isn’t going to work. Peter’s already done what searching he can on the computer; if he’s going to find answers, they’ll be in places that he can’t reach through a screen.

“I’m sure I could be of assistance,” he suggests. 

“Where I’m going, I won’t need it.” 

He tries again. “Perhaps it’ll stir up a few memories.” 

Juno’s already on his way out the door. “These are memories you don’t want back.”

Peter straightens out of his languid curves, rising to his full height, sharp and rigid in a way he rarely needs to be. When he speaks, every word carries an edge. “That isn’t your choice to make.” 

Juno sighs. “I don’t have time for this. Fine. Come along if it’s that important to you.” 

Maybe Peter imagines the note of apology in his tone. 

“Last chance to change your mind,” Juno mutters, turning off the freeway and onto the ragged, pot-holed streets. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.”

Of course, Peter’s anticipating mobsters and conspiracies-- the sort of seedy underworld that Hyperion City is known for. He’s slightly less prepared for Juno to drive through the edge of the dome that protects the city. The difference is stunning; one moment a hundred tenements and apartment building are stacked on top of each other in a rickety attempt to make use of their limited space, and the next there’s nothing but empty desert stretching out before them. A low desert wind whistles across the landscape, eerily quiet after the bustle of the city.

Juno’s also quiet, his eyes fixed intently on the dunes, his knuckles pale around the steering wheel. The drive is long, with nothing by sand and dust to break up the monotony or dispel the mounting tension. Hours pass, and Peter can feel his nerves on edge, taut as piano wire under his skin. It’s a dangerous attitude to take into a bad situation-- there’s no telling when one of them is going to snap. And so he does what perhaps he should have done far earlier.

“Juno, I want you to know,” he says carefully. “I am sorry for misleading you before.”

Juno’s eyes flick to him for half a moment, then return to the dunes. “Don’t worry about it.” It isn’t acceptance, but dismissal.

“I realize that the way I went about it was tactless...”

“I get it,” Juno says, sharper. “I know what your anonymity means to you. You did what you had to do to protect that. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

The barb stings, but it’s a shallow wound; Juno’s deflecting him from the real issue. So Peter fields a guess. “You thought you would be special to me.”

Juno’s grip tightens. He couldn’t have given a clearer signal if he wrote it in neon.

Peter leans in. “For what it’s worth, detective, it took losing a whole year for me to forget you.”

“I don’t blame you, okay?” Juno’s voice rises, punctuated by the creak of faux leather under his hands. 

“Juno--”

“Don’t.” His voice shakes. “Just... don’t. I can’t deal with this right now.” 

“Alright.” Obediently, Peter leans back in his seat, putting more distance between the two of them. He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon, pretending not to notice when Juno’s hand scrubs over his face. Peter’s still looking out that window when the horizon shifts. 

It’s a building, hewn from the ravine and eroded by wind and sand until it could almost be mistaken for a natural formation in the stone, if not for the unnatural symmetry of its spires or the stalactites that descend like teeth in a gaping maw. “Well. That’s exciting.” 

“That’s one word for it.” 

Juno turns the car and drives inside, parking in what could only be some sort of loading bay. Theirs isn’t the only vehicle here-- there are several trucks and vans beside their own, though the accumulation of sand around their tires suggests that they haven’t moved in quite some time. 

The color has completely drained from Juno’s face by the time they come to a halt. It takes him a moment of sheer willpower to dislodge his hands from the steering wheel long enough to put it into park, but the moment he commits to the action, he rushes through it, as though caught in a freefall. 

“Stay in the car.”  

Peter follows him out anyway, shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary. He expects a fight, but none comes. Juno doesn’t argue against him. He simply starts walking down a steep corridor deeper into the structure.

The corridor turns abruptly, and then again snaking ever lower until the red sunlight and the Martian wind are far behind them. It should be pitch dark this far below ground, but the corridor is illuminated on both sides by hieroglyphs of some sort, glowing so bright that his eyes sting when he looks directly at them. Fascination is tainted by a feeling of unease as his gaze lingers over the symbols.

“Why are we here, Juno?” His voice echoes oddly off the glowing walls.

For a few moments he can only hear their footsteps on the weathered stone, and he assumes this is just another question that’s going to be ignored.

And then Juno answers.

“The Ancient Martians invented some kind of drug that let them read each other’s thoughts. Didn’t just work for them, either-- it’s just as effective on humans. I figure they might have made something else that messes with people’s heads. Maybe some kind of Ancient Martian virus, or something in this dust, or some of the radiation in those symbols on the walls. We were down here long enough. Maybe something got to you.”

Peter didn’t miss the plural in that sentence. “Both of us? Then why weren’t you affected?”

“I… had more noticeable symptoms.” Juno looks uncomfortable. “Besides, I was in the same room as the bomb when it went off, and that burned anything Martian out of me.” 

"I see.” Peter tries to stay clinical as he integrates those details but he feels ill. Why was Juno in a room with a bomb? Where was Peter during all of this? “Did I…?”

“If you can’t handle it, then go wait in the car. I’m not coming back here again.” 

The thought of being alone in these tunnels leaves a pit in Peter’s stomach. “No, I think I’ll stay here.”

“Then hold this.” Juno hands him a large plastic bag and stoops down, scraping a sample of dust and stone off the floor and putting it inside a sample bag. He takes another sample from the wall, and another from the clearly human-made ventilation system hanging down from the ceiling. As soon as the samples are collected, he tosses them into the bag in Peter’s hands. 

“I take it these are for Saffron Labs,” Peter muses.

“They did some research on Martian medicine. If anyone’s qualified to see if this stuff is affecting you, it’s them.” 

They come across another room, filled with boxes and equipment. On the floor close to the door lies a polymer face mask, covered in fine Martian dust. The sight of its cold, empty eyes makes the hairs on the back of Peter’s head stand on end, but Juno picks it up and puts it in another evidence bag, and then they continue going. He moves hesitantly, peering at each of the turns and corridors as if he’s reading the messages written on the walls, as if he’s seeing something that isn’t there.

There’s something wrong with the way he steps into the next room. He’s too unsteady, swaying like a sleepwalker as he strides past a pair of bed rolls and a cheap chemical toilet. 

A chill crawls down Peter’s spine as he watches Juno kneel between two splashes of dried blood.

“Juno?” His voice is too high. “Juno, what happened here.”

“What do you think?” Juno asks. “This is where she kept us.”

Peter looks closer. There are other blood splatters-- smaller and more scattered, focused primarily around one of the bed rolls. Near the door there are scuff marks where someone’s been bodily dragged. 

Whose blood was that? Whose body? 

What happened here?

“Goddammit,” Juno mutters, and Peter turns back. Juno’s still on his knees, trying to take samples of the rust-colored bloodstains on the floor, but his hands are shaking. 

Peter sinks down beside him, laying his hands on Juno’s. “Juno--”

Juno pulls away like he’s been burned, but not before Peter can feel the racing of his pulse. “It just takes some getting used to, okay? Last time I was here, I couldn’t feel much of anything anymore.” He backs further away, avoiding Peter’s eyes. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

No, he isn’t, but Peter doesn’t say so. All he can do is pretend not to notice how many times Juno has to try to scrape the blood off the stone floor.

“I’ve got all the samples I need. Let’s just get out of here.”

[httplovecraft1890]

Yandere-chan’s Bizarre Adventure (JoJo’s x Yan Sim Crossover Concept)

I’ve got quite a few fic ideas on my plate already but this was floating around my mind the other day. Background

It would begin just after Kira’s initial defeat at the hands of Koichi and Jotaro. However, when Kira makes his escape to Aya Tsuji’s Cinderella beauty salon, rather than finding Kosaku Kawajiri there, his victim is instead Ayano’s dad. The premise being that he and Ryoba had gone vacationing in Morioh (to visit a relative?) for their then honeymoon and he had heard rumors about a woman who could seemingly change one’s face, hoping to escape Ryoba permanently or at least for a little while. Kira escapes just the same from the Joestar gang but now has a new problem on his hands: his current identity is leaving with Ryoba the following day back to Buraza. Quickly discovering Ryoba’s disposition towards being disobeyed, and not wanting to make a scene to potentially attract undue attention, Kira is forced to admit defeat and follow a very pregnant Ryoba home. Yoshikage Kira’s desire for a ‘quiet life’ has been shattered. Seething with the humiliation of being beaten horribly by Star Platinum and Reverb along with being forced to leave his ancestral home Kira tries to blend in in Buraza with Ryoba but finds it impossible to satiate his urges with her constant eye on his behavior. But before he can use Killer Queen’s ability to blow her away it seems that they’ve returned back home in time none too soon as Ryoba goes into labor; with his ‘wife’ weak from giving birth to a daughter, Kira takes out his frustration on his situation by detonating a bomb he placed in her hospital wristband. Brimming with confidence that he is free to begin his life anew as he sees fit Kira is waylaid by Megami’s dad before he has a chance to leave the hospital. Despite the fact that he cannot see Killer Queen, or know that the man in front of him isn’t Ryoba’s old husband, Megami’s dad is convinced that something highly suspicious is going on given that a long term asset of Saikou Corporation’s is now a pile of ash (save for a lone hand) in the maternity ward. On pain of being brought in for ‘questioning,’ Mr. Saikou offers Kira a deal: tell him everything and perhaps they can strike up a business partnership, to which Kira reluctantly agrees. Once all is said and done he is faced with a choice… either submit, watch over the remaining investment (Ayano), and live comfortably to do whatever he’d like or meet as grisly an end as Mr. Saikou’s hired men can imagine. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth Kira agrees to these terms and waits to arrange Ryoba’s funeral. Meanwhile, the Joestar gang are informed by Reimi Sugimoto that she can no longer feel Kira’s presence. Months go by and the investigation into Kira’s whereabouts bring up dead ends. The logical conclusion, of course, is that Kira has skipped town but they have no clue where to. This is perhaps the part I’m least certain about. I can’t imagine Jotaro or anyone else just giving up on finding Kira, not when they’ve seen what Killer Queen can do, but I’d imagine that they would eventually have to put things on hold. For the sake of canon welding we will go with the idea that this butterfly allows Dio’s and Pucci’s plan to unleash Green Baby on the world is actually stopped here (I’m less clear about the events of Vento Aureo but consider another butterfly being that Giorno never gets a Requiem form for Golden Experience). I think that the Joestar gang actually capturing Yoshihiro for a while also makes sense to try and grill him for information, but he eventually manages to escape, taking the arrow with him to find Kira. I’m less clear at this point on how he manages to find Kira in Buraza but find him he does. Ayano’s childhood is even lonelier than canon. Without her mother to dote on her, and her ‘father’ treating her as a distant afterthought (she becomes nothing more than a lure for victims for Kira as he plays up the ‘single father’ angle), she is left primarily to her own devices and totally rudderless. Kira has no answers for her about her condition and is just as much of an empty shell as she is - or seems to be, at any rate. As such she goes out of her way to befriend others as a means to cope; I’m going with the interpretation she isn’t totally emotionless and more the idea that she is just severely stunted. This is where another big break from canon occurs: there are no rivals. Instead, the cast that would have been Yan Sim’s antagonists are her childhood friends instead; Muja and Mida come later as would-be victims of Kira’s she convinces him to spare. Kira’s luck lets him come out on top once more as Yoshihiro’s ghost’s reappearance into his life, however that comes about, coincides with Joseph Joestar’s death. Unable to track Yoshihiro’s spirit with Purple Hermit the Joestar gang is even more at a loss on how to find the elusive killer. With Yoshihiro’s reappearance, and the entirety of Saikou Corp at his back, Kira settles once more into his ‘quiet life’ even if it’s not quite how he envisioned it. It’s during this time that, surprised that Kira hasn’t found a way to ‘accidentally’ get rid of Ayano, Yoshihiro takes a liking to his ‘granddaughter’.. and whom he will ultimately give a Stand to (Bad Romance) to help ensure Kira stays safe, a fate that will befall all of Ayano’s close friends as well. Now with something in common between the two of them Kira begins to take more of an interest in Ayano, going so far as to become a Lisa Lisa or Joseph figure to her. Ayano latches onto this amount of affection, however, and comes to genuinely care for ‘dad’ and his ‘eccentricities.’ How the Joestar gang would make it to Buraza I’m unclear - I like the idea of Megami being a mole for them so that she can put a stop to Kira’s reign of terror, though with the stipulation they leave Ayano be - but one of the ones who has joined the investigation at this point is Shizuka (it’s a shame Araki… literally did nothing with her character in canon), who becomes a transfer student at Akademi and perhaps even befriends Ayano. Or at least she is until Shizuka befriends a boy, Taro Yamada, who’s managed to bring out intense emotions for her for the first time she can remember… Here’s a hypothetical stand list for Ayano and the rest of the main cast. Ayano Aishi Stand: Bad Romance, Bad Romance Born This Way (Requiem) Bad Romance looks exactly like she does in the Easter egg mode she appears in but her function is different. Rather than being a punchghost like The World or Crazy Diamond she is instead able to master any weapon by virtue of touching it, which includes how best to aim them, how much to grip a handle, etc. Bad Romance Born This Way shows the influence on Ayano’s life she has experienced under Kira it functions similarly to Killer Queen’s Sheer Heart Attack form: it is coated in a nigh impenetrable metal. Osana Najimi Stand: Hot N Cold Effectively what it says on the tin. Despite the fact that Osana can create arcing flames or freeze her enemies on the spot, her biggest downside is the warming up or cooling down periods that have to occur before she becomes combat effective. She is even more vulnerable given that it also takes a considerable amount of time for her to switch between the two. She is arguably the weakest out of all the Stand users in Buraza given the above. Amai Odayaka Stand: Feeling This

Amai’s Stand is probably the most innocuous, at least on a shallow analysis. It can do nothing more than effect the senses and she has mostly used it to enhance the taste buds of those sampling her cooking. However, this is more or less a trap to lull her enemies into a false sense of security. When initiated in combat, Amai will use Feeling This to effectively shut down someone’s five senses, to the point where they are unable to hear, see, or even feel if they’re close to her. In the absence of sensory input the brain will begin to create its own information, leading them to experience intense and vivid hallucinations that if aren’t reversed soon after they take hold can lead to permanent mental scarring. Kizana Sunobu Stand: Come as You Are

Kizana’s Stand does not offer her any offensive capabilities whatsoever but it is extremely powerful nonetheless. Incorporating the as-of-now unexplored ‘persona’ mechanic her Stand allows Kizana to create a powerful illusion that hypnotizes those around her to believe that she is anyone she chooses to imitate - the only catch being that said person must be a woman. This ability has made her indispensable to Ayano as a spy. Oka Ruto Stand: Black Sabbath

Cliche as it might be, Oka’s power involves manipulating shadows, though this is more versatile than one might at first realize. Despite the cute, Heartless-style appearance Oka’s Stand allows her to use shadows a means of teleportation between several locations as well as spying on others.  At night she gains an additional ability, along with making the first two that much stronger, that allows her to use shadow puppetry as a means of attacking others’ shadows - and what happens to them there also effects the person regardless. Asu Rito Stand: Jumpin’ Jack Flash

As a runner Asu’s Stand ability seems quite fitting: it is integrated, and so is not outwardly visible, but it allows her to achieve incredible speeds that few can match. While she might not have enhanced strength, any hit coming at you at about 100 miles per hour is going to be packing a nasty wallop no matter how you slice it. Muja Kina Stand: TLC

Unlike Josuke’s Crazy Diamond, Muja’s Stand can’t actually heal you. Indeed, it actually does the exact opposite (despite its ironic name). Muja is arguably one of the most combat effective Stand users that Ayano’s side has given that her friendly exterior hides an ability that causes decay and rot from the inside out. Though she can only do it one victim at a time, and at a slow rate at that, there’s nothing nastier than having your heart, lungs, or liver slowly shut down on you. Mida Rana Stand: Total Eclipse of the Heart

Ever wonder what mind broken slaves might be like, except even worse? Mida’s Stand has got you covered. Functionally speaking, its ability is on the surface quite simple: it passes along a spiritual virus, of sorts, that sleeps unless its user wills it to manifest. At that point Mida has access to an army of ‘love zombies’ that will heed her beck and call. Pity it only allows the infected to pass it on to only one person after coming down with it themselves. Osoro Shidesu Stand: Eye of the Tiger

Ayano’s enforcer, of sorts, and arguably the physically strongest Stand on her side. Much like Star Platinum, Eye of the Tiger is a Stand whose main ability is to punch things incredibly hard and fast. The secret, however, is that Osoro’s Stand, just like how the Hulk who gets stronger the angrier he becomes, becomes more powerful the more it is hit, storing the kinetic energy to unleash against its opponents. Hanako Yamada Stand: Quiet Riot

If Hanako isn’t upset she can’t summon Quiet Riot. Despite the fact that her Stand is uniquely tied to the emotions she feels at a given time, it would be unwise to not take her very seriously. When she is, watch out, because Hanako’s power revolves around using her voice to create incredibly destructive sound waves. Megami Saikou Stand: She Blinded Me with Science

I’m of two minds as to what Megami’s Stand might do. On the one, it would be traditional to keep one of some of the most powerful enemy Stand’s powers as being time-based; it would be interesting to incorporate ‘resetting’ things like how we can choose to restart a game on a meta level. The problem is that Araki has effectively explored every avenue for time-based powers in JoJo’s and it might not feel that interesting. On the other, perhaps it might be similar to Ayano’s Bad Romance in that She Blinded Me with Science might allow Megami to construct machines from the environment around her at any given moment so long as metal is present. This would allow her a versatility to what she can do and it might be different each time as it depends on what she’d need at any given moment. The only issue is that it doesn’t really feel very ‘grand’ for someone who is meant to be strongest opponent Ayano could face in canon. So… thoughts? I’d be interested to see if anyone had any ideas on how to expand parts of the plot, what Taro’s Stand might look like, or anything else you could think of. 

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 55. Third Anniversary

Three years!  I really can’t believe it. I remember every moment of our wedding day, and the emotions are still so vivid that it feels like it could’ve been three weeks ago.

After Noosa and New Zealand for our first two anniversaries, how could Chelsay and I possibly celebrate this year?  

Ah, Paris. A return to where it all began.  

This trip was especially hard to come by. After the Scotland escape, I had zero doubts about Paris in late August. People were traveling, Coronavirus was under control in Europe, borders were open, and we’d found friends to watch Indy.

Then, chaos struck. I remember where I was: drinking my morning coffee and reading Twitter news. August 14. Due to a spike in French Coronavirus cases, the UK government announced that any travelers arriving from France were subject to a two week quarantine. Sure, this would impact Chelsay and I returning from Paris, but wasn’t a deal breaker - We can just work from home after our trip.

But I nearly spit out my coffee when I read France’s response. In an entirely petty political move, France announced they’d institute a reciprocal quarantine for travelers from the UK. THIS would be a problem. Chelsay and I were only going for three days, so we’d be stuck in the hotel the whole trip. Adding to the pressure, this weekend’s anniversary wasn’t the only one at risk... We had an upcoming French road trip that was now also on the chopping block.

Adding further chaos, that very same day, Indy’s stomach bug returned. Our friends that planned to watch him have their own puppy, and because the bug is so contagious, we’d now need to find a new sitter. Complete chaos. 

This was probably a sign. We should just delay the trip. But I NEEDED this trip! I’ve genuinely never been so busy at work. I was deploying a product and creating an entirely new program at the same time. I had to escape.

Chelsay & I were rattled, but determined to get away, we planned two alternate trips for this anniversary weekend, Rome or Lake Como. I incessantly refreshed Twitter waiting for news from France and, although the name of this post foreshadows a miracle, at the time, our Paris trip was doomed. There were a few weekend walks where Chelsay and I agreed we’d book Italy when we got home, but something always held us back. We wanted to go to Paris, and wouldn’t give up until we absolutely had to.

Somehow, the reciprocal announcement never came. France cooled, and perhaps due to my emails to every diplomatic department, realized there were still UK tourists willing to visit (and spend).

Chelsay and I eventually found a sitter for Indy, and our dream anniversary trip was back on! ...with renewed appreciation for how lucky we were to return to Paris.

We’d be taking the train for our first international trip in six months, and in a fitting send-off, Chelsay and I departed from St. Pancras Station on August 29. Exactly three years to the day that we were legally wed in the adjacent Camden Council Building.

We both exhaled as the train began along the tracks. After the past week’s twists & turns, Chelsay withheld any excitement until we were literally en route.

After arriving at Gare du Nord, our taxi to the ritzy Westin Vendome was an immediate flood of emotion. It was reminder of why we love Paris, the prettiest city in the world: with its cream hue, decadent ornaments, steep grey rooftops, and hidden attic skylights. It was a reminder of why we love traveling, and why we returned to the UK: we can be transported to a new planet within a two hour flight or train ride. Finally, it was a reminder of the events and feelings of our wedding weekend three years ago. 

I’ve always been keenly and precisely aware of setting, and internalize ‘place’ with every memory. Chelsay always jokes about her first time in Southlake: “...and this was our grocery store, and this was my dentist, and this was 7-11 where we got slurpees one time...”. If I can get that excited about returning to the CiCi’s Pizza from my youth, imagine arriving in the city that played host to my fondest memories.

After dropping off our bags, Chelsay and I stopped for lunch at a brasserie in Montmartre, and reminisced about every detail from our wedding weekend. About the surreal scene seeing our American friends and family outside Le Bon Georges, about Chelsay’s reveal and her timeless bridal elegance, about the ceremony in Chapelle Expiatoire, the reception in jaw-dropping Le Meurice, our first dance under the Eiffel Tower, or PIANO MAN concluding the sweat-fest on the Seine. The feelings from that weekend came right back: the planning pressure beforehand, the joy of the day, and the relaxation as we left for the Maldives. The emotions were still so vivid - it three years later, but felt like the day after... waking up with J-Lo stuck in my head.

The next few days were a trip down memory lane. Mike & Chelsay’s Parisian Greatest Hits. Track #1: the quiet backstreets of Montmartre.

This neighborhood has quickly become Chelsay’s favorite. There are a few touristy spots, but as you descend the steps behind Sacre Couer, you escape into the life of a local. Charming brasseries, colorful fruit stands, quiet green spaces, and small boulangeries up-and-down Montmartre’s leafy boulevards. Before our trip, Chelsay asked me the specific scene I was hoping for from this trip. I told her I’d imagined walking down tree-lined Rue Caulaincourt, cuddling together under an umbrella as it rained, then darting into Boris Lume, a patisserie we’d visited on our 2017 birthday trip.

There were blue skies as we passed Sacre Couer, with gorgeous fall colors providing a photogenic setting. My umbrella-cuddling dreams weren’t to be.

Except at that moment, heavy grey clouds rolled in and droplets began to sprinkle down.

WHAT?! This was EXACTLY what I’d described. HOW?? It was so sunny just 10 minutes earlier.

As we cuddled under the umbrella on leafy Rue Caulaincourt, we definitely acknowledged that this was my dream. We were both giddy. 

But given the circumstances, I don’t know how we didn’t freak out more. This was EXACTLY what I’d wished for. 

As the rain became harder, we escaped into Boris Lume for a sweet reprieve. Chelsay describes her lemon & basil tart as the favorite dish she ate all weekend. More broadly, this was the ideal scene I’d envisioned before our trip... and somehow it came together within an hour of arriving!

So, how do you follow such an incredible start to our anniversary trip? How about returning the exact spot where Chelsay & I said “I do” three years earlier: Chapelle Expiatoire.

The setting was as pretty as I remembered – we were both impressed with our 28 year old selves. How did we book a place like this? 

After taking in the setting for several moments, we recreated the day: Chelsay walked down the aisle. I watched as she ascended the steps into the Chappelle. We kissed at the altar, and left our ‘ceremony’ holding hands.

After the Chapelle, Chelsay & I had another wedding reunion planned: Le Bon Georges.  This little bistro and its owner, Benoit, played host to Chelsay & I’s Welcome Dinner. It was the most surreal moment of the entire wedding weekend: walking through winding Parisian streets to find our closest friends and family awaiting us. We hadn’t seen many of them in two years, yet there they were – surrounded by the cream colored buildings and classically grey rooftops of Montmartre.

The welcome dinner itself was just as special as the setting, and based on this trip’s meal, Benoit’s standards haven’t slipped over the years. Chelsay and I enjoyed an absurd amount of steak (had to be 20+ oz) and a rare full bottle of wine while catching up with Benoit.

We returned to our hotel later that evening and enjoyed the romantic view, closing one of the best travel days we’ve ever had.

Then I woke up at 5 AM… It could’ve been the wine, or more likely the 20 oz rare steak, but I felt dreadful. My stomach hurt, my head hurt. I’m not kidding when I say that had the Lil Wayne song ‘I Feel Like Dying’ stuck in my head.

I managed to fall back asleep until 7, but the pain didn’t subside. Chelsay wouldn’t wake up for a few hours, so I was on my own in this foreign land. 

I knew I had to do something or I’d risk losing the whole day. Keep in mind, this is not America: there aren’t 24 hour convenience stores where I could get a coconut water, or a McDonalds open at this time for a greasy pick-me-up. I frantically Googled: any cafes nearby? I need bread – is there a boulangerie open?

Alas, the French didn’t offer anything that fit my urgent need… but Uncle Sam did. God bless it: a Starbucks open at 7 AM, and just a 10 minute walk.

I threw on the same clothes from the night before – not even looking at a mirror – and stumbled out of the hotel and down the empty streets for my venti black coffee, a sugary smoothie, and anything with starch.

With remedies acquired, I stumbled back down the street towards the Tuileries, aiming to recluse myself in the quiet, healing gardens. Seven years ago, Chelsay was battling a similar ‘sudden’ illness – it was a simple French sandwich and the Luxembourg Gardens that revived her then. Could I replicate her improbable recovery today?  

The scene had all of the makings for a miracle: Comically large coffee. An entire baguette. Quiet setting. Crisp air. Fall leaves (not required, but a nice touch). Most important of all, my favorite chairs in the world: the Parisian “lean-back” loungers.

As the sun rose, my spirits lifted. My headache and stomach ache subsided, and I was revived. Another miracle recovery, thanks to French gardens with an assist from Uncle Sam’s conveniently open roaster. I repeated this routine the next morning (minus the illness) – the below picture captures the peaceful setting, but let’s just say I wasn’t as put-together on the first morning.

Chelsay awoke around the time I was fully recovered. I kept trying to tell her about my morning trials, but it was impossible to convey. This is why I have the blog: so I can always remember these travel miracles.

I had a new appreciation for our saved day, and determined to take advantage, we set off for breakfast at nearby Angelina’s. Though normally too busy to find a table, Chelsay and I were easily seated and enjoyed a decadent but delicious eggs benedict. We needed a big breakfast given the day’s activities.

We set out for a long walk on our way to a neighborhood we’d never visited: Canal Saint-Martin.

The walk itself was the highlight of our day – Paris is unquestionably the prettiest city in the world, and our peaceful Sunday stroll had me considering whether we could live there. We stopped in the quiet Jardins du Palais Royal, browsed the tiny commercial alleys of Le Marais, and made stops at two of Chelsay & I’s wedding photography locations: the Louvre and nearby Pont des Arts. Based on these pictures, we were putting on our own photography clinic that day.

Arriving in Canal Saint-Martin, the setting was certainly a different side of Paris. Though attractive in its own way, it’s much younger, and less classically Parisian.

We weren’t in Amsterdam though, so we didn’t stay long. That said, we were there long enough to spot a dumpling house with a line around the block. Now, I know French cuisine is one of the finest in the world, and no one comes to Paris for dumplings… but this line caught our attention. We quickly Googled: ‘Gros Bao’, huh?

What we’d stumbled on was a mix between Din Tai Fung and Bone Daddies. Chelsay’s favorite savory dumplings, mixed with the unpretentious vibe of one of my favorite restaurants in London. It was a total surprise, but genuinely could have been the best meal of the trip… which says A LOT given we’d visited Le Bon Georges the night before.  

We spent the rest of the afternoon lightly shopping and relaxing around the hotel, before heading out for our evening activity, a blend of previous Paris experiences. On every one of our Paris trips, Chelsay and I have spent at least one meal picnicking on the Eiffel Tower lawn. On most occasions, we’ll pick up a baguette, fromage, and some chacuterie from nearby Rue Cler.

On this night though, we decided on a tribute to the night after our wedding.  Rewind to 2017: we’d spent months eating responsibly, so the day after our wedding, we were craving something carby, starchy, and heavy. We found a rotisserie chicken from a nearby market, with juices dripping onto a bed of potatoes. It can only be described as dirty, but after months of ‘shedding for the wedding’, it was perfect.

Now, back to present day. After a brief stop at our final wedding photo location, we picked up another dirty rotisserie chicken and potatoes, found a quiet spot under the Eiffel Tower, and feasted like medieval kings (meaning without utensils). There will be no pictures of the banquet.

Our last day was relatively short given our afternoon train back to London. That said, we were still able to enjoy a petit dejeuner, Chelsay got an exclusive tour of the original Goyard shop, we popped in to appreciate Monet’s Water Lillies, and returned to one of our favorite places in the world, the Luxembourg Gardens.  

And that was our third anniversary trip. 

It was a perfect analogy to our relationship.  

Chelsay and I always talk about how ‘easy’ we have it, but when you think about it, we actually live a fairly demanding lifestyle. Three international moves in five years. 50+ trips. Challenging jobs. And of all the dogs we could chose, we landed on a border collie!

But our lifestyle together, and our ability to keep things light throughout, has prepared Chelsay and I for any small hurdles that come our way. Not even the French government quarantine threats could stop us. 

Like our annual anniversary celebrations – from Noosa, to New Zealand, and now to Paris – our relationship continues to get better every year.

[fallenloverecords]

Interview:  Glass Arcades

Hi lovers! Here at Fallen Love headquarters we periodically interview people that we adore in order to shine a spotlight on our wonderful pop planet. We post all those interviews right here for your education and enjoyment.

Glass Arcades is the sleep pop project of Anton Salmine from Cardiff, Wales. Fallen Love head Harley interviewed Anton through e-mail. Fallen Love Records: Who is Glass Arcades? Anton: Glass Arcades is me, alone, in a room, shyly mumbling into a mic, playing some guitar with the reverb turned up a bit too high, recording it in one take if I can, and regretting not re-recording it later. Everything's fairly quick, spontaneous and unplanned, and even though I might spend an entire day writing and recording one two-minute tune that nobody will ever hear, most of that time is just spent obsessing over what I've just come up with and listening to it over and over again until I get bored. I'm my own biggest fan but only in short doses. FLR: Is it a solo project born out of desire or necessity? What would your dream vision of Glass Arcades be? A: I first started writing music when I was around 13 but I never really got the response I wanted from my friends when I played them any of the songs I'd come up with. All my songs that I was going crazy about were the ones that no one seemed to really grasp at all. I had a few proper bands and side projects with other people but none of those ever seemed to really go anywhere, at least nowhere that I was particularly interested in personally. I do really love not having to consult anyone else when it comes to music and just having complete freedom to do ...whatever, basically. It does get a bit tiring, though, especially when it comes to dealing with marketing or promotion, which I really haven't done at all, nor do I have all that much interest in either. In a year or two I might eventually feel like playing some of this stuff live, even though I can't really envision playing everything all on my own in some lo-fi drum machine + guitar + vocals set up, no matter how enticing that sounds. I must say that I've recently been pretty obsessed with this live footage I found on YouTube of The Magnetic Fields playing in a pub in Philadelphia around 1996, which is pretty much how I'd want Glass Arcades to sound live — all I need is a cellist now I reckon! FLR: What inspires you to write a song? A: It's taken me an excruciatingly long time to try and learn how to write songs that sound personal but aren't. I tend to write a lot in the first person but there always seems to be a 'you' that it's directed at. Often it's the same 'you', sometimes it's a fictionalised version of an actual real-life 'you' or two or a million 'yous' but sometimes it's just me. FLR: What is the pop scene like in Wales? A: Most of the time I tend to just find myself taking the train to Bristol for gigs — it is the second indiepop capital of Britain (behind Glasgow) after all! I do still feel that the scene here across the Severn is pretty vibrant and (re-)growing. To me Cardiff is just the perfect place creatively, given how friendly and welcoming (not to mention cheap to live in!) the place is. I just couldn't imagine Glass Arcades happening in say London or Birmingham. Even though I'm not Welsh, nor is Glass Arcades really even a proper band, I feel like Glass Arcades is very much a Welsh band, if that makes any sense. My absolute favourite Cardiff band would be the brilliantly named and thoroughly underrated Joanna Gruesome — aptly described by someone as "HC twee." Besides that I'm always (perhaps way too) eager to recommend both Gorky's Zycotic Mynci (whose 1996 "Patio Song" was probably the closest that Welsh language indiepop ever got to the musical mainstream, charting at a whopping #41 on the singles list) and Ffa Coffi Pawb, the band that eventually evolved and got somewhat anglicised into the Super Furry Animals, before being sadly forgotten by most everyone. Obviously there's also a long and rich local pop history all the way from Tom Jones (whose childhood home in Treforest I used to live about ten houses away from for a while) to the [Manic Street Preachers] (I often catch the bus 26 from Cardiff to their hometown of Blackwood, though I've never taken it all the way up there — maybe I should).

FLR: What's your favorite arcade game? A: I think I must now sorely disappoint anyone who just googled "Glass Arcades" excepting to read an insightful interview from a bearded bespectacled builder of artisan arcade machines made of glass and shit by saying that I don't think I've ever even been more than three feet into a gaming arcade in my life. I'm not strictly morally opposed to the idea, though, so if anyone wants to, they can buy a life-long subscription to everything I ever release by taking me out to play some arcade games. FLR: Tell us about a memorable nightmare you've had. A: It's not really a nightmare but I keep having this recurring dream where all the water, landmarks, cars, and people around me just disappear all of sudden. After I'd spent a lot of time around Europe last summer, in one of these dreams I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be Hamburg, Helsinki, London, or Cardiff Bay but I was just mindlessly walking about in a desolate post-apocalyptic urban environment, everything covered in jungle and desert where rivers and seas used to be. The "scripts" to most of my dreams tend to be more concerned with establishing the setting and atmosphere rather than the (mostly non-existent) narrative aspects or the passage of time. Sometimes there's one or two people involved as well but I tend to lose track of where they were by the end of the dream... And well, at the risk of sounding too Morrissey, I had a dream where a friend of mine died and nobody told me until two weeks afterwards. That was pretty distressing. I feel like Glass Arcades is not so much dream-pop as falling-asleep-pop. I write most of my lyrics when I'm about to fall asleep. I hate editing. That seems to give everything the mildly dreamlike quality of lacking any sensible structure, sentiment, or grammar. I'm currently in the process of trying to learn how to write with both of my eyes open. FLR: If you could time travel to 1991 but only stay for one night, who would you see in concert? A: I was born four years after that and I've spent a disconcertingly huge part of my life pondering that exact question. It's basically a full-time job for me now. I reckon seeing [Jesus And Mary Chain], [Dinosaur Jr.], and [My Bloody Valentine] on the same bill would've been pretty intense but I'd probably realistically (well, as realistically as you can for a question that involves travelling 26 years in time) go for Suede, still with both Bernard and Justine on board, playing some sweaty club in North London before they released "The Drowners" and got huge. My absolute favourite musical experience ever was seeing them do Dog Man Star from beginning to end at the Royal Albert Hall in 2014. My feet and toes were aching from the new boots I'd bought the day before, I'd lost my ticket in the train, bought a new ticket from some lad dressed as Wally off of Where's Wally?, got sunburnt (in March!), and basically cried my eyes, my lungs, my heart, and whatever was left of my central nervous system out when they played "Stay Together" as the final encore. FLR: What's one question you've never been asked in an interview that you would love to be asked someday? A: This is technically only the second interview I've ever given, unless you count the time when they came to our school to ask 8 year-old me and my classmates questions on our circadian rhythms for an article on school start times on the newspaper. I suppose I still wouldn't mind if you asked me about that but I think I'd love just about any excuse to go on about Momus, green olives, or the Posadist International. (I'm not even being purposefully absurd — those are like my genuine main three interests in life). You could also ask me "Where can I download and stream all the latest Glass Arcades releases for free or even donate something if I want?" FLR: And finally, what does 2018 look like for Glass Arcades? A: 2018 isn't looking too bad at all for Glass Arcades. I'm really excited to hear what I come up with but I'm afraid I can't tell you what it sounds like yet as it's yet to happen. At the very least I'll try and get a compilation of all the previous singles and EP's out, accompanied by a physical release on cassette, I think. Glass Arcades on Facebook Glass Arcades on Twitter

[sternenkrone-blog]

 The violet Alpha isn’t at all what Sanha envisioned.  There’s a preconceived idea about what he is supposed to look like, or, at least, rumors that spread like wildfire. A lot of his fellow students have heard about Denki branching out to Seoul. Nobody’s seen their Alpha yet, but they speculate all the same. Tall and dark and brooding, with a temper like the power he possesses -- not explosive, but lightning-fast, shocking. A force to be reckoned with.  In reality, Ikuto smiles at him like he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he had to.

 “You are Sanha, correct?” he asks in perfect Korean, the slightest twang of an accent curled around the syllables. Sanha gapes and nods, mouth hanging open. Behind Ikuto, Seokhyun snorts. Because of course he does.  Ikuto offers his hand. Sanha takes it with a few seconds delay. The handshake is gentle, Ikuto’s hand pleasantly warm. Hard calluses and a plethora of little scars line his palm. This, at least, is more like the rumors.  “It’s, uh, very nice to meet you.” Sanha makes to bow, but Ikuto stops him with a simple shake of his head.  “No, none of that. It’s all right. We’re equal here.”  The notion brings a smile to Sanha’s face. He’d been anticipating meeting Ikuto, equal parts worried and excited. Becoming part of a Coterie, no matter how small, is a commitment he couldn’t see himself entering just a year ago. The fact that he stands here now in the middle of the Denki headquarters’ lobby, shaking Kawahara Ikuto’s hand, awes him.  A lot has changed, hasn’t it?  Change, contrary to what Sanha used to believe, isn’t always awful. Moving to Seoul was one of his best decisions so far. Taking the plunge of confessing to Ichigo belongs on that same list, right at the top. If his track record stays this positive, joining Denki will be great. For more than one reason.  “Sorry, I kinda thought -- you know what? Never mind. I oughta wipe those rumors I’ve heard about you from my memory.”  Ikuto inclines his head. Not surprised, but knowing. He probably has to deal with those exact rumors and a slew of others on a daily basis. Sanha doesn’t envy it.  Instead of addressing Sanha’s words, Ikuto asks, “Shall we go find a more private spot? I’ve a few things to speak to you about first. Then we’ll see to your initiation.”  “We’ll be… somewhere,” Seokhyun says with a flourish aimed at the door. The young man Ikuto had arrived with joins him, albeit a touch hesitantly. Sanha almost forgot about him, slight and silent as he is. It’s hard to tell why he’d come along, considering he’s kept to himself since he entered, but he must be someone important. Ikuto’s second in command, perhaps. But he didn’t introduce himself, and Ikuto hasn’t made an effort to do it for him yet, either. How odd.  He shares a look with Ikuto that has him flash a thin smile before he trails after Seokhyun like a puppy.  “Well then. Follow me.”  They settle down in Seokhyun’s office, Sanha closing the door behind himself with a gentle click. Ikuto motions him to sit, so he does.  “I believe Seokhyun has already given you a brief rundown of what we do and what we stand for?” Ikuto still wears a smile, but there’s sobriety in his eyes now, more business-like. It matches the way he’s dressed, a dark grey three-piece suit and shiny dress shoes. It’s likely he’s in Seoul for more than Sanha’s initiation. Dressing up only for it makes little sense. It’s not the type of person Ikuto is. If he’d wanted to impress him, he could have chosen a million other methods.  “Uh, yeah.” Sanha furrows his brows. “I know you guys are mostly in charge for import and export things, and that your turf in Tokyo’s the harbor. Oh, and the lightning thing, of course.”  Ikuto hums, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “As you can imagine, our influence here isn’t nearly as great as the one we have back home. Our territory is, for now, these headquarters. I’m in talks with a few government officials with the help of Aurora, but it will be a lengthy process until we’re granted any kind of authority.” His smile widens. “This is why new members are important. The more we grow here, the easier it’ll be to have something to show for. I can’t demand anything when my coterie here consists of only one person, now can I?”  “Sure, yeah. So… I’m helping?”  “Of course you are.”  Sanha had thought joining Denki was only a big deal for him, not for their Alpha. But there is much more that goes into it. Much more that he hadn’t considered for the simple fact that it made little sense to him to be meaningful. His heart jumpstarts. It’s so much pressure. He’ll be a vital part of Denki gaining traction, a vital part of them establishing themselves in Seoul. Meaning something in the big picture fills him with giddiness.  “At the end of the day,” Ikuto continues, “our influence isn’t all that makes us who we are. We were a business, once, but priorities have changed. When I was elected Alpha, I had a vision for Denki. I wanted us to be a safe haven more than a means to make money. As you can imagine, I’ve lost quite a few of my people when I made that clear.”  Despite his smile, his voice is heavy. Ikuto averts his eyes to his hands, still folded in his lap. For a moment, his knuckles go white.  “You can… leave a coterie? Just like that?”  Ikuto nods. “This isn’t a binding contract. It’s encouraged to stay within a coterie all your life, but I’ve never been fond of enforcing it. I see no reason to keep someone with me when their heart tells them to go.”  The sigh Sanha exhales is riddled with relief. Ikuto notices it, too, judging by his softening features. Sanha shoots him an apologetic look, but there is no use denying that this hadn’t been a concern. A part of why he’d rejected the idea of joining all those months ago was that being bound to something would be hell for him. Sanha needs to be free to be happy. He needs to have a choice. It’s what he’s worked for so, so hard, and he wouldn’t give it up for anyone or anything.  “But what happens when you leave? It can’t be this easy.”  Ikuto leans back in his seat. “You’re stripped of your powers, first. They’re a privilege that comes with being part of a coterie, and it’s been long established that, should someone leave, under whichever circumstances, they need to return to the way they were before they joined. It isn’t… I mislike the process. Drawing the powers out of someone is like robbing the air from their lungs. Your body gets used to them, you see. So once you lose that, there’ll be… a void. Furthermore, you are forbidden to join another coterie. Another Alpha will know whether or not you have been part of one before.”  How grim. Not that Sanha plans on leaving once he’s committed, but having the option still soothes his nerves. A way out should he ever need it. He nods in understanding. “I can’t see myself wanting to do any of that. I wanna join ‘cause I think it’ll be good for me. I’m not a quitter. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”  “Good for you?” Ikuto looks at him with genuine curiosity.  “Well, yeah. Like… Seokhyun-hyung talks a lot about how you guys are a family. How you’re supportive. I have friends who are just like that for me, but… “  “It’s different.”  “Yeah! Yeah, it’s… I’m not sure how to say it.”  Slowly, Ikuto leans forward again to touch his fingers to Sanha’s wrist. He’s warm.  “As long as it makes sense for you, there is no need to explain yourself. All I need you to do is be certain you want to do this.”  Sanha bites his lower lip. He’s thought about it long enough. Put off by the idea at first, becoming friends with it over the course of almost a year, considering it in earnest the moment he ran into Seokhyun in Seoul again. Ikuto’s fingers still rest on his wrist, gentle but solid. Secure. Sanha nods. “I wanna do it.”  They migrate to the headquarters’ common room. Ikuto tells him that initiation is not something he does in seclusion. He’d considered taking him to Japan for it, but it felt right to do it in Seoul, even if the majority of Denki isn’t there to watch. He calls Seokhyun and the other young man back, and they arrive a good ten minutes later.  It’s a quick affair, then. Ikuto has him kneel on the ground before him and offering him his right arm. This is much more like what he’d imagined was going to happen. Ceremonious in a way, Seokhyun and, who he now knows is called Nathaniel, watching with rapt attention. Ikuto presses two fingers to Sanha’s pulse point and closes his eyes.  “This might smart a little.”  “Smart” is an understatement. The moment Ikuto applies pressure, a bolt of electricity shoots through Sanha’s entire body. It has him paralyzed and gasping for air, spreading into his chest, his stomach, the very tips of his fingers and toes. It worms itself into his veins, skittering through his blood until he’s hot all over. Sanha wrangles out a cry, but it’s strangely muffled to his own ears. Like something swallowed him up whole, isolating his senses from the rest of the world. He’s acutely aware of every fiber of his being, every beat his heart takes, pounding like a war drum. He gapes up at Ikuto, whose eyes are still closed, brows furrowed to the point of creasing the skin between them.  Everything stops.  Ikuto lets go of him. Sanha collapses on the ground. His lungs expand, greedy for every breath he sucks in. Where his entire body was hot just seconds ago, he freezes now, goose-flesh lining his arms. He picks himself up into a sitting position, straining to keep upright. His fingertips tingle, so do his palms and the soles of his feet.  Something stings at his neck.  Sanha gasps, bringing his hand up right to the spot underneath his earlobe. Under his fingers develops a searing pain, traveling a slow, jagged path. First down, then up again, then across. Sanha gasps, fully expecting his hand to come away bloody when he removes it. But it’s clean, the same as before. He rubs at the spot on his neck again. It’s tender now, akin to a fresh bruise or a cut.  “Your insignia,” Ikuto explains without him having to ask. He drops into a crouch, grasping Sanha’s hand to inspect his neck, himself. The smile he gives him this time is overwhelmingly warm and proud. “You’re part of us now, Sanha. Do you want to see it?”  “See… ? I… “ Sanha looks toward Seokhyun, who smiles at him, too, a little cheeky and bright. But there’s pride in it, too. He nods at him as though to encourage.  Ikuto helps him up, and though he’s wobbly on his feet, he makes it into the bathroom without losing balance.  Bracing his hands on the sink, he stares at his reflection in the mirror. The spot underneath his earlobe is red, irritated. He leans in close, tilting his head. In the middle of the redness, a lightning bolt brands his skin, deep violet in color. A tattoo. Denki’s insignia. “Holy shit,” Sanha whispers at the mirror. It’s real, now. Done.  He rejoins the others, still in a bit of a daze. Ikuto approaches him to envelop him in a fatherly hug, which Sanha doesn’t think about twice reciprocating. When they part, Seokhyun is right there, too, patting his back.  “Congratulations,” he says, cheeky smile still in place. “You’ve made it.”  Sanha returns the smile with a grin of his own.

[yugiri315]

Was so tired I collapsed last night.  Tried to do usual night owl things but couldn’t even text properly.  BUT...I got a dream.  I rarely remember my dreams and they are rarely this interesting or Zuka related.  Therefore, I must share this historical moment!

So I find myself in a windowless studio sandwiched between a lovely musumeyaku with blonde hair and Aizuki Hikaru.  Both are from Soragumi and both are looking wonderful bedecked in red.  Apparently I’m modeling with them for 宝塚GRAPH even though I have nothing to do with Takarazuka at all.  So we’re going through our poses when Mirio pops in!

「写真家私だ！」she exclaims excitedly, waving her DSLR over her head. And we’re all worried over her like, “what about your Top Star stuff?” Never mind we already have a photographer as he disappeared and everyone is acting like we did not have one at all a moment ago.  Mirio dismisses our concerns with a blasé 「大丈夫。時間がある〜」as she locks her camera onto the now empty tripod.  The DSLR (not sure of exact model) is surprisingly light for its size and I am not troubled by her carelessness with such a nice and expensive camera.

So now Mirio is our photographer and...she just screws around at the opposite end of the room.  Meanwhile, I’m fretting in my head, “Oh shit, I can’t speak Japanese!  What if I fuck up and totally don’t deliver!?  Um, Asumi-san? Do you understand English?  Can you hear the thoughts in my head right now!?”

Mirio makes no indication that she understand English nor that she’s psychic.  I become increasingly distressed that she can't read my mind because I cannot fathom any other way for us to communicate.  Of course I’m freaking out because OMG this is a dream come true I have a shoot with Mirio (tho not the way I ever envisioned it, it was always supposed to be the other way around or modeling together but hey I’m not complaining).  I don’t wanna f*ck up...

Nothing productive happens.  The musumeyaku looks up at me and says, in perfect English, “Sorry, I have to go now.  I’m in the way. <3”

I urgently tell her, “No, wait!  Please don’t leave us...We need you, who will translate for us!?”

Aizuki chimes in with a panicked 「ま...待て！私も分かりません。どうしよう？」

The musumeyaku just smiles sweetly as she unhooks my arm from her waist while Insisting “I’ll be late.  I really have to go~”  And she leaves us in the room with Mirio, who is still doing who knows what like the confused pancake she is except she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Then, as soon as the musumeyaku closes the door behind her, Mirio rushes over and locks the door.  It is the only way out of the room.  I take a moment to muse how strange that door is even though it is a plain and inoffensive white door.  Meanwhile, Mirio has a big mischievous smile plastered on her face as she returns to us.  She mumbles something in Japanese I cannot understand, looking very pleased with herself.  I turn back to Aizuki for some translation help, only to find her in a most terrified state.  So I try to comfort her with my incredibly limited and broken Japanese because I know she doesn’t understand English.「大丈夫、日本人でしょう〜」

But Aizuki’s eyes just get wider and wider. 「わからない！どーどうしようどうしよう？」she mumbles to herself.  All this time i am interpreting Aizuki’s distress as her inability to communicate in Japanese even though she is speaking Japanese. To this Mirio responds 「知らないよ〜」 Thus Aizuki is rendered inconsolable. So she glitches out on us and turns invisible!  I can barely make her out by her necklace, which is only occasionally visible.  I can feel her though.  She accidentally elbows me when trying to drape her arm on my shoulder for a bro-pose.

Of course by now, Mirio is ready to work and with great amusement orders us to 「はい、ポス <3」She decided to use the remote to snap frames so she can smugly lean on her camera (would not recommend in RL even on the best tripod) and tease us.  It seems Mirio is omnipotent because she simultaneously cannot see Aizuki yet can and knows I can’t and none of this bothers her.  Or sometimes she doesn’t even acknowledge Aizuki’s presence like she assumes Aizuki was never with us in the first place.  Lovecraftian levels of multiple consciousness right here.  But instead of directing us she just shrugs and says 「 しようがないね〜」and thus I am the primary target of her merciless teasing while I’m trying my damnedest to strike a cool pose for the GRAPH cover while groping my partner because I don’t know where she starts and where she ends.  Somewhere in there, Mirio does yell at us to 「 しっかりしろ!」but she was half-joking.  I most likely ruined everyone else’s chances of getting a photoshoot with their favs (or any seito for that matter).

Then the alarm sounds mid-shoot and my first waking thoughts are “huh, Mirio has the same camera as me except with a dif color stripe.”  It took a whole day for it to dawn on me that I was locked in a room with Mirio and maybe Aizuki in that dream.  But perhaps I imagined Aizuki & Mirio just thought I was being eccentric & trying abstract poses or something?

What does it mean?

[loki-subterfuge]

Irked

Title: Irked Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #15 Rating: Teen Original Imagine: Imagine due to having highly effective telekinesis, Tony Stark seeks you out and hires you. Loki’s been forced to live there by Odin and help on missions when needed, making penance to Midgardians. Prior to moving into the Tower, you learn of his superior and arrogant attitude and upon being introduced, immediately dislike him. Particularly because he looks at you like your his next meal. While continuing to grocery shop, Loki was piling things into their cart so quickly, he was able to devise a plan. Each time Shandi tossed in something unhealthy, he'd sneak it out, replacing it with an alternative. To her, it simply appeared he'd shuffled things about. Then once in line, he suggested she wait in the car, while he took care of the rest. “I can stay and help.” She replied. “Wouldn't you rather relax in the air conditioned car?” “Its air conditioned in here too, I don't mind.” The moment the person ahead finished up, Loki ushered her past the cashier. “We've a lot of meat, darling. The cooler the car, the better.” “It's not ‘that’ long of a drive.” "Elizabeth." His penetrating gaze and kind, yet insistent tone, left no room for further discussion. “Okay, I'm going. Sheesh.” Loki came out shortly after, stuffed all the bags into the trunk and they started back to the house. “What was that about?” She asked. “I thought you'd prefer being off your feet while making the car cooler.” “And for the sake of all that meat?” “Exactly.” Her brow crinkled. “Then why is everything in the trunk?” “Well...what's your point, Lizzy? Is there an actual point to all this?” Once arriving, she went to use the washroom and when done, Loki was waiting at the door. “Where's all the food?” She asked. “I put it away already.” “That fast?” He smiled. “Didn't I say magic was a wondrous thing?” On the return ride, they discussed a few things. “Alice must be using the ovens of a local Bakery to prepare for the fair.” Said Loki. “It makes sense. One home oven could never prepare enough baked goods for a large, three day event.” Shandi couldn't help but find his comment rather amusing and it showed on her face. “Still finding it difficult to comprehend a prince of Asgard, cooks?” “Yep and bakes.” “Of which I'm pleased you're no longer concerned to eat. You still haven't revealed what all the fuss was about?” Shandi glanced out the window. “I'm not discussing that with you Loki.” He stifled a smirk. “As you wish, but I'm not the only Alien Prince that does. Upon returning here, I was a buffoon in the kitchen. Thor took me shopping and once showing me some basics of cooking, left me to myself. After the appliances and I had some..disagreements, which Tony took delight in critiquing following his initial panic, I resorted to a diet similar to yours.” “Why was he panicked?” “He was passing by my apartment one morning at the exact moment I set something ablaze in the kitchen, heard the fire alarm and demanded entrance. Fortunately, magic saved the Tower from a visit by the fire department, as I hadn't learned how to use the extinguisher yet.” Her brows rose. “What happened with the appliances?” Loki then mocked Tony's voice. “So, tell me Cactus. How does one who can teleport and make clones of himself, fuck up two toaster ovens, then a top of the line microwave, a high end coffee maker and today, simultaneously set two pans of bacon and omelet on fire?” She chuckled. “You did all that?” “I did. Had he have had some patience, I might've dressed before answering, too.” “Did you answer the door in your underwear?” “I'm certain he would have preferred that.” Shandis mouth fell open and Loki smirked. “I told you the day we arrived here, I sleep naked.” “But you were cooking.” “I had been wearing a robe, but overheated and removed it.” She chuckled, again. “Poor Tony. What did he say?” “He was banging away as I casually approached, ignoring his flare for dramatics.”... “What the hell's going on in there Cactus? Open the...MOTHER OF GOD!!! HAVE YOU NO SCRUPLES?” That did it. Between envisioning Tony's expression and the way Loki mocked his mannerisms, Shandi was in stitches. “What happened then?” “He scurried past me, inspecting things while I sauntered towards my robe and nonchalantly re adorned it. Since then, he has Jarvis inform me when he's coming to assure I'm ‘decent.’” “I fully believe that. Didn't you read any of the instructions for those appliances, or extinguisher?” “Pshh, whatever for? I came from an advanced realm, a God no less. Certainly without aid, I wouldn't encounter difficulty operating Midgardian gadgets.” “Oh. Is that why you put too much liquid into the blender at the staff kitchen, then?” Loki recalled the incident. “I hadn't put the lid on tight enough, was all.” “Well, there's always duct tape if Mr. Preston has one you’d like to use.” She cackled at his eyes rolling. “So, you were saying about your diet?” “It was atrocious, much like yours.” “No it isn't.” “Shandi, as a God, I've the strength no human could fathom and as you know, a large appetite. The amount of processed foods I was consuming, with all their chemicals, was negatively affecting ‘my’ energy levels. I can't imagine how it's affecting you.” “I guess having eaten like a Prince, you wouldn't be used to such things. Most average people, are.” “And in the process, you're subjecting yourself to a slow poisoning.” ‘Man.’ She thought. ‘He gets weirder by the hour.’ “Loki, what's with the big interest in my diet all of a sudden?” “Alright.” He coolly replied. “Seeing you so ill the other day, I was reminded of my own unpleasant plight. If you wish, perhaps I can help you prevent that from reoccurring. It's up to you.” Shandi was baffled by his recent behavior and the troublesome wish it were sincere. More than she cared to admit. She recalled Nat revealing his actions towards the family of a boy killed by the Chitauri, along with Thor and Steve's conversation about how upset he was after an incident with a little girl in a restaurant. Was there a warmer side of himself, purposely kept concealed? Why? Another thought secretly pondered came to mind. One she'd soon get an opportunity to ask. "Thank you for your concern.” She kindly replied. “I'll consider it, okay? I was thinking about Laura being so outspoken. If we keep interacting with her, she may inadvertently teach us more about the family.” Loki noted how quickly the subject was changed and let it go. “Possibly, but regarding Alice. If Nat doesn't report seeing her at Beth's shop today and we don't during lunch hours at the park, I think it unwise to visit that Bakery just yet. It would imply traipsing around town the entire day with a car full of food and one who's quite pregnant. Not a likely scenario.” “True." Shandi replied. "Alice may not be inclined to socialize either, being so busy.” “She may. According to Laura, we made an impression. If we miss her at both places today and tomorrow, then we’ll go. It's still another window of opportunity, we hadn't known existed.” By the time they re entered town, it was close to lunch and Loki stopped at a small Deli, before heading to the park. Shandi claimed not to be hungry and waited in the car. Upon returning, he plunked a medium sized bag and two large drinks into her lap. “We may be there a while, so I bought you a veggie Pita and frozen fruit, smoothie.” Shandi eyed everything. 'Yep. Definitely getting stranger by the hour.’ After seeking out the same shaded bench as before, they ate while Loki kept a close eye out from behind dark shades. People slowly began entering the park, but there was no sign of the ladies. In case they did appear, he advised Shandi to start enacting the exercises he'd thought of. The idea was, he'd remain on the bench, or follow her from a short distance, while she walked nervously, throughout the park. Should Alice witness this, it would hopefully open an opportunity to explain Shandis actions. He suggested she start by buying more birdseed and after briefly chatting with the kid who sells it, she returned. “This town gets smaller all the time. His name is Dylan and guess who his grandmother is?” “Who?” Loki asked. “Mrs. Carter. He mentioned witnessing our interaction with Beth and Alice and you were right. The two use her ovens every year for the fair.” “How did you learn that?” “I mentioned they were nice and hoped to see them around again. Then he recommended Beth's shop and said Alice is usually at the Bakery every day, from now until the fair.” “How kind of him.” Loki approvingly remarked. After a brief walk, Shandi began feeding the birds and kept glancing in his direction. “Something on your mind, oh pot bellied one?” “Very funny, Clifford. I was thinking of how I'm still trying to comprehend, that humans aren't alone in the universe.” “That was unexpected, yet I imagine most of your people feel the same. Did 'you' think you were?” He politely asked. “I hadn't any definite proof otherwise, until you and Thor. The universe is a massive place though and I've always considered it naive, assuming ourselves it's only tenants.” “And to your benefit, you're not." The compliment overshadowed a building knot in her stomach of what response the next question may elicit. ‘It's only going to keep bugging you. Dammit girl, where's your gonads? Just ask him!’ "As a race, do you guys think us inferior?” Loki froze, concealing a scrutinizing gaze behind his glasses. Unable to escape the weight of it, Shandi returned to the birds. ‘Great. Of all times to lack the ability to teleport.’ Loki wondered if this related to his previous actions against her realm. “You're certainly behind in many aspects, but no. Why would you ask such a thing, Shandi?” It wasn't really Thor's opinion she’d grown concerned about, but including him had made the question easier to ask. Confident she could never care for one who thought himself above her own kind, the hope was to gain an inkling into Lokis true opinion, by catching him off guard. The reasons behind not asking them both sooner, were true. “Curiosity. I would've felt awkward asking Thor.” 'Interesting.' He thought. “Why? I thought you liked him.” “I do. He's kind, gentlemanly and funny, but I hardly see him unless it's work related. I haven't had a chance to really ‘talk’ with him.” Loki recalled the times she'd remained in her apartment, after seeing him about the Tower. "Between us both, who have you seen around more?” “Does it matter?” “I wouldn't ask, if it didn't.” “Okay, you.” She replied. “At any point until now, had you wanted to ask me such things?” She shifted awkwardly, in her seat. “Look, why don't we forget it Loki? I hadn't meant for my question to make you feel uncomfortable.” How she could even consider his feelings about anything, remained astounding to him. “You didn't. It surprised me, was all. Had you ever wanted to?" He politely, persisted. “Yes, but...” 'Damn.' She suddenly thought. 'I shouldn't have started this.' Loki asked again. "But what Shandi, I'd really like to know?” "Whenever possible, I avoided you.” And Loki thought he felt like a dick, before. She'd really wished to talk to him and he'd senselessly, pushed her away. “Shandi, I…” His sentence was interrupted by a text. “We're up Lizzy. Alice just parked and took food into Beth's shop.” All they discussed on route, was encountering Nat and Clint and upon entering, were greeted by an unsuspecting Beth, pricing items with her mouth half full. “Oh, hello. Please excuse me, it's normally quiet this time of day and I was indulging. How are you?” “Good thanks.” Said Shandi. “Don't let us stop you.” Beth smiled. “Goodness, if you sampled what I am, you'd understand. Wait, do you like strawberries?” Shandi was about to respond, when Loki did. “She loves them. Blueberries, even more.” Her brow arched. “Then you must try something.” Beth headed for the back room and moments later, returned holding open a plastic container. Inside were mini strawberry and blueberry tarts. The fruit sat amidst a rich, creamy custard with just the right sweetness and the pastry, practically melted in their mouths. “Those are delicious.” They stated. Alice spoke up from the doorway. “Why, thank you.” After greeting each other with pleasantries, she continued. “Those are only a sample of what will be at the fair. You really must come.” Shandi lowered her eyes and Loki stroked her hair. “We’re thinking about it, aren't we Lizzy?” She nodded and uncertain what to make of their interaction, Beth retreated. “Very good. Let me know if you need any help.” She'd almost reached Alice when Shandi whispered. “I'm sorry.” “Lizzy, you've nothing to be sorry for.” Beth then raised her brows at Alice when seeing Nat notice Shandi, through the shop window. Seconds later, she entered and Clint remained near the door. Loki took a double take, then protective stance, towards Shandi and Nat froze, about five feet away. “I won't come any closer. I saw you and...” Her shoulders slumped as Loki and Shandi, remained stoic. “We've an only daughter. She lives far away and is about to have a baby and…” “Ella.” Clint, kindly interrupted. Nat sighed. "It's no excuse and I shouldn't have touched you.” She stretched out her arm, holding a small gift bag towards Shandi. “This is for your baby. I hope you like it and I'm sorry.” Loki and Shandis expressions softened as she slowly took the bag. “Thank you.” Nat nodded, then headed towards Clint and once outside, they hugged. Shandi pulled a small teddy bear from the bag, that played a lullaby and glanced up at Loki. “I know what your thinking, darling. You don't need to consult me, go on.” When Shandi went outside, he turned to see Beth and Alice with their eyes glossed over and winked. “It's good to see her make a friend. We haven't any here.” Moments later, she re entered. “I gather that went well?” He asked. Shandi smiled. “It did. They're vacationing here for the summer at a nearby cottage and suggested we meet for drinks.” “Sounds like a plan. Did they say when?” "No, but I got her number." “Perfect, yet you're prohibited." He teased. "If you recall, one too many is how we ended up in this predicament in the first place?” Shandi looked to see the ladies, smirking. “How thoughtful of you to remind me, Clifford.” ‘Brat.’ She thought. Alice chuckled. “I've seven children, four of whom were conceived under the same circumstances.” “Speaking of.” Said Loki. “We met your daughters at the grocery store, earlier. Laura, our first day in town. Both are lovely.” The ladies thanked him. “We understand you met one who isn't so lovely, as well.” Beth commented. “According to Laura, that's correct.” Said Loki. "Only Laura?" ‘Shit woman, what's wrong with you?' Loki almost cackled. “She was entertaining to say the least, darling. Perhaps you'd like a basket to shop with?” "Yes, please." After retrieving one, he feigned interest in a crib display, hoping the three would talk more. It worked and once the ladies stopped within a respectable distance of Shandi, he heard their whispers, perfectly. “Laura said Tanya failed at flirting with your husband?” Asked Beth. Shandi nodded. “Good, but take heed." Said Alice. "The first opportunity that arises, she 'will' try again.” Being such strangers, Shandi found their openness amusing, yet wanted to learn more about this woman. "Even though…” Beth slowly shook her head. “She doesn't care if your married, pregnant, or both, so keep him close.” “Clifford's a good man. He doesn't get much time away from me.” Shandi solemnly, stated. “Trust us.” Said Alice. “Whatever his reasons, consider them a blessing. Tanya is well known for her 'slutty' tactics and has gotten to the best of them.” She smiled at Shandis widened eyes. “Bet you never expected to hear that from an old lady.” Beth offered her another tart. “At least you know one to avoid, if you're looking to make friends in this town.” “I am.” Shandi replied. “And we'll ‘both’ be avoiding her.” Loki smirked at the sarcasm in her tone. “Good." Said Alice. “What about making friends with a couple of seniors? "We're busy preparing for the fair right now, but once it's over, you're welcome to join us for tea. Or coffee, which ever you prefer.” Beth gave her a look. "If you like referring to yourself as ancient, be my guest. I, for one, am still a spring chicken." Alice sighed. "Whose days of laying eggs, have long ceased." Shandi chuckled at their teasing banter, while startled by her luck and gave Alice her number. “I look forward to that very much." Then she noticed Loki inspecting different boxes of mobiles. "I'd best get over there, before he gets too curious.” “Would he open something again?” Asked Beth. “I wouldn't put it past him, if he liked it enough.” ‘I resent that.’ Thought Loki. Seeing her approach, he purposely held up a model with what appeared to have miniature, hairy Teletubbies on it. “You can put that back now, Clifford.” He tisked. "Party pooper.”

[writtenbylois]

That One Time I Was A Child Criminal Mastermind

Sometimes I wonder how I didn’t grow up to be a serial killer. There’s a cute picture of me on my family’s barely touched piano. I’m smiling and I’ve lost my two front teeth. I often look at that photo and think “there’s so much evil in those eyes.” I’ve come to a point in my life when I can laugh at the crap I used to pull as a kid, even the most diabolical evils committed against my siblings. One really bad story concerns my earliest memory of my little brother getting spanked.

           I have one of those HGTV-obsessed, do-it-yourself, fancy-couch-buying moms. She takes every piece of furniture in our house very seriously, and has for as long as I can remember. Around the time I was six years-old, my mom bought me a really cute set of lightly distressed wooden dresser drawers for my bedroom. She lined the insides with teddy bear wrapping paper to keep my clothes from catching splinters, and I think she loved those drawers as much as she loved me. My younger brother/partner-in-crime, who was four, shared the bedroom with me. He was a cute little thing with big eyes who, until he started first grade, wrote his name on our dad’s notepads in crayon with the y’s facing the wrong direction. Ryan and I had a hot and cold relationship back in those days. He’d follow me around, take the clothes off my Barbie dolls, and pee on the carpet in our room from time to time. I had a bad, slow-burning temper that included outbursts leading to my older sister’s favorite doll mysteriously losing all its hair and other slightly disturbing things. I can’t remember exactly what my brother did to provoke me, but one day I was really upset with him. I wanted him to receive the worst punishment my mom could give, so I took an orange crayon from my pencil box, walked over to my brand new dresser, and wrote my brother’s name on the side facing the door. The forged signature was perfect, down to the backwards “y.” I can vaguely remember hearing “Mommy, I didn’t do it” trip out his mouth in between tears as he was disciplined for my action.

           I know it’s terrible, but I laughed writing this whole thing, and I started crying from the giggles when I finally confessed to my crime nearly a decade after it was committed. My mom cried when I told her too, out of guilt rather than glory. She hugged the life out of my brother, apologizing to him as I sat in my room, punished, still laughing, and felt equal sensations of remorse and amusement. I’ll never forget my mother turning to me and asking how I could do such a thing to my little brother and laugh. I don’t know the exact reason for my laughter, but I can certainly try to figure it out.  

           In the essay “Nonknowledge, Laughter, and Tears,” Georges Bataille discusses the reasons for and implications of laughter in relation to human awareness, and the depth of other physical responses such as tears. Bataille writes using his theory of nonknowledge, the idea that we will never truly understand why we find something funny, we must “envision a possibility” (350) of discovering more about the unknowable through investigation. His most basic meaning of laughter is described as “something that reveals that knowledge was not given to us, and that situates itself uniquely as being unable to be attained by knowledge” (135). We laugh in response to change as we move into a state he compares to that of a religious experience after writing that “in every case when we laugh, we pass from the sphere of the known, from the anticipated sphere, to the sphere of the unknown and unforeseeable” (135).

           I wouldn’t say my fit of laughter after revealing myself as an evil mastermind was anything near a spiritual moment of transcendence, but I do agree that my laughter was a result of a rapid change occurring in my life. A secret I’d been sitting with for years, one I had forgotten, had been unraveled by my own hands. I could have screamed, cried, apologized profusely—in theory, any response is a valid response if a change occurs—but my natural reaction was an awkward half-nervous, half-entertained laugh. Laughing in the face of awkward situations is something I’ve done since childhood. Perhaps my laughter doesn’t matter as much as my ability to respond to the change at all. My mom cried when I told her what I had done, and shortly after was more pissed at me for framing my brother than ruining my dresser drawers. Both of us reacted in ways Bataille wouldn’t consider much different. My mother’s tears and anger were not only directed at me, but at herself. Before she knew I’d framed my brother, my mom was completely justified in disciplining him. I imagine she was disappointed in herself for ignoring Ryan’s cries of innocence, assuming he was just another little kid who wanted to talk his way out of a spanking, and inflicting unnecessary pain on her youngest child. My mom was angry with me for being vindictive, finding what had broken her heart funny, and, though I doubt she’d admit it, making her feel like a bad mother. In another section of Nonknowledge, Bataille discusses his issues with the fisherman in Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. According to Bataille, the fisherman—the old man—is a static character who constantly fails in his attempts to capture s swordfish, but evolves in no way throughout the story. Bataille writes that “there is something bothersome” (149) about the lack of reaction in Hemingway’s characters. Bataille feels that people can’t help but to convey some sort of physical and emotional reaction to life’s circumstances, whether good or bad, and sees the fisherman as unrealistic. I think, however, people have the profound ability to be more nuanced in many cases. I remember my brother, who was 14 years-old when my secret came out, reacting in a very subtle way. He was sitting next to me on our parents’ bed when I blurted everything out, and his eyes widened as his memories of the event flooded his mind. “I remember that!” he yelled, smiling, before he nudged me and said something to the effect of “that was really messed up.” Ryan, the victim in this situation, laughed as our mom scolded me for my actions, relishing in the sweet revenge karma had given him. I don’t know exactly what was going through his mind, but I’m sure he wasn’t just laughing at my getting caught. Who’s to say he wasn’t trying not to relive the pain of being falsely accused and punished, because he had certainly suppressed the memory of that spanking for a decade. For to return to his mind meant that the emotions associated with it must have come back, too.  

           While I laughed in response to a change when I told my mother about what I had done to my brother, the type of laughter I experienced recalling the event as I wrote it earlier was very different. It didn’t come from a place of guilt or discomfort. I was laughing, and am laughing, as an older, slightly more mature human being thinking of an extremely childish moment. I suppose I could interpret that laughter as a response, in part, to the emotional and physical changes I’ve experienced in over a decade. I’ve grown from a six to eighteen years-old, and my sense of humor has evolved during that twelve year gap. I know that what I did was wrong, but laugh despite that revelation at the gall I had to go as far as forging my brother’s signature to get revenge. I think I’m more inclined to take a walk when I get as angry as I must’ve been in that moment now, not that I don’t think of shaving off eyebrows or snapping skateboards in half from time to time. If I do snap and do either of those things one day, I’m sure I’d feel pretty guilty about it first, and then find myself laughing about it in another ten years.