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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Flynnpostor

Here we go, we’ve come to the last of the filler episodes in the show. It’s also a pretty decisive episode within fandom. I’m kind of of split about it myself.

Summary: After having a nightmare about Cassandra at her stronghold, the Captain of the Royal Guard steps down from his position and hands his title over to Eugene. Eugene is unsure about being chosen as the new captain, but is distracted by the news that there is a new thief who bares a remarkable resemblance to Eugene, also going by the name Flynn Rider, who has stolen the crown again. Eugene, Rapunzel, Maximus and Pascal take off to go look for the thief while Lance is left in charge of watching over Varian's new invention.

Dream Sequences Are Cheap

Animation director Brad Bird pretty much sums up my feelings on dream sequences here in this clip.

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To be fair to this scene, it does actually further the story as its an inciting incident for Cap’s character, but how much stronger a story point would it have been had the confrontation here been real? You dilute the tension and the drama of a conflict when you reduce it down to only a hallucination rather then allowing it to hold real consequences.

It’s also a let down because there is no other Cap and Cass scenes beyond that one flashback in Islands Apart; despite the fact that Cap should logically play a larger role in Cassandra’s story given her supposed motivation

This Is A Broken Narrative Promise

Hey, remember that line back in Islands Apart where Cap refused to not give up until he’s found/saved his daughter.... yeah well here he is just giving up.

And look, I can understand why he might refuse to fight her. I can understand why this is a conflict of interest and duty. I can even understand why he may want to retire or at least take a break from active duty while this is going on. The problem with this development is that it’s not used to push the story forward.

Cap doesn’t do anything after this. He doesn’t go on a quest to find/save his daughter. He doesn’t stick around to advise his replacement. He’s not there when Cass is debating her actions and desires, when he should be. All this is, is a cheap way to discard the character so that Rapunzel can be the only person that matters to Cassandra, and that’s just an insult to everyone watching, honestly.

So Are We Confirming That Frederic And Arianna Have Fully Regained Their Memories And Are Back In Charge Now?

What was the fucking point behind the mind wipe then? Nothing’s changed, no one has grown or learned anything, and consequences have no meaning because they don’t last. It was even resolved off screen!

Everything involving this arc has been a lazy cop-out from day one.

Pointing Out Your Bad Writing Doesn’t Make It Any Less Bad

If you have to make everyone else incompetent in order to make your mains look good then you’ve failed at writing. Go back to school.

This Is Also A Broken Narrative Promise

Hey, remember the Dark Prince plot that season two introduced? Remember the whole, ‘I’m going to be king someday and must learn how to be a leader’ arc from season one?

Well the writers sure didn’t.

This isn’t a fulfilling capstone to Eugene’s responsibility arc because it wasn’t set up. He was working towards and working through other things that had nothing to do with him being a guard. In fact the subplot that involved him being a guard had already resolved itself back in season one and barely had any impact on the story until now.

Most people who defend this development do so with a ‘well at least it’s something’ protest. Eugene fans who desire for anything other then comedic relief antics have latched onto this captain idea out of desperation instead of recognizing it for the moldy table scraps that it is.

Tangled fans, you were promised a banquet and instead were given a None Pizza with Left Side Beef.

Audience Expectation

Reality

And the most insulting thing about it is, is that it doesn’t fundamentally change anything. Eugene just does the same things that Eugene always does, only now he wears an ill-fitting uniform for a few episodes while doing it.

Eugene Being The New Captain Doesn’t Make Any Sense In-Universe

Did we just forget that Eugene is suppose to be the future co-ruler of two kingdoms?

This isn’t a promotion, it’s a downgrade.

There’s also the added conflict of interest. He’s royalty now; he can’t guard himself. Is he just going to order himself about? No, he’ll have to delegate all the real work to someone else anyways, or step down in a few years once he and Rapunzel officially marry, so why not go ahead and give the position to that person instead?

He can’t preform the duties of being Captain and a ruler at the same time. Even as only a prince consort, Eugene will still need to be involved in diplomatic missions, community projects, and holding court. He’ll be too busy to actually command anything, and you can’t run a military without a functioning chain of command.

Furthermore, if he’s is both the law maker and the head law enforcer then that consolidates too much power to one person. Just because we know that Eugene won’t abuse his power, doesn’t be mean he or anyone else should be granted that much control to begin with.

And finally, this development does not play well to Eugene’s strengths as a character. We spent a whole episode back in season one about why Eugene wasn’t a good fit for regular guard duty, but had more useful skills to contribute elsewhere.

Did Cap just forget that Eugene is bad at time management, following orders and procedures, and disregards rules on a regular basis? Those are all needed requirements for any high ranking position in any military.

What Eugene is good at, is creative thinking, mediating conflicts, applying past experiences to finding solutions to current problems, public speaking, and networking. All useful skills for being an instructor (his old position), a diplomat, or a ruler.

Which is what he actually is. The show just refuses to let him be that because they can’t have Rapunzel not be the center of attention for fear of exposing how bad at her own job she really is.

Rapunzel Nagging Her Boyfriend To Take A Job That He Doesn’t Want Isn’t Very Endearing Show

Rapunzel is a really shitty girlfriend.

It’s one thing to encourage someone to try something new, it’s another to nag and harass them into making a long term commitment that don’t want to make just because it’s what you believe is what’s best for them.

That is called being controlling, and people should rightly dump controlling partners.

Okay, This Is A Pretty Funny Joke

As I said, I don’t hate the series, I’m just disappointed with how badly it ended. Jokes like this are the last rays of joy I’ll see before heading into that ending so I’m appreciating them while I can.

Don’t Expect This To Come Back Into Play

Why is the teenager the only one doing anything about the current threat? You know, the same teenager who turned to ‘evil’ when the adults failed to do anything about another on going threat. Varian didn’t need to learn responsibility. He didn’t need to learn to be ‘useful’. He needed to learn trust again and no one has given him that. Ugh!

Also this ‘early warning system’ never comes back up into the plot. it’s just here to sideline Varian and Lance for this episode.

Then Why Aren’t You Doing Anything Rapunzel?

Rapunzel still hasn’t informed anyone of Zhan Tiri, and neither she nor Eugene have told Varian about Cass stealing the Mind Trap. Also for the past two episodes Rapunzel’s done nothing but sit on her ass instead of doing anything to supposedly ‘save’ Cassandra like she wants.

She’s making the exact same mistakes as she did in season one; only now there’s magically no consequences for it like there was back then. It’s bad writing.

Also watch as she contradicts herself in the very next sentence.

Rapunzel has no businesses even being in this episode, but the series shoehorns her in anyway. This isn’t her focus episode, she has no stake in it’s conflict, and she has more important things she should be doing then leading her boyfriend around by the nose.

Since When Does Varian Care About ‘Rules’?

This goes back to what I was talking about earlier. Varian’s characterization in season three feels off because it’s not a logical follow through of his story. Like the rest of the characters in the show, he’s forced into becoming what the ‘story’ needs rather then story molding itself to fit what the characters need.

That’s why the writing is so flat. Complex story telling has to derive from the characters first, not the other way around. Simpler subject matter can get away with the reverse, like with folklore, ballet/pantomime, or comedic shorts, but that’s not what Tangled the Series is.

Brock Is A Likable Character, But He Shouldn't Exist

I like Brock.

Brock is fun.

He’s also completely pointless as a character.

He doesn’t actually add to the wider narrative, nor he does he even help Eugene along on his development; regardless of the episode trying to convince you otherwise.

He really only exists so that the artists can save money on another recolor... which they wouldn’t have had to do had they actually managed the budget properly.

And the really sad thing is, that this could have been a clever premise had they had the balls to use Bastion instead; and just dumped the whole unneeded Captian subplot.

Hey, even better, put this episode in season two and let him be a rival for Rapunzel’s affections and let her consider other possibilities like a normal human being would. Make the characters earn New Dream all over again instead of putting in a stupid ‘marriage is bad and will ruin your life; durh durh durrr’ message.

So Why Does Brock Exist?

We get no in-universe explanation for why Brock is Eugene’s twin.

In fact him being Eugene’s twin kind of undermines the entirety of the Dark Prince subplot and Eugene’s reconnecting with his father arc. Because the only reason why Eugene accepted Edmund’s bullshit story in the first place is because he can apparently recognize Eugene by his eyes, and has been following his wanted posters....

Only Brock has the exact same eyes, the same wanted posters, and the exact same fake name! How do we know he’s not real the Dark Prince? How does Edmund and Eugene know? Is Eugene’s mother even really dead, or did she just up and leave Edmund’s crazy ass and took one of their twins with her?

Brock’s very existence calls into question they entirety of the plot, because Edmund is now an unreliable narrator. Even his talk about how ‘the moonstone corrupts’ can’t be taken seriously by the characters any more, which leaves their faith in Cassandra twisting in the wind.

So Why Doesn’t The Baron Notice That There Are Two Flynn Riders Here?

He’s looking right them here, and yet he acts surprised later when he sees them both.

Framing matters people.

Let’s Talk About Outfits

I touched on this back with Varian and Cassandra, but it bares repeating.

Eugene is shoved into this ill-suited outfit for the next four episodes in order to shove this dumb, “Blue is bad” symbolism down our throats. Even though cooler colors were always a part of Eugene’s palate since the beginning.

Putting him in a red and gold uniform not only feels wrong but also undermines the previous narrative of him being the heir to the moonstone/dark kingdom. Same as how forcing Varian to wear browns and reds actively divorces him from the previous Black Rocks and Brotherhood plot.

Yes, it’s an intentional decision made by the creative team, and it’s also an incredibly dumb one to make. It goes against everything that they had worked so hard to set up in past seasons and winds up shooting the story in the foot.

As for Lance, his outfit looks better since his palate has always featured warm colors, but it’s just a one and done and therefore a waste of money.

Yes, even in an episode that solely exists to save the series some cash the creators still mismanages the budget!

Okay, This Was Also a Good Joke

I think this episode sums up TTS in a nutshell pretty well. There’s good in here mixed in with the bad. There’s fantastic art, until it hits you with lazy recolors. There’s funny jokes, along side flat out character assassinations. There is a fun premise to be had but you gotta wade through a lot of bullshit to get to it. It can be entraining but most of it is pointless. Oh and the surrounding main story is shit.

This Has Nothing To Do With Jealousy Rapunzel, And You Should Actually Listen To What Your Spouse Is Trying To Tell You For Once.

Her finance, the man she wants to marry and spend the rest of her life with, is opening up to her and speaking about something that means a lot to him, and she has the gall to look bored! Not to mention ignoring what he’s telling her and dismissing his concerns all because she thinks she knows him better than he knows himself.

And we’re suppose to side with her?

Eugene isn’t jealous. He’s having an identity crisis, and no one is supporting him, not even his girlfriend.

In fact when has Rapunzel ever supported him in his quest to find himself through out the show?

She wasn’t involved in his search for a new career back in season one. She dismisses his past and his feelings about his ex during season two. She’s not there for the Dark Prince reveal, and she guilt trips him into spending time with his abusive dad that repeatedly tells her he doesn’t want anything to do with.

Now on top of all that she’s trying to nag him into taking a job he doesn’t want and shitting all over his experiences and feelings. And the less said about No Time Like the Past the better.

This Is Propaganda

He was a starving orphan you spoiled brat!!!

Also you don’t know what all he he stole or who stole from. You don’t know if the victims actually cared about the shit they lost. A rich asshole with hundreds of bags of gold, that he got by exploiting other poor people, isn’t going to notice a single one missing.

I need people to understand that not all propaganda is intentional. Sometimes propaganda is just giving a platform to someone who happens hold really toxic views, and thinks these views are normal because they’ve lived a closeted and sheltered life.

Like say a middle aged, middle class, straight white man using the main protagonist from a well known Disney property as a mouth piece for his conservative, and frankly classist, views on ethics and morality and no one challenging him on it because people blindly trust the brand name.

And they just plot their kiddos down in front of the boob tube, don’t bother watching it for themselves, and presto you got a generation of children now exposed to these past generations ideas of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ with no level of nuance or alternate view points being expressed.

Now, I’m not saying that Disney is evil and brainwashing children, I mean they are evil, but that’s not how brainwashing works. Kids aren’t going to walk away from watching one show and grow up to become Republican's or anything. Nor am I saying that you need to ‘cancel’ the series and bully people who happen to like it.

No, what I’m saying is that parents need to be more involved in the media that they’re kids consume. You need to watch things with your child. Maybe not every single episode, but you need to at least be aware of what’s going on. You need to be able to engage them on their level, and you need to be ready to point out why something may be contradictory to your own thoughts and opinions, so that way you kids can learn critical thinking skills.

That’s why I write these reviews, to get young people in the fandom to think.

You don’t need to make excuses for something just to enjoy it. You can very much engage in media/fandom while still being critical of it. You can still like a character while acknowledging that the writing for them is bad. It’s not an either/or.

How Did We Go From This...

To This?

What happened to the Rapunzel who actually cared about people?

What happened to the girl in the tower who was eager to learn and listen to others?

What happened to the woman who loved and accepted Eugene for who he was and didn’t pressure him to conform to anything; whose non-judgmental nature is what made Eugene fall in love with her in kind? To the point where they would sacrifice so much for the other.

And why the fuck are we suppose to consider this toxic treatment, where she just shuts down Eugene’s opinions, as ‘positive development’?

The Rapunzel in the later half of Tangled the Series doesn’t actually love Eugene, she just loves the idea of Eugene. She loves the fantasy of someone hanging on her arm and constantly validating her without having to extend any of that same effort herself.

She went from being the first person who accepted the real Eugene for who he was, to being the main person who refuses to see him as anything other her idealized version of him. And if he dares not to conform to that fantasy she bullies him, shuts him down, and goes back in time to literally brainwash him.

This Isn’t Progressive

Okay, first off, you’re the fucking princess. If you want to ‘reform' Brock rather use traditional punishments then you go ahead and just do that. It’s not Eugene’s job to do it for you; neither as the Prince Consort nor as Captain.

Secondly, you can’t reform jack shit of you can’t acknowledge the flaws within a system first. You can’t out reach to someone if you know nothing about them or their motivations. And you can’t just coerce people into doing what you want and expect to make any lasting changes.

Lastly, Rapunzel is a big fat hypocrite here because guess what, Lady Caine is still banished, the Saporians are still rotting in jail, and she has yet to apologize the poor oppressed teenager for the abuse he suffered while holding him in a dungeon for a year!!!

This is just the Stalyan and Dewayne incident all over again. Rapunzel only cares about making a show over ‘everyone deserves a second chance’ when it’s convenient for her. When she’s expecting to gain something out of it. Otherwise she can’t be bothered.

This behavior isn’t progressive reform; it’s nepotism.

Why Do We Have To Sacrifice Lance’s Development In Order To Showcase Varian’s Growth?

I mean it’s good that Varian has learned from his past experiences and is more careful with his inventions, I guess, but as I stated before responsibility was never the focus of his arc.

You know whose arc was focused on responsibility though? Lance.

When Lance was first introduced they had set up an arc for him where he would not only be reformed but learn to become a more responsible member of society; as like a mirror to Eugene.

Well, not only have the writers abandoned that arc now, but they’ve flanderized Lance’s character to the point where he’s is actively worse than when he started. All for the sake of keeping him as comedic relief.

I longer have any reason to root for him to adopt Angry and Red in the end, if this is how he acts around them.

Rapunzel Is A Hypocrite

Says the woman who neglected a child in need for thee months.

No, I’m not letting this go, and neither should you.

Rapunzel does not work was the series mentor and other characters’ consciences when she hasn’t learned anything herself!

So This Pretty Much Confirms That Eugene Left Stalyan At the Altar For Rapunzel

This would have been nice to know back in Stalyan’s actual focus episodes. Seeing as how it’s a important plot detail that explains her motivations better.

It also makes that flashback in Return of Strongbow kind of pointless, but oh well, what else is new.

The Dynamic is Funny But It Comes Too Late Into The Story To Do Anything With It

I mean, if you ignore all the character assassination going on, Lance and Varian do play well off each other. But there’s nothing interesting done with the dynamic because we’re only two episodes away from the finale, so what was the point?

It’s honestly just a platonic version of the pairing of the spares trope now. In fact that’s all Lance seems to exist for. To be a distraction from the main plot so that certain other characters can get one on one screen time with Raps.

Why Are You Surprised By This Baron?

You literally saw them both together just a few scenes earlier.

Why?

No, seriously, why?

The Baron has no personal beef with Brock. He can tell the two of them apart easily, so it’s not as if he’s killing them both to make sure he gets the right one. And Brock himself has made it clear that he has no personal stake in the Baron’s feud with Eugene so it’s not like he’s going to go out of his way to stop him.

Therefore, what does keeping Brock hostage gain him?

So Why Is Rapunzel Here?

Just like with Return of the King, Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, and Day of the Animals, Rapunzel has no business being in the plot of the episode as much as she is.

To be fair, she’s utilized slightly better in here in the climax of this episode than she is in others, but we still have to put up with her barging in where she doesn’t belong to get to this point.

We’re Missing Some Much Needed Context Here

What happened between the Baron and Stalyan? Why aren’t they on speaking terms with one another?

How did the Baron survive the poison and why would Stalyan abandon her still clearly sick father? Why was she hanging out in that pub without him in The Eye of Pincosta, if he was still alive and ailing?

Why does the Baron blame Eugene for his failed relationship with his daughter? Where’s the connection here?

Why are we acting like Stalyan has ‘moved on’ when she’s still a thief and still living the life she’s always known? There’s more to a redemption beyond just who you date!

Why is Rapunzel more concerned about the Baron ‘letting go of his past’ and not about the fact that the man led an organized crime ring for decades that involved coercing poor children into becoming his wage slaves and kept getting away with it because of his wealth and status as nobility!?

Like ,I could come up with theories all day long to answer these questions, but I shouldn’t have to. Explaining basic motivations and establishing continuity is the job of the writers.

Wait? How Did That Hurt Her?

Indestructible cosmic power, and all you have to do is bung a rock at her to bring her down.

Man Cass must really suck at being a villain if that’s all it takes to defeat Rapunzel.

While it’s refreshing to have a climax in an episode that holds real stakes and tension for once, especially in season three, the fact that the threat is just some normal ass dude while the main supervillain and their literal daemon accomplice can’t match up even in the finale, just showcases how poorly written and inconsistent the rest of the show is.

Another Reason Why This Episode Works, Is Because It Does Have Actual Set Up and Resolve

I mean it’s a super simple set up and it resolves itself in less than five minutes; but at least it’s there.

The writers of this show are indeed capable at times, so what went wrong?

Now, This Is Not a Good Joke

See.. it’s funny... cause... cause... why? Women can be badasses too? Or is it cause the men are incompetent? Or are we just suppose to nod along in agreement the blind worship of such an awful person?

Usually the jokes in this show land, but it’s like they have this one old douche in the writers room trying extra hard to be ‘woke’ and coming across as cringe because his understanding of feminism is from the fucking 70s and he can’t grasp the concept that women have moved on to other concerns and now demand more from media beyond just ‘durr, hur, the girl saves the man now’.

Why Is Rapunzel Needed For Eugene To Do The Right Thing?

Of the two of them Eugene is far more empathetic than Rapunzel. He also has a better understanding of the world, it’s complexies, and how the system works both for and against the common man.

Rapunzel is not Eugene’s personal jiminy cricket. That shouldn’t be her role in story. It’s a disservice to them both to force her into that role rather than letting them compliment the other’s development naturally.

Also, I thought she wanted Eugene to become the captain. Arresting people is part of the job!

This Is Still Nepotism

I’m not saying that Brock should have been thrown in jail or anything, but there were other alternatives than letting him get away scot free. Like community service or even a small fine to work off. Advocating for progressive reform of the penal system does not mean that consequences for harmful actions magically disappear.

Brock still committed various crimes and stole from other people beyond just taking the crown. He makes no promise to return the money nor to stop stealing in the future. And he doesn’t even have much of a reason for becoming a thief in the first place. He just wanted the fame of being Flynn Rider, not because he was starving and in need; as far as we know. So while it’s nice that he gained some self respect that doesn’t mean he’s a better person now.

Therefore this is just Eugene returning a favor for someone who did him a solid, not him learning to be a better protector of the law. It’s still nepotism.

I Would Rather Have A Spin Off About This Guy Then Any Of The Mains

Still for all his faults, Brock is far less annoying then the mains this season.

A series with him would basically be a traveling robin hood esque adventure; which has more basis for a new show then anything anyone else has proposed with either Cass or even Varian.

What Happened to “Prison is Bad”?

More hypocrisy for ya.

And once again, I’m not saying that he Baron doesn’t deserve it. He has a life time of crime and abuse to account for. But what is Rapunzel’s reasoning.

What’s the distinction in her mind between Brock and the Baron, or Stalyan and Caine, or Dewayne and Andrew, or Varian and Cassandra... ect. and so on.

If you’re going to, as a ruler, declare that you’re changing the penal system then you need to actually change it across the board and commit to some logical follow through. It’s can’t be as arbitrary as this is.

Don’t Ruin You’re Character Development For a Bad Joke, Writers

This is only justification we get for why Eugene decides to accept the captain position and it only comes at the tail end of the episode, has next to nothing to do with his experience with Brock, and it’s muffled and distorted half the time because the writers wanted to keep up this joke that only really funny the first time it was used.

It’s so fucking lazy, guys.

It’s like they knew that they they had no logical reason for this development and that it didn’t fit Eugene’s character or arc, but they thought they could get away with using it if they gave a half-assed allusion to some sort of previously unmentioned insecurity issue that Eugene has; and it’s not even the same mid-life crisis insecurity issue that we had ben building up to during the rest of the season three!

Conclusion

So that was the last decent episode of Tangled the Series. It’s still heavily flawed and some people rightly hate it for the character assignations it commits, but it’s at least serviceable. Especially in comparison to the next episode. Next up we’ll tackle the very worst episode of the entire show, Once a Handmaiden....

#tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-rapunzel

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shining-red-diamond · 4 years ago

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Ch. 2

Words: 2.4k

Pairing: NCT Misfit Unit x OCs

Genre: Fluff, angst, suggestive, mystery!AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of poisoning, death, light alcohol consumption

“There was a what at the ring?!” Taeyong panicked loudly, causing Savannah to nearly drop her spoon as she ate her yogurt.

She hadn’t realized the news was on as she was busy eating her breakfast and preparing some interview questions. The reporter on the screen was covering a story about an underground fighting area that had become a crime scene after a fighter “mysteriously froze all of a sudden before collapsing to his death.” Behind her was the abandoned nightclub and the same yellow tape blocking off the general public.

“Oh, that,” Savannah sighed as she smacked her forehead. “I meant to tell you, but I was exhausted from it all.”

Taeyong could never get angry with her. As much as he wished she would have told him what had happened, he understood the emotional trauma of witnessing a tragedy like that. Although part of his job as a fireman was to get civilians to safety, not everyone is lucky enough to make it out alive; and just having to deliver the bad news to the families who lost loved ones is heartbreaking enough.

A sigh escaped his lips as he massaged his temples. “Savannah, this is why I don’t like when you go into the field for things like this,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Honey, I wasn’t hurt,” his wife defended herself. “I know you worry about me, but I’ve taken self defense classes. And you were the one who got me pepper spray.”

Taeyong couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Still,” he sighed. “It just scares me that I could lose you when you’re by yourself.”

“Hey, I get nervous, too, but I have more chances of survival in certain situations.”

“Well, I still want you to call for help when you need it, whether that’d be me or emergency services. Promise?”

“Pinky swear.”

Taeyong kissed her goodbye one more time before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

“...The wrestler’s autopsy report states that he passed away of cyanide poisoning,” the news anchor reported. “Medical examiners found large amounts of the toxin in his bloodstream, and concluded the fighter had consumed it minutes before he died.”

“Cyanide,” Savannah repeated.

She quickly jotted bullet points of everything she knew so far:

Hendery saw someone strange

Jeno had a weird phone call about someone (girlfriend?) and left the scene. Nervous about something(?)

Wrecker was poisoned with cyanide. How?

Now, she hoped Johnny would have some answers for her. Savannah wasn’t expecting to solve this mystery right away, but she had a start.

After checking the time, she grabbed her keys and her purse, turned off the TV, and then headed out the door.

The drive to the gym was about five minutes as Taeyong often worked out there when he wasn’t on duty. It was in a joint building with a pizza parlor and a dry cleaning service. The Iron Bell’s sign displayed a red dumbbell logo with lettering in a sort of punk cooper black font.

“It’s always the gyms who have the loudest signs,” Savannah chuckled as she walked into the building.

The interior of the gym was pretty nice to Savannah’s surprise, and it was much larger than she expected. The walls were a bright shade of crimson with multiple TVs showing multiple channels and lined up near the ceiling. On one side of the gym were your typical ellipticals, treadmills, and weight equipment; but on the other side of the gym was a large, fenced-in octagon mat used for MMA practice or whatever type of defense/offence practice. Two men, YangYang and the medic boy from the fight, were busy practicing defense moves, and a few people were making use of the machines.

Savannah took note of her neighbor Mark Lee taking advantage of the available weight set as his fiancée Alice Gilmore, a coworker of hers, was busy jogging on one of the treadmills, her blonde ponytail swishing with each step.

“Hey, Sav!” he greeted as he finished a set of reps. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Mark, Alice,” she smiled. “I’m here to see Johnny Suh. Is he here?”

“I think he’s in his office,” Alice replied, out of breath as she slowed down her treadmill speed. “It’s behind the wrestling mat.”

“Thank you,” Savannah nodded as she headed towards the office door, which she now saw labeled in white as “MANAGER.”

With three knocks, she heard a voice say, “It’s open.”

Savannah carefully pushed the door open to find who she was looking for sitting at a desk and on the phone with someone. The office itself wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was organized. The shelf displayed a few awards for the gym, and a few pictures of a familiar young boy with blond hair and a bright smile around six or seven years old. Her coworker Sierra had pictures of the same child on her desk at the newspaper office. Then, it hit her: Johnny was Sierra’s husband, and he was the boy’s stepdad.

“Alright, baby,” he said as he smiled, and Savannah guessed he was talking to his wife. “I’ll pick up Alex for his doctor’s appointment. Hey, I’ve got to go. Savannah’s here...I love you, too...Bye.”

He hung up and stood to greet the journalist who just entered his office.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized as he held out a hand. “I didn’t quite catch your name when we spoke last night.”

“I’m Savannah Nguyen, Mr. Suh,” she introduced herself as she shook his hand.

“Please, call me Johnny,” he scoffed lightly. “We go by a first name basis here, Savannah. Have a seat.” He motioned to a leather seat that was covered with duct tape. Clearly, it had seen better days; but it held Savannah up fine.

“My wife mentioned you two were coworkers,” he continued. “I thought your last name was Lee.”

“Legally, yes,” Savannah nodded as she fished out her notebook from her purse. “I married my husband about a year and a half ago.”

“Oh, yeah! The firechief Lee Taeyong.”

“That would be him.”

“Then, why are you still going by your other name?”

“My editor suggested I use my maiden name for my stories. Nguyen is more of a pen name of sorts.”

Johnny just nodded.

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about marital statuses,” Savannah changed the subject. “I managed to catch you after the fight, but then the whole fiasco had everyone shaken up. And if you saw the news this morning, his autopsy came back as death by cyanide poisoning. So, could you tell me about anything that might have happened leading up to the murder?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary that I noticed,” Johnny shrugged as he thought about it.

“No strange people? Or any snacks that could have been tainted?”

“We get all kinds of people who come to the fights, so anyone could have taken out Wrecker.”

“Pretty much.”

Savannah then showed him the notes she had.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have so far.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed as he read what was in front of him.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I did notice that Jeno had disappeared, but I wasn’t sure where.”

“My best guess is that he has some sort of female acquaintance in the hospital, but since he works with Taeyong, I’m told the girl in question is his girlfriend.”

“Probably,” Johnny agreed. “I’ve seen her. Really pretty girl. He would bring her when he had a fight, but she hasn’t been coming the past few months. We asked about her a few times, and Jeno said she was fine. The conversation never went further than that, though, so we figured it was none of our business really.”

Taeyong’s hunch had been confirmed, however, the question of what exactly was going on with her was still in the air. Savannah knew she would have to talk to Jeno to get the full story, but she hated feeling that there was something off about the situation.

She took the notebook back from the gym’s manager and wrote down some new notes.

“Do you know if Wrecker had any enemies?” she continued her interview.

Johnny laughed a little. “Wrecker had beef with everyone,” he scoffed. “But enough to end his life? Not that I know of.”

“Well, the guy named Hendery said he saw someone run from the scene.”

“Who?”

“He wasn’t sure. All he saw was a person of medium height in a dark coat and fedora. He couldn't tell if they were male or female.”

Johnny clicked his tongue and nodded. “Okay, that is a little weird. Come to think of it” -he sat up a little straighter and rubbed his chin- “I did see Wrecker drink something before he went on, and it wasn’t in his usual bottle he aggressively drinks from.”

Savannah paused for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“It was some small paper cup thing, but I don’t know if you’d want to go digging in the garbage for it.”

Savannah just nodded and wrote down more of what he said. “Well, I think that’s gonna cover it for now,” she said as she put her notebook back into her purse. “Thanks for meeting with me, Johnny.”

“No problem, Savannah,” he smiled as he showed her to the door. “And if you want some more people to talk to, Brittany has had some business dealings with Wrecker a while back. If you wanna find her she works at Jessi’s. I’m not sure if she’s working today, but it’s a great place if you want a margarita.”

“Noted.”

With the new information in hand, Savannah decided to go pay a visit after work.

Taeyong drove his wife to the bar in case she decided to have a drink, so he would pick her up after he ran some errands. Jessi’s wasn’t too far from their house, and many of the people she had worked with always recommended it due to the great drinks, food, and the owners and employees were super friendly and sociable. The outside of the bar seemed like your normal restaurant on the outside with the neon sign of the name written in an elaborate sort of cursive and bright colors. As soon as one walked in, they were met with what looked like a mix of a cool lounge decorated with black, gold, and platinum records. The main dining area’s furniture were white chairs, and the tables were the cleanest looking silver Savannah had ever seen. Even the dark-wooden floor was spotless. A few posters of the singer were the centerpiece on each wall, and two TVs hung on the bar wall above the drink mixes.

Savannah was almost in shock at how creative such a bar was put together.

“Hi, Savannah,” Brittany smiled enthusiastically, her name tag reflecting off of the late afternoon sunlight that peaked in. “Have a seat.”

Snapping out of her daze, the journalist did as she was asked and set her purse on the wooden bar.

“What can I get for you? A Manhattan? Whiskey sour? Or are you a beer gal?”

“Do you have any Mojito?” Savannah requested.

“Oooo, Hemingway’s alleged fave. Would you like vodka or tequila with it?”

“Tequila, please.”

Brittany immediately got to work. She began slicing a lime into four wedges and put them into a glass. Some sugar was scooped up and poured into the glass before Brittany muddled it all down to a mix. She then took some mint into her palm, gave it a firm spank, and then added it to the drink. After giving the mix one more gentle muddle, she poured in some crushed ice about halfway up before adding the tequila and stirring it. After one more small scoop of ice and an adding of some club soda, Brittany topped it off by rubbing some mint leaves along the rim and using it as a drink topper.

“Here you go,” she said, proud of her work once she added a slim black straw.

“Thanks. So, Jessi really owns this place?” Savannah asked once she took a sip of her extravagant looking drink. “Wow! That’s good.”

“The one and only,” Brittany nodded as she wiped down where she had prepared the beverage. “And she has joint ownership with Hyuna, who owns the Red Lounge with her husband Dawn.”

“My husband and I have been there. Great environment like this one.”

“Oh, absolutely! Hold on, let me handle these guys, and I’ll get back to you.”

Two men in suits had entered, and Brittany was quick to fix them their Bloody Mary and Alice. Savannah studied her body language and the way she spoke with them and two other guests who walked in. Brittany always had a smile, her high-pitched voice was always warm and welcoming, and she made sure the guests were served and relaxed with their orders. She could be ruled out as a suspect, but Savannah still wanted to make sure in order to narrow down the list.

“You’re so talented at this,” Savannah applauded when she returned. “Do you also entertain in the evenings with the drinks? Like tricks with shot glasses?”

“Thanks,” Brittany giggled as she mixed and served a Mimosa for a woman sitting at the other end of the bar. “And no. Hendery does all of the fancy tricks. I just mix and pour. Plus, I only do the day shifts.”

“I see.”

Savannah pulled her notebook out as she took another sip of her drink.

“Anyway,” she began, “Johnny mentioned that you had some business with Wrecker a while back.”

“Oh, that,” Brittany rolled her eyes. “Well, he had borrowed money from me because he needed a flat on his truck fixed; but he had failed to pay me back. So, I confronted him about it before the fight on the night he was killed.”

“Did either of you threaten the other?”

“I didn’t threaten him,” Brittany defended herself, “but he did say something about ‘watching my back.’ Honestly, the fighters there give empty threats most of the time; so I wasn’t too worried.”

Empty threats? Savannah thought. She did see how the other fighters protected each other in that makeshift arena, so Brittany did have something of a point.

“And everyone knows I carry pepper spray, so Wrecker would’ve had to get his eyes flushed out if he tried anything.”

“I see.”

“Cyanide poisoning,” Brittany repeated the news report. She must have seen it that morning, as well. “We were thinking he had some sort of poisonous dart shot at him. Nobody heard gunshots.”

“Wrecker was poisoned for sure, but I spoke with Johnny. He thinks he ingested it through a drink of some sort.”

“Weird.”

Savannah nodded and sipped her drink.

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ashtoashesdusttodust · 5 years ago

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50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked Before.

Lovely @harold-of-the-rocks tagged me to do this the other day. Sorry it took me so long and thank you! I loved this one :)

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? I use a hair comb instead of a hairbrush, and it is black.

2. A food you never eat? Veggies. I know, I’m kinda like a 5 year old :(

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Physically? Too cold. My feet and legs are almost always cold.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Watching House MD with mom.

5. What is your favorite candy bar? Umm, Cadbury chocolaet filled with strawberry yogurth I guess.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? Never have.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “Good night” to mom.

8. What is your favorite ice cream? Mascarpone with berries maybe.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? A sip of soda, but I didn’t “have” to do it, I just did it (?)

10. Do you like your wallet? Nope. I don’t use one anymore.

11. What was the last thing you ate? One cheese scone I made yesterday.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? I think the last time I bought new clothes was last december :(.

13. The Last sporting event you watched? Um.. Parapanamerican games? Don’t even remember

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Don’t like popcorn.

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to? Boyfriend.

16. Ever go camping? My parents, aunt, uncle, cousin and I used to go camping at least two weekends a mont several years ago. Miss that.

17. Do you take vitamins? No I don’t.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? I’m not even baptized xd.

19. Do you have a tan? I HATE tanning.

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Always pizza.

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw? Only if I’m eating fast food cause the soda comes with a straw.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? White, blue, black, orange, purple, green. The first pair I find.

23.Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t even drive.

24. What terrifies you? Losing my parents, being raped or kidnapped, go on being unemployed because of lack of experience (ha! Can’t find a job cause I don’t have experience but how can I gain experience if no one employes me? Never ending story).

25. Look to your left, what do you see? A lamp.

26. What chore do you hate? All of them probably.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian Accent? Robert Chase Jr. from House MD.

28. What’s your favorite soda? Sprite.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Fast food place.

30. Favorite cut of beef? None particularly.

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? Mom.

32. Last Song you listened to? Crowded House - Fall at Your Feet on the radio.

33. Last Book you read? Don’t remember.

34. Favorite Day of the week? Wednesday.

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I never thought about this. But I’m gonna try.

36. How do you like your coffee? With a bit of water and sweetener. Sometimes with milk.

37. Favorite pair of shoes? Dark blue adidas my dad got me for my last birthday.

38. At what time do you normally go to bed? I usually am at bed at 11 or 12 but can’t sleep until 5 or 6 xdddd.

39. At what time do you normally get up? 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Yeah, I’m a parasite.

40. What do you prefer sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets.

41. How many blankets are on your bed? Two right now.

42. Describe your kitchen plates? All white, boring but nice.

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? Margaritas.

44. Do you play cards? Sometimes.

45. What color is your car? Don’t have one of my own.

46. Can you change a tire? I don’t think so.

47. What is your favorite state/providence? Don’t have one.

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? :(

49. How did you get your biggest scar? One of my past dogs bit me in the right cheek.

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? I guess nothing.

I will tag @miserychain, @randomracoon, @riverphoenixloves, @niandra-la-des if you haven’t done it yet and feel like it :)

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aang-the-monk · 5 years ago

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Tagged by @beesreadbooks I always type your old URL before I remember it’s all about the bees now😆🐝

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush? Pink

2. Name a food you never eat: Bananas😑

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold. So suffice to say I am thriving in this 80 degree weather I’ve had lately.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Just sat down to my computer after having showered

5. What’s your favourite candy bar? mini dark chocolate milky way. a full candy bar is too much.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? I sat for a long time really thinking that I had, but I guess the Harlem Globetrotters don’t count😂

7. What was the last thing you said out loud? I literally just said my response to this question out loud. I talk to myself whenever I do these tags.

8. What is your favourite ice cream? if i get it from an ice cream place, i get cookies and cream. if i buy it from a grocery store, i get chocolate fudge brownie by ben and jerry’s

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water

10. Do you like your wallet? Yes. It’s the wallet I had been dreaming about buying for when I finally got my license. It has a phone pocket and a wrist strap.

11. What was the last thing you ate? an apple

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, though I have done lots of online window shopping since quarantine started.

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? genuinely, the last sporting event i remember watching fully was the 2015(?) NBA finals. it was only because we were on vacation and my brother commandeered the one TV

14. What is your favourite flavour of popcorn? movie theater butter

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? Family group chat consisting of my parents, my brother, and my grandma

16. Ever go camping? Not once. I’m not averse; I was just not born to a camping-type family.

17. Do you take vitamins? hah no

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? Yes. Sundays and Tuesdays.

19. Do you have a tan? No, and it was my goal to go to the pool a heck of a lot this summer to get tanned but we’ll see how that goes as things open up...

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? I don’t drink soda, but I guess I use a straw when I eat out

22. What colour socks do you usually wear? One solid color and it usually matches my outfit

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yes. But not in a crazy way. 5-10 above. Maybe 15 if there was a hill🙃

24. What terrifies you? Screwing up so badly that it affects my family and friends.

25. Look to your left. What do you see? The door to my room

26. What chore do you hate most? I don’t mind cleaning dishes, but when all the nastiness on the plates gets under my nails, it squicks me out.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? I probably fall a little in love with that person because I’m all for accents. And currently, I’ve read five books in a row by Australian authors, so I’ve been reading the stories in my pitiful and horrendous attempt at an accent (in my head though, not out loud).

28. What’s your favourite soda? none. tea or bust.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? I have not sat down in a fast food restaurant in hot second, not even before quarantine.

30. What’s your favourite number? Maybe 7? Odd numbers seem more complete to me.

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My parents. We were discussing grumpy neighbors.

32. Favourite cut of beef? Not a beef person. But I’ll eat a burger.

33. Last song you listened to? I am currently listening to Come On Get Happy from the Partridge Family

34. Last book you read? Last book I read was The Lost Man by Jane Harper. It’s this thriller set in the Australian (see?) outback and it was 10/10. I am currently reading I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak where this 19-year-old cab driver stops a robber and has to fulfill all these tasks sent to him on aces from a deck of cards. Also 10/10 since it’s a reread.

35. Favourite day of the week? Thursday. In my senior year my school week was over when I left my internship at 5 on Thursdays and those feelings of relief and freedom have lasted until now.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Up to U and then I get confused.

37. How do you like your coffee? I don’t. But I drink my tea black.

38. Favourite pair of shoes? My white nike court royales in silver and white. They were the first pair of trendy but comfortable tennis shoes I ever bought and I always take them on vacation with me.

39. Time you normally get up? My semester ended two weeks ago so I’ve been getting up at 9ish.

40. Sunrises or sunsets? Sunrise. I left my house at 7:30 to get to school on time and it always made me happy to see the sun come up.

41. How many blankets are on your bed? One blanket and one comforter.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. Yellow, square, patterned with birds. They’re almost bowl-like because the edges are raised higher than a usual plate.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. My mom is down there making late-night ramen so. Occupied.

44. Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? No.

45. Do you play cards? Yes! But only my dad really likes to play and it’s no fun with just two people😞

46. What colour is your car? Red.

47. Do you know how to change a tire? Haha. No.

48. Your favourite state? I’ve been to eight states so I can’t really say out of 50.

49. Favourite job you’ve had? I haven’t really had a “real” job so😳

50. How did you get your biggest scar? It was 5ish o’clock in the afternoon and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My mom had finished dinner, but I told her I needed to go to the bathroom before I sat down to dinner. So I went to my bathroom and promptly fainted into the bathtub (low blood sugar I guess). I woke up a minute or so later having bashed my head into the tub. My glasses punctured my face, making symmetrical gashes in between my eyebrows. I went to an urgent care and got them stitched up. You can hardly see them because the doctor did a good job. Plus, I still wear glasses so they hide the scars too.

I tag @amillionsmiles @smahwg if you’re just as bored as I am😁

#c'est moi

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fairyhaven13 · 5 years ago

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I still have a bunch of stuff I want to say about my Silent Hill FNAF AU described here, but there’s way too much information for one post, so I decided the best way around that was posting profiles of each main character in the AU to give more detailed factoids about them. This is the protagonist of the fic, Millie from Into the Pit’s third story, Count the Ways. The book itself is kind of mediocre, but the character’s potential was very interesting to me, so I decided to flesh her out and, I guess, also ended up turning her into Ballora?

The short explanation is that, years after the story, Millie signed on for the Pizza Simulator diner as staff, got killed when it burned down, woke up in Silent Hill, and agreed to take on Ballora’s remnant before she faded away and died for good. So, now she’s a fusion of both of them. The (MUCH) longer explanation is under the cut. She has the most information because she’s the main character; the others aren’t going to be as long.

So, when Funtime Freddy tried to decapitate her little tween self, she was able to duck under the blade and survived. Instead of getting mad or trying again, F-Freddy laughed, booted her out of his stomach, and then went dark and silent, refusing to react to Millie at all. Her grandpa found her freaking out in the workshop and she begged him to get rid of the robot, and he complied. At the time, she just figured he was trying to placate her so that she would enjoy Christmas with him.

The experience stuck with her; she apologized to her grandpa, and to Dillan and Brooke for being a dipstick to them. She was still pretty goth, but not so enamored with death, and when she got into high school, she, Dillan, and Brooke made a Lovecraft Club. Millie had a much happier life and wondered if the experience with F-Freddy was just a dream. Her grandpa got more sickly with age, though, and became bedridden. One day, Millie went to visit Fazbear Fright just before it burned down. She made eye contact with Springtrap and immediately knew that he was alive, and that F-Freddy had been real.

When she went to confront her grandpa, he admitted that he’d known F-Freddy was a killer when he found him in the scrapyard. He’d wanted answers. When Millie was just a baby, she’d had an older brother, and her family lived at the old colonial house in town. On her brother’s birthday, the Afton robots had been hired, and F-Freddy cornered her brother and killed him. That was why Millie’s parents were always finicky and out-there, and tried to repair the colonial house--they were still grieving. Her grandpa wanted to understand why his grandson’s life had been taken.

Millie promised her grandpa that she would go out and get the answers that he couldn’t. A few years later, he died. Years after that, the Pizzeria Simulator’s diner was hiring. Millie used one of her old fake IDs from high school, and went by Ophelia--she was really proud of that, because even if she wasn’t all about death, she still liked the macabre and a lady going nuts and drowning herself made for a very interesting Shakespeare play. Millie, as Ophelia, got hired into the diner’s staff.

Micheal and Henry aren’t stupid, though, and know that she’s there for answers. They don’t want media or law enforcement’s attention, and try to make her leave. She tells them about her family’s history, and that she wants to know why so many kids were killed by the robots, and how to stop it from happening again. The others sympathize, and Micheal still wants her to leave so she can be safe, but Henry says she should stay if she wants to.

When the robots get brought in, “Lia” is the one who tries to communicate with them so that she can understand. She first befriends Puppet, which requires prying her out of Lefty, and then putting a funny hat on her so that she can guard the door. Micheal and Henry do not like this. She then finds Molten Freddy, who recognizes her and thinks this is absolutely hilarious. He still won’t tell her why he spared her, but she keeps asking, and he really likes Helpy because he misses Bon Bon, so makes her do little tasks and rewards her with hints. Sing on stage, make a none pizza with left beef, and come find him in the tunnels so he can give her a hug; stuff like that. Helpy makes sure the hug doesn’t become deadly. Lia starts calling this Freddy “Funny” for short.

He says that his parents had a big house, and that he recognizes the song Lia’s grandpa used to sing to her on bad nights. She doesn’t get much more information, because Baby is there. Baby is snobby and vicious and doesn’t like Lia, but she calls her “Bea” and talks to her like a person, and Baby is very curious about her and Funny’s relationship, so she talks mostly civilly, although she does still swipe if Lia gets close. Micheal thinks Lia is absolutely nuts, but Henry wants to see where this is going.

Springtrap is just William. Nobody likes him, he likes nobody, he still tries to kill Lia, and Helpy, Micheal, and Puppet have to keep him at bay, with some help from Funny.

The diner is blown up. Micheal tries to make Lia leave. Lia won’t leave everyone to die. She dies with them.

When they wake in Silent Hill, she’s just human at first. But, Funny is himself, and the mass of remnant that used to be Ennard is fading fast. Micheal doesn’t want her to help, but Funny is crying, and he might have tried to kill her, but he’s her friend. She can’t leave him like that. She and Helpy both try to take some remnant, and she is merged with the last bits of Ballora. There is so little of Ballora left that it mostly changes Lia’s looks, but her personality remains the same, aside from a slightly more vicious edge. Her body, though, is now an animatronic, which is a big thing to get used to.

The mission to get Funny a decent monster corpse to house Funtime Foxy is essentially a game level, with her, Funny, Helpy-Bon-Bon (who they call Honey), and Micheal all fighting past puzzles and illusions. The illusions show Lia’s life further and further back, until they see the day that her brother is killed by Funny. She is angry at first, especially because Funny is laughing hysterically, until she sees how his eyes glow in the memory, and she realizes that he’s actually being hysterical at the moment.

She, Honey, and the newly awoken Funtime Foxy (who she calls Looksy, to sound like Foxy Loxy) all have to calm down Funny from his panic attack. He finally admits that he spared Millie because, right before he tried to kill her, he remembered who she was--her crouching in his stomach looked the way her brother had just before he died, and that made Funny realize that he was her brother. He’d been shocked by the fact that he almost killed his sister, and just tried to pretend it never happened.

Lia thinks that notion is ridiculous, and demands that they start trying to build an actual sibling relationship. She also adores Looksy, he’s a ton of fun, and they all become besties. She actually has a bit of a crush on Looksy, and Funny knows it, but he doesn’t say anything because he thinks it’s funny.

She tries to encourage Micheal and Baby to repair their own relationship, and really admires how calm and cool Puppet is about everything. When the whole “we gotta find Springtrap!” thing goes down, she lets Micheal talk to Golden Freddy, since they have a history. When Cassie agrees to tether William’s remnant to the Plushtrap toy, though, Micheal puts her in charge of it, because she’s the one least likely to be manipulated or angry enough to just kill the toy and be done. She’s good at not listening to Glitchtrap’s threats or lies, mostly because she’s busy doing ridiculous nonsense with Looksy, Funny, and Honey.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #silent hill #millie #ballora #count the ways #into the pit #au #lia #she just goes by lia now #it's a good balance between #millie and ballora and ophelia #because they all have similar second syllables #character profile

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ovmatt-blog · 6 years ago

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Chapter 5. The meeting with Eirene Clarine

6 a.m. – the face of my wristwatch was glowing eerily in the early-morning darkness. I was sitting on the steps of Wight Tower in the thick autumn darkness, still not believing that I had managed to return from Ireland in time. The Tower lobby behind my back was a luminous oasis, shining queerly behind the glass doors, promising warmth and shelter from the cold darkness…

At 8 a.m. sharp I was sitting in front of MAGI HR manager, staring at her. I had never seen such radiant hair, such glowing nails, and such stresses, sparkling upon her inch-long eyelids.

She smiled at me, and to my astonishment, I observed two even rows of white glistening pearls in her mouth. Deeply shocked, I could not speak a word, while she jabbered, “Cassandra is on vacation, you see, so I will deal with you instead… Well, this is your Contract and Confidentiality Agreement… Please, read it and if you have no questions, please sign here and here.” She handed a big rolled piece of parchment to me.

I flickered diagonally over the lines, wandering to the bottom of the parchment, but it unrolled and unrolled…

Witnesseth that the said Robert Lex Orion doth put himself an Intern (hereinafter Intern) to the said MAGI (hereinafter Company) to work in Management Consultancy the term of twelve months for the sum of … pounds lawful money during a probationary three months period and for the sum of …, assigns in all manner of lawful employment … beginning the 22 day of September… during which time the said Intern the said Company faithfully shall serve, the Company secrets keep, the Lawfull Commands of the Senior employees Obey, health&safety policy Adhere to. He Shall not Absent himself unlawfully from his Company Service Day or Night, with magic Artefacts, i.e. magic rods, swords… cursed artefacts, i.e. Nibelungen Gold…, Magic Creatures, i.e. Werewolves, Dragons…, bewitched Elements, i.e. Lightning, Floods … without preliminary safety training, but in all things as a Faithfull Intern he shall behave himself towards the said Company during the said Term...

… AND the said Company Best means it shall Teach and Instruct the said Intern the Art and Mystery of Magic AND doth hereby Promise and Oblige itself to provide for the said Intern the working conditions that Health and Safety Requirements Satisfy and against industrial injuries and occupational disease Guard. During the probationary period thes Employment may be terminated by either the said Company or the said Intern. …at the expiration of his term of servitude the said Company obligeth itself to pay unto the said Intern what the law allows in such cases & agreements . . . London, Isle of Dogs, 22nd Day of September…

I raised my eyes to the HR, “The wording is a bit odd … And September 22nd was yesterday…”

“Oh, never mind, the HR assistant is accustomed to the old-fashioned formulae! No wonder, as she has been working here for centuries! And the contract was prepared yesterday, the day of the autumnal equinox! Such an enigmatic day!” her pearls flashed at me in a wide smile.

I shuddered, recollecting the previous “enigmatic” night, and affixed my signature to the bottom of the parchment, which then rolled up by itself and faded into the air. While I was observing the phenomenon, she asked, “Whom should I put as a designated beneficiary in your life insurance policy?”

“Pardon?” I returned to reality.

“Why, the life insurance policy is issued for every MAGI employee as one of your employment benefits. So I need to put in the name of the person who would benefit from the insurance policy in case…”

“Okay, write in my grandaunt,” I snapped nervously, just wanting to be done with it, and spelled my auntie’s name out for her.

“Well, then we have finished… You will be informed about the start of your classes later on.”

“Finished? But… Well, I remember Cassandra mentioning I would be paid a relocation allowance the day I sign the Contract…”

“Cassandra said this?” She looked puzzled, “Well, according to our rules, the relocation allowance is paid with the employee’s first salary… Anyway you should wait until your bank card is issued…”

What could I say? It was a terrible blow! I hoped to get this money from MAGI as I couldn’t take anything from home, as there was nothing to take from there…

… I stood in the street under the autumn sun, recollecting the formulae of the contract… During the probationary period thes employment may be terminated by either said Company or said Intern… The wind was swirling the fallen leaves under my feet. Should I leave right now? Terminate the contract? Suddenly the tightly furled scroll appeared in the air and was suspended directly in front of my nose. And then the parchment, yellowish in hue and looking so ancient, as if it was going to turn to ashes, unfurled before my eyes and a sweet female voice sang the words, appearing line by line on the paper:

Magic Fundamentals classes

will be held at 2 p.m.

in Conference Room 5005,

50th floor, MAGI

Best wishes,

Training Department

I stopped, staring at the parchment in amazement and rereading the lines. The parchment hang in the air for a few more seconds and then rolled back and faded.

It was lunch time but as I was sparing each penny I decided to skip it and have a walk instead. At the appropriate time I set off for the first class, slightly dizzy with hunger…

At 1.45 p.m. I knocked on the white glass doors on the 50th floor. The receptionist smiled to me and the doors clicked open. There stood a guideboard with an arrow indicating the direction to conference room 5005. I went along the corridor until I reached the open-doored room. I entered and … who did I see? None other than rosy-cheeked Tin-Tin, swallowing the piles of double-decker sandwiches at the counter in the rear of the room! And with his mouth packed to final point, he still managed to chat with a bunch of guys!

He noticed me, waved his hand and lisped: “‘Obin, ‘ome ‘ere, ‘ere izz fee food!” “He means ‘free food,’ a blond guy with Ancient Greek statue features and perfect muscles burst out laughing. Then he stretched out his hand, “My name is Laska Valentine.”

“Laska?” my eyebrows lifted upwards.

“Yeah, shortened from Lasquar.”

“And I am Max Vitta,” a slim guy of medium height with curly chestnut-coloured hair and attentive dark eyes turned to me, holding a sandwich in his hand. His grammar was perfect and his very appearance indicated strictness. “Ernst Herbst,” introduced himself. He was the tallest of the guys with a very intelligent austere-featured face. Having noticed a bewildered expression on my face, he added, “Relax, friends call me Ernie...”

“Robin Orion,” I shook the hands of all of them and sprinted to the plate of sandwiches, cursing myself for not coming earlier. “What is the tastiest stuff here?” I nudged Tin-Tin and he started describing the ingredients with an expert air, evidently experiencing gastronomic pleasure, “Hawaiian avocado-and-mango roast beef sandwiches, Corsican rucola-and-peach chicken sandwiches, Mediterranean olive-and-lettuce salmon feta sandwiches…”

“Instead of all these sandwiches should have made Caprese,” snarled Max.

“Caprese, what’s that?” all the guys turned to him.

“It’s as simple as sliced fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil and olive oil.”

“Oh…”

“As it features the colours of the Italian flag: green, white, and red, it’s one of the most popular dishes in Italy!”

“Oh, you are from Italy?” everybody became interested.

“Well, my Mum is Italian, and Dad – Norwegian,” the answer followed.

“Cool! I’ve heard about Neapolitan pizza Margherita with the same colours!” Tin-Tin got excited.

“And Farfalle with tomato, spinach and plain flavours, sold together in a mix?”

Stuffing my mouth with all of this food and flooding it with sparkling sweet beer, I looked round the room. It was a hall of generous proportions, and its white walls and ceiling were gleaming slightly. Two lines of white wooden chairs, eight in each row, their bottoms and backs upholstered with dark blue velvet, were standing in the centre of the room.

“Tin-Tin, where do you live? I need to find a place to stay until I get my first wages…”

“They haven’t paid you the relocation allowance? The same story with me and Max. Only Ernie was lucky and caught Cassandra before she left for vacation and she ordered the accounting department to pay him his money in full…”

“Yeah, it was pure luck. And in several days I managed to find and rent an apartment,” said Ernie bit a piece of chicken happily, while everyone was watching him enviously.

“Why, we live in a hostel. Do you want us to show it to you tonight?” Max smiled gently.

“Wha —? Yeah, of course!” I jumped up excitedly.

“Well then, we’ll go after the classes. Don’t worry.”

“Cheers, Max! Blimey, that’s a load off!”

“Ha-ha-ha!” unpleasant laughter startled us and made us turn around. “You guys live in a hostel? And what hole have you come to the City from?” a tall fragile girl with long pure-white hair and eyes of blue ice asked mockingly, holding her sides with laughter.

Tin-Tin’s face immediately turned red and he blurted out, “It’s not your business, herring.” The smile faded off the girl’s face and her eyes narrowed. “No one has ever dared to talk to me like this before,” she said through gritted teeth.

“There's always a first time.” Several guys standing nearby laughed at Tin-Tin’s remark.

“Do you even know who I am? If you did, you wouldn’t be so brave, dunce,” the girl’s eyes nearly iced over. The temperature dropped.

“Whoa, we're so scared,” I jumped into the conversation.

“Yeah, desperately afraid,” Ernie echoed me.

“Oh, guys, you are maybe the bodyguards of this hop-o'-my-thumb?” Iceeye jeered.

Tin-Tin blushed so deeply that he was the same colour as the tomato from the famous caprese salad, but before he could open his mouth to respond to the insult himself, Laska, who was contemplating the squabble, leaning against the wall and chewing gum, intervened, “Hey, hey! Certainly, we all want to know who the Fair Lady is. You really managed to advance our mediocre level of intelligence. The whole room just lit up the moment you spoke. So tell us your name, the girl of my dreams?”

“Jess, you did find common topics to twaddle about with these tramps?” a pale lad came on to the scene. He looked a bit dishevelled – his raised white-blond hair was standing up like wheat sprouts in a field. “Great outfit,” his eyes flit over my ripped jeans “have you bought it for handouts?”

I rushed towards him, but ran into Laska, who moved so close to the Iceeye that his face was some inches from hers, “Jess? And what is your full name?”

“I won’t tell you, a blatant dolt!” she snarled, hiding a smile, and strode away, having pushed him with her shoulder. Having followed her with my eyes I continued observing the lads and ladies entering the room, and then I almost choked, as among them was… last night’s Greeneye from the Firefly Valley! Her brow lacked a flashing jewel and her dress was a simple white tunic, but her jolly dimples, brilliant green eyes, sunny smile…

I was coughing so loudly that she cast a glance at me and then turned away without interest. Having at last cleared my throat, I asked Laska, standing next to me, “Do you know her?”

“Who?”

“That blonde in the white tunic…”

“Why… No, I see her for the first time. By the way, she is cool… but this get-together has other beauties that deserve attention!” And he winked at me as he marched off.

Meanwhile, all present were taking their seats – I had never seen so many beautiful and strange people at once. While I was pondering this, a young woman in a dark blue swishing dress of silk with a long skirt, sweeping the floor, entered the room. Her long hair, shining as gold, was arranged into a huge bulk of tight locks, curling in all directions and composing a feet high and two feet long flowing lion's mane. A deep look from her sparkling sapphire eyes met the eyes of each of the sixteen students in turn, then she smiled and said in a warbling voice, “My name is Eirene Clarine, I am a Partner at MAGI and your tutor. Let’s get acquainted… I will tell you ten facts about me and you will guess which of them are true and which are false.” The sound of her voice made the impression of little bells ringing. Meanwhile, she went on, “So, let’s start. The first fact – I panned gold in the goldfields of Greenland. Is it true?”

Tin-Tin and I exchanged smiles. What could this refined lady do in the goldfields? Apparently the rest of the students held the same viewpoint, as “no” and “it’s false” resounded all around. “Still it’s true!” laughed Eirene, “Consulting projects at gold-mining companies are quite common at MAGI. The next one – I tamed lions in the Argentinian selva.”

I glanced around. The students were exchanging panicked looks. Projects in the Argentinian selva also are quite common? Muttering and whispers swept along the rows, but nobody was hurrying to say anything aloud.

“Don’t think so long! Any guesses?” Eirene gave us a sort of inquiring look. “Yes”, “no”, “no”, “yes” – opinions were divided. “It’s false! I have never been there!” confessed Eirene and went on, “I have lived in the polar circle…” The atmosphere grew relaxed and cries “no”, “no”, “no” could be heard.

“You are wrong and it’s true!” Eirene was grinning at us, “Once I went to Salekhard on a business trip. It’s the only town within the polar circle. And as the project lasted longer than had been expected, I spent there several months... Okay, the next one, I wield a sword equally well in both hands.”

The muttering came to an abrupt end. Students looked taken aback. What is going on? What is this lady talking about? Could fencing be her hobby? I couldn’t decide what to say and said nothing.

In the reigning silence, Eirene looked at us with laughing eyes, “Okay, I’ll answer this myself – it’s true and soon you would also be able to do this!”

Hues and clamour arose and nobody in fact cared her, while she asked the next riddle, “I am the descendant of one of the MAGI founders.” Students were discussing aloud the necessity of martial arts training, while Iceeye exchanged a significant glance with her neighbour, who had tilted her head to the side, coiling a ripe-wheat lock round her finger.

Probably Eirene was in a hurry, as having not awaited for the answer, she went on, “I can speak chirptongue…”

Every head turned to her, the silence only being broken by somebody’s noisy breathing. “No, you are joking, this can’t be the truth!” exclaimed a curly-headed chap, grinning from ear to ear. Eirene smiled in reply, “You are right, I am joking. But it doesn’t mean that this doesn’t happen!”

“What does she mean?” murmur swept along the rows again. The students put their heads together, whispering their concerns in each other’s ears.

Then she asked the next riddle, “I hear what a stream babbles about…” And suddenly, something happened with me, in my imagination I travelled to the dense deciduous wood, overwhelmed with bright sunlight… The birds’ singing, entwined with the sweet melody of the little bells, filled the forest. A crystal clear stream was flowing gaily across the glade. In its purl the whispering voices were speaking about distant journeys…

“Yeah, it’s true,” my own voice said those words. Eirene looked into my eyes with her dark blue wells. I was hypnotized, fascinated… then it was gone… I glanced around. Eirene was looking to the side, “I have witnessed the fall of Rome.”

Dead silence followed this statement. A cold and slithery snake crept into my soul and the grin slid off my face. Tin-Tin stole a frightened look at me. Everyone looked scared. “Oh, guys, do you believe the tales? I am not so old,” Eirene burst out laughing, “Okay, but enough about me. Now I would like to ask all of you to state your name and tell a few words about yourself. Would you mind if we started with you?” she said to the guy sitting on the left side of the first row, who appeared to be wheat-sprouted Jess’s defender. Hastily, I found a scrap of paper and a ballpoint pen and got prepared to copy the names down as I was very bad with names.

The wheat-sprouted guy, exhaling arrogance in every syllable, started, “My name is Vlad Valdash. My family owns an ancient Castle in Rumania…” But I was staring at his neighbour. Laska was right – beautiful lasses were not in short supply here. She had a perfect oval face with an ideal straight nose, almond-shaped eyes with long eyelashes that cast a shadow on her high cheekbones, seeming to be hewn of stone, and full lips, resembling bean pods, shining-creamy in hue. I had never seen such lips and much later I learnt that she never used make-up. This was a principle of hers, and her name was – “Camilla Eel” – which she spoke in a rich voice, “my Mum is the owner of a luxury Fashion House and I …” But before she had finished the sentence, Iceeye (Laska had far-sightedly taken his place near her) introduced herself in a cold arrogant voice, “Jessamine Gevellin.”

“Gui Shantolier,” a guy spoke through his nose, looking like a French aristocrat, but of quite repellent appearance. “My father is French and my dream is to enter the Sorbonne…” Peroxide blonde with mild features, giggling at something with a stupid expression, he was whispering non-stop in her ear, squeaked her name, “Letisia Cay!” and giggled foolishly again, showing her wonderfully even teeth to a fellow to her right. This was a short pumped-up bloke with blond hair, matching his light skin, splashed with freckles, an impudent glance of innocent blue eyes and sensual full lips, that voiced, “I’m Leslie Bello and I go in for body-building…” And with his shameless eyes he had almost devoured Greeneye, who appeared to be called, “Leda Winegrain!”

But I had to divert my attention from them, as my jolly black-haired and crystal-blue-eyed neighbour said, “Diana Dankwert…” And then I focused on a plump jet-eyed and jet-haired Oriental beauty, who was flapping her arched jet black mascara’d lashes like wings. I copied down, “Guiselle Liaison,” and looked at a fellow sitting to her left. That was the curly-headed chap, who hadn’t believed Eirene. A trifle simple, he seemed to be a laid-back guy, relaxed and easy-going, a goofy grin wandering across his thin lips. He introduced himself in a slightly hoarse voice, “Sebastian Gram,” and suddenly burst into contagious laughter. Everybody stared at him, also beginning to smile… Next to him sat a tall, thin fellow, his hair so red that it seemed to be set in flames. “Melwin Medwin,” he creaked and it was Tin-Tin’s turn.

When I copied down successfully all the names, Eirene said, “Now we will glance back at history for a while… There are four departments in MAGI – Murmaiden, Axamit, Gevellin and Ironsky, named after their Founders – great Wizards and Fays – Aquilline Murmaiden, Lato Axamit, Ruby Gevellin and Irik Ironsky.” The names of the departments developed in the air, written in golden letters, and hung there, slightly quivering. Eirene went on, “Maybe some of you know that the first letters of the department names form the acronym MAGI, which is the name of our company”. The first letters of the surnames flew to front and composed the word MAGI. “There is a legend about the founders of the company, according to which they united their talents and efforts, establishing a consultancy, dealing with magic matters, which became famous due to the outstanding skills of its founders,” and she half-recited, half-sang the verses:

Bird with iron wings

Soars through the sky in rings.

Doors he never knocks,

His whizz opens locks.

Weaver’s golden thread

Streams the river’s bed.

Looking through the ground,

He may treasures count.

Maid with gleaming scales

Wanders under waves,

Murmurs soft to sole,

Reading mortal souls.

Jeweller’s fine craft –

Giving stones his mind,

Searching artefacts,

Gets to mountains hearts.

Wonder skills alliance,

Magic knowledge science.

Fair code and ethics

Made the MAGI basics.

“As is told in the legend, Aquilline Murmaiden was a mermaid with the ability to “look into a human soul”, Lato Axamit was a golden weaver, able to find any hidden treasure, Ruby Gevellin was a famous jeweller, capable of adding magic components to gorgeous jewellery, thus endowing it with magical powers, and Irik Ironsky could turn himself into an iron bird and walk through walls... Throughout the centuries MAGI has been helping its clients to solve ticklish issues, i.e. finding lost treasures and creating magical artefacts…”

The students were sitting as quietly as mice, and all ears, while Eirene went on, “What is MAGI nowadays? Each department specializes in a specific area: Gevellin deals with magic artefacts, the Ironsky department copes with magic creatures, Axamit seeks out charmed gold and treasures, Murmaiden masters the Elements… The projects vary from taming miracle creatures to the stock-taking of magic treasures… Today you will start the five-week long Magic fundamentals course and you will pass the exam at the end of the course, which will show whether your skills suit MAGI. Then all of you will work on the projects till the New Year… You will participate in one or maybe two projects and your Seniors will estimate your performance and thus your internship will end with you being promoted to business analysts or leaving the company after the New Year…”

The statement hit like a bombshell. A sigh swept along the rows. Ignoring any reaction to her words, Eirene continued with her speech, “Now I’ll tell you about the career path at MAGI with the example of an ice-cream cake. As intern, you will mostly study on site and will be responsible for specific components of a project, such as conducting interviews and developing the knowledge of the clients' critical business issues. With your findings you will help the team identify the cause-and-effect relationships in the Client’s business.” With these words, she erected four ice-cream mountains on an invisible plate floating in the air, “pistachio flavour for Murmaiden, mango flavour for Axamit, strawberry flavour for Gevellin and bog whortleberry flavour for Ironsky.” Then she went on, “As an analyst, you will be given greater autonomy and responsibility in the projects. You will analyse clients' business issues and their performance, identifying their vulnerabilities and fragilities, as well as strengths and opportunities, and suggest solutions to problems.”

She poured pistachios, mango pieces, strawberries and bog whortleberry and vanilla syrup on each mountain. And when the sun suddenly popped up from behind the cloud and smiled through the windows, the mountains glistened in its bright rays.

Meanwhile Eirene went on, “After three years of project work, having acquired successful experience on the projects, you will be promoted to consultant. You will be challenged to take charge of complex aspects of team work – from performing profound analysis of the insights to conceptualizing solutions to cases and proposing ways to implement them.”

She topped the mountains with mint, melon, wild strawberry and black currant flavoured ice-cream and added marzipan paste to the green mountain, caramel to the yellow mountain, whipped cream to the pink mountain and liquid chocolate to the blue mountain.

“In the next three years you will be promoted to Manager, leading project. And your new challenge will be to coach and motivate project team members and guide the work of the whole team. You will sleep less and less, keeping one eye on the big picture and the other on the details. You will ensure that the project is delivered on time and within budget, while creative solutions to complex problems are developed.” She spri cashew nuts on the marzipan, waffle balls on the caramel, coconut shavings on the whipped cream, and crackers on the liquid chocolate.

“And one day you will be asked to become a Partner… What will you do then?” She paused, “You will be developing the company strategy, defining its culture and identity, with a focus on building client relationships…” She added marshmallow to cashew nuts, tangerine jam to waffle balls, fruit-paste sweets to coconut shavings and raisins to crackers. Now it was difficult to understand, whether these were icy mountains or a palace with towers and turrets in miniature.

“But that'll be a long, long ways off… So let’s return to more short-term matters. Being promoted to analyst, you will need to choose the department where you will work after the New Year. Now take your chance and, while I’m here, ask me any questions to learn more about each department. And by the way, enjoy the cake, and maybe its flavour will help you to decide what your department will be – pistachio and mint flavour with marzipan paste, cashew nuts and marshmallow for Murmaiden, mango and melon flavour with caramel, waffle balls and tangerine jam for Axamit, strawberry and wild strawberry with whipped cream, coconut shavings and fruit-paste sweets for Gevellin and bog whortleberry and black currant flavour with liquid chocolate, crackers and raisins for Ironsky…”

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forgetmenotblues · 2 years ago

Text

52 in 52 2022

It is a fact universally recognised that the best time to do your book roundup for the year is 4 months into the next year

I kept not getting round to it,then I watched loads of good movies and was gonna do them but I want to stop procrastinating this so I can always edit those in

2022 Books

1)Harrow the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir

This was utterly fantastic. Or at least it was once I googled “should I have any idea what’s going on?” and was reassured that no, no I should not. For some reason I only seem to read the Locked Tomb books when I’m on night shifts, and these books are hard enough to keep up with without being sleep deprived. The book is split into two sections, one of which is a retelling of book 1 but with the main character changed, and one is in second person, with the protagonist being traumatised, lobotomised, schizophrenic, and haunted. There’s murder via soup, there’s a threesome with God, there’s a DIFFERENT threesome with God in which I think every participant is at least 2 or 3 different identities… The Necromancer God Emperor of the Universe makes a None pizza with left beef joke… this book has it all. The ever-ramping up pace where you cannot stop reading because the entire last third is one long ever increasing climax (phrasing) reminds me a lot of Terry Pratchett, just queer and Goth and Kiwi.

2)A Practical Guide to Conquering the World, KJ Parker

The third in the loose trilogy starting with 16 ways to defend a walled city. Similarly quasi-Roman historical fantasy with an amoral con artist getting so out of their depth they end up having to conquer the world in order to stay ahead of the heat… you know what you’re getting with a KJ Parker book. Honestly this one didn’t do it as much for me, I think because I binged KJ Parker in 2021 and when every book is similar it works better reading one per year or so… still an utterly enjoyable read.

3)Fellowship of the Ring

Yeah it’s this pretty indie fantasy series, you probably haven’t heard of it… I went with an audiobook this time around, by Phil Dragash. He uses background music from the Peter Jackson films and models the voices on the actors, while doing the full unabridged novels. It’s a great approach to capture the cinematic feeling of the films with the beauty and complexity of the books. Shockingly enough, an unauthorised audiobook using unauthorised film soundtrack is not legal, so if you want to check this out, archive.org hosts a full version just to teach you the error of your ways.

4)Graham Greene – Destructors and Other Short Stories

I really really thought Graham Greene did like… fun thrillers, kind of James Bond-esque… no idea where I got that from. This was a collection of pretty morose stories, but utterly compelling. There was a very charming post-apocalyptic one with kids gathering blackberries and coming across the wreck of a ship from the before times, there was a very weird kind of dark Narnia story about a man going to his childhood home and finding that the vast forest he remembers getting lost in was actually a small patch of brush, the vast lake he remembers sailing across is basically a muddy pond etc… but then starts to find evidence his more fantastical adventures might have been true. May We Borrow Your Husband is a pretty fantastic, if deeply sad, story about repressed homosexuality in the early 20th century, The Destructors is utterly heart-breaking. Annoyingly, the version I had from the library cut off the ends of some stories, so I had to go hunting for the last few sentences.

5)Invisible Man, HG Wells

I always feel a bit of a prat when I read well known, widely agreed upon classics and go “oh wow, this is actually pretty great, has anyone heard of this… Shakespeare guy?” Well here I am again, having just discovered HG Wells. You’re welcome. I absolutely adored War of the Worlds in 2021, Invisible Man isn’t quite as good, but that’s just because of the very high bar. The whole story is set around my neck of the woods, and the depiction of Sussex folk as a bit simple, but utterly intractable reads incredibly true. There’s also this oddly charming balance between the genuine horror of the idea of a violent man wanting to kill you and how hard it would be to defend yourself if he’s invisible, vs the slightly tongue in cheek way that the invisible man declares himself king of the world, but is consistently laid low by obstacles like… gravel.

6) The Time Machine, HG Wells

Another absolute banger. - a quote I expect to see on the cover of the next edition of the Time Machine. This one I had a predisposition to liking, beyond my growing love of HG Wells, as I often feel I might be the only person in the world who watched, and loved, the early 2000's film adaptation. This is another of those early genre books where it just has such fun with what was at the time a completely novel concept. In a hard to define synesthesia type way, this story is the feeling of walking barefoot on the grass.

7)The Two Towers, Tolkien

It’s very hard to judge, but this might be my favourite book of the trilogy (I know, not a book, not a trilogy etc etc). The Treason of Isengard is utterly fantastic, and probably has the most fun in the whole of Tolkien’s work just bouncing around and introducing us to new places and peoples. The Ring Goes East has yet more fantastic setting and characters, and “Frodo was alive, but taken by the enemy” is one of the strongest cliff-hangers I’ve ever seen.

8)Return of the King, Tolkien

There just isn't much to say about LoTR that hasn't been said a million times before. Its absolutely wonderful. I enjoyed reading this around the time of year it's set, there's a strong seasonal theme I'd never picked up before.

9,10,11) The Blade Itself, Before They’re Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings

I’ve combined these three because they it's very much a story in three parts trilogy. I'd always heard Joe Abercrombie dismissed as straightforward shallow grimdark, so I was blown away by this trilogy. It's a fantastic series, some incredible characters. Spoilers - the overall theme is basically what if gandalf was evil, manipulating the world over his incredibly long life, for the greater good. I adore Jezal as an utterly slimy character propped up as a fantasy hero for the sake of a figurehead, and Logan Ninefingers is the richest take on the wandering badass wolverine type character I've seen. I read these ones mostly on psych night shifts, which were lovely for snug on call rooms and long uninterrupted hours.

12) A Game of Thrones

Again, what is there to say that hasn't been said 8 million times. I run an ASOIAF art blog for crying out loud. So this time I'll just comment on the edition I read - the beautiful folio edition. Very luxuriant, very lovely, though I will admit having a separate map instead of it being in the book itself was kind of frustratingly unwieldy.

13) Elric of Melniboné

One of the big classics of fantasy I've always meant to check out. Sadly so far the most compelling part of the collection has been the Neil Gaiman short story used as an introduction! I do enjoy the stories, they just tend to drag a little in the middle. I think the best way I can put it is that if a story says there will be a quest to 7 dungeons, most will either have a twist or a montage after dungeon 3 or 4, so as to not just repeat the same structure the whole time... Elric stories will give you all 7. Theres a lot of great imagery and it reads very well.

14) Redwall

A classic from my childhood I felt like revisiting. It holds up incredibly well, a nice mix of cutesy woodland creatures having supper with very genuine medieval warfare. It reads like a much older book than it is, and I think the reason is that Matthias is a very classical, almost Nietzchean hero - he's not the hero because he's meek or humble, he's the hero because he's competent, well-liked, and, when he needs to be, utterly ruthless and bloodthirsty.

15) The Red Knight, Miles Cameron

I had really mixed feelings on this one. On the one hand, it's got some incredibly rich worldbuilding, some great Byronic characters, and the author is a world renowned medieval sword fighter and clearly knows his stuff. On the other hand, they mention in the afterword it was inspired by roleplaying campaigns and I think that shows - a lot of fights for the sake of fights that could have been condensed.

16) Art of Garry Gianni

A fantastic artist who does a lot of ASOIAF artwork. He goes for a very picture-book illustrative style that makes the books feel like a half remembered childhood memory of reading tales of king arthur. He also has a lot of more realistic medieval work ie silly looking hats and hosiery, which does a good job of balancing out the all black leather of the tv show.

17) A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Clearly I was inspired by the GG artbook!

Lovely as always.

18) The Count of Monte Cristo

Every year, I make great progress in reading lots of books in winter, then as spring starts I get cocky and take on a mammoth book that takes me months. This was this years. I listened to a CC audiobook, which was fantastic, but I only saw 4 parts out of the actual total of 6, so underestimated the overall length. I will say, I thought he was gonna have to really rush his revenge! Again, a hard novel to say anything new about - I loved it. Every single time I read a revenge story I think "I want them all to suffer, I'll never learn that people are complex and revenge ends up hurting innocents and view it in a more nuanced way" and then whaddya know?! I was fairly enjoying it as an "old timey novels ramble a bit sometimes, maybe paid by the word*", but at the end the elements all come back together in a way that gave me chills as I began to see not a word had been wasted.

*I did have a drinking game for every time the exact same life-long description of one character was given, about half a dozen times in one chapter and a few times after. It felt like oral tradition type storytelling.

19) The Hero, Dreamsongs

Okay this is clearly where I panicked about CoMC slowing me down so much and counted short stories as separate. Cheating? Maybe, but the stakes could not be lower. I've bounced off of Dreamsongs a few times as it opens with stories GRRM wrote when he was literally about 6. Which is fascinating from an archival kind of perspective, but doesn't make for the best reads. This is the first of his actually published works, it's about a grizzled space marine type ready to finally retire from the war and see the earth he's been fighting for, who then gets killed by the brass because he's too dangerous to ever actually go back to earth, then written up as a war hero killed in action for further propaganda. Its solid stuff, nothing world shattering, although GRRM did send it in as evidence for his conscientious objector application, so maybe it did change the world!

20) Last Exit to San Breta, Dreamsongs

Basically the question of what would happen to ghost cars in a world where technology has rendered cars obsolete. Again, not revolutionary but very well written.

21) The Second Kind of Loneliness, Dreamsongs

Before each group of stories in dreamsongs, GRRM does a bit of a retrospective. He describes this one as where he really got started and some of his finest work... I dint know if it was just the raised expectations, but it was probably my least favourite. Similar to Moon in some ways, it has someone working at a hyperspace gate counting down to the supply ship coming to relieve him, then panicking as it misses the deadline. As his mental state declines we learn he took this lonely job out of building anxiety after a romantic rejection, and eventually that this panic caused him to destroy the supply ship before the story started and reset his memory, and that this loop may have happened before. Which has some good bones, especially as a parable of incels and the internet, but it does have some feelings of nice guy-ness that isn't just the narrator but the story itself.

22) With Morning Comes Mistfall

On the other hand, I loved this one, which I get the impression is not the most highly rated. Essentially there's a holiday resort planet, it's got pretty lovely mountains and forests, but its main draw is rumours of spectral ghost-like beings. Scientists come to investigate, find that it's all bullshit, people stop coming and the resort fails. It sounds pretty humdrum, and relies on the "mean scientist dislikes enthusiasm and imagination" trope which I hate, but it really sells the love the resort host has for his planet, and the heartbreak of his passion being destroyed. Again in a post internet world, the idea that the planet has beautiful mountains, forests, and seas, but no one would visit for just those because there are planets with perfect sea, perfect mountains, or perfect forests feels very powerful.

23) Song for Lya, Dreamsongs

Another one where high expectations maybe hurt it a bit. A very solid fantasy story about the question of would you go into a state of permanent absolute bliss where you achieve nothing, or stay in real life with ups and downs... or as philosophers call it, the box full of porn and nitrous problem. It was absolutely good, but I've often heard it cited by ASOIAF fans as the best thing ever and it just... wasnt, for me.

24) Tower of Ashes, Dreamsongs

This one fell fairly flat. Quite nice guy-ish in a not fully intentional way, quite intriguing setting but not especially explored.

25) 7 times never kill man, Dreamsongs

This might be my favourite of the lot. Scary space marine death religion comes up against little ewok type creatures, the protagonist tries to train the ewoks up, 7 samurai style, and then... the ewoks/ the planet-wide consciousness is able to manipulate the death cult religion into becoming a suicide cult, and possibly every religion in the galaxy was seeded by this planet as an immune response style defence against potential attackers? If I'm remembering right? Genuinely creepy and haunting, I kept mulling this one over for a long long time. This is basically the gritty reboot of James Cameron's Avatar, way ahead of time.

26) Stone City, Dreamsongs

Another that didnt massively work for me, nothing terrible and some cool concepts, but just didnt really spark anything for me personally.

27) Bitterblooms, Dreamsongs

Another major contender for my favourite of the collection. A LOT of ASOIAF DNA in this one, with decade long winters roamed by the undead, X of House Y titles, a lot of familiar names. The story itself has a sort of twisted Doctor Who plot, a person from the ASOIAF-esque planet finds a spaceship, and is seemingly whirled around the galaxy on an adventure but can only look out the window from within the ship, eventually it turns out the ship is broken down and hasn't moved, and they were just watching record logs on the windows.

28) Princess and Mr Whiffle, Patrick Rothfuss

I took a break from Dreamsongs to read... a short story by an acclaimed fantasy author with a long delayed finale to their subversive fantasy epic! This is a fun book, with a good reading by Rothfuss on youtube, I'd thoroughly recommend. It seems like a slightly dark childrens story, then turns out to be a very dark regular story. It's worth watching the youtube reading as he also explains his thought process, honestly it's made me a little less optimistic regarding kkc as it has a slight vibe of a "technically I didnt lie to you" twist...

29) Interview with a Vampire, Anne Rice

I've spent a good part of my life goth-adjacent, I grew up on Buffy and have a real love for all things vampire, so this was always on my horizon. I was put off by Anne Rices whole... vibe online, and everything I heard about "well by book 17, it's mostly about the war between the Atlanteans and Hell". I cant speak for any of that, but the first book was everything its hyped up to be. Lovely slow moody southern gothic. From everything I know about Anne Rice's personal politics, I do wonder if shes one of those authors who sort of backed into being a queer icon by trying to depict the worst thing she could imagine, that being just... a queer relationship.

30) Hamnet, Maggie O'Farrell

This was one of those very book club type books you see everywhere for a while... I didn't love it. The idea is to tell the #feministretelling of Shakespeare's life by focusing on his wife, and what she went through when their son Hamnet died and he wrote a play called Hamlet. The issues are: a) it buys into the whole witchy cottagecore vibe with Anne Hathaway being pretty explicitly descended from the Fair Folk and having magic healing powers, which I think shoots the whole 'women were an important part of history and deserve to have their stories told' stone dead, as it suggests said stories are so boring they need literal elf magic to make them worth telling; and b) that it still fundamentally fails in that I spent most of the book going "wonder what old Billy boy's up to" the scraps we get of him are way more interesting.

31) Sherlock Holmes, The Empty House

The other big short story selection I read this year - most of the SH bibliography. I didnt realise until starting out that the vast majority of SH was short stories, and there were only 4 full length novels. The only one I'd read prior was Hound of the Baskervilles. I'll touch on the stories briefly then give a longer wrap up.

Not sure why I started with this one, it's the one where SH comes back to life after the Reichanbach falls. I don't know if there was a lower bar for what counted as mysterious back then, but basically: the guy is found with a bullet in his head in a locked room. The window is open. No one heard a shot. It turns out... he was shot through the window with a silencer. Like... I get ACD was practically writing under duress, but it feels pretty fucking phoned in.

32) SH, The Devils Foot

Again, the mystery here is: 3 people are found in a room, 2 insane and 1 dead, having been left perfectly well. The solution: theres a magical mushroom from Darkest Africa™ that makes people insane or die when burned and inhaled. I don't know if I'm coming at SH with the wrong attitude, but I continued to find the 'mysteries' pretty underwhelming. This one gets 1 bingo point for 'never previously described technology/item from The Colonies™ that solves the whole mystery but has never previously been established" (see the silenced air gun in the empty house actually), but also wins a point for "Sherlock decides the murderer is a pretty legit dude and just let's him go".

33) SH Abbey Grange

Another with the "Sherlock decides the murderer is a pretty legit dude and just let's him go" plot - honestly my favourite part of reading Sherlock Holmes, and very interesting to compare to modern copoganda shows with their "cool motive, still murder" attitude, especially as so many police procedural end with "well, you were right to fight against the wildly unjust system, but you did a crime so we have to arrest you. Deal with the unjust system? Nah, not my department mate "

34) SH The Speckled Band

The mystery: 2 heiresses live with their evil uncle. One dies in the room next to his, her last words "the speckled band". The other is moved into the same room and fears she'll be killed next. Sherlock finds that the bed is bolted in place directly under a vent joining to the uncle's room. It turns out the uncle pushed a venomous snake through the vent.

That's not a fucking mystery!!! I'm not even a big whodunnit person, but if you have heiresses killed, obviously their last living relative is doing it. Also the story spends the whole time telling you he's evil through details like "he let's romani travellers stay on his land"... oh yeah, this story hella racist. So maybe it's not meant to be a whodunnit but more of a howdunnit... except the second you hear "she died in the room next to his, then he moved me to that room, and theres a vent in the adjoining wall"... there's no mystery! The snake is a nice orientalist touch, but wouldn't be fundamentally different to evil mushroom gas or anything else. Incidentally she said "the speckled band", describing the drake's characteristic feature, as her last words instead of "uncle murdered me" or "snake vent, beware!" because [explanation not found].

It also gets a bingo point for "needlessly dark John Watson framing device that renders the whole story pointless" - it opens with "I can now tell this story because the last living person involved in it is now dead" - the sister they saved is the only survivor, so I guess after all that she just got his by a fuvking bus or something.

So at this point I thought, boy, this is unfortunate, 64 sherlock holmes stories, of course there would be some stinkers, what are the odds I'd exclusively pick them. So i looked it up. The speckled band is considered the best sherlock holmes story, ACDs favourite, critically acclaimed. At this point, it's safe to say I'm just not clicking with Sherlock Holmes.

35) Meathouse Man, Dreamsongs

In a dystopian future, neural mindlinks are used to make corpses into cheap labour, with one person puppeteering several corpses in dangerous environments. The corpses are also used as sex workers.

So yeah, it's pretty nasty. It's got some great dystopian imagery of giant industrial machines strip mining whole planets, and it Mark's the point where GRRM starts to really interrogate some of his nice guy-isms into dark, insightful takes on toxic masculinity.

36) Hound of the Baskervilles

As I said, this was the only SH I'd previously read, and I remembered it being pretty good! That had been when I was a kid, and all these short stories had sucked so bad... was I just misremembering? Fortunately, no! HotB is exactly what you want from a Sherlock Holmes story, great setting, cast of possible suspects all of whom are more than they appear... this is one of those cases where the best known work is best known for a reason.

37) A Study in Scarlet, SH

Decided to see if it was just a case of SH novels > short stories, and read the first novel. The first half or so is pretty classic SH fare, with a London murder, mysterious clues written in blood, footprint analysis etc etc and then... the entire 2nd half of the novel is a fucking western. We get the whole life story of a guy in a wagon train, sets up a life with Mormons, gets hunted down by murderous mormon death squads... and then in the last 2 pages, we jump back to London with a "and that's why he murdered this guy". Love it. I genuinely checked a few times to make sure I hadnt got a messed up copy of the book spliced with Mormon Murder Cowboys.

38) Arthur and the Seeing Stone, Kevin Crossley-Holland

The first of a wonderful trio of arthurian novels. They contrast the mythological arthur with a historically accurate young noble called Arthur in ~1200, with parallels between the mythological arthur and his counterpart that serve to highlight the historical context for the arthurian mythos and why these stories mattered to people. They're ostensibly childrens books and I first read them as a kid, but there's a lot of value to an adult reread.

39) The Final Problem, SH

The one where ol Holmes-y dies. Its shocking the extent to which ACD was clearly just ready to be done. Sherlock pops up, says "btw all of our cases were masterminded by an evil genius, I've never mentioned him before but he's so bad that it wouldnt be the worst thing if I died fighting him" and then whaddya know! It's very fun to me because I remember the trend of superhero comics killing off their heroes and the exact same writing tropes were in play - I've never mentioned this before but I have a really ultra mega serious nemesis.

40) Valley of Fear, SH

Another of the full length Holmes novels, and weirdly enough has the same structure - half a pretty standard SH mystery, second half a shockingly long largely unrelated story in America that leads to a 2 page "and that led into this mystery" denouement. It also has Moriarty awkwardly shoehorned into the story to retcon him into being a serious threat, which it does by some other top class SH bingo tropes - Watsons narration ending with "oh btw, the characters of this story fell off a ship like 4 months later".

41) Elric, Fortress of the Pearl - Moorcock

I'm starting to worry Elric might just not be for me. Theres some fun stuff in here, and a very conan-esque vibe. The issues are that of the 2 I've read, Elric is such a powerful character that the only route to drama is having him be suicidal apathetic until he's almost done for, then suddenly snapping to and fighting back out of the abyss. Secondly, I've mentioned before that Moorcock is not one to cut corners. There are 7 or 9 or 12 magical dream realms described to traverse, so he traverses them each in turn. There's no deviation from this pattern once its planned out, just plodding on through.

42) Beyond the Deepwoods, Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell

The 1st of the Edge Chronicles, a series I read piecemeal bits of when I was a kid and always stayed with me. Extremely creative and grotesque, with lots of bulbous and oozing creatures brought to life by Riddells signature style. This first book has a very fairytale structure with the protagonist essentially running into some new creature each chapter and escaping by the skin of his teeth. This gives it a lovely simplicity, the later books get a bit more into fantasy worldbuilding which has pros and cons.

43) Smoke and Mirrors, Neil Gaiman

Collection of short stories, if I was being consistent these should be separate like the GRRM and Sherlock Holmes ones but it's my list. Also some of these were like 2 pages and I couldn't justify counting that to myself.

Chivalry - one of Gaimans best known, a little old lady finds the grail at a charity shop, Galahad tries to get it off her. I liked it more this time around, but I still find the old lady a bit too mean.

The disappearance of miss finch - this is one my favourite of the many many Gaiman stories of "you go to a circus/magic show and it turns out to be real" - this one gets the balance of the person "deserving" it better, and a pleasant impression they're happier for it after all.

Bay Wolf - probably my favourite of the collection. Beowulf as a futuristic noir detective episode of baywatch. Grendel is a steroid junkie called Grand Al. Top notch stuff.

Murder Mysteries - another fantastical noir detective story, this time about an angel created to solve the first murder. Manages to combine classic noir elements with theological questions shockingly deftly.

Snow Glass Apples - one of my absolute favourite Gaiman stories. Theres a tumblr post that makes the rounds every few years about "hey snow white is deathly pale with ruby red lips and spends a long time seemingly dead in a coffin before waking... vampire?" and every time I dutifully comment that this exact story exists and is fantastic.

44 Stormchaser

Book 2 of the deepwoods books, this is where the series turns more towards steampunk fantasy worldbuilding. On the plus side, this is fascinating well written world, on the other... it's pretty fucking grim. Which is weird to say about a series written for children, but its genuinely quite depressing. Poverty, exploitation, mutilation etc... I had to take a break after this trilogy as there was a repeating pattern of introducing a likeable memorable crew of misfits and outcasts, then killing them all off one by one.

45 Midnight over Sanctphrax

This one is less grim in itself, but it ends with a "and the adventure continues" hook, and I remember from the sequel books that it continues into misery, despair, and most of the cast dying of dysentery. Again - grim!

46) Into The Narrowdark, Tad Williams

Book 3 of the new Osten Ard series. One of the best fantasy books I've read since ASOIAF. There was a part where I couldn't stop reading until I discovered one characters fate, even though that was about 400 pages. There was a reveal that made me swear at the book and walk away, just to come straight back.

47) This is How You Lose the Time War

A very fun short novel about opposite agents of battling time travelling agencies who start to write each other encoded gloating messages (encoded in the rings of wood of a tree one agent will cut down to build Genghis Khans trebuchets to change history, for example), and gradually fall in love. Very poetic and beautifully written.

48) Fire and Blood, GRRM

Gave this one another read, inspired by how much I enjoyed HotD. I think the first read I went in with very low expectations which gave it an edge, this time around I knew it wouldnt be terrible so less of a pleasant surprise and I noticed more of the... issues. That said, HotD showed me how some of the seemingly flat characters can actually be rich and nuanced. One in particular I wonder about is Jahaerys, who makes a lot of sense as a potentially great person with rot at the foundations - if he knows that at some level he only has power by usurping his cool lesbian sister, all his misogyny makes sense as a retroactive justification. Because honestly on this reread, he seemed like a Shittier dude than Maegor.

49) Fairy Tale, Stephen King

A take on the Narnia style portal fantasy by the one and only Stephen King. This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, not necessarily a world shaking masterpiece but recaptured the feeling of being a kid and getting utterly engrossed in a story. You can definitely tell Kings age by how he writes his teenage protagonist - he conveniently only watches the classic movie channel so can only quote films from Kings reference pool, there's some pretty realistic sections of him doing home repair by watching youtube videos but keeps calling it The Tube... its very sweet and endearing. As is classic with King, he's so good at writing day to day life you almost dont want the fantasy elements to start, but once they do they're so fun you wished they'd shown up sooner.

50) Arthur at the Crossing Place

Book 2 of the seeing stone trilogy. The trilogy is fairly classic 2 part trilogy, with part 1 working as a very standalone novel, while part 2 is mostly set up for part 3. However, theres a lot of good material, lovely prose, and well worth reading.

51) Dracula (daily) Bram Stoker

A certified 2022 phenomenon. This was a huge amount of fun, parcelling out Dracula chronologically, letting a whole fandom form, having dramatic long hiatus and bursts of action. I also love matching stories to their chronology, as I mentioned with LOTR, which would be very suited to this same format. I've read dracula before, this definitely enhanced my enjoyment. In my memory theres a real drop after the Jonathan Harker diary, but this format a) acknowledged that by having the long hiatus and b) overcomes that and makes the latter part of the story feel much more significant.

52) Arthur King of the Middle March

The third part of the trilogy. This one focuses on the disastrous Fourth Crusade, where half the people who had RSVPd didnt show up, leaving the ones who did with an enormous bill for more ships than they could use, which Venice agreed they could pay off by attacking Venices enemies... who were other Christians. This allows the conceit of contrasting the real world chivalry knights with the idealised Arthurian round table to come to a head, fantastically showing the moral decay and sense of stagnation as they occupy and loot their ostensible brothers in christendom. The book came out in 2003, but has incredibly on point vibes of the Iraq war as a whole... although I suppose the issue here is that the crusaders never even reached the middle east.

#52 in 52 #mine #books #2022 #dracula daily

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fishy12233 · 6 years ago

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Chronicles of Sturgia

Prologue Part 1: “The Garbled Gossip”

In order for a story to make sense, the reader must know who the main characters are. After all, the main characters are the ones who drive the story. Imagine a middle school cafeteria, bustling with chatter, like a theater before the show. The cafeteria is bright and cheery with its checkered floor and artistic walls. Hundreds of children are chattering at once, some talking about the newest member in a famous band; others are talking about mysterious rumors of aliens, but everyone knows rumors like that are only real in comic books and movies. The chatter continues, an endless garble of noise. Anyone in the cafeteria can see a variety of different students. Six girls walking by while wearing coordinated outfits, a typical guy surrounded by his strange friends, a girl who chooses to doodle on her tablet by herself. However, none of them are our main characters.

As lunch begins, a girl sits down at an empty table with her lunch. Her name is Maddie, and she is the first of our six main characters. She wears a school uniform in a school that doesn’t require school uniforms and has a poppy in her hair. Her eyes are dark, mysterious, and a little sleepy, though her left eye is partially covered by her one-sided bangs. Maddie prefers to spend her time reading spooky novels or playing spooky video games. Her lunch is chopped beef with a slice of devil’s food cake on the side. Maddie isn’t the one who talks very much at her table, but when discussing her interests, she takes full control of the conversation. During an everyday conversation, Maddie is the type of person who tends to listen and observe. This is great for Maddie since she always knows exactly what type of gifts to give her friends on their birthdays.

The chatter continues. Sometimes, when you listen closely, you can listen in on gossip. This can tell someone a lot about what others think of them. Gossip isn’t always the best form of entertainment. But passing students continue to eavesdrop nonetheless.

“Did you see Maddie? She’s so elegant and graceful!”

“She’s like everyone’s big sister. They shouldn’t need to be so dependant on her! She acts like some concerned mom sometimes.”

“But she’s a total goth too! Have you seen her clothes? She looks like she came right out of boarding school! I bet that she’s secretly a witch or something.”

The children continue with their daily routine. The coordinated girls eat healthy salads. A nerdy girl talks to her friends, making sassy remarks with a deadpan voice. Meanwhile, a bratty kid is playing pranks on other people. But none of them are our main characters.

A second girl sits down to eat with Maddie. Her name is Susan. She’s Maddie’s little sister and her total opposite. Susan wears a purple A-line dress with pink flowers on it and keeps a white lily in her hair. She also wears black stockings and flowery shoes. Her eyes are bright, happy, and excited. Susan loves cute things, especially cute things from Japan. She likes doing things like watching cute anime or buying cute plushies. Susan makes her own Japanese bento lunch, complete with octopus sausages and onigiri. But sometimes, Susan decides to go all out and create a cute and elaborate bento lunch with cute characters and a large variety of food. When Susan first saw how cute bento boxes could be, her eyes sparkled with awe. She saved up her allowance so that she could buy her own genuine bento box. Her friends always love her bento box designs and ask her if she could make lunch for them. Susan is extroverted, which in this case means she loves to talk, but is overly dependant on others and sometimes comes off as rude and annoying. Anyone who calls Susan annoying isn’t her friend. During an everyday conversation, Susan is the type of person who gets distracted by her surroundings and always carries the conversation. Susan truly cares about her friends, but always forgets things like their birthdays. Fortunately, she has her sister Maddie to help her remember.

The garbled gossip goes on and on. Everyone wonders what people think of them. They get self-conscious and anxious just thinking about it. Gossip is always behind one's back, but it’s not always well hidden.

“Have you seen Susan? OMG! She’s soooo cute!”

“She may be cute, but she’s annoying. Why can’t she just leave us alone? She should just go back to relying on her sister for everything.”

“She’s also a total weeb! Susan is so into anime and cutesy stuff, it’s sickening! Also also, she totally copied my style!”

While the peanut gallery rambled on, the kids kept eating their lunch. One of the coordinated girls finishes eating and walks over to another table to talk to her other friends. A snarky girl who looks rather similar to Susan gossips and acts as if the leader of her group, even though she’s not. Meanwhile, two sisters and their friend talk about the latest horror movies. But none of them are our main characters.

A third kid sits at the table with the sisters. This time, the kid is a boy named Peter. He wears a propeller hat and a shirt with a smiley face and blue-and-yellow-striped sleeves. Peter also wears a heavy backpack, filled with a ton of schoolwork, his lunch, a bunch of colorful yo-yos, some robot parts from the robotics club, and a huge album of trading cards. His eyes are simple, yet optimistic and determined. Peter likes geeky things like robots and trading cards. He always has the coolest toys. His favorite food is ground beef and rice with ketchup that his mom makes for him. During lunch, he also likes to have a grilled cheese and pizza bagels alongside the beef to share with friends. Peter and his friends love to trade and share their lunches. Peter is outgoing and friendly but sometimes is too distracted with building robots to talk. During an everyday conversation, Peter is cool with listening to others talk, but he can easily carry a conversation if needed. People like talking to him because conversations with him are never boring.

The students continue to talk incessantly. Not everyone who talks with friends is a gossip. Sadly, many girls tend to be labeled as gossips just for being outgoing. The saying, “It takes one to know one,” definitely rings true here.

“Peter’s kind of cute. He looks really cool with his gadgets and toys!”

“Are you kidding me? Peter’s a DWEEB!”

“Geez, shut up! Takes one to know one, dweeb.”

Lunch continues on. The coordinated girl and one of her friends decide to do their friend’s hair in wacky hairstyles. A cooler girl sits with the snarky girl that looks like Susan and chat about other people. The bratty kid gets into an argument with some other students. But none of them are our main characters.

A girl named Lisa, the fourth friend, sits at the lunch table. She wears a large tie-dye shirt and worn bell-bottoms. Lisa wears way too many bracelets and keeps her curly dyed hair up in two large pigtails with scrunchies. Her eyes have more makeup than her friends’, which makes them look more flashy. Lisa likes doing fun things like having parties and playing dolls. She likes playing dress-up and usually likes having sleepovers with Peter. Sometimes, Peter and Lisa would play shovelware games and laugh at them during their sleepovers.

Lisa always likes to sneak candy into her lunch, which usually has fun, bizarre food. She always trades food with Peter. Lisa is chatty but very kind, even to people who don’t like her. During an everyday conversation, Lisa is usually the one to start it. She always talks about the latest trends, but Lisa always gets bored from running out of things that she wants to talk about. Lisa knows that people think she’s a girly gossip, but she really wants to get rid of that view people have on her so that she can live a more free life.

The chatter continues. Some people don’t really care about gossip. They’re the smart ones, ignoring others’ opinions and focusing on being themselves. Like a stone wall, harsh words don’t get through to them. But even a stone wall wears down over time.

“You know Lisa right? That weird girl with the flashy accessories?”

“Yeah, what’s her deal anyway? Who’s she tryin’ to impress?”

“I heard that it’s Peter, they always hang out together. What losers!”

Lunch continues, but there are still some students waiting in line for their food. The sister of the girl with the wacky hairstyle writes in her journal while listening to emotional music. While the girl who looks like Susan continues to gossip, the true leader of her friend group sits quietly. She writes poetry and hums a familiar song. The girl with the tablet continues to sit alone and draw in peace. But none of these students are our main characters.

A fifth student sits with Maddie, Susan, Peter, and Lisa. She is carrying a tray piled with food along with her lunch box. Her name is Annie, and she’s wearing a faux raccoon tail hat and a worn plaid shirt with worn jeans. Annie’s eyes are stern but friendly. She’s a tough girl who loves camping and tasty food. Her dad has taken her out hiking and fishing countless times. She’ll eat anything for lunch. She loves meat, and is always down for eating out. Annie’s eyes are much larger than her stomach. This always results in Annie leaving lunch too full and having lots of leftovers to give to her friends. But she doesn’t really mind. Annie volunteers at the local food bank every day, which gives her the opportunity to donate any extra food that she’s gathered during lunch. From time to time, Annie’s friends also volunteer at the food bank. Annie is strong and motivating, but can be insensitive at times. During an everyday conversation, Annie always finds a way to brighten someone’s day. She tends to rush through life, but her friends help her to slow down and appreciate the world around her more.

Almost everyone has settled down to eat. Many students have already finished their lunch. But the chatter is louder than ever. In the end, others’ opinions don’t matter. But even still, when a person spends too much time taunting people and belittling friendship, they get annoying. People start ignoring them and getting bored of them. Sometimes, one has to wonder if that person turned out well.

“Do you know Annie?”

“Yeah, she’s that tomboy. What’s her deal?”

“She can be so insensitive, giving false motivation. What a hypocrite.”

Lunch begins to close. Students are finishing their food and packing up. The coordinated girls reunite and begin heading back to class. The strange friends of the regular guy begin finishing up, but still chatter. Everyone else, including the bratty kid and the artistic girl, throw out their trash and begin to leave. But none of them are our main characters.

Before lunch begins to end, one last person sits with his friends. He arrives at the table with Annie. His name was Chris. Chris is considered a nerd. He wears large glasses, a bowtie with a school uniform, and has his hair slicked back. Chris is shorter than his friends. He’s a studious kid who loves reading and math. Chris was the last to join his friend group. When he first joined, he was apprehensive. He was too scared to ask them to let him join their group. But what he wanted more than anything else was to have a group of friends he could be a part of. He simply needed to build up his courage. His lunch normally consists of hard boiled eggs, tuna, and salty crackers. Chris is kind, but is also shy and awkward. During an everyday conversation, Chris is the type of person who listens, but really wants to speak. He may be shy, but he has his friends to take care of him and help him become more social.

The cafeteria is almost empty, but the chatter still lingers. The students walk back to class, yet our six main characters still remain, being the last ones to pack up and leave. In the end, gossip doesn't matter. Only your own actions matter. In the future, things may get better. Sometimes, it doesn't get better. The best we can do is make the best of it. But we must also strive to improve our lives for the better.

“You know Chris, right?”

“Who?”

“The kid who always follows Annie around. He's like her minion or something.”

“Oh yeah, the egghead! He just, like, doesn't stand out to me a lot.”

Finally, everyone leaves, heading back to class and taking their noisy chatter with them. The garbled gossip fades away, leaving the cafeteria empty. But just because lunch is over doesn’t mean that the story is. A show always begins on an empty stage. Just like a play, the story is only just beginning...

#chronicles of sturgia #oc #Madeline Avarell #Susan Avarell #peter #lisa #annie #chris #my art

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charcherry-weekly · 3 years ago

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Charcherry Weekly - Issue 116

An ominous wind blows on the horizon... What news will we gather? What news will be left behind?

Staging an Offensive

Earlier this week, my biographical and sometimes prophetic webcomic, None Pizza with Left Beef, arrived at a point in the plot where a device known as The Stage was erected. However, an unforeseen figure emerged from the cornfields, cloaked in darkness. It is assumed that they work for voidco.

As a reaction to this, Heir of Time Rise Emit decided to travel across time and space to confront this voidco representative, in hopes that they would be able to save Page of Void Dylan from the grip of that company. It is very fortunate that Rise did not travel alone, because they apparently encountered a great deal of misfortune on their way to the confrontation. Page of Rage Jovin Castle and the pre-transition version of Heir of Hope Hazel Careon joined Rise on their quest.

As of tonight, Past Hazel and Jovin have apparently arrived at The Stage, though the condition and location of Rise is unknown.

There appear to be a number of vectors of influence regarding this confrontation. It is very possible that this recruiter may be related to Dylan on some level, but it is also possible that there is some level of trickery involved too.

Investigation into this story is ongoing.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

Sewing thread stand (this week)

Duct tape stand (this week)

Katie’s potion stand (*CaFAI filling in for Katie when unavailable)

Brae’s canned goods stand (Ran by Prism in Brae’s absence)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (ran by Rufus)

I did not expect this to happen. I can only hope that those involved have better luck than what's been sensed lately.

https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/342/charcherry-weekly-issue-116

#charcherry weekly #sbarg2.5dungeoncrashers #sbargv2 #none pizza with left beef

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howmuchistoomuchgsw · 5 years ago

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50 Q’s You’ve Never Been Asked

Thank you so much @kattitudereads for tagging me in this fun Q&A.. Loved it...

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush?: -> Pink

2. Name a food you never eat?: -> No non veg at all..... not even egg.... In veg I avoid eating Brinjal it looks similar to fish post cooking....

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?: -> Too warm & hate it so much....

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?: -> Putting up stories on Instagram & updating my TBR list on Amazon..

5. What is your favourite candy bar?: -> Milky Bar & Five Star.....

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?: -> Nope

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?: -> Is Bounty a candy bar???

8. What is your favourite ice cream?: -> Vanilla is my all time favourite..... I like to try new ones though but no chocolates especially dark chocolates

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?: -> Water

10. Do you like your wallet?: -> I do not use one actually I just prefer keeping some cash in my Mobile case & have a card holder....

11. What was the last thing you ate?: ->Soaked Almonds

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?: -> Nope nothing

13. The last sporting event you watched?: ->Ummm None... I have not watched any since childhood....

14. What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?: -> Butter with a few cheese popcorn mixed...

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?: -> I use WhatsApp only so the last message I got was from my best friend..

16. Ever go camping?: -> No

17. Do you take vitamins?: -> Nope... No supplements

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?: -> Well I am Hindu residing In India.... I have a temple in my house so visit it twice a day..

19. Do you have a tan?: -> No

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?: ->Well I prefer both depends on my mood....

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?: -> No never....

22. What colour socks do you usually wear?: -> As colorful as possible...

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?: -> Never....

24. What terrifies you?: -> Watching horror movies to begin with... I never watch... Plus never in the movie theater

25. Look to your left, what do you see?: -> My laptop bag & my glass of water

26. What chore do you hate?: -> Cooking.... Actually all the household chores except washing dishes with hand...

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?: -> Want to keep hearing it because it is rare to hear back in India...

28. What’s your favourite soda?: -> Coca Cola.....

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?: -> Always go in because I get to see new faces & share some smiles with strangers, I always feel it is the best to do.....

30. Who’s the last person you talked to?: -> My elder sister..... We both are trying to get our younger sister into drinking coffee so that our mum does not tell us that only we both are coffee-holics...

31. Favourite cut of beef?: -> Wrong Question...

32. Last song you listened to?: -> An old bollywood songs starring Sridevi & Rishi Kapoor..... Both no more on the earth & this makes me heart feel so sad...

33. Last book you read?: -> Raavan Enemy of Aryavarta a 2019 mythological fiction written by Amish Tripathi. The third book in the Ram Chandra series.

34. Favourite day of the week?: -> All the days are the same for me so cannot choose....

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?: -> Yes if you allow me to read it from the board....

36. How do you like your ☕️?: -> Strong but sweet coffee warm enough for me to drink...

37. Favourite pair of shoes?: -> All that are comfortable...

38. The time you normally go to sleep?: -> Try to sleep max by 12am IST so that I can be up the next morning....

39. The time you normally get up?: -> If I have no morning responsibilities I love to wake up by 9am IST but on normal days I have to get up as early I can max till 8am IST

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?: -> Both actually... they have their own charm...

41. How many blankets on your bed?: -> None.... All are kept in the closet & we remove it in the night while sleeping only..

42. Describe your kitchen plates: -> Stainless Steel & Bronze..

43. Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?: -> None... I have not tried any & not willing to try too...

44. Do you play cards?: -> No...

45. What colour is your car?: -> I do not have one now but the only one I had was Maroon in color... loved it... miss it..

46. Can you change a tire?: -> No

47. Your favourite province?: -> Illinois, Chicago, USA My elder sister lived there for a few years & everytime I visited the place I just fell more in love with it...

48. Favourite job you’ve ever had?: -> My last job being a Senior Fashion Consultant.... I loved it a lot even though I had sales targets to achieve & a lot of pressure too

49. How did you get your biggest scar?: -> I have two scars on my wrist.... They are proof of my strength because I got into depression twice & tried committing suicide both the times by sliting my wrist... It was a bad phase because I was absolutely alone to help myself out of it both the times... I am proud of myself for it...

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?: -> I do not know the person but I got a message from her on my Instagram page saying she loves my page & that it inspired her... Well She made me happy too.

#50 questions #gametime #writers on tumblr #tumblr #bloggergirl #bloggersofinstagram #bloggingcommunity #personalblog #answered #challengeaccepted #gratefulheart #gsw #graciouslysassywords #howmuchistoomuchgsw

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chellonihaoma · 8 years ago

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For the other ask thing: ALL OF THEM.......................................

This is super long.

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? - Not sure. I wind up with leftover milk, but it could easily go either way.2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? - Yes.3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? - Literally anything. I have used my phone before.4: how do you take your coffee/tea? - I don’t drink either, but I love hot chocolate.5: are you self-conscious of your smile? - Not really.6: do you keep plants? - No sirree, I’m allergic to basically every plant.7: do you name your plants? - No.8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? - If I could draw, I would draw. I sing.9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? - Yes. Very much.10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? - Side, though I try to sleep on my back because it’s better for posture.11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? - There are a lot. Imagination.12: what’s your favorite planet? - Saturn.13: what’s something that made you smile today? - I watched Phantom Rouge. Illumi is beautiful.14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? - I am very minimalistic, so it would be mostly empty with some basic furniture. Everything neatly organized and out of the way.15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! - Don’t need to Google. I used to be obsessed with space. If you approach a black hole, you will be “spaghettified.” Literally pulled apart. Doesn’t that sound fun? :)16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? - They’re all the same to me since I just eat plain noodles.17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? - Red. Or, if possible, I just want Illumi’s hair.18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. - The Negative Cats Incident^TM. Basically, I thought too hard about a mathematical concept in class and couldn’t stop laughing. 老师 was not very happy with me.19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? - No.20: what’s your favorite eye color? - Brown that’s almost black or dark green. For unnatural, violet.21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to heck and back with you and that you love to pieces. - Don’t have one.22: are you a morning person? - Absolutely not.23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? - Dance, sing, read (often fanfiction), and sometimes draw. I also watch stuff.24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? - No.25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? - I have never technically “broken into” anywhere.26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? - I just wear black shoes that look the same.27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? - The regular one.28: sunrise or sunset? - Sunset. I hate the sun. I love watching it die.29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? - I love it when my friends get really excited about something.30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? - Yes.31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock heck? really, just talk about socks. - Socks are good, but I hate putting them on. Not really. Not often. I mostly wear white socks, but I have some black and one or two grey pairs.32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. - I have never been with friends that late. Unless it was the next day.33: what’s your fave pastry? - Are doughnuts pastries? I like a lot of plain ones.34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? - Chris Doggie, although it never had a specific spelling (can’t expect a little kid to understand the complications of English). It is a yellow dog. There were actually two, because apparently I almost removed the nose of the first one. I still have both in my room.35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? - I don’t even know what stationary is. I like pretty colour pens, but rarely use them.36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? - Yuzu, maybe SID.37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? - My room is always spotless.38: tell us about your pet peeves! - People mispronouncing certain words. There are probably several others, but I’m drawing a blank right now.39: what color do you wear the most? - Probably black or blue. Dark blue.40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? - My wife crotched me a black ring.41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? - The Way of Kings.42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! - I don’t drink coffee and I make my own hot chocolate.43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? - 妈妈，although that was many, many years ago.44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? - Gosh, I can’t even remember. It has been a long time, but I long for that feeling.45: do you trust your instincts a lot? - More than I think I do.46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. - Killua? More like, Killu-nah. Get it? Because he won’t kill. (I know someone who can come up with so many, you should ask her)47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? - I really can’t stand oranges.48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? - I don’t remember. No.49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?- I don’t think I’ve ever bought one. We had many in my home growing up, but I never bought one.50: what’s an odd thing you collect? - I don’t really collect anything. I DO have about 100 pictures of Illumi on my phone though.51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? - I don’t have any. I only do that with fictional characters.52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? - I don’t know what year memes are from. I really like none pizza with left beef and I love/hate loss.jpg.53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? - None but Beetlejuice and I can’t even remember it.54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? - It was me. In the mirror.55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? - Gosh, I don’t know, but I probably have done something crazy.56: what are some things you find endearing in people? - When they care and are passionate about something.57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? - I don’t like that song. It is overrated, in my opinion.58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? - I’m wine mom. Vodka aunt would be either @wackopig or @birdageddon .59: what’s your favorite myth? - I like most with dragons or the moon.60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? - Not really.61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? - Oh boy, there are a lot. Literally everything I give to my friends is stupid or some inside joke. I have a cardboard cutout of Zac Efron. I have never even seen anything he is in. I just know he’s some kind of American celebrity and my friend had it for some reason and gave it to me?62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? - No.63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? - Everything is always very organized.64: what color is the sky where you are right now? - Black.65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? - Nanami or a nurse I used to see a lot.66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? - Dark violet flowers or blood-red roses.67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? - These are my favourite days. I love when it’s overcast. I love the rain. I feel much more peaceful and aware.68: what’s winter like where you live? - Cold.69: what are your favorite board games? - Is Zombicide a board game?70: have you ever used a ouija board? - No.71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? - I don’t drink tea.72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? - YES. And it’s horrible!73: what are some of your worst habits? - Picking, Tumblr, etc.74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. - Very good artist. Loves aliens. IS an alien.75: tell us about your pets! - Don’t have any.76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? - Isn’t there always?77: pink or yellow lemonade? - Both. Pink.78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? - NO.79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? - My wife made me a little Ciel doll.80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? - White. It was the default.81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. - I am SO bad at abstract imagery, especially in English. Um, dirt.82: are/were you good in school? - The best! If I wasn’t, my parents would have disowned me.83: what’s some of your favorite album art? - I don’t know what that is.84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? - No.85: do you read comics? what are your faves? - I don’t.86: do you like concept albums? which ones? - I don’t know what those are.87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? - All Ghibli films. Especially Spirited Away.88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? - Not sure what that means.89: are you close to your parents? - No.90: talk about your one of your favorite cities. - I like Tokyo, although I have not been there.91: where do you plan on traveling this year? - Probably nowhere.92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? - I eat plain pasta.93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? - Straight down.94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? - Kaili.95: what are your plans for this weekend? - I want to watch Spirited Away again.96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? - I put them off forever.97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? - ISTJ, 龙 (dragon), Ravenclaw.98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? - On Wednesday. No. We got lost and I’m allergic to nature.99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. - Many Coldplay songs, a lot from Madoka Magica, and Ghibli music.100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? - Past. As much as I don’t want to relive anything, I could make myself stronger.

#Ask #Geez YiLi #The whole dang thing?#Here's a bunch of personal info for all you weirdos #朋友 #Long post

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gray-autumn-sky · 8 years ago

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Meant to Be Yours, Chapter 19

Robin, Regina and the boys fall into familiar new routines; and Regina’s nightmares persist as she struggles to find a way to break the curse. All the while Valentine’s comes and goes.

For the anon who requested Robin and Regina dancing to “Can’t Help Falling in Love with you; and for @restrainedubiquity who requested Robin teaching Henry to dance (with Regina). Also, for @trina-deckers who requested a little Mal. While Mal doesn’t make an appearance, she (and DQ) are mentioned fondly.

Previous chapters can be found HERE; and the Valentine’s portions of this chapter might be a bit more clear if you read Valentine’s Past beforehand.

It was a typical Tuesday. Regina had picked up Henry from school after tutoring, and they’d gone to the grocery store. He helped her pick out the things on her list—running excitedly down the aisles in a way that always humored her and standing on the back of the cart as she wheeled him to the next item. And when they got home, they started preparing for dinner, waiting for Robin and Roland to arrive.

They chatted about the day. Henry told her all about a game of Red Rover that was played at recess and how he’d enjoyed the roast beef sandwich she’d made him for lunch and how one of his friends offered to trade a pizza Lunchable for it—something she’d come to know was pure gold in the third grade world. But when she’d asked about school itself, he’d sighed and shook his head, and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it just then. She pressed further and he offered her a lopsided little grin and ensured her everything was fine as he shifted uncomfortably—and before she could ask again, there was a light knock at the door.

Once Roland and Robin arrived—with overnight bags in hand—everyone’s attention shifted to dinner. Roland was hungry and Robin brought a cake, and Henry was all too happy to help him frost it. And when dinner was ready, the boys set the table as Robin and Regina plated the food—and then it was time for clean-up and desert.

Robin cut slices of cake for the boys as Regina started to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and once they were happily enjoying their cake, he turned to the sink to help her. She grinned as his hip knocked against hers, gently pushing her away from the sink, and taking over the rinsing so that she could focus on loading—and when he picked up a particularly grimy pan that would take more than a light rise to clean off, she looked back over her shoulder at the boys, still enjoying their cake.

“You never told me what happened at school today,” Regina says as her eyes focus on Henry and Robin reaches for a scrub brush. “You said we’d talk about it later, but... we haven’t.”

Henry sighs as he looks up from his slice of cake and his eyes roll. “We started something new in Language Arts today.”

“But that’s your favorite subject…”

Henry nods and sighs again—and this time his eyes roll, earning a soft chuckle from Robin. “Ms. Blanchard is making us do a unit on fairy tales,” he says as Regina’s eyes slide to Robin and his to her. “It’s going to be all… stupid princess and royal balls and gross kisses at midnight.”

Regina feels her stomach clench as her jaw tightens. “Well, not… all fairy tales are like that.”

“No,” Robin interjects. “There are stories of dragons and ogres and…”

Henry’s arms fold skeptically over his chest. “Not the ones Ms. Blanchard will pick,” he tells them. “You should have seen her. She was all starry eyed and…” Instinctively, Regina’s eyes roll—she knows the exact look he’s talk about. “…and she told us today that we’re going to have a cotillion.”

“That’s so cool,” Roland cuts in, his mouth full of cake. “I wish my class was getting one.”

Henry’s eyes narrow as he turned his attention to Roland. “What?”

“It’d be so cool to have one as a class pet!”

Henry blinks and in spite of her churning stomach, she feels a giggle bubbling in her chest. “I… don’t think you know what a cotillion is.”

“Yes, I do,” Roland says, looking between them all. “It’s like a lizard that changes colors and stuff.”

Robin laughs out. “That’s a chameleon, Roland, not a cotillion. A cotillion is like a… dance.”

“Like the chicken dance?”

“No,” Robin says, still laughing as he shakes his head. “Like… a ball. Like the one in Cinderella.”

“Oh,” Roland murmurs as Henry sighs. “Ewww.”

“Maybe it… won’t be so bad,” Regina says, reaching for the dishwasher soap as she takes a breath and looks to Henry. “This might be like the Thanksgiving Play. You didn’t think you’d have fun at that, and… then you did.”

“I… don’t think so,” he says as he stabs is fork into his cake. “I… have to dance with a girl.”

“Ewww,” Roland says again as he bites into his cake. “I’m sorry.”

Regina turns the dial on the dishwasher and then wipes her hands on one of the cloths as Robin leans forward, placing his elbows beside Henry’s cake. “Which girl?”

“Paige.”

“The one who sits at your table?”

Henry nods and his cheeks flush, “Yeah, she’s really nice… and pretty.”

“Then why don’t you want to dance with her?”

“Because,” he sighs, his brow creasing as Regina’s finger dips into the frosting of his cake and Roland giggles. “I… don’t know how to dance. She takes ballet classes. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

Before she can assure him that he’ll likely learn at school and that Paige probably doesn’t know how to do this particular dance either, a smile stretches across Robin’s lips. “Well, it’s a good thing that I do.” He offers Regina a wink as he pulls Henry off his stool. “I’ll teach you.”

“Now?” Henry asks with wide eyes as he reaches for his cake. “Don’t you have to… I don’t know… wait an hour after eating or something?”

“That’s swimming,” Robin laughs as he reaches for Roland. “Come on…”

Regina follows watches as the boys stand in the center of her living room and Robin pushes aside the furniture, looking doubtfully between each other. She leans against the frame of the doorway, the knot in her stomach loosening as Robin moves to the stereo and selects something to play.

“This sounds like the music at the dentist,” Roland mutters, scrunching his nose as he looks to Henry, who only shrugs.

“Turn toward each other,” Robin tells them—and she watches the boys exchange glances.

“I… don’t see why I have to learn to dance,” Roland says. “I’m not the one having a chameleon.”

“Cotillion.”

“Whatever.”

“Roland’s not a girl, anyway,” Henry says slowly, as he between Roland and Robin. “I need to know how to dance with a girl. It’s… different.”

Robin sighs as his eyes shift to Regina, and she watches as a warm grin pulls onto his lips. “Your mom’s a girl. Would you dance with her?”

“I’d even dance with her,” Roland says as he flops back onto the couch.

Henry giggles a bit and nods, and he turns to watch Regina come into the room. “I’m… not very good at this,” she tells them. “It’s been… a very long time since I’ve danced with anyone and I’m not sure that I remember how.”

“It just so happens I am a very good teacher.”

“That’s true,” Henry says with a nod. “He did the impossible. He taught me long division.”

“He also taught me how to shoot an arrow without hurting anyone,” Roland adds.

Regina laughs as her hands slide over Henry’s shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. “Okay, teach away.”

She grins down at Henry as he looks to Robin. “So, the first thing, you don’t want to get too close,” he says. “My mother used to tell me there should be enough room for her between me and the young lady I was dancing with…”

“Your… mother taught you to dance?” She asks, rhetorically as her heart flutters a little at the thought of Robin as a boy in Sherwood Forest, leaning to dance by standing on his mother’s feet and holding onto her apron strings. “That’s… so sweet.”

“I… hated it then, but those are very fond memories now,” he tells her with a wink, before turning his attention back to Henry. “So, take a step back.” Henry does as he’s told and then looks between them, as Robin nods. “Good, now hold out your left arm,” he says, his eyes sliding to Regina. “You, too.”

“Oh… right,” she murmurs as she presses her hand to Henry’s and her fingers lace down through his. “And my other hand goes around his shoulder…”

“Yes, exactly.” Henry grins a little awkwardly as he blinks up at her, and Robin situates his other hand on her waist. “Now, you have to act as a guide.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Step forward, and you…”

“Step back,” Regina injects with a grin. “I remember.”

“Good,” Robin says, watching as Henry steps. “Now left…” Henry giggles and looks down at his feet. “And back, the right and…” Robin laughs a little as Henry concentrates on his feet. “You’re doing great, now… again. Forward, left, back and right… there you go.”

Henry smiles up at her—and she finds him unexpectedly bright-eyed, and for that moment, it’s so easy to get lost in his happy smile.

____

Regina falls asleep easily—Robin is breathing rhythmically at her side, and down the hall Henry and Roland are tucked in. As she drifts to sleep, thinks of Henry’s giggle as they slowly moved around the carpet—and in spite of everything looming, she’s glad that the most troubling thing in his day was worrying about impressing a little girl in his class.

Her eyes flutter open and she squints, feeling a rush of cool air—and when her eyes adjust to the dark, she’s no longer in her bedroom. Swallowing hard, she looks around in search of Robin, but he’s not there with her—and she can’t help but think that has to be a mistake. She takes a few steps forward, and it’s only then that she feels the weight of whatever it is that she’s wearing—and her hands begin to explore, feeling over the thick, scratchy tulle of a full skirt.

It doesn’t make sense—none of it makes sense—and she feels a sense of panic seeping in. She looks around wildly in search of someone—and she takes another step—and then her foot touches to something firm. Letting out a shaky breath, she presses her eyes closed—and when they open again, her breath catches in her throat, and she takes in the carnage.

There are bodies everywhere—bloody and lifeless—and smoldering flames in the distance. There’s not a sound to be heard outside of herself—the fast-paced thumping of her heart and the little whimpers that escape her as she makes her way through what seems like a sea of lifeless bodies. Tears fill her eyes as she realizes what she’s done—and then she hears a rustling.

Spinning in the direction of the noise, her eyes search the darkness, looking for some sign of life, some glimmer of hope. She moves toward the sound, still not seeing anything or anyone, and she pray to any higher being that might be listening—but for what, she doesn’t know.

“Don’t hurt me,” says a familiar little, distant voice. “Please.”

Her heart sinks as she turns her head sharply—and a few feet away from her, she sees a terrified little boy, staring back at her with tears shimmering in his hazel eyes.

“Henry!” She calls, reaching out into the darkness for a boy who isn’t actually there. Her heart races as she looks around the bedroom, watching the way the moonlight streams in through the window and illuminates a patch of carpet. Taking a deep breath, she feels tears flood her eyes, haunted by the fearful way Henry had looked at her. Lying back, she lets out a shaky breath—and then the lamp turns on.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs groggily, as he rolls onto his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…”

“Had a nightmare,” he supplies as she nods. “Come here.” She slides toward him and he rolls onto his back, pulling her down into his chest as his arms wrap around her. He drops a couple of kisses over the top of her head and his hands rub up and down her back. “You’re okay,” he tells her. “It was just a dream.”

“But… it… it wasn’t,” she admits in a small voice. “It was… a memory.”

“Ah…”

“But Henry was there and he… he saw what I’d done and he…”

“Shhh…”

“He was so afraid.”

“It’s okay,” he says again. “Memory or not, it wasn’t real.”

“But…”

“Shh…” He murmurs as his hand slips to the small of her back. “It’s over now.” He presses a kiss to her hair, and holds her for a minute or two. Her eyes close and she listens to the soft beat of his heart—and there’s something so soothing about having him so near. “Per Henry’s instructions, I am supposed to take you down to the kitchen and warm up some milk and honey.”

“That is how we generally treat nightmares around here,” she murmurs quietly. “But, you don’t have to…”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I will.”

A small smile edges onto her lips as she tips her head up. “This is making me feel better.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “How, um… how of often does this happen?”

“I… don’t know,” she lies, not wanting to admit that she barely remembers the last time she had more than one full night’s rest. “Occasionally.”

“Once, twice? Nightly?”

She blinks and looks away, pressing her head back to his chest to listen to his heart beat. “Something like that...”

“And… what do you do?”

“Try to go back to sleep,” she admits quietly. “Sometimes Henry’s up—that’s when we have milk and talk—but mostly, I just try to go back to sleep.”

“Does that work?”

“No.”

He sighs and hugs her a little tighter. “Call me.”

“What?”

“The next time this happens, if I’m not here, I want you to call me.”

Lifting her head, she rests her chin on his chest. “I can’t do that. I can’t just wake you up every…”

“I want you to,” he cuts in. “You… shouldn’t have to suffer in silence.” He grins a little and combs his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I love you. I want to help.”

“I love you, too,” she murmurs, “But… I just…”

“Let me help.” With a sigh, she nods and lies back down against him. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he says. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about… something else?”

“Sure,” she breathes out, pressing her eyes closed. “Talk about something.”

“Okay,” he begins in a tentative voice—and then she feels a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “We could talk about the birthday you had last week that you didn’t tell anyone about.” Her head lifts and her eyes widen—she didn’t know that he knew—and before she can ask, a grin tugs up from the corners of his mouth. “I read your story, remember? And, I took notes.”

“You… took notes.”

“Yes,” he says with a nod, “Because as much as I love and trust you, I’ve come to realize that when it comes to information about yourself, you are often an unreliable courier of information.”

“I… am not.”

“You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you always see just the bad and you always ignore the good…” She lifts his head to protest, but his finger presses to her lips. “All I��m saying is that you’re hard on yourself.” He grins. “Though it would have been nice to spoil you for day, I… think I understand why you didn’t want to celebrate.”

“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to, I just… after all these years of living under the curse, things like birthdays stopped mattering.” Robin nods and she sighs a little. “But I have to admit, even though no one knew, I had a pretty fantastic birthday this year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says as a small grin creeps onto her lips. “You and Roland were over for dinner and we had apple pie, and… I got to pick the movie… and…” she laughs a little, “I couldn’t have asked for better birthday.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs as he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. “And I suppose I could find another day to spoil you… perhaps on Valentine’s Day?” Her eyes widen a little. “Is it okay that I made reservations?”

“Oh, I… I don’t know that I want to leave…”

“I made lunch reservations,” he cuts in to clarify. “I was thinking that since it’s a Friday and I don’t have to tutor, we could both take the afternoon off and celebrate together, and then we could pick up the boys and celebrate with them after school.” His grin brightens. “We could make heart shaped pasta and caprice salad and… decorate sugar cookies with them and…” His voice trails off. “What do you think?”

“I… think that sounds perfect.”

“Then, it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” she says, as she inhales a long breath, then slowly exhales it as she cuddles back into him. “Robin,” she asks after a few minutes. “Can you… keep talking?”

“Yeah, of course,” he replies without questioning it, “Whatever you want.”

Closing her eyes, she takes long breaths, slowly releasing them as she listens. His voice is soothing and his touches methodical, and she can’t help but feel comforted—and there’s something so freeing in that. For so long, she’d considered the nightmares that tormented her night after night to be her penance; they were the price she paid for her sins—and thought she didn’t necessarily disagree with that, the temptation of Robin’s comfort was too great, and she was too weak to resist it.

His words bled together as her eyes grew tired, and felt herself drifting back to sleep, no longer feeling guilty or afraid. She felt Robin’s hand stop as he pulled himself up a little and her eyes fluttered, just as the door pushed open.

“Mom?”

“Henry,” she murmurs, pulling herself up.

“I saw the light on and…” he fidgets in the door way as he looks between her and Robin. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shakes his head and before she can say anything else, Robin pulls back the covers and pats the bed. Henry hesitates for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip as a warm smile stretches onto Robin’s lips. She looks from Henry to Robin, then back again, watching as Henry takes a tentative step forward. She slides away from Robin as he reaches for Henry, lifting him into the bed and settling him in the center. Immediately, Regina’s arms wrap around him and he cuddles into her. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Positive,” he says in a decisive voice as he cuddles closer. “Can I sleep in here?”

“Of course…” Regina murmurs glancing over the top of Henry’s head and grinning appreciatively at Robin, who offers her a wink before rolling over and turning off the lamp.

Her cheek rests atop Henry’s head and she traces circles against his flannel clad back—and finally, she feels his breathing even out, and finally, she can close her eyes—then, just as she does, the door creeks open again.

“Why is everyone in here?” Roland asks as he walks to the center of the bed.

Robin sighs, then laughs; and once again, he peels back the covers and pats the bed—but before he can lift Roland, Roland jumps onto the bed, and neither she nor Robin can keep themselves from laughing.

____

She’s lost track of the hours she’s spent in Archie’s office—hours waiting and in session, hours pacing in front of his office building, hours wondering just how much she could reveal without sounding too crazy, even for a psychiatrist. Though, in spite of never being truly honest with him in their sessions—never revealing the source of her nightmares or the sordid past that plagued her even in her waking hours—they’d helped.

And she reminded herself of that every time she sat in Archie’s waiting room, waiting for Henry.

Finally the door opened and Archie led Henry out, and they both offered her a little smile—and she felt a small pang of guilt as she smiled back and held out her hand to her son. He took it easily, his little fingers folding around her palm as Archie waved goodbye, and chattered on about his session, not really telling her much and focusing on irrelevant details—and not at all aware that the next morning, she’d be back in Archie office to go over his notes, just as she had after each of his sessions. In some ways, that felt like a betrayal of trust—Henry believed that his sessions were private, that what he told Archie stayed between the two of them—but she was far too concerned to be kept out of the loop; and, as she often reminded herself, these Thursday morning meetings had been Archie’s suggestion, not hers.

“So,” she cuts in as they step outside, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“I’m starving,” he tells her, as he pulls his hat down around his ears. “I’ll eat anything.”

“I’m pretty hungry too,” she replies, casting her eyes down Main Street. “Do you want Granny’s? We have…”

“I always want Granny’s,” he interjects, offering her a wide grin. “Can I get a milkshake?”

“Sure…”

Henry swings their hands back and forth as they walk toward the diner, and he fills in her on everything that happened in his day. He tells her about the Valentine’s art project they got to do—explaining that he chose to paint his hearts green because he chose a black background, and decided that meant they were alien hearts—and then he seamlessly transitions into other stories. He tells about a spelling test that he got an A on, and he tells her about the kickball game they played in gym—and heart beat skips when informs that he didn’t cry when he skinned his knee.

When they get to the diner, he runs ahead of her, claiming a booth in front of the window. Ruby hands her two menus and sets two glasses of water down on the table, letting them know she’ll be back in a few minutes to take their order.

“Did… anything else happen at school?” She asks, handing him a menu, not want to ask directly about the fairy tale unit his class was supposed to start—and she hadn’t quite made up her mind about how she felt about it. “Maybe something you… weren’t really looking forward to?”

Henry blinks a few times as he considers—and then his eyes light up. “Oh, yeah!” He exclaims as he turns away from her and reaches into his backpack. “I got my math test back today,” he says, turning back to her and handing her a folded piece of paper, that slowly takes from him. “Look.”

She watches him as she unfolds the paper, and then, her eyes cast down—and immediately, her breath hitches in her throat. At the top of the test next to his name, in pink glittery ink is an 80%, with a smiley face in the center of the zero. There’s a sticker on the page with a little note—also written in pink glitter—and the note is full of compliments and praise. Taking a breath, she reads it a second time—and no matter what history she and Snow White have, she’ll never be able to thank her enough for caring about Henry the way that she does.

“I got a Batman sticker,” he says, almost shyly.

“I see that,” she replies, taking a breath and laughing a little as she fights back proud tears. “This is going on the refrigerator when we get home.”

Henry giggles. “Is there room?”

“We’ll make room.”

He giggles again as Ruby come back to the table, a pen and notepad in hand, ready to take their order—and Regina laughs as Henry orders a cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake, and then lowers his voice and asks for extra whipped cream. Ruby offers him a wink and tells him she’ll see what she can do, and then turns to Regina to take her order.

Henry continues to tell her about his day, all through dinner; and not once, does he make a mention of fairy tales. By the time they’re done and the bill is paid, the sky is dark, making it seem much later than it is. Henry takes her hand again, as they walk back to her car at City Hall, swinging it back and forth as he goes on about how excited he is to start The Goblet of Fire—and how he thinks this might be his favorite. She reminds him that he’s said that about all of the Harry Potter books, and he just giggles, unconcerned with that particular detail.

As they pass a mailbox, Regina stops and reaches into her purse, carefully drawing out an envelope and concealing the front of it with her gloved hand. She drops it into the mailbox quickly and she’s glad when Henry doesn’t ask about it as they turn toward the parking lot in front of City Hall.

“Mom?” He asks in a suddenly tentative voice as they reach the car. “I… need to tell you something.” Regina blinks, and looks over at him as she unlocks the car, opening his side first. “Dr. Hopper said I should tell you… that… that I made up my mind about what I want to do.”

“What you want to do…” she repeats, not quite following. “What do you mean?”

“I… I think I… I want to… meet her,” he says as he fumbles with his fingers and focuses his attention at his feet. “I mean, I just… I think…”

“Her,” Regina repeats, her stomach suddenly tightening. “You mean your birth mother?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…”

“Is that still okay?” He asks, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Because if it’s not then I don’t want…”

“No, no, no,” she cuts in. “It’s still okay.”

“You’re sure?” A small smile tugs onto her lips, and she nods. “Dr. Hopper thinks that… that it might give me closure.”

Regina takes a short breath, and again finds herself nodding. “It might.”

“You’re not… mad?”

“No,” she says, crouching down in front of him. “I’m not mad.” Taking his hands in hers, she gives them a squeeze and then presses a kiss to his cheek. “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get in touch with her, okay?” Henry nods, and she can see that he’s still unsure. “But, I want you to know that… she might not want to.”

“I know,” he says. “Dr. Hopper said that, too.”

“You have a closed adoption…”

“I know,” he says again. “I just… want to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” she tells him simply, leaning in once more to kiss him. “Now, let’s go home—with any luck, we can get two chapters in tonight.” She offers him a wink as she stands up and her stomach tightens yet again as a small smile edges onto Henry’s lips.

_____

She couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her as she turned the page of an old leather bound book—a book that made her smile for all the wrong reasons. It seemed like a life time ago Maleficent had given it to her—a gift of encouragement at the beginning of their too-brief love affair, and a book filled with old magic and obscure spells. She remembers the way she poured over the handwritten pages, admiring the way the ink looked on the parchment and the gold-edged pages; and remembering the heartening way Maleficent explained, how they’d practiced and how she’d slowly found herself believing that all the answers could be found in magic.

But eventually, just like their love affair, magic lost a bit of its shiny allure—and she was no longer sure it could be her salvation; and just as she’d realized then, she now realized she’d found yet another dead end and another promising spark extinguished.

Feeling her frustration bubbling up, she took a long, deep breath and pushed the book away—and from the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the little clock in the corner of her computer screen. And a slight smile begins to tug onto her lips.

The night before she and Robin had spent about hour or so on the phone, planning out their Valentine’s Day. He’d kept laughing about their lack of spontaneity and she’d kept insisting she found the careful planning he always put into their time together sweet—and admittedly, a bit of a relief.

He’d made reservations at the Chop House a few buildings down from his shop, and they’d agreed to meet there just before noon—and then, she asked if he’d want to go back to her house for a little alone time. She’d barely been able to contain her smile as she asked him—and in his voice, she could almost hear that he was smiling, too. For the first time in her life, she’d bought a matching set of lingerie that was someone else was meant to see—and her smile deepened as she thought of Robin’s expression when he saw her in it—and the effect it might have. Then of course, they’d pick up the boys from school and spend the rest of the evening eating heart-shaped pasta for dinner and frosting sugar cookies as a movie that one of the boys picked out played.

And she could hardly wait for any of it.

Rolling her shoulders she got up from behind her desk, stretching out her arms as another yawn escaped her—and once more, she tried to push away her exhaustion. The night before, Henry had gone to bed early with a headache; and then, a few hours later, he awoke breathless and in tears. She’d gotten up with him and crawled into his bed, and they read together for a little while. Eventually, Henry fell asleep, cuddled into her side and stretched out on the small twin bed, and she’d lied beside him, awkwardly formed around him, awake with wandering thoughts—and then suddenly, it was morning.

“Knock, knock,” Robin’s voice calls as his head pokes into the door and a smile stretches across his lips. “You ready?”

“I… thought I was meeting you at the restaurant,” she replies, as her eyes widen in surprise. “We decided…”

“I know, I know,” he tells her with a nod. “That was the plan, but.. I thought it’d be nice to walk together.”

“Oh…”

“It’s nice out today, and…” he chuckles softly as he steps into the office, holding out a long-stem rose. “And I couldn’t handle John’s pathetic attempts at finding a last-minute date.” He shakes his head. “He’s resorted on hitting on customers and giving them coupons. They’re grateful for the coupons, but… not as grateful for the rest of it.”

She laughs a little as she takes the rose, smelling it as her cheeks flush slightly. “Poor John.”

“I have something for you…”

Her eyes widen a little. “We agreed no gifts.”

“It’s… not really a gift, exactly,” Robin says as his smile brightens as he draws out a little red box. “It’s just… a little something I’ve been wanting to give you, and… today seemed like a perfect day to finally do it.”

“Robin…”

“It’s nothing…”

Her eyebrow arches as she lifts off the top—and a smile curls onto her lips. “It’s a key.”

“It is a key,” he says as her eyes cast up to meet his. “It’s a key to my house,” he tells her as he shifts his weight toward her. “I… also cleared out a drawer, but I… couldn’t exactly put that in a box.”

“Robin… you didn’t…”

“I just… figured we’ve been spending so much time with each other and…” He shifts again as a chuckle rises into his voice. “I thought this would make it a little easier. You and Henry could keep some things at my place and…”

His voice trails off and her breath hitches in her throat as she leans into the tips of her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmurs as she steps back. “It’s… very thoughtful and… practical.”

“Practical,” he repeats, chuckling again as he shakes his head. “Nothing screams romantic like a practical gift.” Rolling her eyes, she swats her hand at his chest and he catches it, tugging her to him before kissing her—kissing her long and deep until her head is dizzy. “So how about lunch…”

They walked together to Chop House—and for a while, she’d forgotten how tired she was—and after a heavy lunch of filet mignon and too much red wine—they found themselves back at her house. They’d barely made it up the stairs, standing at the very top. He had her pressed against the wall and fingers threaded through her hair; her heart was beating faster and faster as his hand to the back of her skirt in search of the zipper.

“Wait,” she murmurs against his lip, pushing her hand up between them as a wave of dizziness washes over her. “Just… a second.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…”

“Regina,” he murmurs, ducking down a bit to look her in the eye. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she replies, blinking a couple of times as she rolls her shoulders. “I’m fine.” Taking a step back, his hand falls from her the nape of her neck to her hand, giving her a soft tug toward the bedroom. His arms slides around her waist as she and his lips flutter over her jaw and grin pulls onto her lips. “I am absolutely fine.”

“Are you?” Her eyebrow arches as and his grin warms. “When was the last time you got a decent night’s sleep?”

She sighs. “Robin, I’m…”

“Exhausted,” he interjects. “You looked like you were ready for a nap when I walked into your office and all through lunch, every time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed longer and longer.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, leaning in and dropping a kiss to her forehead. “But honestly, when was the last time you slept through the night?” Shaking her head, she shrugs—she honestly doesn’t remember. “So, how about a little change of plans, hmm?”

“I want to keep the plans we have.”

“Another time,” he tells her. “In a few hours we’re going to have two very excited and candy-fueled little boys to entertain—and, speaking from personal experience, you’ll need all the energy you can get for that.”

“But I’m…”

“Fine, I know,” he says, shaking his head, he presses his finger to her lips. “But, let’s take a nap anyway.”

“Robin,” she says shaking her head—grimacing as she feels her jaw tightening as a yawn begins. “Okay…” Moving around her he reaches for her pajamas, handing them to her as he tugs off his shirt; and with a reluctant sigh, she takes them and pulls her shirt from her skirt, watching as he undoes his belt. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as her skirt drops to her feet and she steps into the cotton pajama shorts. “I…”

“Will give me a rain check,” he cuts in with a wink, kicking his pants away. “A rain check I insist on cashing in.” A grin pulls onto her lips as she pulls on the tank top and before can say any more, he’s reaching for her.

Her guilt is short-lived—and as soon as she lowers herself onto the bed, her head sinks into the pillow and Robin slides in beside her, stretching his arm around her as she cuddles back to him and lets her eyes close, her guilt is gone and she’s not sure she’s ever felt anything so satisfying.

_____

She couldn’t help but laugh as Roland struggled with the plastic packaging of the heart-shaped pasta—a thick, crunchy plastic with a glossy cardboard label stapled at the top—and with every tug, he grunted and grimaced and growled. Despite his struggles, he seemed determined, not asking for help—and judging by the way Robin was biting down on his bottom lip, the show Roland was putting on was far too entertaining to stop by the offering of assistance. Henry giggled as stuck a tooth pick with a little heart topper through a cherry tomato and little ball of mozzarella and Roland dropped the back onto the counter, breathless and annoyed. His eyes turned to Robin, who only shrugged and continued cutting the baguette that would soon be garlic bread.

“Here, sweetie,” Regina says, turning away from the boiling pot of water and reaching for the jar of utensils by the stove. “Try this.” She hands him a pair of scissors and he grins shyly as he took them from her as he takes them, and she hovers as he cuts off the top of the packaging. His grin broadens and he looks at the label. “I’m going to keep this,” he decides.

“The label to the pasta?”

Roland nods as he hands her the bag of pasta and she watches as Robin’s eyebrow arches and Henry looks up. “We have to make a collage for school next week,” he tells him. “I’m going to put this on there.”

“The label to the pasta,” Robin says again.

“Yeah,” Roland tells them as his finger traces over the edge. “We have to put stuff on it that we like.”

“If I had to make one, I’d put superheroes and books on mine,” Henry says, as he pokes another toothpick through a tomato and mozzarella ball. “And I’d draw legos.”

“So, you’re putting the pasta label on yours,” Robin repeats as a slight chuckle rises into his voice. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “I like having dinners here.”

Regina looks back over her shoulder and her eyes shift quickly from Robin to Roland. “That’s sweet,” she tells him as she turns away from the stove, letting her hand slide around Roland’s shoulders. “We like having you here for dinner, too.” Leaning in, she presses a quick kiss to the top of his head—something that’s become an increasingly natural thing for her to do. “What else are you going to include?”

Roland goes onto tell them all the other things he’s collected—listing them carefully in a slow voice. Her eyes shift from Roland to Robin, whose listening with a little smirk and then to Henry, who reacts to everything with an ooh or nod or some other approving gesture as he continues to stab the toothpicks through the tomato and cheese.

It’s odd to her that half of a year before, they were all practically strangers living such separate lives; when she’d brought Henry to Storybrooke, she had certain expectations of what their life together would be like. The curse was an obvious obstacle, but in the back of her head, she’d always assumed it’d be just the two of them—that the rest of the world would go on around them. And then, suddenly, there were these two other people in her lives, people she couldn’t shut out—people she didn’t want to shut out—and it became difficult to even picture a life without them.

She never anticipated there’d ever be a time in her life she had someone to rely on—someone who was consistently there, someone who consistently wanted to be there—and she’d never anticipated looking toward the future. For so long, she’d been trapped, living a different variation of the same things over and over again—and this was like a breath of fresh air.

And that afternoon had been a reminder of that—as cliché as it was.

Robin woke up her with a trail of fluttering kisses. He started at her shoulder and traveled up her neck to her jaw, letting his lips tail over her cheek to her earlobe—and slowly she’d begun to stir. She felt his hand slide against her stomach, drawing her back against him. His fingers dipped just below the band of her shoulders and his foot rubbed against her ankle—and before she was even awake, she could feel his warmth as a smile tugged onto her lips. Sighing contently, she stretched out her legs and blinked open her eyes, rolling onto her other side to face him. Her smile brightened and the tip of her nose brushed against his—and she couldn’t help but laugh out as he pulled her tight against him and rolled them over, so that he could properly kiss her. They stayed in bed together for awhile, trading soft touches for lazy kisses, and everything felt so good and so unassuming; and had they not had to pick up the boys from school, it would have been so easy to spend the rest of the day like that, so relaxed and calm, unworried about all the uncertainty that laid ahead of them.

“Oh, and I made you something,” Roland says, his attention turning to her and bringing her back into the present moment. “I almost forgot.”

“But you didn’t,” she says as Robin moves to the stove to check the sauce and Roland hops off his stool, running toward his backpack.

Henry cranes his neck and smiles curiously as he tries to see whatever Roland is pulling from his back pack and her own smile, pulls onto her lips. Stretching an arm around Henry’s shoulders, she squeezes him and offers him a little wink as Roland runs back toward them, holding out a flower made from pipe cleaners.

Her breath catches in her throat as she reaches out to accept it, unable to think of anything other than a Valentine’s day long ago, a day that only she remembers, when he’d given her the exact same flower—and he’d given her a tiny flicker of hope as he unknowingly turned a terrible evening into one that was worth remembering.

“I made it in school today,” he tells her proudly as she nods, unable to find her voice as tears flood her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he murmurs as smile fades. “I’m…”

“Oh, no,” she says, suddenly able to speak. “I’m not sad.”

“But you’re about to cry.”

“Yeah,” she nods, looking down at the flower as she sinks down in front of him. “But I’m not crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because… I…” she stops, shaking her head—Roland can’t possibly know what the flower means to her. He possibly can’t know that after she left the diner, she taken the flower home and put in a little vase on the corner of her desk, just as he can’t know that possibly know that day after day, long after he’d likely forgotten about it, she found herself looking at the flower and remember how happy that little moment at the diner had made her—and he can’t possibly know that it was his sweetness and thoughtfulness that made her wonder if the love of a child could save her. “I love this,” she tells him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Roland tells her with a satisfied smile—and then, only a second later, he becomes distracted by the gush of steam that rushes upward as Robin pour the noodles into a colander to be rinsed, indicating that dinner is almost ready.

And just like that, the little of moment of nostalgia is swept away.

Clearing her throat, she rises to her feet, watching as Henry carries his plate of carefully crafted caprese salad sticks into the dining room and Roland trails behind him. Her eyes shift to Robin as he shoves up his sleeves and almost instinctively, her eyes shift to the tattoo on his forearm. She can hear the boys laughing in the next room and Robin smiles back at her from over her shoulder—and she feels a tightening in her stomach—because for the first time in her life, she has something that would be devastating to lose.

“You okay?”

She looks up and nods, mustering a smile as she pushes toward him and reaches for the garlic bread. He drops a quick kiss on her cheek as he lifts the bowl of pasta—and she takes a breath, reminding herself that she has time and when things are meant to be, they happen when they’re supposed to.

Her family was proof of that.

_____

The rest of the night was spent baking, decorating and, of course, eating sugar cookies.

As she and Robin cleaned up the remnants of dinner—rinsing the dishes and putting leftovers into containers—the boys rolled out the cookie dough atop the counter. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride bubbling up inside of her as she watched Henry showing Roland how to flour the edges of the cutters so they easily lifted from the dough and kept the shape of the cookie—something she’d taught him the first time they’d baked cookies together—and how he gently pulled Roland back away from the oven before retrieving their tray of cookies, reminding him to let them cool before touching them. Roland nodded and he inhaled a deep breath, taking in the soft fresh-baked cookie scent as Henry arranged their toppings—and finally when they were cool enough to decorate, Henry carefully carried them over to the counter.

Robin’s arms wrapped around Regina and she leaned back into him, smiling a little as they watched the boys smear the frosting over the cookies and cover them with sprinkles—and once again she found it a struggle to stay in the moment…

Before she knew it, the cookies were done and the boys created a plate of their favorites. Robin corralled them into the living room and she followed behind them, once more wondering if this, like every other Valentine’s, would just fade away as though it never existed.

The boys settle quickly on a movie—an odd choice of Lady and the Tramp, which Roland insists is the perfect movie for Valentine’s while Henry shrugs his shoulders agreeably, murmuring something about never having seen it—as Robin fans a blanket down on the floor for them—and just like every other Friday night, the boys camp out in front of the TV while she and Robin settle on the couch.

Taking a shaky breath, she lets her head fall to his shoulder and he presses a kiss to her hair—and absently, her fingers trace over the tattoo on his forearm as she loses herself in thought.

There’s a part of her that feels like she’s losing her mind—and she’s been here before.

Despite the encouragement and support of Robin and her own determination, she’s made little progress in breaking the curse. And as February began to wind down and spring loomed in the no longer distant future, she knew that she was running out of time. In the weeks she’d been trying to break the curse, she’d made no progress; she didn’t even know if she was on the right path—if she was on a path at all.

When she made the decision to cast the curse all those years before, she’d learned as much as she could about it to prepare herself. It was complicated and nuanced with all sorts of intrinsic little details—and not only had she learned them all, she’d learned how to work them to her advantage. She learned how to use magical relics to create magic where there was none, learning and perfecting the science of potions and the power of energies; and she learned how to levy her power and persuasion in the new realm to which the curse had brought her.

But she’d never learned about breaking it; she hadn’t imagined there’d ever be a need.

She knew that there were a series of triggers in place—triggers that could set off a chain of events that led to the curse breaking, but she didn’t know how to manipulate them to her advantage. Her small victory in getting Henry to believe in something magical had been short-lived; and while the clock hands still ticked away, signaling the moving of time, that seemed to be very much symbolic. Every day she was reminded to the static world she lived in, and the ticking clock at the center of the town seemed more like a countdown to her inevitable failure.

“I think they’re asleep,” Robin whispers, nodding toward the boys sprawled out on a blanket.

“They’re in a sugar coma,” she says, following his gaze. “Maybe we should take them upstairs.”

“No,” Robin says as his hold on her loosens. “Leave them. They look content.”

“They do,” she agrees, as a smile tugs up onto her lips as she looks down at them. “I don’t know how they’re comfortable like that, but…” Her voice trails off and she reaches behind them, tugging a blanket off the back of the couch. She gets up and fans it out over them, kneeling down as she pushes the hair away from Henry’s forehead, leaning in to kiss him good night and whisper her love. Instinctively, she does the same to Roland, and when she looks up, Robin’s eyes are soft and warm and his hand is outstretched.

He tugs her up and nods towards the stairs, and she flicks on a dim lamp as they pass it, giving them a little bit of light, should either of them wake up. She leads him toward the kitchen, checking to make sure that Henry turned the oven off and the back door is locked—and then, she reaches for Roland’s flower. Robin grins as her arm slide around his back and she watches as he sneaks one more look at the boys as they go up the stairs.

“Wait,” she murmurs, stopping just in front of her office door. “I… want to put this on my desk.” Robin nods and followers her in, and when she turns on the light, she watches his eyes fall to the little vase at the corner of her desk that he’s seen before, but never noticed—a vase that holds the first pipe-cleaner flower that Roland gave her, all those years ago.

“When did…”

“A long time ago,” she answers, not needing to hear the question to know what he was about to ask. “I was having a rough night and… all of the sudden, there was Roland, giving me a Valentine.”

A confused smile edges onto Robin’s lips. “Why don’t I remember that?”

“You weren’t there,” she says simply. “John was with him and… up until tonight, that was the only Valentine’s Day worth remembering.” She shakes her head as she rounds her desk, opening the top drawer. “I know I said that we weren’t going to do gifts, but…”

“You didn’t,” he cuts in, his eyebrow arching. “And you yelled at me when…”

“I didn’t yell,” she interjects. “I… just reminded you.” She holds out a little red bag out to him and shakes it gently. “It’s nothing, really.”

His eyes narrow and she can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes her as he pulls a sheet of pink tissue paper from the bag—and then, his eyebrows arch as he pulls a toothbrush from the bag. “I… don’t know what to say,” he murmurs as he looks up at her.

“I didn’t have time to make a copy of my key or clean out a drawer, and…” Her voice trails off and she shifts awkwardly as his eyes fall away from her and to the toothbrush. “I… just… it’s hard for me to look to the future right now. It’s hard for me to imagine that we even have a future because in a few months, if I don’t figure out how to break the curse, you’re going to forget all about me.”

“Regina, I won’t…”

“You will,” she interjects. “But, I just… I want you to know that when I do think about my future—or the possibility of one—you’re always there. You and me and Henry and Roland, we’re… all together and…” She shrugs as she releases a breath. “And as hard as it is to think that I might lose you—you and them—because of something I created, I… can’t regret doing it because we’re here now and that’s made it all worth it… regardless of how it turns out.”

Robin breathes out and he grins as he twirls the toothbrush between his fingers. “Some things are just… supposed to happen. You and I are one of those things.”

She nods as he drops the toothbrush back into the bag, setting it on the edge of her desk as he moves to the stereo, turning the dial until Elivs Presley’s softy and low voice fills the room. Robin laughs a little as he extends his hand—and with a sight, she rounds the desk and places her fingers in his palm.

Like a river flows, surely to the sea; darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be…

He pulls her close as his hand closes around hers and her head rests on his shoulder as they begin to sway to the music. She feels her throat tighten and tears brim in her eyes—and she presses them closed, willing herself to stay in the moment and enjoy it for what it is, not wanting to focus on the fragility of the little life they’ve started to create.

So, take my hand—take my whole life, too; for I can’t help falling in love with you…

#oq ff #outlaw queen #oq fic #meant to be yours verse #oq prompts #prompt list fics #regal believer #dimples queen

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stefanoaltieri · 8 years ago

Text

The SAT Is Not A Test, It's Trickery.

Right now my kid is undergoing the torture otherwise known across America as the SAT. He has been preparing for this day for quite some time now. By the look and heft of his The Official SAT Study Guide, it seems he has been preparing for the last eleven years. I picked a bookmarked page, random to me, right about midway through the College Board-issued behemoth, page 356 to be exact, and glanced at the cryptogram on the left column. I read through it and thought to myself, “this feels like trap of sorts. This is an intellectual contraption setup to promote failure. This...this is trickery!”

I vaguely remember some chapter in the story of my life when I was somehow reluctantly convinced to undergo such torture myself. There were some figureheads, some caricatures of authority, involved. Something about college, and a test, and scores, and being punctual, and timing. And oh, yes, something involving a pencil, a very specific pencil, a No. 2. It had to be sharpened, of course, and I was instructed to "bring a pair." Apparently that's all the ordeal required. The rest, for the most part, is vague. Very vague.

Bubbles. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. The letters A, B, C, and of course the ever-elusive D, which may as well have been a hostage in an All of the above or None of the above scenario or some variation of the sort. The details escape me now, as I am certain they did then, but I do remember, almost vividly, the clock. More specifically, the minute-hand racing past the hour-hand, on the white-faced something-ix clock stuck on the painted cinder block wall, just above the classroom door. The second-hand was red, and sometimes between glances from the test to the clock, I would catch it standing frozen still for a moment too long.

And oh, yes, there is one more thing. I was never on time for school back then. I usually, almost predictably, always "came way too late," as Dean Young would tell me during one of our many confrontations in the hallway discussing my impending suspension for my failure to appear at detentions assigned to me as disciplinary measures designed to curb my tardiness. Also, I was never prepared, constantly "borrowing" loose leaf paper and a pen from well prepared classmates. And, to a fault, I always left way too early. Some would consider that "cutting class" but I didn't, I simply didn't go to the last class of the day because it was directly after my lunch period, which was technically the period I would cut out of school. So, I argued, in my defense, I did not intentionally "cut" that last period class, whatever it was it was simply an unwitting casualty of bad scheduling, or, more correctly, a matter of conflicting timelines.

As I have learned, conflicting timelines is a recurring theme in life, generally, but more specifically so in mine. But for the sake of brevity I will say for that particular place and time, there was no specific, intentional, rationale or reason for my lateness other than I just either always woke up late or left home late, and I rarely made any attempts to make up for it. In my last trip through the wringer, during my senior year, this meant missing first period, almost entirely sometimes. I think it was either Algebra or English, but it may have been Gym, as I don't recall ever breaking a sweat in that school. I spent sixth and seventh period mixing and rolling dough at Pizza Boy in the Roosevelt Mall. Suffice it to say, my SAT score was greatly affected by such behavior, et al. Needless to mention, my academic career, in general, and perpetuity, suffered tragically. Fatally. Yes, that's Fatally, with a capital F.

What I don't remember is anything about workbooks or practice tests or study guides. But Me 2.0 is all up in that. As he very well should be, I mean this kid is an honor roll staple. They could literally use his name as a staple to hold up the Roll of Honor hanging on a hall wall at his school. Like clockwork, if there is an occasional B it is always flanked by a row of A's and often transformed into one by the next marking period. An impeccable attendance record worth boasting about. No tardiness. No absence. Spotless. To a fault. I once told him he could miss a day of school to tag along with me and pick up my new motorcycle in Ohio. I worded it in such a way that it would sound like a really cool thing to do, but used a tone that connoted such concepts as "responsibly" and "thoughtfully". I pitched him something along the lines of making a once in a lifetime, memorable experience of the thing, a one-day father & son road trip. An adventure that would involve bonding, trust, brotherhood and beef jerky; miles and miles of nine-over-the-limit on the clock and lots of cruise control; Rock and Roll - or oldies, depending on which generation you hail from; a case of water for hydration; and some big empty cups for to avoid pulling over during the longer stretches between rest stops. It would have been a party on four wheels, for sixteen hours straight. I even suggested he could snapshot highlight moments of the debacle and post it to his Instagram. I wish I had done something like that with my father as a kid. Now it was my chance to turn the tables on life's mis-dealt hand and break the chain of missed-opportunities. He could tweet about it. #OneDayRoadTrip. That's what the kids do. Right? YOLO. Right?

He turned me down. He did not want to miss school and have to catch up on his work and... Well, I don't remember the rest of it. I lost him after those first few words because of the confounded mess I became once the look in his eyes hypnotized me senseless. First went sound. Then darkness took over, summoning thoughts of despair and pending doom to any nonconformist-on-the-brink-of-turning-conservative. I was in a momentary state of dumbfounding shock, while the horror of it all echoed in my head with eerie notes something to the tune of "is my son a nerd?"

His instinctive reluctance to miss out on a legit, parent-sanctioned school absence for the sake of school-related malarkey made absolutely no sense to me, a dropout. None. Not then. Not still. Doubt it ever will. So, I ventured out on my own. I did it old-school. SOLO. Because that's how I roll. Apparently. But to make sure I didn't end up in a scene from Deliverance, I had the route all planned out, and set up my outdated Android to talk me through the plot twists now and then. As rubber wore down, I occasionally lifted my G3 out of the cup holder to check for signs of life and to make sure the car charger thing kept the battery juiced up in case I got stuck somewhere. It was a couple hours of high spirits until the WaWa coffee ran its course and the radio faded to static and I eventually got bored enough to try and picture-text a few location updates to my son, back at school. He would sneak me a very delayed thumbs up (👍) emoticon now and then during school hours, surely he waited until he was in the crowded hallways, inter-class. Then I remembered I shouldn't text and drive. So I kept it to rest stop texting only, mostly. I even tried miserably to capture a few snapshots of such roadside sights as deep valanced valleys nesting rural villages, and cool old rusted-through farmland robots planted like landmarks amidst the alternating chromatic values of green and freshly-plowed dirt. These, I thought, I would rub in his face when I produced them as evidence that he totally missed out. But I ended up with blurry, skewed shots of road signs, and eighteen wheelers, and dashboard. Lots of dashboard. Once, the ever-intrusive fingertip made a cameo, photobombing what would have otherwise been a postcard-esque shot of a tunnel entrance.

Epic.

Fail.

All in all, it ended up being a trip worth taking. For me. For the obvious reasons, the most logical of which was to haul back the coolest thing on two wheels worth taking such a trip for, which is the only logical reason to ever partake in such shenanigans, solo or accompanied. But admittedly, it wasn't something worth missing school for. Those sixteen hours felt like an eternity of dreadfulness at the time, eight of which mostly spent in pitch-black darkness, on the way back, with my bike in tow, strapped down in the hollow cargo cavity directly behind my seat. Eight hours of going eighty, with eight-hundred pounds of steel and rubber and gasoline held in place, just inches from my head, with the cheapest ratcheting straps I could find. It wasn't safe and it wasn't pleasurable. No place for a kid who's gonna use his brains in life. It was forebodingly dark and loud. Road noise, mostly, echoing through the uninsulated van like a rolling tin can, deadened only by only moments of fleeting redemption as I played hide and seek with the dropouts in radio frequency on which Alice Cooper, God bless his soul, hosted late-night radio. Sipping bad coffee to keep my eyes peeled enough to avoid plot twists involving six-pointers and eighty-miles-an-hour rental vans as I made my way through the peaks and valleys of western Pennsylvania.

But I digress. My kid. My boy. The fruit of my loins. The heir to all my fault-derived understanding of this world and most of my mistake-learned wisdom, is taking the SAT. Right about now, he is fully aware that he is being tested on his aptitude, whereas I felt, at his age, in a similar setting, or generally, that I was being tested on my attitude. I still do. But not him. He's every good thing I could never be if I tried. He was up for it. Prepared for it. He's got this. I know it, and more importantly, he knows it. He gladly sharpened three brand-new Dixon Ticonderoga No. 2 pencils, before going bed last night, and told me, with nary a hint of playfulness, "Dad, this is the best pencil in the world."

I concur.

I hope that his No.2 fills in only the right dots. I hope it leaves a trail of lead* that maps out nothing but the right answers, marking only the correct solutions. I hope that whatever fate had in store for him today, it also involves a handful of educated guesses, with some lucky guesses mixed in for good measure, though I doubt he would need that many. I hope he ultimately pencils this in as nothing more than what it is, a minuscule experience in an ever-evolving wheelhouse of much, much greater experiences that a life well lived should undoubtedly grant him. I hope that whatever pattern, whatever master key is used to unscramble this cryptogram of grey bubbles, I hope it mirrors the pattern that his teachers taught my boy. And I hope that my boy decides to duplicate that pattern through the fullest extent his knowledge. I hope that the system utilized to review his choices can also connect the dots of his answers to his propensity for assessing the true value of knowledge. True value. True knowledge. The kind of knowledge necessary to pursue and carry out a fulfilling life.

I hope the appointed surveyor of errors scans both the marked and the unmarked choices and recognizes them only as the result of the invisible act of choosing choices chosen over choices not chosen, and not use the weight of consequence to suppress any choices he has yet to make or coerce anyone to make a choice about him, in the future, based on his choice of an answer today. I hope this examination of his scholarship can sift through his absorption of the mindless regurgitations of expanded sophomoric academics and screen his wondrous, now-limitless potential, ripening and maturing into a future which seems more and more so uncertain to a father like me and yet so promising for a son like him. I hope that whatever computer computes his standardized Scholastic Aptitude is also programmed with the intangible sensitivity necessary to gauge his ability to use his standardized scholastic intellect to enhance his common sense and his uncommon, not-so-standard sensibilities about and towards the world around him.

I hope the College Board can look at his test score, no matter what it may end up to be, and recognize its irrefutable meaninglessness against his all-in effort, his can-do attitude, his willingness to do and be more and better, and his relentless dedication to apply both his critical thinking and the stuff they teach at school to his advantage and to that of others, especially in situations where his natural instincts may prove futile.

I hope, for the sake of our future, 'cause that's what the children are, that these standardized tests, and their score, don't mean that much to them. And by them I mean the kids.

By the way, In the color of full disclosure, due to one of my innumerable battles with my arch-nemesis Time, I missed the greater bulk of my SAT. My final score was 900-something, which, as evidenced in my writing, is largely attributable to the luck fate had in store for me on that day.

Also, Dean Young was a friendly figure in a stern setting. Sometimes we ate together at the Burger King across the street. His treat. Always.

I never, ever mentioned his toupee. Not to him, not to anyone. Until now.

*is it graphite?

#SAT

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