#there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to what scenes I picked for these except I like their clothes lol

[guardian-angle22]

This or That: Tarlos Edition -> Casual clothes or uniforms

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Saf Saf Saf, I'd love to hear more about the past, present, future au.

CAMMMMMM Thank you my child I've missed the ghost au.

"But you're the one writing it and you haven't written anything for it in three mont-"

Shut up this isn't about you.

Anywho! I know the point of the ask game is to give headcanons, but I have no idea when this au will be finished so I'm also going to talk about the plot points I was most excited to write. Sue me.

1. How do ghosts work? I haven't the foggiest idea, here's some vague ideas I had

So the biggest Idea I had about ghost lore is that a ghost's name is the most important part of its identity. Like, if you go back and read the prequel, you'll notice that the ghosts manifested after someone said their name. The exact idea I had was that they manifest the first time someone who loves them says their name in the house, which is why Race manifested after only a week and it took Charlie over two years.

Now this means a few different things. 1, I specifically had Race manifest when Albert said "Racer", not "Race". I think the idea I had was that ghosts have a "true name", which isn't necessarily their legal name or even the nickname that most people call them. It's just the name that makes them feel the most loved. So everyone in town called him "Race", but only his closest friends called him "Racer". Albert absolutely said Race's name before his funeral, but that moment we see in the prologue is the first time he says "Racer". 2, Charlie manifested over two years after he died, which means a few things. Either his parents never came back to their house or they never said Charlie's name while they were in there. I never did decide one way or the other, but I was leaning towards the second option. It also means that his friends really did love him, no matter what he thought and they also didn't go back to the Morris house until the Kelly family moved in. 3, Mr. Kloppman loved Jack, even seven years after he saw him last. I wasn't 100% sure where that whole relationship was gonna go, but I wanted to establish it so I could do something with Kloppman if I needed to.

This is also why Davey is able to see the ghosts. He found their names and said them out loud. This isn't common though, I didn't have an exact reason as to why Davey could see them but I was gonna vaguely imply that his soul was bonded to theirs or maybe the fates chose him to help the ghosts cross over? I dunno, I was playing around with the idea that some of the other characters are also able to see the ghosts, but everyone except Davey can only see one of the ghosts and the one they see is the one they have the ability to help. So Katherine would have seen Jack because her father is the one who convicted him and she's the only person who can clear his name. That Idea. I dunno, I just really enjoyed the idea of names being important to ghosts, it was a fun concept and I hope I can do more with it in the future.

2. Race and Albert living a John Green novel

Albert was the one who taught Race the "Starlight, Star bright, first star I see tonight" rhyme and their Thing was wishing on stars together. I had this whole oneshot planned where we follow them growing up and falling in love by writing the different wishes they made together.

I had two very specific scenes in mind, one when they're about twelve-ish and Race asks Albert what happens if you die before your wish comes true. (Because when Albert first told him about wishing stars, he said that the star you pick will hold on to your wish and keep it safe until it comes true) And Albert says that maybe you become the wishing star and you get to hold onto someone else's wish. Then, once their wish comes true you go wherever answered wishes go.

The second is the day Race dies and Albert is outside being sad or whatever and he decides to make a wish on a star. "I wish the sun would rise tomorrow morning, just like it always does". Then he stays up all night looking out the window until he can see the sun peeking over the horizon. He looks up in the vague area where his original star was and says something to the effect of "Well there you go, Race, now you get to go where ever answered wishes go."

The entire premise is so corny and stupid and Hallmark and I'm in love with it. Still might write it one day.

3. Javid is a tragedy and I'm spreading the Spavey agenda

Obviously, Javid was never going to be endgame because the entire big finale is about Davey letting Jack go and Jack giving some grand speech or whatever before crossing over.

Which means we're making Spavey endgame folks!

I think I mentioned in the original post that Medda had started fostering a different child five years after Jack died and he reminded her of Jack a lot. Surprise surprise, that kid is Spot and he's a menace. I was also thinking of having a little reveal that Spot and Jack were foster brothers at Snyder's group home, but I wasn't 100% sure. Spot was only ever going to show up in the epilogue and I didn't want to take away from his and Davey's relationship by throwing Jack in there for no real reason. Anyways, Davey and Medda would have stayed friends after he helped prove Jack was innocent but I don't think she would have ever introduced him to Spot.

I like the idea of Spot transferring to Davey and Co's high school about a month after Jack crosses over. I was thinking that maybe he had been homeschooled for a bit after being suspended or expelled from his last school and Medda just happened to pick Davey's school for him to go to. So yeah, then we would speedrun a Spavey story in the epilogue of them graduating together and going to college in the same city (probably not the exact same school).

Davey would have told Spot about the ghosts after a little while and it would be nice or whatever, I dunno I haven't worked out all the details.

4. What the frick did Jack do to get arrested?

So the basic idea I had for this was that Jack was arrested for murder. Mhm. He really didn't do it! I had never really worked out all the details, but the idea I was working with was that Pulitzer had a deal with someone that he would accept "help" getting elected as district attorney if he made sure certain people stayed out of prison. Sometimes that meant pinning a murder on the random kid who was just trying to help.

Basically, Jack saw what he thought was a mugging-gone-wrong happen as he was walking home from work one night and went over to try and help the victim. One thing leads to another and Jack finds himself getting arrested when the cops show up. The man dies in the hospital later, despite the fact that he had seemingly been recovering, so it turns from an assault charge to a murder charge.

In the actual plot. Davey and Co would have gotten a hold of all of Pulitzer's notes and files about the case (Bill is good at hacking, don't question it) and were going through all of it to find some kind of inconsistency that they could use to prove his innocence. Eventually, Katherine finds security camera footage that makes it seem as if Jack actually did kill the victim, ran off, and then circled back to pretend like he was coming from a different direction to help.

Of course, this leads to conflict because I live for that and Davey gets really mad at Jack. Weirdly, he's more upset that Jack had been lying to his face for months rather than the fact that he had quite literally killed a man. Jack is absolutely going through it because he knows he's innocent but, just like when he was alive, no one ever believes him. Charlie and Race have already crossed over at this point so Jack is well and truly alone for the first time in five years.

Yeah and then a few days later, when they're showing the footage to Darcy, the resident film and photography expert on the newspaper team, he notices that there's something weird about the footage and realizes there's a cut in the video. That's when they realize you never actually see the killer's face until he runs off and Jack comes into frame.

So after a bit more sleuthing, they figure out that someone had filmed a staged reenactment of the crime with the "murderer" wearing the same clothes as Jack. Then they spliced that together with actual footage of Jack coming over to help. It was supposed to be used as evidence in the trial but it wasn't ready in time before Jack was convicted anyways.

I have no idea if any of this is even remotely plausible, but I wanted the drama and the fun reveal of Davey realizing Jack really had been telling the truth the whole time.

5. Charlie desperately needs a hug someone please help the boy

I changed my mind from the original post where Charlie just writes a letter to his parents and sends it in the mail. Instead, I was thinking that Davey's parents would find a box of Charlie's stuff still up in the attic, including some of his books and a couple old notebooks. So then Charlie would write letters to his parents and his friends, including a letter to "anyone who might find this" making it seem like he had hidden the letters in his favorite book and added his parents' full names so that they would be able to get the letters in case they didn't find them right away.

So then Davey would reach out to Charlie's parents who live in a nearby city where the nonprofit they founded in Charlie's name operates. He meets up with the two of them plus Specs, Tommy Boy, Mush, and Buttons. They all read their letters and tell a bunch of stories about Charlie and help him realize that they really do still love him and never stopped caring about him. It's all very nice and sweet and stuff.

We would also learn about what they'd all been up to in the past twenty years. Buttons got married to this guy he met in college, Elmer (I'm promoting my Butter agenda again it's a fun ship leave me alone), Tommy Boy is a high school teacher (I'm thinking either English or an elective class like theatre or art or something like that), Specs is a research scientist, and Mush helps Charlie's parents run the foundation.

Yeah, it's just a nice chapter with Charlie getting to know what happened to his loved ones, learning and accepting that he was truly loved more than he could ever know, and for Davey (and the reader ig) to learn more about Charlie's backstory. Oh and at the end, they give Davey one of Charlie's books to keep.

[ahgasecaratfromn-city]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader ft. Haechan, Johnny and mention of Jeno

Words: 7.7k

Genre: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, college au

Warning: Tiniest bit of cursing, kissing, family issues, anxiety attack

Summary: You never had the luxury of selecting who you were going to tutor, so when you paired with the only person you disliked, Lee Mark, you couldn’t help but formulate a list of the ten things you hated about him.

A/N: Okay so, I will admit this is longer than I anticipated, my bad. Mark has been stuck in my head and this was my way of getting him out. Basically, each part is a snip bit/ scene from the day named in bold.  *This is very very very minimally edited 

“Who the hell is that?” was not the most flattering thing someone could say when being given a free tutor. Hell, it wasn’t a flattering thing to say under any circumstance. Yet, there you were, walking slowly towards your literature class’s resident idiot, Mark.

“Me, I’m Y/N,” he looked you up and down, frowning slightly before looking back at the professor. The boy seemed to always believe that his opinions mattered to anyone but himself. He was always screaming his misconstrued thoughts during class or more likely not showing up at all, and everything about him seemed to piss you off.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to people, always assuming he was in the right. Or, maybe it was the fact that he spoke period, always rambling about absolutely nothing while the class was engaged in relevant and important conversation. More likely, it was the permanent grin etched on his face, as if nothing could touch him, not even the failing grade he was receiving in this class.

“Mark, this is quite literally your last shot because there is seriously nothing else I can do for you,” you tuned out the rest of the conversation, only raising an eyebrow once you heard that Mark wouldn’t be able to pass without a certain score on the final.

“And you really should thank Y/N, there are other students she could be helping,” your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, blushing lightly as the men looked at you.

It wasn’t as if you had volunteered to tutor Mark specifically. You had been tutoring since high school and figured it was the perfect work-study job to take up. Except you didn’t choose who to tutor, only which subjects. Unfortunately, literature happened to be one of them, and Mark happened to suck at it.

“Now, both of you get out of here,” he pointed to the doorway with a slight smirk on his face as Mark trudged away clearly annoyed.

“We can work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the test. We can meet up at the library,” you offered, following after the boy who seemed to only quicken his pace. Jerk.

“Not Friday, that’s a busy day,” he shrugged, looking at everything but you. 

“The test is three weeks from today and judging by your, uhm previous scores, you need all the time you can get,” the boy whipped around at that statement, raising his brow at you. You didn’t understand why he seemed so shocked, you were only telling the truth.

“Fine, catch you later,” His eyes were looking behind you, focused on something else before he finally walked away from you. 

That was another thing that bothered you, he never made eye contact. It was like no one was worth the time of day to him. 

“What are you looking at,” A familiar arm snaked its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you prepared to go home. You smelled the familiar scent of aftershave and light cologne that immediately brought a smile to your face.

“You’ll never guess who I have to tutor,” you looked up at your best friend, Haechan, grinning at his confused face. Haechan had been your best friend since you were kids in the sandbox and since then, wherever he was you were likely right beside him.

“Let’s go eat, and you can tell me all about it,” He spun you around, walking you towards the exit.

-

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him,” the boy suggested, playing with his food before taking a bite. That was his habit whenever you ate together, he would mull over his food as if building a masterpiece before devouring an entire plate in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at the statement. 

“I mean, I dunno, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover and stuff,” A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he realized how cringey what he had said was. His eyes met yours for a split second before you both let out a few synchronized chuckles.

“That was so bad, Chan,” you reached over to poke his cheek, laughing even harder as his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.

“I mean seriously, can you even name ten things you don’t like about him?” He asked, suddenly raising his brows in a challenging manner.

“Honestly, I could name ten things I hate about him,” you admitted, taking a bite of your food to punctuate your point. He only shook his head in disapproval as a response before continuing.

“Get back to me in a few weeks, I bet you’ll even end up friends. He seems nice from what I’ve heard” he sent a knowing wink your way before calling the waitress over.

As he began talking to the waitress, his question was still lingering in your mind. Ten things you hated about Mark. You already had certain attributes running around in your head, but you wondered how many more you were going to add to your list. 

          1. I hate that he is inconsiderate

           [Monday]

It was only the first day of your study sessions with Mark, and of course he was late. You were sitting at your usual table in the corner of the library, checking your phone for the nth time. He was almost an hour late and you were anything but surprised. The boy didn’t strike you as the type to keep his word.

“Hey, tutor girl,” The voice struck you from your thoughts, coming from someone you didn’t think you’d see today.

“Mark,” You nodded towards the seat across from you, opening the textbook you had sat in front of you. The boy sat silently, a smug grin painted across his face as he looked at you, eyes focused above your head. 

“I had something pop up, sorry about that man,” even his apologies were insincere and annoying. You almost wanted to toss the coffee drink in his hands into the trash, but you found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Whatever, let's just get started,” He nodded in response, glancing down at your textbook with a look of uncertainty, “Did you bring your textbook?” It was then that you realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him, not even a pencil. Of course he was unprepared.

“It’s fine, use mine,” You turned yours around towards him before pointing towards a specific chapter. He nodded in response before flicking his eyes back up in your general direction.

“Today, we’ll start with the basics of analyzing a text. We’ll do ethos, pathos, and logos. It’s pretty simple but it’s gonna help with the essay portion,” You rambled on for a few minutes about the basis of arguments and speeches. His eyes were in the book but you couldn't tell if he was understanding or not. Throughout your explanation, you could see his leg shaking and his fingers tapping on the table. 

“Is there anything you want me to go over?” his eyes were still glued to the book as he looked back up at you. He was smiling, as usual, but something about the look in his eye told you that he was utterly confused. 

“No, Uh, I think I understand,” His taps became a bit more intense until he realized you were watching him and stopped. 

“It’s okay if you don't,” you said mindlessly, “I’m here to help,” as much as you weren’t a fan of Mark, you wanted him to do well. It was a part of the reason you liked tutoring. Seeing someone work hard for something, and helping them get there was one of the best feelings in the world.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, smiling wider. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he needed help since it was literally your job, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Let’s go over it one more time, for my sake,” you went over the material again, using more examples, even some from popular music to explain the definitions he didn’t understand.

“I mean, I already understood, but I get it, more,” He said sheepishly, rubbing his face in his hand. You smiled a bit at the light pink color growing on his cheeks as you switched subjects.

“Okay, I believe you. We have some more material to cover though. Since you’re picking it up so quickly,” you smirked at the last statement, flipping the textbook in front of him to the correct page. You ignored his groan of despair, instead continuing the lesson you had planned.

You had believed after the first lesson, he might be easy to work with, but eventually, you were proved wrong. Mark was an absolute menace. His incessant taps on the table, glances around the room, random babbling, and absolute lack of interest in what you said, was pissing you off. Even the librarian had walked over to tell him to be quiet.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mark,” you rolled your eyes, pointing back at the sheet in front of you. He seemed to lose focus often, so you decided making him take notes might help.

“I know, but honestly my brain is full,” he whined, sending puppy dog eyes your way. Usually, you would have been able to say no, but his puckered lip and innocent eyes were beginning to sway you. 

“Fine, ten minutes,” you gave in to a smiling mark, who shot his fist up in excitement. He leaned back in his chair, looking into space with a look you couldn’t decipher. He was visibly deep in thought and you were beginning to feel very awkward as time went on.

“Tutor girl, yeah she’s tutoring me

 I wanna go home cause that’s the place to be,

Wherever I am, the vibe is nice,

Cause I’m cool like ice,” he went on and on rambling random rhymes with the biggest smile on his face. Nothing would have made you happier than saying that it sounded terrible, and while the rhymes themselves were ridiculous, his voice had a certain addictive vibe that made you want to keep listening.

He suddenly stopped, grinning at your lack of words “Shocked into silence, they say I have that effect on people,” he smirked nonchalantly eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but your ten minutes are up,” 

“What! It’s been like three at most,” he complained, dropping his head in annoyance.

“Well, at least stop being so loud,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, who lit up once again. 

You sat in silence for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Why are you so uptight, tutor girl?” The nickname was really beginning to bug you and so was the boy sitting across from you.

“I have a name you know,” you finally comment, ignoring his question. You were fiddling with your fingers under the table, doing anything to keep your mind off of the uncomfortable question he had asked.

“I know, Y/N,” Your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, almost giving you whiplash. 

“So, why do you call me that?” 

“It’s just a nickname,” he shrugged lightly before beginning to beatbox. He was like a child with the shortest attention span you had seen on anyone above the age of fifteen.

“It’s definitely been ten minutes now,” you pushed his paper towards him before beginning the next lesson.

            2. I hate that he really is a mystery

                 [thursday]

“I’ve never been here,” You commented, looking up at your very tall friend, Johnny opening the door for you. He was a few years older than you but you ended up bonding through the tutoring center you both worked at.

The building was a typical cafe with a warm mocha toned interior. It had bookcases lining one wall with two big grandpa chairs watching over the small tables littered around the room. The place was relatively empty, with only a few people taking up two tables near the bookshelves. It was super cozy and inviting which made you question why you hadn’t been there sooner.

“Really? A lot of people from school come here,” you only nodded in response, following the boy towards the register. 

Once inside, you immediately walked to the baked goods section, eyeing the various desserts.  

You were glad Johnny called. You had been stressed out, from your mom riding you about job applications, classes reaching finals time, tutoring Mark, etc etc. It felt like as you got older the weight on your shoulders got heavier and heavier. Everyone in your life needed you to decide on your future and you just weren’t there yet. You couldn't even decide on a pastry let alone where you wanted to be in ten years. 

“Are you ready to order?” Johnny tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Sure,” you nodded, masking the sadness the thoughts had brought on.

You watched as the older boy tapped the service bell before peering over the counter.  “Someone’s coming,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey Johnny, what can I get ya today,” the familiar voice caused your eyes to bulge as you looked up at the owner.

“Tutor girl?” 

“Mark,” you mumbled quietly, nodding in his direction. It seemed as if your problems followed you everywhere.

“You two know each other?”Johnny asked with a grin.

Mark answered quickly “We take lit together,” you frowned at the lack of mentioning the fact that you were his tutor. 

“Ah okay,”

“How do you two know each other?” you asked, only half caring.

“We’ve been friends since his freshman year,” The older boy explained.

“Anyway, what do you want bro?” Mark asked informally, smile bright as he got ready to punch the buttons on the screen in front of him.

“I’ll have an americano, give me like two extra shots,” Johnny looked at you, waiting for your order as Mark tapped on the screen.

“Can I get an americano and a chocolate croissant,” 

“Sure,” the younger boy said absentmindedly.

Johnny reached into his wallet before you could even say anything, looking down at you with a “don’t argue” look. You were used to him paying whenever you went out together or even with other friends, even though you always put up a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark said, pushing Johnny’s card back at him, “on the house,” he explained.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” you smiled sincerely, surprised by the gesture.

“He never pays for me,” Johnny said, chuckling as if it were an inside joke before he began looking for a seat.

He finally selected a table in the corner with two chairs beside it, right next to a window. You sat down in the chair, giving the place a once over again. Something had caught your eye this time. You watched as the dark-haired boy darted around behind the register, preparing your drinks expertly. 

“I didn’t know he worked here,” You mumbled absentmindedly, still watching the boy work.

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too,” Johnny commented, smiling knowingly in your direction. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at him. You didn’t know he had one job, let alone two. 

“Oh,” was all you said, leaving it at that. It seemed like Mark really was a mystery to you. You knew virtually nothing about him. Something about that fact gave you an unsettling feeling that you were too stubborn to think about any further.

             3. I hate that he asks too many questions

                  [Friday]

“I don’t want to gooo,” you whined, fighting against Haechan who was currently pushing you towards the library.

“It’s only the third day. You’re such a baby,” You could practically hear his eyes roll as he stopped in front of the door. He had given you a ride to the library, as he always would if he had time.

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,” Despite how childish it was, you literally stamped your foot, leading to a laughing fit from the two of you. 

“I can’t believe you,” he sighed, lightly shoving you.

“I’m very mature though, on a serious-,” you suddenly stopped speaking as you noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore, “what is it?” you turned on your heel only to be met with the infamous boy himself.

“Am I too early?” he looked down at his phone with furrowed brows before looking back at you. 

“No, you’re actually on time,” you didn’t mean to come off as passive-aggressive but judging from Mark’s raised brows, you did.

You watched as Haechan reached out to shake Mark’s hand with a friendly smile and a quick mutter of his name. Mark responded by smiling awkwardly before finally reciprocating the gesture. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself with his world-famous grin before flicking his gaze in your direction.

It was silent for a few moments before Haechan finally said something, “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he smiled one last time, sending you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you alone.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching up to grab the nape of his neck awkwardly. You quickly noticed the Jansport backpack he was sporting. It was a small thing but something about the fact that he came prepared made you feel weird.

“Uhh, yeah,” you opened the door to the library, walking quickly to the usual spot in the corner, Mark trudging quietly behind you.

“I made some flashcards for you,” You began, reaching into your bag and pulling out the index cards that you had put on a binder ring.

“Thanks,” he took the cards from your hand with a smile.

“So that guy’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually while shuffling through the cards.

You jaw all but dropped in shock as you fumbled to find the right words, “absolutely not,” you finally said, “he’s like a brother,” you clarified, waiting for his reaction.

The question made you feel uneasy coming from his mouth. It seemed random and very odd considering neither one of you had ever discussed anything personal.

“Oh, okay. You seem close,” he commented, continuing to look through the flashcards.

“We are, but uh, today lets just talk about your essay structure,” you changed the subject promptly, noticing the grin that was solidifying on his face.

Ten minutes later you could already tell he was distracted, judging by his taps on the table that were rapidly reaching a fever pitch.

He looked in your direction suddenly, “What do you want to do, tutor girl, like after graduation” 

Mark asked you the question like it was the most casual thing to say, like it was comparable to “how was your day” or “what kind of coffee do you like.” No one had really asked you that before, what you wanted to do.

“uh, I’m not sure honestly,” you were unsure of why you were even entertaining the conversation. Had it been asked a few days ago you might have just rolled your eyes and answered with the generic response you had been trained to use.

“Really? You seem like the type to plan everything a hundred steps ahead,” 

You quirked your eyebrow up in surprise “What’s that supposed to mean,” 

A light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he stumbled over his words, “No, it’s just that you, like, seem put together, like you know what you want,” he clarified.

The notion confused you to an extent. You never knew what you wanted. You had spent so long doing what people told you that you should do, that you barely even thought about what you wanted. Honestly speaking, you had only started tutoring because your mother told you it would look good on college applications. You had just so happened to actually end up enjoying it. That was the real reason you always did everything the same way and were what Mark called ‘uptight’.

“I don’t,” you admitted, “I have a hard time knowing what I want,” you trailed off quietly before asking him the same question.

“I want to pursue music, but I’m not sure if it’s practical,” he said shrugging.

“It isn’t practical,” you agreed, smiling lightly at the shocked face Mark sent you, “but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth trying,” you finished, watching as Mark let out a breath. 

He sighed, “I wish it were that easy,” his table tapping picked up a slow pace. You nodded in agreement, realizing that you were in a similar predicament. “Well, what do you like to do?” he asked suddenly.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you replied simply, playing with the seam of your jeans.

             4. I hate that he’s unbelievably stubborn

                   [Monday]

“Mark, honestly we can just reschedule,” You watched as the boy shook his head, jumping from his previous position.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head a few times before gesturing in your direction for you to continue.

The boy kept nodding off throughout your lesson and showing obvious signs that he was in no way capable of learning anything. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eye bags were at least three shades darker than usual, and most importantly he wasn’t making any noises at all. Not even his usual incessant table taps.

“Mark, you did pretty well on the practice quiz, you can take the day off,” you tried to reason with the boy whose eyes were barely open. It looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“No no, y/n,” him using your real name made you feel weird and told you that he was definitely not in the right mind. “You came all the way here, let’s just start,” 

You chuckled lightly at his groggy and barely comprehensible voice as you closed your books. 

“Why are you so tired anyway? Did you work over the weekend?” you found yourself actually curious about his answer, not just asking something random for the sake of it not being awkward.

He answered simply, trying his best to hide a yawn, “yep,” 

You shook your head disapprovingly before finally speaking, “Alright this is what we’re going to do. One more practice test and then please go home and do us both a favor and go to sleep,” 

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he admitted, sitting upright.

“You’re more of an inconvenience this way because I can't tutor someone who can’t even spell their own name,” I tapped on the corner of his notes, where he had written his name as “mar” leaving the last letter off.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his hoodie off of his head.

“You’re so god damn stubborn,” you whispered mostly to yourself.

“I can hear you, y’know,” you smiled at his remark before setting a practice test in front of him.

               5. I hate that he sees what no one else does

                     [Friday]

“Yes, mom,” you paused for a moment, waiting for your mother’s usual rant about how you never did anything right, and how at your age she was already starting her own business, yada yada, the usual. 

“I know,” pause, “I sent them out last week, remember?” pause, “I will,”

“Hey, tutor girl,” Mark greeted, taking his usual seat in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face as he noticed you were on the phone having an unpleasant conversation.

You pulled the phone away from your face, “I’ll be right back,” you shot him a small generic smile before walking outside of the building.

“Y/N if you don’t get it together, I’m going to-” your mother’s voice could be heard despite the fact that you had pulled the phone away from your face.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session, I have to call you back later,” you interrupted, pressing the hang-up button soon after.

You took a few long breaths before plastering a smile onto your face and walking back inside the building. You could feel Mark’s eyes on you as you walked towards him trying your best to keep up a strong facade.

“Are you okay,” the concern in his voice as you looked at him almost wiped the smile off of your face.

“I’m fine, let’s get started,”

“It’s okay if you’re not. You can tell me about it,” he paused for a few moments, tapping on the table as he usually did, “I can tell you’re you aren’t,” 

“It’s nothing, let’s just start,” you waved your hand in dismissal.

“If that’s what you want,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

“So, today let’s talk about how point of view affects the entire story,” you began your explanation, the fake smile long gone as you gave examples from the required reading. Mark seemed only half interested in what you were saying, which was usually normal, except today you could feel his eyes glued to your face while yours were in the book as you gestured to certain sentences. 

You were not in the mood for his antics and as time passed he was truly starting to bug you. “What!? What are you looking at?” you whisper-yelled in his direction. You found yourself feeling immediately guilty as the boy looked at you in complete and utter shock. His lips had slightly parted into an ‘o’ shape and his brows were slightly raised. His cheeks had even begun turning into a deep red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled, trailing off at the end.

You raised your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on, “no, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m a little stressed out,” you admitted.

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it. Like, if you want,” he looked at you expectantly, with a concerned expression adorning his face.

“It’s just my mom. She has a lot of expectations for me. It’s stressful sometimes, y’know,” he nodded at your words, waiting for you to continue, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t really know what to do. It’s like she’s been controlling my life for so long that I don’t even know what I want to do without her telling me,” you finished. 

It felt good letting it all out, and for some reason, you felt comfortable telling Mark about it. He seemed to really listen to you, like he actually cared. 

“Have you ever talked to her about it?” he asked.

“No, she’s not the best listener,” he nodded again.

“Then I think right now all you can do is try to figure out what you actually want for yourself. Like what’s something you really want to do? Like bucket list stuff,” he asked with wide eyes.

“I dunno, maybe a road trip,” you said the first thing that came to mind, mentally slapping yourself at how lame the answer was. “I’ve never really been anywhere,” you explained simply. “Kind of lame,”

He shook his head, “It's not lame if it’s something you want.” You only nodded in response.

“What you want is important, Y/N. Even if you don't know exactly what that is yet.”

               6. I hate that he is everywhere

                     [monday]

“It’s not my fault,” Haechan rolled his eyes at your shocked expression as he spoke.

“Haechan,” you said slowly, “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” you shook your head in his direction. 

You were walking down the main commons area in your school, killing time before your next class.

“If someone says to you, hey! Can I borrow your hanger, how am I supposed to guess that they’ll-” he stopped speaking suddenly, a smile breaking out on his face, “look there’s your boy,” he nodded slightly in the direction ahead of you.

You looked up, almost immediately spotting Mark. He was smiling brightly as he spoke to a girl beside him. She looked to be familiar, maybe from the year below you. You watched as they laughed together, heads falling back as if they were in a movie. You had to admit, they made a cute couple.

“He’s not my boy,” you shoved your friend with light force, ignoring the tight feeling in your chest.

“Don’t worry, pretty sure she’s dating Jeno. Actually no, I’m super sure, every time I see them, they’re sucking face,” he grimaces at the notion, furrowing his brows tightly as if remembering the image vividly.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Why would I worry?”

“Okay, y/n,” he matched your expression, shrugging in the same way you did.

            7. I hate that his car smells just like him

                   [Tuesday]

“No it’s fine, I’ll just find a way home,” you glanced at Mark, whose eyes were on you already. “No, Haechan don’t worry about it. I’ll text you later,” you hung the phone up and looked up at the boy ahead of you.

After you opened up to Mark the previous week, he had begun taking a seat next to you in class. It seemed like you had become friends, or acquaintances at least. That felt weird to even think about. You and Mark were friends? No, acquaintances, you were just acquaintances. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, gathering his belongings.

“Yea, I just have to walk home,” you answered absentmindedly before standing.

“I can, like, give you a ride,” he offered nonchalantly, standing in front of you.

“You drive?”

He smirked at the question, “just got a new car,” 

“Okay then, if it’s no trouble,” you agreed, nodding at him. It was super weird how comfortable you were around him now. There were still things you very much disliked about him, but getting to know him had shown you that there were some things you hadn’t known at all.

“Alright,” he smiled in your general direction before leading the way. You had grown used to his quick pace, keeping up with ease now. 

“It’s nice right,” he pats the old black car lightly, as if he was afraid something would fall off. 

“Super nice,” you agreed with a grin.

You both walked to your respective sides and slid into your seats quietly. You were immediately hit with the smell of watermelon air freshener and the cologne Mark usually wore. 

“You can put your address in,” he pointed to the GPS on the car and you promptly typed it in.

There was a lasting awkward silence after that, Mark focusing diligently on driving while you were focused on counting the red cars that went by. You wondered how long it would take for someone to say something. Eventually, Mark just put on the radio, hoping to fill the silence.

He winced slightly at the country song that began playing, “You wanna hear one of my songs,” he said suddenly, a small smile accompanying his words.

“Sure,” you were actually curious, seeing as you had never heard him rap seriously, only hearing his mumbles when he was bored.

“Press the acronym one,” he said, handing you his phone, eyes still trained on the road. It was almost comical how focused he was while driving whereas during tutoring sessions he was always distracted.

“Que-tay, uhm, qwe-ta,” you tried pronouncing the acronym, eliciting a laughing fit from Mark. His laugh was so innocent you couldn’t help but smile along even though you didn’t know what was so funny.

“Key-tah,” he finally said with a smile.

“Ah,” you nodded, turning the volume up.

The song started off subtly, with a chill beat that matched the atmosphere in the car. You could see Mark’s light blush peeking from your peripheral as the song went on. By the time the second verse began, Mark was humming along before finally fully rapping alongside himself. Again, you were reminded of how addictive his voice was. 

He seemed so passionate at that moment, so confident. He was showing a side to himself that you hadn’t seen before. Someone so comfortable where he was. Someone truly in their element.

“I get why you want to do music,” you commented as the song ended.

“Why?” 

“You love it. I can tell. It’s like more than just a career for you, it’s a part of you,” you said matter of factly. The statement confused you to some degree. You had never seen someone so comfortable in their element. You hated to admit it but you were even a little jealous.

He smiled at that notion, “It is a part of me. Ever since I was young, my dad taught me how to play guitar and that really just jump started my love for it.” You nodded in understanding before picking a random Frank Ocean song on his playlist. 

“You should come to my showcase next week, I just got offered a spot today,” he said suddenly. You were completely shocked that he had asked you. 

“You can bring your friend, I think our whole class is going. It’s supposed to be an end of finals celebration” ah, everyone was going. 

“Okay,” you accepted simply, heat rushing to your cheeks for an unknown reason.

“just put your number in my phone, I’ll send the details later,”

The car ride from then on was more comfortable. What was once an awkward silence had become a relaxed atmosphere where you and Mark would chat about random things like the music on his playlist or the watermelon screensaver on his phone. 

              8.  I hate that he thinks can pull one over on me

                    [wednesday]

 “tutor girl, what’s up?” Mark crashed down into the seat in front of you, setting down a drink carrier from his cafe and a bag.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, shaking your head at his noisy entrance.

“Here you go,” he pushed an Iced Americano in your direction, following with the white bag.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you watched the smile on his face widen as he shook his head.

“It’s the least I could I could do for my favorite tutor,” your felt your cheeks get hot until you remembered one very important detail.

“I’m your only tutor, and you still have to take the full practice test,” you said sternly, putting the straw in the coffee quickly.

“Come on,” he whined out before starting a whole argumentative speech about how the practice tests were annoying.

               9. I hate that he doubts himself

                    [thursday]

“I mean, and I say this with full respect,” Mark began, “I truly don’t think I’m going to do that well,” he admitted, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Mark, just because you say with full respect, doesn’t make it more respectful,” you said with a grin, “but seriously, you’ve been doing so well on your practice quizzes. Over 60% every time, which is way better than what we started with,” you admitted, wincing a bit at the last statement you let slip out.

“Still, that’s not a passing grade,” he shrugged, utterly defeated as he picked up the essay rubric from his desk. His usual brighter than the sun smile had disappeared, leaving you feeling uncomfortably cold.

“Honestly your lack of trust in my tutoring skills is beginning to annoy me,” 

“No, dude, I trust you,” your eyes flew to him at that statement. He was still pondering over the paper in front of him as he continued, “I just feel like I suck at this stupid subject,” he threw the paper back onto the table at that statement.

You found yourself giving a pep talk without even a second thought “No, you don’t. You’re caught on quickly. You’re so smart but you need to stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to do well. Even better than well because you have my help.”

“Thanks, tutor girl. I appreciate you,” you could tell he was sincere because he had met your eyes, even if just for a split second. It was the first time he had ever looked you in your eyes and it was making you feel things.

“I’m serious though, you are way smarter than you give yourself credit for, and you should know that you are no matter what score you get on this stupid test,” you finish, grinning as the smile returned on his face.

“Okay,” he nodded lightly as he stood waiting for you to join him.

You chuckled lightly at the boy as you looked up at him, “What is it, Mark?” he had a sheepish look on his face as if he was nervous about something other than the obvious.

“uhm well,” He was looking intently at you when you didn’t notice, waiting for any signs that he was annoying you.

“Actually, there’s something I was going to ask you,” a light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he spoke. You nodded in his direction waiting for whatever he had to say, looking up to find his eyes on you. 

At that moment you noticed almost like for the first time how pretty his eyes were. They were so doe-like and innocent, you couldn’t stop staring. 

To outsiders, you both would have seemed very odd as you stood just staring at each other. 

“Well, I-”

“Y/N, hurry- oh shoot, sorry,” Haechan’s voice rang from the doorway, pulling you out of whatever trance you had been in.

“I’m almost done,” you widened your eyes in Haechan’s direction for emphasis, looking back at Mark who had already looked away. “What were you saying, Mark?”

He smiled lightly for a moment, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,”

You furrowed your brows lightly, “You sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” 

              10. I hate that I don’t hate him

                   [Friday]

“I told you so,” Haechan was grinning ear to ear as he joined you on your walk to class.

“I could name ten things I hate about him, yeah right,” He laughed to himself suddenly, mocking your old statement. “Imagine my shock seeing your face a few inches away from his. I should’ve taken a picture.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him lightly, finally reaching the door to the lit class.

“I’ll see you afterwards, good luck,” he said, sending you a final wave before walking away.

It was the test date and you were sure that Mark was nervous. As soon as you got into the room, you noticed his fingers tapping violently on the desk, his single mechanical pencil clattering as it jumped around. He was there early, earlier than you were and that was saying something. The room was empty except for the two of you, even despite you being only about fifteen minutes early.

“Mark,” you had to call his name a second time to get his attention. “Mark, relax,” you took the seat next to him and swiftly grabbed his chattering hand in your own. You watched as his leg began bouncing up and down as if it were mocking the pencil’s previous movement, “Mark, breathe,” his eyes were glued to something in the distance, his breath labored.

“Shit, I’m not prepared,” he muttered quietly, “I should have done another quiz,” he breathed out. “and I can’t fucking breathe,” he clenched his brows at the last statement, his breathing coming out as quick huffs.

“Look at me, Mark,” you reached up to turn his chin towards you. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” you said the words slowly, hoping to not make it any worse.

“You have to breathe, I’m right here and I’m not going to let go of you,” you squeezed lightly on his hand to emphasize your words.

“You’ve studied and studied. You’ve worked hard. You’re going to do well. All you have to do now is relax and breathe. In and out,” his eyes were glued to yours before he finally closed them altogether and began taking slow deep breaths.

“I’m here with you, and we’re both going to destroy this thing,” he nodded slowly at your words, opening them a few minutes later as his breathing reached a normal pace and his leg stopped bouncing. 

You released his hand in the next second, sending him a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” was the last thing he said before people began filing into the room.

[Monday]

“I know what you’ve all been waiting for. I have your graded finals,” Your professor had waited until the end of the day to finally share the news, leaving everyone anxious.

It was utterly silent as he passed them around, only the sound of him saying a quick “see me after class,” to Mark, who immediately winced at the statement. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, noticing that Mark hadn’t received his test back.

“Class is dismissed,” he pointed towards the doorway after delivering the final test, smiling lightly at the people whose arms were thrown up in celebration.

Your score wasn’t that big of a surprise, you had gotten what was expected of you. You were way more interested in Mark. So you decided to wait outside the door, watching as students filed out.

It seemed like hours had passed while you were waiting for him. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, completely missing the sounds of someone walking up to you, that someone being Mark himself.

You yelped in surprise as you were lifted off of your feet and spun around in the air.

“What the hell,” was all you said as the boy set you down.

“Y/N, Look!” he exclaimed, handing you the test with a huge eighty-five percent scribbled in red on the top right corner of the sheet.

“Mark, I told you, you could do it,” you hugged the smiling boy, grinning brightly at him.

“I couldn’t have without you, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into your own was making you melt on the spot. 

“No more tutor girl?” you asked, grin never falling.

“You’ll always be tutor girl but, uh,” he paused as if deep in thought for a moment, “I really like spending time with you. I think it will be weird not seeing you all the time,” you nodded in agreement, realizing that the semester had ended, meaning it was summer break.

“Well, we’re friends now right. We can still hang out,” you offered, watching as the boy looked down with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Um, I know we’re friends, but,” he stepped a little closer to you, “I was wondering like, y’know if it’s possible, if you maybe wanna,” he continued to stumble over his words. You couldn’t help but smile at his very awkward, very cute way of asking you what you already knew he was getting at.

“Mark, do you want to go out sometime,” you finally blurted, chuckling at his pink face. 

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said nodding.

“I don’t know if you knew but uhm, I mean it was before, but basically um, I’m sorry I judged you before, Mark,” you apologized suddenly watching as he shook his head in dismissal. It had been on your mind for a while even despite him not knowing.

“I knew you felt that way before. That’s kind of why I was so like reluctant to have you as my tutor,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed lightly.

“That’s why you were so weird the day he told us,” you nodded in understanding remembering the look Mark gave you when you were first introduced, as if you spat in his drink. In his defense you deserved it.

“Honestly, yeah,” he confessed, “but in your defense, I am kind of an acquired taste,” 

“That’s not an excuse. I was an idiot,” you admitted, “Mark, you’re amazing,” he smiled lightly at your last statement, taking the time to just look at you. His brown eyes were like a pool, drawing you in until you sank, unable to stop staring.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

You only nodded in response, waiting patiently as he lowered his head towards your face until he was less than a centimeter away. It felt like hours had passed until his lips grazed yours, allowing a tingling sensation to move throughout your body.

 In a flash, your arms were around his neck and he was holding onto you delicately, like you would break if he was too rough. He tasted like a mixture of mint and watermelon gum. His warm foresty and floral scent was filling your senses, actively intoxicating you as his lips moved against yours rhythmically. The kiss was greater than any apology you could have given him since it was full of the emotion you couldn’t fully articulate. Mark was fully focused on you in the moment, lips moving against yours like a magnet.

“I told you to become friends, not make out in public,” you heard Haechan’s voice interrupt, causing you to immediately pull away from the boy in front of you. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at Haechan's mortified face and Mark’s intense blush.

“Sorry,” Mark muttered quietly, smiling as he looked down at you.

Haechan walked towards the older boy, looping a hand around his shoulder as he spoke, “Y’know, I always saw this coming. She said she didn’t like you, but a best friend always knows,” you could only shake your head as Mark looked back at you as if asking for help. You could hear Haechan going on and on about his premonitions as you trailed behind the two boys, feeling a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Mark was someone you could never see yourself with. He was loud, always distracted, obnoxious, stubborn, and mysterious. But he was also kind, deliberate, hard-working, smart, infectiously positive, and beautiful. You didn’t know when the thought struck you, but as you looked up at the brunette boy walking ahead you finally knew what you wanted. You wanted him by your side for as long as possible.

[airgetlamhh]

Thoughts on Lostbelt 2

Longpost ahead.

So.

Lostbelt 2. Finally played it after so long, and this will contain spoilers.

To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into, I’ll give the thesis statement right here: Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

The entire time I played through the story, I kept waiting for it to pick up. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor pacing, the deus ex machinas, the random things just happening for the convenience of the plot. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor characterization, the constant telling instead of showing, the moral myopia. It never did. 

From nearly the very start to finish, Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

We start off fairly fine! A desperate ploy to sneak through the Lostbelt to meet up with the allies we’ve learned about, the Wandering Sea, interrupted by a Lostbelt Servant attacking us with the intent of stealing the Paper Moon that allows us to perform Zero Sails. All of that is a decent setup!

And then we’re told how strong this Saber is. How incredible they are. How their swordplay surpasses anything else they’ve ever seen, how they desperately wish that Musashi was there, how no no, he didn’t use his sword, he only parried! Things that Sherlock Holmes observes, not Mashu, not the one who’s actually been fighting for two years now, so Mashu seems borderline useless. Holmes figures out it’s Sigurd because...he uses a sword in a Scandinavian Lostbelt, and he figured out that Holmes used magic because Holmes fire magic lasers at him. From this, Holmes is able to pinpoint Sigurd’s identity, and that’s just the setup for the rest of the chapter, really. 

To be specific, what I mean is that we will constantly be told how incredible someone is with very little evidence, and the plot will bend and warp to make certain things happen. 

The scene does exactly one good thing, which is the foreshadowing of Surtr. Coming into it knowing that aspect allowed me to appreciate little bits like Surtr talking about Heroic Spirits like he wasn’t one, and Surtr not being able to kill Mashu because Sigurd resisted it. But that’s about all that was good in the scene, and all it really does is set up a consistent thing of Surtr being one of the only good parts - until he isn’t, of course.

I’m going to shift here from specifics to characters, because otherwise I’d be rehashing the entire story and I don’t have the time or effort required for that. That being said, it is difficult to decide where to start, so I’ll go right to the very building blocks of the story, the themes. 

Lostbelt 2 is, very obviously, attempting to have a theme of different kinds of love throughout the story. Part of this is because it’s very much set up like an otome game that the author Hikaru Sakurai would write, with Ophelia in the center, but it’s a more general theme too, with Skadi and the others all building up towards it. Now, love is an absolutely wonderful thing to build your themes around, exploring and examining it can be great for stories. Beasts themselves do that, examining different varieties of genuine, but toxic love that allow them to be well-meaning monsters.

The problem is that Lostbelt 2 does not engage with these themes on anything but a surface level. Skadi represents maternal love, so she constantly talks about how everyone is her children and how she’s their mother. No examination of the desire to see her children grow, the pain she feels when they fight, the struggle of forcing herself to cling so tightly knowing that it’s suffocating them and going to kill them before they reach 26. 

Napoleon represents passionate love, so he flirts with every woman he sees. No examination of why he’s so passionate or what drives him to burn so brightly, beyond a token mention that for some reason when he’s summoned he’s driven to seek out a lover, another aspect of things happening to serve the plot. 

Sigurd and Brynhildr represent true, romantic love, so they act mushy the entire chapter from the moment the real Sigurd appears. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked their scenes a lot and I’m happy that they chose that portrayal instead of the one I was afraid of where it was yandere jokes day in day out. But there’s no engagement with the fundamentals of their love, nothing that tests it, even the existing complications with Brynhildr’s tragic summoning are swept away with a single line of “I can resist them better now maybe because my saint graph is broken”, so ultimately there’s no conflict whatsoever. And sure, that’s nice, but it’s not very good if you’re trying to build your story around a theme of love. 

Next, Surtr, who represents obsessive, dangerous love. I honestly actually think Surtr’s done well, even if the love he happens to represent is the least positive one. Surtr is capable of only one thing, destruction, and when he fell for Ophelia in that moment where she saw him and he saw her, he decided that if he ever had the chance, he would repay her the only way he knew how: allowing her to watch as he destroyed everything. When he’s summoned, he acts basically like the possessive one in an otome game, constantly talking about how Ophelia is his woman, getting angry when Napoleon flirts with her, spending most of his time pushing things between them as far as they can go etc. etc. I’m not particularly a fan of how his desire to repay Ophelia battling against his singular purpose transformed him into a typical possessive bastard boyfriend, but it’s at least engaged with on a deeper level.

Finally, Ophelia. She’s the otome game protagonist here, born into an controlling family and finally freed, hiding a secret special power, beloved by almost all the men involved in the chapter while she’s harboring feelings for someone else, even has the typical friendship route with Mashu going on. Her love is a love that she doesn’t acknowledge, but that’s all it is. It’s never engaged with beyond the fact that she clearly loves Kirschtaria but insists she doesn’t, and her final scene as she dies is Mashu telling her that yes, she did love Kirschtaria. That’s all. 

For a theme of love that’s supposedly woven into the Lostbelt, it’s barely examined at all. It’s not well written, and in comparison to Lostbelt 1′s theme of what it means to live in a world where the strong devour the weak and how deeply it examined and engaged with that, it’s a genuine disappointment.

Now, to move onto the plot, it’s...in the abstract, it’s fine. Chaldea is intercepted and forced to fight in the Lostbelt and ends up dragged into the overarching ploy by Surtr to release himself and burn everything. That’s a perfectly fine story, but the problem is that when you get to the moment-to-moment stuff, it falls apart completely. 

Skadi is constantly talked up as this incredibly powerful true goddess, not merely a Divine Spirit, and we know she can see and hear our every move because of her snow. How does the story work around this borderline omniscience within her Lostbelt? Skadi just decides not to do anything about Chaldea with zero rhyme or reason. We need to sneak into the palace and avoid alerting the guards, except Skadi already knows exactly where we are, except that doesn’t matter because we need to sneak in for some reason. We get captured with no plan to escape, and it just so happens that not only was Skadi keeping a Divine Spirit amalgamation locked in the dungeons too, but that she can piggyback on you making a contract with Napoleon (pure dumb luck you hadn’t done it before) and force a connection with you too, and then cast spells to hide you while you escape. Skadi knows we’re trying to free Brynhildr, who is the sole threat to Sigurd and Skadi’s own Valkyries in the entire Lostbelt? She just decides to do nothing at all. 

So much of the plot happens because either Skadi makes terrible decisions to do nothing, even though she knows Chaldea is there to destroy her entire world, or it happens because random shit goes on that couldn’t have been planned for like Sitonai. Shit like Surtr suddenly becoming Fafnir and being able to use the Evil Dragon Phenomenon to brainwash Ophelia somehow, like Ophelia’s Mystic Eye being able to do anything the plot demands, even when it explicitly goes against its existing capabilities like rewinding time on Sigurd’s wounds, like Bryn and Surtr somehow being able to resist the effects of her eye with no buildup or explanation. It’s poorly written in terms of the exact events that happen, and that all culminates in Skadi’s one cool moment, where she declares she’s going to kill the seven billion we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand...and then right after, it reveals that Skadi was going easy on us and refused to use her runes of instant death for no reason even though she was fighting for the survival of her entire world. The moment to moment plot is not good, and neither is what comes next, the worldbuilding.

In Skadi’s Lostbelt, half the world is covered in Surtr’s flames, while the other half is blanketed in Skadi’s snow. Where the two areas meet are the only places where life can grow, and so Skadi set up villages there. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough food for everyone, so she enforces strict population control: if you are not the mother or father of a child by 15, you are sent away to be killed by the giants. If you are the mother or father of a child, you are sent away to be killed at 25 instead. Through this tragic method, Skadi enforces a limit of 100 villages with 100 people, a total population of 10000. This is all fine. 

But take a closer look at what we actually see, and this falls apart. First, the giants. The giants are immortal and never need to eat. They do nothing but sleep all day and attack any human that comes close to them. Later, it’s revealed that they’ll attack any heat source including Valkyries, except we know that’s not true. Giants never attack each other, they never attack and destroy any of the plant life around them, they never attack the Lostbelt tree seeds, they even fight alongside mass-produced Valkyries before it’s revealed that Skadi and the three originals can mind-control them! They exist only to destroy, but Skadi can control them with her masks and indeed uses them as labour, keeping them chained up in her castle to be brought out and controlled as needed, or using them to guard Brynhildr’s castle. 

Worst of all, the first time we meet anyone in the chapter, it’s Gerda, who is sneaking out of her village to go to the massive liveable area close to Village 23. This area happens to be the only place she can go to get medicinal herbs that she needs or one of the people in her village will die in childbirth. This area is also full of giants, who have not destroyed it despite being fertile and full of life and heat, and who are allowed to take this place that could be used to grow more food for humans who need it, and simply stay there doing nothing. 

Now, this is where I thought the game would engage with things. How Skadi, in professing her love for all her children, is actually being cruel and unfair. They certainly set it up in the conversations she has, where she casually mentions how humans must die for her coexistence to continue. Skadi chooses to keep the giants alive despite the fact that they are all braindead and can do nothing but kill and destroy the moment their masks are removed. She chooses to keep them alive even though it comes at the expense of the humans who must die when the giants never make that same sacrifice. She chooses to allow them fertile land even though they cannot farm nor do they need food, and in doing so deprive the humans of potentially living longer, having more supplies to do so. She makes these strange choices and then later reveals she can control the giants to do her bidding, and it all seems to fall into place. 

What we see from how she’s characterized early on is that the system is unfair and Skadi is unwilling to change, because it benefits her tremendously. Gerda’s village didn’t have enough herbs to save the children forced to breed by 15, and despite Skadi’s omniscience letting her know that Gerda had snuck out and was trying to save a life, she did nothing. There was no system in place to beg a Valkyrie to get these herbs, and no indication whatsoever that Skadi would use her powers to control the giants to save Gerda’s life. The picture painted is someone who cares about humanity not out of true care, but simply out of obligation. Those who disobey her rules, even for good reasons, are left to die by the engines of destruction she keeps alive.

That’s not the story it tells later on, though. Skadi, portrayed from the start as this all-powerful goddess with complete control over everything, is revealed to be far weaker than we thought, and far less monstrous. Ignore all the times she did control the giants, she actually can’t do it all that well. Ignore all the times she declared she would not allow anyone she loved to be killed, but chose not to act to tell her Valkyries or her giants or anything else to save either Chaldea or Gerda. Ignore the evidence we see on screen that there’s more land that’s simply taken over by the giants, Skadi can only make those initial 100 villages and can’t make any more. Skadi is not bad. Skadi did the best she could. Skadi is morally right. 

Please love Skadi, there’s no complicated moral quandary here, she’s just Good.

Comparisons to Lostbelt 1 are impossible to avoid. Both have the same basic cause, a calamity that was impossible to predict and impossible to avert. The stagnation that dooms a Lostbelt created by the kings in question in their desperation to survive. Ivan turned humanity into the Yaga and created a world of strength, where progress is impossible because everyone in his new world was too busy devouring each other to work together. Skadi created a world of weakness, where progress is impossible because she limited the population to avoid everyone dying out. There is, however, one crucial difference between the two. Not in terms of story, not in terms of characters, not in terms of themes. 

“Your existence itself has already become a grave sin.”

That one line, spoken to Ivan, is the biggest difference between how the story engages things. In both Lostbelts, Ivan and Skadi did horrible things and made horrible choices because they had to, for the sake of survival. Ivan twisted humanity into monsters that lost capacity for mercy or empathy, while Skadi forced brutal population control and careless death on humanity because of her refusal to allow the giants to be destroyed. Both of them did horrible things, but only one is held to account by the story.

What Ivan did was evil, and the story recognises it. It doesn’t accept the excuse that it was all necessary for survival, because that’s irrelevant. It’s evil regardless. This same sentiment should have been expressed with Skadi, but it’s not. Ivan is condemned, but Skadi is absolved. She had no choice. She did the best she could. After building her up as all-powerful, the end of the story instead destroys her agency and power in its haste to prevent any kind of responsibility falling on Skadi’s head. Even to the very end, where she declares that she’ll kill all seven billion lives we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand, she holds back and allows us to win, despite how it butchers her character.

The biggest irony in all this is that Ivan’s world was worse than hers in ways. There was no way for the blizzards to stop, no meat besides for the demonic beasts. Crops couldn’t grow, and instead of living in peace, the Yaga were constantly tormented and killed by the Oprichniki. There were no liveable areas like there are in Lostbelt 2, no merciful ruler that sees all, and controls the greatest threats, no peaceful villages where food can be grown. There’s far more justification for Ivan to claim he had no choice and that he did all he did for survival, because it’s hard to see what his choices were. But Skadi? Skadi intentionally does not act and intentionally allows suffering and pain to come to her children, both actively by not saving Gerda, and passively by allowing the giants to take land they don’t need. Despite this, Skadi is absolved, because the story desperately wants her to be a tragic waifu that you love.

There’s lots more I could talk about. How Sitonai was pointless and existed only for a pathetic FSN reference. How Gerda was a cowardly and manipulative piece of writing compared to Patxi. How Ophelia’s story of always being told what to do is resolved not by her taking the step to freedom herself, but being told to free herself by someone else. The constant repetition that plagues the chapter, the weirdly prevalent sexism that everyone gets in on when it comes to Ophelia’s love life, the nonsense of the final battle itself, the absolute nonsense of Skadi being Scáthach-Skadi. I could even talk about how I’d fix the chapter, because boy howdy there’s a lot there. 

There’s lots more I could talk about, but this is already very long, and I think it speaks for itself. Obviously asks are available if anyone wants me to examine them in more detail, but for now, I’ll finish off with one last reminder.

Lostbelt 2 is bad.  

[lizacstuff]

I'm sure others will ask this but what are you thoughts on the episode of SCK?? I love your in-depth analysis lol. I personally loved it!!! Also can I just say that the edser/hanker chemistry is off the charts lol. If this was the first episode I watched ever, without subtitles, their scenes would be a giant neon sign that says "THESE CHARACTERS ARE MADLY IN LOVE!!!". Eda was beyond cute/in love/adorable in this episode with serkan, girl has got it bad and I wish she didn't have her stupid grandmother and these insecurities in the way ahhh. I really love the Ayfer/Aydan duo, they're fun when they're together and Ayfer wasn't annoying like the last few EPs. Also, Balca can go choke lol, I'm so glad Serkan didn't fall for her trap for him to stay over!! He was like nah come to the party (my girl is waiting!!!). Was serkan about to tell Eda that he had to stop by her house? He seemed really nervous. ANYWAYS, I love EdSer and am going to go watch their scenes 1000x before next week 😭🥰

Thank you! I love Edser too!!!!  Like you, I enjoyed this episode, though it was despite some of the narrative issues (that I posted about here.) There were good, meaty Edser scenes, which is why I watch this show. Once again I'll start with the non-Eda/Serkan thoughts and then get to the feelsy stuff at the end.

Babaanne's introduction did not disappoint. The actress has the right energy for the role. I guess we now know why Eda has been adamant about cutting her out of her life, Babaanne is next level controlling and vindictive. We'll have to see how she develops and what her endgame motives are. Does she want her revenge more than she wants her granddaughter and daughter in her life? Or does she think if she wins and arranges everything including an advantageous marriage for Eda, Eda will eventually go along and decide it's awesome and reconciliation will come about that way? *evil laugh* She doesn’t know her granddaughter at all if she thinks that’s a possibility. 

(more under the cut)

I enjoyed her non-Balca scenes, especially when she was going toe-to-toe with Eda. That scene in Serkan's old upstairs office was intense, both actresses really brought it and kudos to Eda staying true to her defiant character. No one pushes her around. Prepare yourselves to see her waver a bit, I'm sure it's quite jarring to see your loved one in jail and know that he's there because of you, but she'll get to the point of fighting beside him. I have no doubt.

It was nice to see Ayfer protecting Aydan and Seyfi, it made for some great comedy and it was a good change after all of Ayfer's annoying, unrelenting negativity in general and about the Bolats. We'll see what happens between the two now that they appear to be vying for Chef Alexander's attention. Nesilhan just cracks me up when she's portraying Aydan play acting, the stilted voice she takes on is always hilarious to me, like when Ayfer was introducing "Aisun" to Serkan.  As we move forward, though, I want to see some badass Aydan. She  was introduced to us as a force of nature, so I hope we see that woman, a woman who will go to the mat for her son and Eda, emerge at some point. No hiding from Babaanne long term. Everyone needs to gear up to fight!

Peril and Engin got married! Their scene at home was really well done and gave me a bit better insight into them and why they might work. The only thing I was disappointed about here was that Serkan was not their witness. He counts them as some of his only friends and they didn't call him? Come on, show!  They could have easily structured the ep to have him get the call while there was chaos at his loft that morning and it would have been the perfect excuse for him to grab Eda and head to the wedding leaving the moms and Babaane to Chef Alexander.  It wouldn't have changed anything about the episode because Eda still could have gone to do her thing after the wedding and everything else would have been the same, except it all would have had a bit more heart. Missed opportunity there. 

I've decided that Ferit is a catch. At the beginning of the show he was just so naïve, that he seemed foolish, but he's really turned into a sweet, upstanding man. You hold on to him, Ceren. The irony in his relationship with Serkan is just outstanding to me, because ALL of this started because Serkan was willing to upend his own life (and Selin, Ferit and Eda's) will the sole goal of keeping Ferit out of his business, and now here we are 24 episodes later, Selin is long gone, Eda is the love of his life, and Ferit has turned into a solid, trust-worthy business partner and friend who is putting Babaanne in her place on the first day. Love to see it. 

Balca, that snake just gets more unhinged as we go along. Good GAWD. WTF is wrong with her? Her eventual comeuppance better be big. I'm really to the point that I can't enjoy any scene that she's in, it's just too maddening, because neither Serkan nor Eda are taking her seriously enough. Which I realize they don't know what we know, but dang I hope Serkan is finally connecting the dots because her behavior is not normal. As Eda says, who gives a gift like that to their boss? Who calls their new boss instead of the police when there's an intruder in the house?  By now he should be able to figure out she's manipulating him.  

Also how was she not daunted when she called and Eda was there?  What did she think would happen when he came to get the gift when he had Eda to get home to? On top of everything else she's shameless and delusional.  As for the gift, that was creepy AF. Did she seriously think that her boss, who she's known a week, would be romanced by that?  Or any man for that matter? Did Selin give her the impression he was so arrogant that this would be the perfect thing for him? As much as I want less of her on screen, I would like to know the thought process behind that embarrassing monstrosity. Because it was not a savvy move. But the good news is that no one was more creeped out by it than Serkan Bolat. It seemed to really unsettle him, which it should. It was nice to see Eda getting over her jealousy, perhaps that came with her decision to try and move forward. Before she was in this state of flux, deep-down wanting Serkan to be hers, but not being able to admit that and feeling an outside threat during that confusion. 

I saw some criticism of Eda because she was openly mocking and dismissive of Balca. However, while I agree her behavior was a tad immature at times... Balca was totally asking for it.  She's been at the company for mere days and her weird, manipulative, obsessive behavior is totally inappropriate. Also if she didn't take a hint from Eda opening mocking her, Eda picking out her gift from Serkan, Serkan deferring queries about his NYE plans to Eda, Eda being at his house when Balca called, I think we can safely say that Balca in unaffected by any of Eda's behavior, thus Eda isn't hurting anyone. While Balca is over here, claws out, trying to start a war. Balca is the villain here, not Eda for recognizing and making fun of it.

Despite the emotional inconsistencies between Eda and Serkan in this episode, during one scene they were hot, the next, one or the other was cold without rhyme or reason, there were many great conversations. I really enjoyed their conference room scenes in particular. Serkan confident and calming her down, Eda being enraged by Babaanne, but listening to him and letting him calm her down. 

His little Eda Bolat coffee cup gag was priceless, he did succeed in both diverting her and flirting with her in one suave move. Also a nice bit of foreshadowing there, which there was a lot of this episode. Not just this and the bouquet catch, but also every single one of their domestic scenes. 

As I said in this post, the rewrite, or whatever happened this episode, did cause some pretty big emotional inconsistencies from scene to scene. I know most people loved the scenes when Eda went to find Serkan, but it was a little whiplashy for me.  We go from Serkan being calm and collected and happily flirting with her about being Eda Bolat at the office, to a short time later him being moody and standoffish with her at his house? It's understandable that he would be upset at her suggestion that she leave the company, but I would think the man that broke her heart for her own good, would understand why she might think of  leaving in order to get rid of someone who is threatening him! 

It just felt like a weird time for him to hit his threshold with her, especially since this was when they were supposed to be heading to Paris (huge writing fail that there was no "Oh I guess we have to postpone Paris" throwaway line).  However, perhaps that was accelerated for him in the face of a real threat?  Like if it was just another day he's fine with her waffling and their little contract game, but he feels in his bones that this is go time and he needs to find out if she's ready for what's coming?  (Look at me finding reasons for the inconsistencies as I answer this ask, lmao).

Then the shaving scene was interesting. She starts by saying "Leaving was a dumb idea, I'm still here, I'll be by your side," which YAY and seems to me to be a huge step forward for her.... but then he doesn't feel it. Why exactly, didn't he feel it?  So then she transitions to the biggest head scratcher of the episode for me, and I really hope it's a translation fail. She basically references the movie they saw and says,  "If I could erase all memories of you, I would." Um... what? Is she really saying to him she wishes they never met? I sure hope there was some modifier in there, like "bad" memories only or something. It seemed way harsh and inconsistent with their feelings for one another. However, once he starts talking about being a machine before meeting her and his heart being too heavy without her, the dialogue is pretty great. He really bares his soul and she reciprocates with intimacy.  The second half of this scene is absolutely lovely. 

The visit to Aydan's house was interesting.  At some point I'm gonna need Aydan and especially Ayfer to step up when it comes to Babaanne.  Ayfer ran scared the whole episode and it's just not fair of her to leave the burden on Eda. Hopefully, she'll get there. There was a reason Babaanne told Eda not to tell Ayfer about the threats, and threatened harm to Serkan and family if she did so. I'm guessing Ayfer may be better equipped to deal with her mother than was suggested in this episode. The conversation about Eda running from her grandmother as a child and losing the bracelet was very affecting and well done, and thankfully Serkan was out of his sulky mood and in full-on supportive boyfriend mode. Phew, good to have you back, Serkan.

That throne Babaanne brought in was something else. Worth a good laugh. However, I feel like it highlights a few cracks we've already started to see in Babaanne's scary façade. First, there's the one I just talked about, with Babaanne not wanting Ayfer to know what she's up to, so we now know who might be successful in opposing her or might know things that could shut her down.. her daughter. Then this ridiculous throne move had to be her way of unsettling everyone, but as we see that fails with Serkan. He's pretty unflappable when it comes to her nonsense antics. 

Then Babaanne singles out Balca as her ally, which on one hand, it was astute of her to figure out who was the outsider, ripe for the picking, but she straight up choose the wack job, who let's face it, is not going to be all that competent of a foot soldier for her, because she has no allies and she's not in anyone's confidence. Plus she made that critical error with the present being so off-putting to Serkan. Balca might be able to cause problems, but she can’t get Serkan to transfer his affection for Eda onto her, so her usefulness here is limited. Babanne needed to try and fool someone like Melo, Ferit or Leyla. Prey on the nice ones who might try to be accommodating just so everyone gets along. 

Anyway, I loved the Edser scenes in the office, he brought her lemon water! My heart.  And I loved the meeting with the inner circle. Serkan has a plan! Of course our boy does, he wouldn't be Serkan Bolat if he didn't. It's always fun to see how much they all trust him to lead them through these tough times. He will once again emerge victorious. It just may take some time on this one

Note Blaca wasn't invited to that meeting, someone already can sense she can't be trusted. In the meeting later with Babaanne, I loved how Eda was sitting next to Serkan at the head of the table, totally squared off against her grandmother. That blocking was not by accident. It showed them facing her. On the same side. Together. United. That's what we call foreshadowing and that's how they're ultimately going to defeat her. Together. 

It's interesting to me that earlier in the day when Eda tells him maybe she should leave the company he gets upset, but when she shows up at his house and straight up says they can't be together, he's completely calm and is his normal confident self, talking her into staying the night with his usual ease. I'm thinking her manic rambling about him getting tired of her and her grandmother separating them was just too obvious of an emotional spiral after an exhausting day (that lasted 47 years and multiple wardrobe changes) so he didn't take any of it to heart.

As for the reason she needed a place to stay, WTF is Ayfer doing letting Babaanne stay in their home??  Kick her out for the love of God. I don't mind, since it gave us this fabulous sleepover, but come on woman, at one time you were strong enough to remove your niece from her which could not have been easy, where is your backbone now? Find it. Fast. 

LOVED LOVED LOVED every second of domestic Edser. How cute are they? Serkan wheeling her dinosaur suitcase was so adorable. And how cute is it that he bought hot chocolate for her? And THEN, THEN when they went to look at the stars? My heart melted clean out of my chest when he said, "I'm already looking at the most beautiful star."  Remember in 13 when he asked her, "How are you real?" and she basically told him to be careful or she'd get spoiled and expect that kind of romance all the time? Well apparently the romantic robot has an endless capacity to generate heart-stopping one-liners so she really needn't have worried. 

Eda's phone call with the girls was another whiplash moment for me. So wait... all episode her trepidation has been around her grandmother interfering or Serkan getting tired of her, but now she's back to wondering if he can change? Ne? And she isn't articulating what she wants him to change, or talking to him about change at all, only asking her friends if they think it's possible?? The change thing made perfect sense to me in eps 20-22, because she was coming off of his lie that broke her heart, but now I can't figure out what she wants from him. I think this is another casualty of whatever writing changes happened in this episode. I really hope the writers pull it together and figure out what the character's headspace is and stick with it. It's one thing to yo-yo from episode to episode, but to yo-yo scene to scene is too much. 

I know that they're trying to create suspense for whether she would meet him to ring in the New Year, and start fresh, but there are much more elegant ways to do this than constant retread conversations that don't make sense in context with the scenes that came before. Honestly, this episode had a LOT of wonderful scenes and humor and heartfelt moments, but it also felt like a franken-episode,  like if different writers were assigned different scenes and then they assembled the episode without going back to smooth out the tone and emotions.

That leads us to Serkan discovering Eda in the bath. What do we think was going through his mind there? lmao. He looked exceptionally pleased and he did the jokey flirty thing, taking a mental picture, but then when she comes downstairs in her jammies, he has gone into stone-cold work robot mode. I suppose the best I can guess is that he knew she was confused, he knew he had convinced her to stay under the guise it would be platonic and the "last time." 

He's always been a gentleman with her. So perhaps he felt compelled, for her sake, to keep it in that place, but seeing her in the bath send him into overdrive and the only thing he could do is throw himself into work to make sure the situation didn't go any further before she was fully ready? That's my best attempt at explaining it.  Still she was flirting hardcore with him when she came downstairs, it feels like that was the moment he's been waiting for since episode 19, and he let it sail by.  Ah well, at some point soon both their engines will be revving at the same time and we’ll finally get to the sexy times. 

The next morning was 100% adorable. Serkan Bolat serving breakfast in bed. I swoon!  What a sweetheart, because I'm pretty certain that Serkan does NOT like crumbs in his bed so this was a big gesture. And you could see how much she appreciated it, despite teasing him about the portion size. Eda, that breakfast would have been just fine by me, but if the girl has a big appetite, so be it.

Also, Edacim, it would be a lot easier to buy your "confusion" if you hadn't brought him a heartfelt gift that would have taken a good while, like weeks, to procure and then sketched in it for him!!!!  She had to have been planning that for some time.  Anyway, a very sweet gift and one of those moments where actions speak louder than words. We all want to hear Eda say the words "I Love You," but she just said it very loudly here in the form of this gift. Even if she wasn't fully aware she was saying it. It's obvious where her heart is, she just has to give herself permission to follow it.

This ep also brought the funny when half the cast of characters barged in on Edser’s little love nest. Good for both Eda and Serkan for refusing to be a part of the subterfuge for Babaanne. I'm hopeful we're going into a secret relationship/engagement storyline, but at this point I like that neither were cowing to her. Eda is an adult and it's nobody's business but her own where she stays the night! 

It cracks me up that Eda and Serkan were discombobulated by the intrusion, had the silent #married conversation, and headed upstairs together. Mostly because they are the two in the dark, what are they going to figure out by going upstairs alone? What they really needed was to talk to any of the other people to find out what in the hell was happening. Not that I blame them for wanting to escape that scene together. However, what was beautiful was their connection in these scenes. They were functioning as partners, as each other's person, as the one each turns to when they need support (or escape).  And that's really saying something since they were in a room full of the people they're both closest too.

Finally, I'm glad they spoiled the final scene in the fragman, because I would have been too stressed watching Balca's psychotic efforts in keeping Serkan away from the party, and Eda, if I hadn't known he would make it.  As it was, it  was too much to watch. They've done absolutely nothing to make her even a little sympathetic. I feel zero empathy for her, I don't understand why she's willing to take these risks. No man is worth it, girl! Especially not a man you just decided you wanted because of his initials!  The character needs to serve her purpose and go. Soon.

As for Serkan making it in time, THANK GOODNESS. I don't think Eda could have handled being stood up again. Even taking her call was a mistake. That's why we have voicemail, Serkan. And clearly he should have called the police on his way. I sincerely hope that he finds out the break-in was a fake and that's what makes him realize what level of crazy he's dealing with. I assume, because he didn't know what else to do, he left Balca in his home and that's what he wanted to tell Eda right before the police arrived. I shudder to think what damage she might do there alone. Installing a hidden mic or camera for Babaanne? Going through his things? Planting more items. Ew. If that spec is right the place will need to be fumigated.  

Serkan's gift was, of course, perfection. Talk about love in gift form, and did you notice that one of the charms was an "E" and one was an "S"? A sweet, heart-felt detail and a nice little nod to which initials really matter on this show.  Interestingly, after a full episode of inner turmoil, once Serkan arrived, Eda seemed to be all-in. She was bubbly and happy to see him and definitely acting like he was her date. And then the hug! Finally! They've obviously been physically close in recent post-break up episodes, for example elevator, pottery, dancing, skating, but what a relief to finally have this pure, intentional display of affection from her to him. Also a cheek kiss! This show, I swear it makes me grateful for the most chaste of moments.

As I said in another ask, I think the, "Will you be my girlfriend?" was in Serkan's head. We didn't see him say it, she didn't respond and the audio was hollow like it was a thought or memory or dream. However, what I can't answer is why we heard that. Why put it in there? We know he wants them to get back together, so that line doesn't inform the audience of anything they don't already know. So maybe proposal foreshadowing?  On the other hand, there is the line earlier in the episode that was voice over added after the fact (when Edser are in the small conf room and Serkan says he’s going home) so maybe they added the audio after the scene for some reason? I don’t know with this episode anything is possible. 

Then, of course, Babaanne ruins their moment with her evil plan. Next episode will she be sitting on her throne stroking a hairless cat Because it feel like Babaanne may like a bit of evil aura to surround her. Anyway, next stop... jail! I'm honestly excited to see how the next ep plays out. We're going to go through some things, so prepare your soul, but I honestly think we may end the ep in a better place. (new cliffhanger notwithstanding) We shall see. 

[imma-lil-teapot]

TMNT 2003/2k3 Headcanon: Crying - (Leonardo)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Okey-dokey then, with the global epidemic that is the Coronavirus well in action and most of the world stuck in lockdown (starting this Friday for us too), felt like getting the ‘ol creative juices flowing with a little headcanon-y thingy in preparation for -possibly- more fandom writings to keep myself busy during the house arrest (well... it kinda is!) and hopefully my mind off all the bad news. :( 

Also, this is totally my first one on the blog! WOOT! Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!  

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But... well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO - You are here

RAPHAEL

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Don’t have the foggiest.

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

And apparently gifs too, so without further ado: (Completely unintentional but in actuality, totally intentional rhyming)...

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~LEONARDO~

-- It’s no easy feat to make the leader in blue turn on the waterworks. Leo won’t cry for any old reason. It’s not because he has no emotions, far from it, but being the leader of a small ninja clan -who happen to be family as well- is no easy task in itself: he has a lot on his young shoulders and deals with many issues on a daily basis few his age ever have to.

-- It’s because of these reasons that Leo doesn’t cry often. One of the lesser likely to out of the four brothers. But when he does, it’s an emotionally distressing sight to behold. 

-- Leo tends to cry whenever those closest to him -namely his brothers, his father/master and truest friends- are severely injured or are in a dire situation. Remember his angry/moody arc? The thought of losing any of them causes him great pain and distress, especially if he were the cause of any of it, and when that happens, he can’t stop the dampness that forms around his eyes and soaks into his mask. 

-- He’s not fond of crying, especially in front of others, even though he fully comprehends its normalcy. He feels he needs to be everyone’s rock, their fortress of physical and emotional stability to turn to for strength when things get rough... So when the tears start to fall, he feels he can’t show them, can’t allow them to watch him crumble under the gripling weight of helplessness and anguish.

-- He frantically wipes at his eyes and desperately attempts not to sniffle, but it’s a hopeless battle, for his tears are already a steady stream. 

-- He’ll try to hide when possible, usually retreating to his room to allow the worst of the emotions to spill over before returning to the others... Though he may be in there a while: when Leo lets his emotions go, it can be just as powerful as his red-banded brother’s rage. 

-- He spares no time in making sure the coast is clear for the tears are already streaming by the time he reaches his futon, and there’s no stopping them now as he lets himself drop to his knees, only halfway onto the mattress. He purposefully leaves the room unlit, cloaking his form in the darkness. 

-- He sniffs a few times as he shuffles up against the wall, sitting upright against it, bringing his legs up and hugging them loosely and droops his head against a single knee pad. 

-- His voice desperately wishes to escape. To express its misery. But he won’t allow it to, often placing one hand over his face in a bid to quell the sadness and remain silent in the battle against his own inner turmoil. He refuses to let anyone see him in that state of utter sorrow and vulnerability.

-- He whimpers ever so slightly and coughs a few times as breathing becomes difficult. He knows this episode won’t be over any time soon. Fortunately, he keeps some tissues next to his bed for such rare occasions and tries not to blow too loudly. He thinks back to the last time he cried so hard... It’s been a while. It felt like a build up. 

-- Time has been forgotten as he’s lost in deep thought. By the time he slips a hand across his eyes, only the material of his mask is still slightly damp. He clears his nostrils a couple of times before considering whether he was ready to return to his family. He’d of course straighten up his bedding beforehand, and would also require a trip to the bathroom to wash his face. A true ninja leaves no evidence. 

-- Leo tries to put the horrifying images out of head before leaving his quarters. He doesn’t wish to be weighed down again and thus maybe cause his emotions to come out a second time. He knew someone would catch on that time. Instead, he holds his head up high, focusing on the there and now to carry him forward.  

BONUS EXTRA~

-- Failure is also one of his greatest foes. Leo despises it, but not in the irrational sense; he fully comprehends that in order to grow, one has to lose in order to learn and thus, succeed in turn, and while it can frustrate him when he’s unsuccessful at mastering a martial arts technique for example, he understanders it’s part of the process and that no one’s perfect. 

-- It’s when his slipups could spell casualties or death to his family and/or friends is when it weighs down on him like a boulder strapped to his shell. 

-- A really big one. 

-- And it hurts. So much so that it causes him to become despondent and often teary-eyed when no one’s looking.

-- Boi Bloo might also cry from especially sad movie scenes. He gets seriously into the story, and when the scene is just right -perfect music, perfect timing etc.- you may just catch Fearless with watery eyes. 

-- He can’t help it. After all, he’s a leader, and very caring and kind-hearted individual, so movies showing children or anyone/anything defenceless getting hurt has him not only visibly upset, but also angry at the cause. He’s a softie like that. 

-- He won’t have a meltdown, of course, but the tears are definitely there. Just don’t tease him too much; he’s easily embarrassed by it. ;) 

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

You had figured something was up by the time you’d finished greeting everyone in the Splinterson household except for the Turtle you’d long to see most and he hadn’t made his presence yet known. 

The idea that he must’ve been practicing or meditating swiftly vanished when Mikey told you he’d been in his room in the dark for the past few hours. “The guy hardly ever naps, and even so, never this long.” He’d told you. “I dunno, (Y/N), we were about to check on ‘im when you arrived, but maybe you should be the one to. Think he’d really appreciate it.” And there was absolutely no argument from your side as you were already making your way up to the room.

You didn’t know what to expect as you neared the doorway. Could he possibly still just be sleeping? Meditating in the dark instead of his usual spot by the training area? Or... was he sick? The latter now had you concerned and you picked up your pace... Only to pause mid step when an unmistakable sound reached your ears: a sniffle.

Had it come from within his room? It was the only logical explanation as everyone else was downstairs. You were truly perturbed now as you stood outside the doorway and called out the ‘eldest’ Turtle’s name.

There was some shuffling to be heard but you were unable to tell for sure what he was doing -probably trying to neaten up his bed- “(Y/N)? Just a second, okay?” he responded in a rather awkward verging on frantic tone, and you were certain you heard another sniffle escape him. 

That, along with the way he’d replied really didn’t help to put your mind at ease. “Leo, are you alright?” Nor was the pitch blackness in which he remained concealed in.

“Yeah, just... l-looking for something.” There was some more shuffling as if to prove his point, but you were having none of it.

“Then maybe this,” you began, turning around to flick the light switch, “will help?”

“No! Wait!” But it was a split second too late for as soon the brightness illuminated the entire room, you had caught the telltale signs of an emotional meltdown in progress plastered on his face before he quickly turned away and briskly wiped an arm across his face, attempting to hide the shame... or perhaps embarrassment? 

“Leo...?” your heart and voice softened, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You automatically walked to him, closing the gap he was now trying to form. 

“Nothing,” he lied, and acknowledged it was a fruitless attempt but still couldn’t stop himself. Autopilot panic mode was enabled now. “It’s nothing.” 

Unfortunately for him, autopilot mother hen mode was activated for you as you reached with both hands to his carapace and shoulder, gently turning him to face you. “I can see that it’s something.” Your words were gentle, and you wanted nothing more than to take away his pain. “Look at me, Honey.” His body was turned but his head remained to the side. It was clear he didn’t want his obvious distress on display, even to you. “Please, Leo?” You tried again, and slowly but surely, his eyes met yours, and you felt your heart sink further.

The fabric of his mask was wet and eyes were still red with fresh tears that threatened to fall. He appeared so broken and helpless as he stared at you, and even though he uttered no words, you could practically hear him despairingly ask “Is this what you wanted? To see me at my lowest?” from his expression alone. 

Never had you witnessed the leader of this band of mutant brothers cry. At times you had wondered if he ever did, and yet here he was; the incredible pillar of strength and dignity you had come to know and adore, in tears and so dejected that you couldn’t stop your own eyes from becoming damp the more you gazed at him. “Oh, Sweety...” You whispered as you felt your soul shatter. It was too much to bear. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, one around the midsection and the other over his shoulder, and buried your face into his leathery neck, offering every ounce of comfort you could muster.

It didn’t take him long at all to sink into the embrace and return the action. Beyond the point of concerning himself with showing the pain he felt -or the wetness now soaking into your shoulder when he placed his forehead against it- he sniffed and finally allowed the tears to fall once again as fresh waves of emotion surged throughout his body.

And this time, he couldn’t keep the whimpering to himself.

“Shh~ It’s okay, it’s okay,” you soothed, lightly patting and rubbing along the scutes of his shell as he weakly sobbed, finally letting go of all the sadness that gripped him. 

You weren’t even aware of what was wrong, and you most likely wouldn’t find out til later once he calmed down, but right now, he just needed you to hold him. Hold him until the hurt was gone... And so you would. 

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

OMGosh, this turned into a monster! The mother of all HCs!! :O No seriously, this wasn’t meant to be this long! I was suppose to squish all four into one itty bitty little post, but then it just grew... and grew... and GREW! Personally, I blame the Reader Bonus but I’d be damned if I didn’t enjoy writing it! ;P You guys here on Tumblr got me slightly addicted to them and have wanted to attempt some myself so... Anyhoo~ I can’t really say if I’m entirely content with the whole thing, I dunno. I feel some parts are better than others (writing style-wise) but yeah, I really need to get back into the swing of things...

Speaking of which, I DO plan on adding my two cents on the other bois as well, but judging by how this one turned out, they’ll most likely all be this length, more or less, so each Turt will get his own post so I can really jot down those details with all the freedom in the world! That being said, I can’t say when they’ll be added but hopefully soon-ish. :) Raph's next on the list!

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

[sunnysky-evans]

Graded on a Curve - Lucas & Sky

What: Domestic Scene for Scene Week Who: @thesmythethatswitches and @sunnysky-evans When: Tuesday, afternoon

The sudden change of plans didn't bother Sky at all. He didn't have anything else to do that evening and was happy to have something to do. He arrived at the switch's door with a smile and knocked at the door. At the last moment he remembered that he was there for a scene and not just for a social call. He dropped loudly and inelegantly to his knees, just in time before the door opened.July 21, 2020

Lucas was excited to get to see Sky and see how the boy performed in a scene. He smiled as he heard the door knock and he opened it wide, "Well, if that's a sight to see" he beamed as he stood back, "Stand up and come in, you can go sit on the couch"

Sky looked up and smiled brightly. He scrambled up to his feet and went inside. He looked around and saw the couch. He sat down, back straight, hands in his lap, looking up at the switch expectantly.

Lucas smiled at the boy and he was endeared by him, "OK, so Sky what is your favourite chore?"

Sky had to think for a moment. Chores weren't really so much fun, but you had to do them so that things didn't get too messy. "I like sweeping," he piped up. "Sweeping can be fun."

Lucas nodded and pointed to the storage cupboard, "Chore number one then is to sweep my kitchen and bathroom. When you finish, come back here and tell me what you think it should get out of five"

Sky hopped up and went to the storage cupboard. Humming as he worked, he was an enthusiastic, but haphazard sweeper. However both floors were better than when he started. Quite a long while later he sat down and smiled. "I got a five Sir. I did a real good job."

Lucas smiled at the other and he stood to inspect the floors and he had to give it too Sky, it was good even if it was slow. He came back, "Yes you can have a five. Now, please do the dishes and put them away"

Sky wasn't as excited about doing dishes, but he jumped up just as enthusiastically jumped up to do the job. He started in on the dishes, scrubbing them and rinsing them before putting them in the strainer. It wasn't until he was putting the dishes away that the mishap happened. He was reaching too high and carrying too many plates, not thinking through all of the issues and inevitably the top plate slid off the pile and fell to the floor breaking into five or six neat pieces. He lip trembled thinking of the trouble he might be in.

Lucas was relaxing when he heard the crash and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to punish Sky, didn't want to do that at all but he had to talk to him so he walked into the kitchen, "Hey you, wanna tell me what happened?"

Sky pursed his lips, looking down at his hands. "I... I dropped it. It... it.. it wasn't my fault. I... it was slippery." He tried to deflect blame.July 22, 2020

Lucas nodded, "OK so what do you need to say to me Sky?" He asked, prompting an apologyJuly 23, 2020

Sky chewed on his lip, not looking up at the switch. "'m sorry."

Lucas smiled, "It's OK" he whispered, "We'll just mark the dishes down as a one huh?" He said as he stepped a little closer, "And you can clean up and then come and see me in the lounge?"

Sky pouted, not liking that he was only getting a one. It wasn't his fault that the dish was slippery. But Sir Lucas didn't seem mad at him so at least he wasn't going to get a punishment. He nodded and went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess of the broken dish. When he was done he came back to the lounge, his mood much more subdued.

The pout didn't go unnoticed and he made a note to sooth the boy later. He watched as he came back, "Ok we are in six points so just four more to get a reward, can you please dust around here?"July 24, 2020

Four points seemed like something he could do so the smile returned to his face as he ran to the closet to get a duster. Whistling while he worked his dusting was as enthusiastic and haphazard as his sweeping. He might not have gotten all of the dust and he might have mostly just spread it all around, but Sir Lucas' suite was already clean and Sky's attitude was so sunny it didn't seem to matter much. "I'm done Sir."

Lucas smiled as he had watched the other work and he knew the room didn't actually need dusting but he was trying to find easy jobs, "Wow" he said looking around, "This is an easy four points" he spoke, "One point short cause you missed a couple of bits"  he explained. He sighed, "Hmm, think you could fold my clothes in the bed now?" He asked. He'd made sure there was only about 5 t-shirts and 2 pairs of trousers

Sky clapped for himself. "Four points!" He nodded excitedly, mishap with the plate forgotten. "I can do that. I fold my clothes all the time." He skipped off to the bedroom and began folding. Unlike the rest of his cleaning, his folding was very, very careful and very slow. When a shirt wouldn't fold exactly evenly he would start over folding each one in a different, unique pattern. Once he was done nearly an hour later, he came into the living room, stretching and yawning. "I did it Sir. I did super good."July 25, 2020

Lucas was getting concerned about the amount of time it was taking to fold such a small amount of clothes when Sky appeared and he smiled, getting up to go check and coming back, a wide smile on his face, "An absolute five" he spoke with pride, "Last job for you is to hoover the lounge"

Sky absolutely beamed. A five. That was a perfect score. "Yes Sir." His vacuuming was a bit like a lunatic at a demolition derby who just kept narrowly avoiding crashes. It was enthusiastic and energetic and he only ended up banging into a padded chair. The vacuum was a good one so in the end even though there was no rhyme or reason to where or which direction he moves the whole floor ended up clean as a whistle. The trouble came when he was putting it away. The cord would wind up right and he ended up having a small temper fit, sitting on the floor, arms crossed across his chest, cord all around him, and fighting off tears, expression stormy.

Lucas was minding his own business when he heard a bit of commotion and he went to Sky, kneeling down with him and seeing the tears in his eyes, "Hey hey hey, tell me what's going on Prince?"

"I can't make it go back together. It keeps getting all..." He smashed his fingers together, tangling them. "It's dumb!" he shouted sitting back and crossing his arms across his chest angrily.

Lucas nodded, "OK Prince, it's OK" he whispered, "Let me help you". He started to untangle the other and he smiled at him, "Now I make it you got 20 points! What kind of reward would you like Sky?"

Lucas kept his voice very quiet, which helped him to pay attention and calm down. His brother would not have put up with him throwing a temper fit, but Lucas was being very nice to him. He glared at the offending vacuum cleaner for another moment and then smiled and clapped. "Anything? Like anything anything?"

Lucas nodded with the widest smile, "20 is a a lot of points so you can pick absolutely anything you want Prince"

"Ummm... I want... I wanna have cake for lunch and watch The Mandalorian." Cake for lunch was a strict no-no growing up and a constant goal for Sky. He's also run out of people to watch his favorite tv show with as he'd seen it nearly ten times already. He watched for any indication that Sir Lucas would say no.

Lucas laughed and he nodded, "Luckily for you Sky, I have a chocolate cake in the fridge and I have Disney Plus" he spoke, "Would you like to come for cake tomorrow or would you like too fit it in before we have to go back to classes?"

The better thing would have been to wait, but waiting wasn't a particular skill that he had. "Now! Now! Yes please. We can eat chocolate cake and... and watch one episode. Please!!"

Lucas smiled and he moved to the kitchen to get the cake out the fridge, cutting a large slice for the boy and himself a smaller slice, bringing it too the lounge, "Here you go" he smiled and he handed Sky the remote as well

Sky took the remote and practically from memory clicked through to Disney plus and got the first episode of The Mandalorian going in short order. He sat cross-legged on the couch and when he'd devoured the delicious chocolate cake and set the plate aside he leaned into the switch. Cuddling and The Mandalorian kind of went hand in hand in Sky's world. "That was the best cake I ever had except my moms and Blaine's." He pointed at the screen. "Oo... ooo wait... wait, look." The 'cradle' opened to reveal the 'Baby Yoda' "Yaaay! Look!"

Lucas found the other adorable and he beamed at him and the show, "He's the cutest, kinda like you in the cute levels" he smiled as he relaxed back so the other could relax with him

"Thank you Sir. That was a really really good scene. I had lots of fun." They soon had to go back to class, but in the meantime he made the most of it, cuddling with the switch and enjoying his favorite show. They walked back to class together, Sky babbling the whole way about his favorite parts of the show.  Before parting ways, Sky suddenly hugged the other man. "Thank you Sir."

Lucas smiled to the other and he nodded, "You are the sweetest Sky and it was an honour to scene with such a good booy"

[srbachchan]

DAY 4019

SitRfchyd                       Mar 15,  2019                Fri 9:36 pm

Birthday - EF - Kalpana Kakade .. Saturday, March 16 .. greetings for the birthday and wishes for happiness ever ..

मज़हब नहीं सिखाता , आपस में बैर रखना  .. mazahab nahin sikhaata aapas mein bair rakhna .. Religion does not teach us to bear animosity among ourselves

"Sare Jahan se Accha" (Urdu:سارے جہاں سے اچھا; Sāre Jahāṉ se Acchā), formally known as "Tarānah-e-Hindi" (Urdu:ترانۂ ہندی; "Anthem of the People of Hindustan"), is an Urdu language patriotic song written for children by poet Muhammad Iqbal in the ghazal style of Urdu poetry. The poem was published in the weekly journal Ittehad on 16 August 1904. Publicly recited by Iqbal the following year at Government College, Lahore, British India (now in Pakistan) it quickly became an anthem of opposition to the British Raj. The song, an ode to Hindustan—the land comprising present-day Bangladesh, India and Pakistan, was later published in 1924 in the Urdu book Bang-i-Dara.

The song has remained popular, but only in India. An abridged version is sung and played frequently as a patriotic song and as a marching song of the Indian Armed Forces.

... returning back from work and facing the horror of the times of today and many days .. peace quiet and the solace of happiness robbed again from many .. there is the want to bring cheer and a smile .. but it gets laden with the weight of such immense depression ..

.. and normalcy shifts back a few steps , to attempt again .. not knowing what lies in store .. except the purity of prayer ..

Life shall be shorter for me than the many others that shall live a longer and full life .. may they be safe .. may they spend their times in the joys of togetherness, love and friendship .. and may they leave, as we hope we can, a world that can be the envy of those that have gone by ..

Time ends here again by the morrow, and travel shall replace the addresses above .. the destination of home and the schedules of work shall place themselves at varied levels, and efforts shall prevail to accomplish that which remains in some incompleteness .. 

Many of the Blog Ef that comment here and make it readable for me, say they are at times unable to make out the text of the writings and their meanings despite repeated attempts .. 

It is not an encumbrance .. for there can be an attempt to resolve this rather sticky issue .. 

May I ..?

This is .. 

DAY 4018 

StrRCiShba                        Mar 14,  2019                Thu 10:30 PM

Birthday - EF - Amita Fatima Zohra Daheur     ..  Friday, March 15 .. happy greetings for a happy day - a birthday dear Amita .. lots of happiness and love from us all here at the Ef Center .. !!

.. UPTO HERE it IS ALL CLEAR SURELY ..

Some thoughts drift through during the course of the day and before long they occupy every corner of the mind that thinks matters follows creates .. what ever .. and then suddenly .... it all collapses .. .. into an unforgivable tragedy .... and all that one had ever licensed itself to express, drives the thought winds out of that enclosed environ .. into sombre feel and remorse ..

I AM WISHING TO SAY THAT DURING THE DAY WHEN AT WORK I AM THINKING OF MY LINES FOR THE SHOT IN A SCENE BUT AM ALSO THINKING WHAT SHALL I BE WRITING ON THE BLOG .. AND MANY HAPPY AND INTERESTING IDEAS FORMULATE .. BUT BY THE TIME I SIT MYSELF DOWN IN FRONT OF THE LAPTOP, I COME TO KNOW OF THE HORORS AROUND THE WORLD AND ABOUT, AND IT DAMPENS THE PROCESS OF WHAT I SHOULD BE PUTTING OUT ..  

There is ever much that transpires around .. ever much that warrants expression .. a release , an outburst , an unending cry of anguish at most times ..BUT .... there is the evil of restraint .. the command of shut .. the devils of retrospect 

I AM SAYING AND MEANING HERE , THAT THERE IS SO MUCH THAT TRANSPIRES DURING THE DAY FOR ME .. A VIDEO TEAM FOLLOWS ME IN WHATEVER I DO .. WHEN I RETURN I VIEW IT AND WANT TO PUT IT ALL OUT FOR MY EF .. BUT WHEN I HEAR AND READ OF THE TRAGEDIES, I FEEL THE NEED TO RESTRAIN MY EXPRESSIONS .. TO CLOSE THOSE IDEAS THAT FORMED EARLIER IN THE DAY, AND THINK BACK ON WHAT TRANSPIRED , IN THE PRESENT AND ALSO IN THE PRESENT TO BE VIEWED IN RETROSPECT .. TO LOOK BACK AND SHARE THAT MOMENT TOO .. 

..Retrospection revives past deeds .. some in humoured good , some in not so .. the not so is the fear of expressive release at the times of the time .. and by then the times have long past .. at times even forgotten ..

SO .. I AM SAYING THAT WHEN YOU THINK BACK, IN RETROSPECT , THE EVENTS THE MOMENTS COULD BE HAPPY AND FILLED WITH JOY, AND SOME NOT .. THE FEAR OF THIS IS THE MEDIUM .. THE MEDIUM BEGINS TO JUDGE YOU BY WHAT YOU PUT OUT .. AND SOME OF WHAT YOU WANT TO PUT OUT HAS PASSED ITS TIME, AND FORGOTTEN ..

What then could ever be the condition or codes of expressive conduct towards that which now exists beyond decades .. what ..?.. 

SO .. HOW SHOULD ONE EXPRESS ONESELF .. WHAT SHOULD BE THE WAY OF PUTTING IT ALL ACROSS .. EVERYTHING THAT IS PUT OUT, AS I SAID MAY NOT BE PALATABLE TO THE ENTIRE EF .. SO DOES ONE USE CODES TO CONVEY , OR WHAT .. OR ..

hehe .. there never is an answer .. is there .. NEVER ..

THERE REALLY IS NEVER AN ANSWER TO THIS WHICH CAN BE UNIVERSALLY ACCEPTED .. AND IF I CLAIM TO BE UNIVERSAL, UNBIASED, OF NO CONTROVERSY .. WHICH IS HOW I WOULD LIKE IT TO BE - LIKE IT OR NOT - THERE IS NEVER A CORRECT ANSWER OR QUESTION ..

THIS PLATFORM IS NOT TO WEATHER THE STORMS OF THE VARIOUS MODES THAT WE ARE EXPOSED TO EACH DAY THROUGH REGULAR MEDIA OR CONVERSATIONS OR EXPRESSIONS OF OTHERS .. IT IS NOT A SPACE TO DEFY DEBATE .. I WISH IT TO BE A PLEASANT CONVERSATION BY THE FIRESIDE EACH EVENING .. WHEN I SEE AND HEAR ABUSE AND ANGER AND UNWANTED BICKERING, I AM SO SADDENED THAT IT BRINGS ME SLEEPLESS NIGHTS .. THIS PLATFORM WAS AND IS FORMED BY LOVE FOR LOVE .. WHEN IT BREAKS THAT BARRIER, IT BREAKS MY HEART AND MY SPIRIT .. YES MANY WRITE AND EXPRESS ANGUISH OR COMPLAIN .. BUT THIS IS NOT A COURT OF LAW .. NOR IS IT A DESTINATION TO BRING OUT PERSONAL CASTE CREED RELIGION ISSUES .. WE ARE A ONE SINGULAR FREE AND HAPPY FAMILY .. AND THAT IS HOW I WISH IT TO BE  .. IF YOU ARE NOT IN AGREEMENT .. YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE .. 

I SHALL WRITE EVEN WHEN THERE IS NO ONE LISTENING, NO ONE READING , NO ONE COMMENTING .. 

I NEVER DID EVER INVITE ANY OF YOU HERE .. WHEN YOU CAME YOU CAME ON YOUR OWN .. I LOVED THAT AND STILL DO , AND SHALL EVER !

BUT IF YOU BRING COMPLAINT AND DISAGREEMENT AND DISRUPTION, I AM NOT INTERESTED AND NEVER WILL BE .. !!!!

AND TODAY I SHALL PUT OUT A COMMENT WRITTEN BY A WELL WISHER THAT WROTE IN TO MY DAUGHTER AFTER ORDERING THAT ICON 50 YRS T-SHIRT .. IT SHALL BE AT THE END OF THIS MISSIVE ..

I tug at my prosthetic left overs and bring in the wonder of this and that and many more .. but am at a distance in understanding .. .. do I need to ..yes perhaps I should .. and therein lies the dilemma .. what and who and which to bring into the uplight of the front .. to some it shall disturb to some cheer to some moan in agonising lament and to some the calm of silence ..calm of silence ..yes a silence to wring out the limitations of the output .. to witness its reverberations, not just on us but mostly on the other .. the other is ever present even when not .. and that is the state to worry .. worry for they pick and adjust to what they wish not what was in its meaning true, but that which stays in the meanings of them .... it be not a curse of modern communication .. it be the world of the times ..Progressive, pertinent, promising, persistent, painstaking, permissive, petulant, primed, prickly, painful .. and eventually referred to in the past tense  !I am honoured to be in the company of them that favour expression of every rhyme and reason ..

MUCH OF THIS HAS BEEN EXPLAINED RATHER DELIBERATELY AND EXACTLY IN THE PREVIOUS EXPLANATION .. 

I CARE FOR WHAT I EXPRESS .. I CARE FOR IT NOT TO HURT ANY .. I CARE FOR IT TO BRING ALL OF US CLOSER IN LOVE .. TO OVERCOME THE WRETCHED DEBATES ON LIFE AND LIVING AND INCIDENTS THAT ARE SO SO DISTURBING AND TERRIFYING AND SIMPLY UNACCEPTABLE .. 

WHAT WILL I GET IN GIVING AND EXPRESSING MY GRIEF .. WILL IT STOP .. WILL IT WILL IT TO NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN .. WILL IT ..??

IT SHALL ONLY BECOME MELODIOUS CONTENT FOR THEM THAT MAKE COMMERCE OUT OF IT .. ONCE THE COMMERCE HAS BEEN SUCKED TO ITS BEST BOTTOM LINE FINANCIAL REPORT, THEY SHALL MOVE ON TO THE NEXT TOPIC .. ANOTHER TOPIC THAT SHALL HAVE THE CAPACITY TO FORM ANOTHER MUCH NEEDED CONTENT FOR THEIR RESPECTIVE VEHICLES .. YOU MY EF ARE NOT VEHICLES, NOR CONTAINERS OF CONTENT .. YOU ARE MY LOVE AND MY NEAREST DEAR .. TO HOLD TO EMBRACE TO LAUGH AND TO SMILE IN UNISON .. YES IN UNISON ..

BECAUSE WHEN WE LAUGH AND EXPRESS IN UNISON , IT BRINGS THE GREATEST JOYS TO MY EXISTENCE .. 

WHEN YOU STOP IT .. THAT IS AND SHALL BE YOUR WISH .. I SHALL MISS YOU, REMEMBER YOUR PRESENCE OF THE BETTER TIMES AND MOVE ON .. THE BAD AND THE UGLY SHALL NEVER INVADE MY BEING .. 

THANK YOU ..

.. and now I wish to put out that which has been written by well wisher .. a moment which i agree upon .. its been titled The Icon .. a term I absolutely disagree with and hate .. but there it is :

“The ICON

Grandiose doesn’t define him With love and prayers He is fortified. One amongst us Is his place Sincere in his humility Is his grace Let him be... With his thoughts And his work Let him be... With whom he loves And those who care. A gifted man Knows where he stands He doesn't seek veneration He doesn't seek adulation Just like us, He seeks joy Just like us, He feels the strain. Fanfare doesn’t sway him Grandiose doesn’t define him With love and prayers He is fortified. One amongst us Is his place Sincere in his humility Is his grace Let him be... With his thoughts And his work Let him be... With whom he loves And those who care.”

Amitabh Bachchan

[regrettablewritings]

How You Met AU: Clark Kent

Lifted from this ship meme

The world was strange, and Clark wasn’t sure how much right he had to conclude that for himself. Because, on one hand, he was a flying, laser-shooting alien with unparalleled strength. But on the other, he was involved with a team composed of two technical demigods (both whose people were thought to be myths), a cyborg revived from the brink of death by a box, and a man fast enough to phase through solid material with just the proper amount of focus. This went without mentioning the fact that his enemy-turned friend was a billionaire who’d been dressing like a bat for the last three decades but, all things considered, that was arguably normal by comparison.

But, with the exception of Victor, you never would’ve assumed such oddities about any of them. Not at first glance at least. But that was the point: The world could only handle so much strangeness before people became too opposed to it for it to carry on. Which was why it made Clark a little more than on edge when things around Metropolis started to seem a little . . . odd.

It started off with little things: Black marks appearing in alleyways, cracking and booming noises often occurring before or after. “Not unlike thunderclaps,” witnesses would later say. TVs and other electrical devices going wonky or even outright snapping out of life. Fuse boxes would be blackened, the areas around them sometimes scorched. But the electric companies couldn’t find anything about the equipment that would suggest sabotage; and inspectors on the case found little to nothing that could suffice as evidence that there was purposeful vandalism. And with all the more obvious surveillance cameras damaged before any footage could be captured, there was only so much to go on. There was little rhyme or reason indicating a pattern to which areas got struck besides the fact that they tended to be in wealthier areas, but considering much of Metropolis was inhabited by the upper-class, it was nearly a moot note so the likelihood of a successful stakeout was remarkably slim – if performed by the average cop.

Bruce wasn’t a cop. But he also wasn’t the average detective. It had taken some time and a lot of surveillance, coupled with Lois’ own findings done on her own time, but by the end of a month and a half, they were pretty certain they had found their culprit. All that was left was to have Clark find them and bring them in, hopefully to join the League.

Why Clark?

“Pretty sure that if you get electrocuted, you’ll just register it as a tickle,” Bruce admitted. Blunt, but fair.

Still, Clark couldn’t help but think as he scouted the skies one night, maybe the rich guy who has plenty of time the next day to rest might want to go searching in the middle of the night?

But there was no use in arguing, much less at this point. Though some small part of him wish he’d put up a bit more of a fight beforehand. Normally, Clark was glad to have found the city experiencing little to no issues, especially at night. However, considering the added weight of expectations placed on this particular outing, there he couldn’t help but hold a little bit of anticipation in him –

VwwmmmmmpapapapKRACK.

It was faint, being in the distance, but it was nothing his hearing couldn’t register: The sound of fuse tampering and popping out of life. There, some odd three miles away: There was a glow swelling and slightly throbbing with diminishing power, crawling out of an alleyway into the night air.

Well, Clark thought somewhat optimistically. At least I won’t have to track them down based on looks alone . . .

 +++++++++

 Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be the start of something new. Something good and new, specifically. Not getting into a freak accident involving a weird, unnatural-looking cloud appearing just as you were checking out your apartment’s fuse box and waking up months later from a comatose state. That alone should have been enough of a cue that things weren’t going to go your way.

But, oh, it didn’t stop there. It would’ve been fine to have stopped when a majority of your clothes would stick to you regardless of the fashion; that was bearable. But it went on: From your phone exploding in your touch to your electronics following suit. It didn’t stop when the electricity in your building flickered with your rage; nor did it stop when, on a fearful whim, you attempted to summon as much voltage from as many transformers in a three-block radius as possible – and succeeded. Well, that is, before your attempts to return the acquired energy resulted in their sources exploding. You weren’t trying that again.

Not until you had a better grasp of it all. . . . But god, why was it all so dam hard to grasp?

You’d though it be best to practice in the richer parts of town – the electric company would be in a far bigger hurry to bring them their power back, the absolute bastards. But with how many generators and the like you were destroying, you were running out of practice space.

You groaned as you watched the circuit box before you begin to putter out of use.

“Greeeeat, (Y/N),” you told yourself. “You finally begin to get the hang of putting shit back where it came, you get a little too excited, and blam-o.” The all too familiar feeling of disappointment developed a sigh in you; you had long since passed feeling anxious about the destruction of property, and you knew you could do no good by trying to fix it. All you could do now was leave the scene, pretend to sleep peacefully, and try to figure out where to go next.

It had been nearly two months since you started your high-voltage, highly dangerous practicing; surely by now the cops were on to you, what with most of your “victims” being people of note. Logic said to shake them off your trail by moving to a type of location they wouldn’t have seen comic. But . . . that meant going to lower-income neighborhoods. And as much as you wanted to figure out how to stop blowing up electronics by touch, you really weren’t comfortable with doing it at the expense of those who needed the help more.

“Good evening,” came a voice, yanking you out of your nervous thoughts. It had taken your brain a moment to register it, but you could’ve sworn it came come from the sky: A type of voice dashing heroes in old movies would use; heroes with big, strong chins.

Superman did, of course, have such a feature on him, you came to find. But as he descending from the sky, into the alley (thus blocking your way out), you were forced to consider that every feature he had appeared to be big and strong: His towering height, his bulging muscles that the suit made no effort to hide, his . . . hands that would most definitely kill you if he so much as poked you with one finger.

That last thought alone, even in a hypothetical sense, was all it took for your fight or flight senses to kick in, your hands suddenly flying up in defense with fizzles of what electricity you’d collected springing in your palms.

Superman, however, did not flinch. He barely even regarded your sparkling, trembling hands (which did nothing for your confidence, both in your abilities and in your chances of getting out of this unmaimed).

“You don’t want to do that,” Superman stated. Simple as that. And he was right: You really didn’t want to have to “fight” him. But what else could you do?

  On Clark’s own end, he could just feel the anxiety radiating off of you. He didn’t even have to listen for your heartbeat thundering in your chest. Honestly, though he hated to admit it, looking at you reminded him of seeing small, scared animals back in Smallville. Rabbits and mice found scittering about on the farm to be more specific.

On one hand, he was just glad you weren’t some hyper-powered hooligan willing to throw a punch in a fight they weren’t ready for. But on the other, he felt a little bad scaring you like this. It was probably best if he didn’t near you. For now.

“It’s okay,” he offered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sighed and lowered your hands, your pitiful static fizzling to a halt. “Look,” you said quietly, “I promise I’ll go away. I’ll switch towns! I swear!”

At this, the man furrowed his brows. “I’m afraid that can’t happen . . .” Your heart plummeted before being slingshotted back into a revived desire to plea and flee.

“I swear, okay! Nobody was supposed to get hurt!” you insisted. “I don’t think anybody even really got hurt, per se . . . Just inconvenienced. But I promise, it won’t happen again – ” In the midst of your rambling, Superman took a step towards you. It was a simple movement, all things considered, but for you, in this moment of high stress, it might as well have been an outright threat. You couldn’t stop yourself from releasing a pathetic yelp, nearly stepping all over your own feet to take a few steps back.

Crap, Clark cursed. Okay, clearly acting serious and stern was helping nobody. At this point, you were probably going to run in the opposite direction and smack your skull against the dead end of the alleyway. To hell with this.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he suddenly said. He raised his hands in a weak attempt to show his change of demeanor. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” You had to admit, even in your moment of fear, the sudden shift in tone was not lost on you.

He still had hints of old school hero in his voice, but now there was something . . . more? It was hard to place (especially in your current jumpy state), but you were just able enough to pick out nodes of what his voice now held: Sunshine; apples; the type of voice a sweet man running a humble little bookstore or fruit stand might have.

It had to have been a trap. You weren’t one to disapprove of Superman, given all that he’s done, but being on the other side of him just wasn’t doing much for your ability to think straight. And Clark could sense it.

“Hey,” he tried again. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” You blinked, a brow slowly beginning to raise. “We – I’ve been looking for you, per a friend’s request, and – ” No sooner had he said it, Clark regretted it. The look of resumed discomfort of your face made him really acknowledge that.

“ ‘Friend’?” you demanded. “Who the hell is your friend? What do you want?!”

Oh, geez.  

“Listen, please, remain calm!” Clark pleaded. To him, in that moment, he’d thought he’d been sounding gentle enough. But as the nearby streetlights began to flicker, he knew better.

Once again, regret: If there was anything he’d learned working with Lois and Bruce, it was that telling someone on the verge of panic or in the midst of complete frustration to “calm down” in any sense was a bad, bad, bad idea. Saying so to a person who had powers, controlled or not, however? Absolutely terrible idea.

While your previous attempt at intimidation by way of summoning electricity had done little to impress Clark, he had to admit: You were a bit better at it now. The more the streetlights blinked, the more streams of electronic light appeared to gather towards you, specifically in your palms and feet.

“Look, buddy,” you hissed. “I’ve been dealing with a lot of crap leading up to this. I moved to a new city. I got goddamn electrocuted into a coma – ” At this point, Clark couldn’t help but notice thin streaks of static begin to make a beeline towards your eyes. Not promising, if his experience had told him so.

You gritted your teeth, increasingly glowing eyes narrowing. “Then! I wake up to these – these stupid, stupid powers! Powers I don’t have the first fucking clue of how to control. But do you see me running around, actively trying to kill people like every other goddamn psycho in this ‘city of tomorrow’? No! I’ve had to figure all this crap out on. My. Own.” The brights of your eyes increased, simultaneously illuminating the growing rage of your expression while also blinding Clark to being able to make it out in the first place.

At your feet, small currents began to sizzle against the crackling pavement. You were no longer trying to back away: You took a step forward, and it definitely made Clark feel worry.

“Could I have done it differently? Sure. Maybe. But don’t forget, Flyboy: I could’ve been so. Much. Worse!” Clark could hear the tingling rattle of lightbulbs struggling within the streetlights, trying to retain whatever power they could.

“I – ” But Clark was cut off.

“And you,” you growled, “have the audacity . . . To tell me to calm DOWN?!” In that moment, three things happened in the following order:

The first had been that your eyes, filled with so much fury, could no longer remain squinted; they widened, revealing themselves to be entirely white with pure energy at this point. The second thing appeared to be connected with the sudden snapping, due to it being how any lightbulb in a streetlight or artsy lamp within a three-block radius became overwhelmed – too overwhelmed to maintain proper form, in fact. They popped and shattered, leaving bits of glass to tumble to the streets below.

The third instance, however, had nothing to do with your powers: It was just Clark, getting a word in.

“I get it,” he said. Had there been any lightbulbs left, they might have shattered as well in sync with the snarl you gave the man.

“Quit lying!” you demanded. The wave of volts began to ripple all the more erratically. But Clark held his ground.

“I’m not lying,” he swore. He even placed one hand to his heart, the other upright. “Scout’s honor.” Unfortunately for him, the sincerity of a Boy Scout appeared to mean little to you. He went on, “I didn’t always have control of my powers. I didn’t have anyone to help me figure them out; I had to wing it!” You raised a bemused brow in reaction.

Okay . . . Clark thought. It’s . . . better than the glare, I guess? He swallowed. Dare to try one last time before things potentially get yucky?

“That’s, uh, actually why I’ve . . . come to find you,” he stated. “The friend? I swear he’s a good man. A little rough around the edges, but – ”

“You’re not helping your case,” you snapped.

“I’m a part of a sort of group, there’s people like you and me, and we think it’d be best if you joined – er, if you wanted to.”

“Ah. So, you want to basically make me into a weapon?”

“Nonononono, not that at all. I swear. It’s just – Look, even if you don’t want to join,” Clark bit his lip, “we could at least potentially find a way to help you get those powers under control so that you won’t keep breaking stuff.” A beat passed. “Well,” he shrugged, “it’s more like my friend will. He’s good with science and can definitely provide the right materials.”

To his credit, Clark did begin to notice an apparent lapse in the energy you were emitting. It was hard for the average eye to properly compute it but for him, the change was definitely there.

On your own end, you had to admit: The temptation was definitely lingering through his words. But then, perhaps you were just desperate and overwhelmed and looking for an out in this entire situation. But something still very much bothered you.

“How can I know I can trust you?” you asked, brow completely scrunched with uncertainty. The entire situation considered, it was still a bit of a shocker for one to not entirely trust the great and beloved Superman’s words. And, judging by his stumbling, it wasn’t a scenario he had been prepared to answer right on the spot.

“Uh – Becaaauussseee . . .” Another thing Clark had learned working with Lois and Perry Mason: The longer you stammer and search for answers, the less legit your word comes cross. His mind scrambled for something, anything that would win your favor over. But, in the end, there was only one thing that stood out. And, for the first time completely since landing in that alley, Clark felt just as nervous as you had.

“My . . . name . . .” He inhaled deeply, trying his best not to exhale chill winds. “My name . . . is Clark Kent. I work with The Daily Planet.”

You blinked. “. . . Pardon?” The voltage at your feet dampened.

Clark continued, “I’m a Kryptonian refugee, but I was raised here on Earth. The friend who sent me here is – ” He stopped himself short before deciding that Bruce could kick his ass about this later. “It’s Bruce Wayne.”

“Bruce Wayne?!” you interjected. Part of you wanted to call crap but the other part of you had to remember that the man in front of you was claiming to be a humanoid alien who worked at the local newspaper; who’s to say he really wasn’t acquainted with the rich guy across the bay? Judging by the hint of smile this Clark Kent guy let slip, you . . . honestly couldn’t bring yourself to really disbelieve him. The static at your fingertips dribbled into your palms before shrinking away.

“Yeah, uh . . . It’s a bit of a story,” Clark claimed, a bit of sheepishness in his voice.

The shift from mostly illuminated to just barely lit by the light of the moon was sudden and startling. But for Clark, it was a good thing. The ground immediately beneath you had been blackened by your doing, but you otherwise appeared perfectly fine, if a bit curious.

“Got proof?” you asked.

“I mean, I gave you my secret identity – that’s pretty trusting if I do say so myself,” Clark pointed out. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. And you were getting awfully tired. In fact . . .

In that moment, you had realized something: That was about the most power and damage you’d caused ever since getting these powers in one fell swoop. You were a little impressed. But you were also plenty concerned. Sure, you’d meant to be threatening in the moment, but the fact still remained: If the only other person around hadn’t been Superman, how easily could you have actually harmed another person in your moment of anger? The second you attempted to truly ponder it, a shudder threatened to ripple through your body; you did not enjoy considering those odds.

But how long until you got so pissed off that you pulled another one of those? How long until you actually did cause harm? That thought was even worse . . .

“Are you positive?” you mumbled, causing Clark to cock his head by an inch.

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

You looked him dead in the eye and dared him to lie: “Are you positive you guys can, like, help me control my powers?” The smile he gave you alone would have been enough to convince you.

“We’ve trained with literal scientific anomalies and legends, Miss. I can assure you: You’re in good company with us.” The sweet, honey warmness of his voice did everything to calm the well of fear and guilt within you. It was more than enough.

“Okay,” you said with finality.

“Okay?”

“Mhm. Let’s do this.” Almost instantly, however, you raised your fingers to draw a point. “But I’m not fighting or anything. Just so we’re clear. I’m just coming along to get my groove in order, so tell your ‘friend’, Bruce Wayne, alright?”

The man didn’t even try to hide a chuckle at your stance. You were going to be just fine, he’d decided. And you? Well . . . the jury was still out on whether or not this was where your move to Metropolis would finally turn into a good, new thing.

[thesffcorner]

Pokemon: Detective Pikachu

Pokemon: Detective Pikachu is a live-action/CG animated film, set in the universe of the Nintendo Pokemon games. It follows Tim (Justice Smith) who goes to Rhyme City, a metropolis where Pokemon and humans live side by side, to find out what happened to his father, detective Harry Goodman, after disappearing along with his Pokemon partner.

At Harry’s apartment, Tim runs into a Pikachu, except this Pikachu can talk, and Tim seems to be the only one who can understand him. The two set off on their own investigation to figure out what happened to Harry.

I really dislike when people justify the quality of a movie by saying “well it’s a kid’s movie”. That’s no excuse; Zootopia, the film Detective Pikachu is desperately trying to be, is also a kid’s movie, and that film deals with racism, discrimination, prejudice and even drug abuse, while still being incredibly entertaining and funny. Even the OG animated Pokemon films had more bite than this wreck; at least the first Pokemon film was about animal abuse, and the limits of power. This, is a toothless film that does nothing new, and has no story; it only exists to sell merchandise.

Let’s start with the positives, because there really is only one; the animation.

It’s clear that the budget for this film went all into the Pokemon designs and animation. All the Pokemon are beautiful; they are lovingly rendered and animated, and their designs manage to walk the really thin line between being adorable, and photo-realistic. They are still Pokemon, brightly colored and out there, but they look perfectly at home in the noir setting that is Rhyme city, and for the most part make perfect sense in this context.

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t know what to do with the. There are very few scenes that are inspired, and actually use the Pokemon in anything fun or creative. There is a scene with some giant Torteras that was pretty fun, and later on a scene with a flock of Bulbasaurs that was beautiful, but it also reminded me a lot of Avatar. However, most of the film doesn’t have the Pokemon do anything; they hang out in the background of shots, they look cute or adorably gross, and sometimes they are part of a small gag, like the Kubone at the start. The most fun I had in the film was just pointing at the different Pokemon, and calling out their names, like a 5 year old child (which I imagine is exactly what Nintendo wants me to do in this film).

Because Rhyme City doesn’t allow Pokemon being caught in Pokeballs, training, or Pokebattles, we only get a single illegal battle that’s hamstrung by the fact that Pikachu doesn’t remember how to use his powers. Most of the appeal of Pokemon as a franchise is the collection and battle of the various Pokemon, and that element is almost entirely absent here.

This film’s other big selling point is Ryan Reynolds as Pikachu. Once you get over the initial shock of hearing his very recognizable voice coming out from the mouth of a yellow, electric rat, the appeal diminishes pretty quickly. Reynolds just isn’t funny in this film; he talks a lot, but makes very few jokes, and the ones that do land are far too few. Additionally, there is a pure dirth of visual gags; having your lead character be the only one who can hear his Pokepartner and understand him in a world where no one else can is a goldmine for comedy, but there was really only one gag that landed for me, and no it wasn’t the one where Tim loses his pants.

Moreover, I feel it’s maybe gauche to complain that Pikachu’s characterization was inconsistent in this film, but it really was. Even without the twist, when Reynolds is voicing Pikachu, he flip flops wildly between comedy, and serious drama, and a lot of the more dramatic elements aren’t justified in the film. He has a very strange mental breakdown at the end of act two, where he claims he hurts the ones who are close to him, and he’s dangerous and it’s like… where on Earth is this coming from? He’s been nothing but incompetent for 70 mins of this film, where was this characterization before?

This wouldn’t be so bad, if the film didn’t insist on telling both an engaging, noir detective story, and hard hitting emotional drama between a father and a son. But that’s the hill they are willing to die on, and it’s at the expense of all the stuff that makes Pokemon fun.

Let’s talk about the ‘mystery’ first.  It’s just a rehash of the first Pokemon film; there is a billionaire benefactor obsessed with Pokemon, a corporation wanting to control them and manipulate evolution, Mewtwo is here. How Harry ties into all this could have been interesting if the film had a consistent through line and allowed Pikachu and Tim to actually be detectives and retrace Harry’s footsteps, rather than constantly having various other random characters drop in and tell them what happened.

Even ignoring that, it’s still unavoidable that this plot is a poor and obvious rip-off of Zootopia: we have the unlikely pair of detectives, a convoluted mystery that links to the government, a creepy abandoned experimenting facility, a drug that makes the Pokemon/animals go feral, and EVEN a missing person’s case no one wants to touch or investigate.

The difference is, Zootopia committed to the story and tropes it was using; the relationship between Judy and Nick was a mirror into the larger conflict between predators and prey in the city. They kind of try to do a similar thing here, where Bill Nighy’s character has a strained relationship with his own son (Chris Geere), but it’s a poor, muddled attempt. We don’t care about either of these people, and the revelation that Harry knew Nighy’s character comes too late in the film to change that. The film is too inconsistent and lazy to make any real points about why experimenting on Pokemon is bad, other than in the most simplistic animals shouldn’t suffer message.

The absolute worst part was definitely the relationship between Tim and his dad; mild SPOILERS for this part.

When Tim was 11, he was about to enter his most important Poketurnament, but he missed it, because his father had to take his mother to the hospital due to some kind of accident. Tim was mad at both of them, but then his mother died on that day. Unable to cope, his father moved to Rhyme city, and then invited Tim to live with him, but Tim refused, because he was 11, and depressed, and his father had LEFT him and SENT HIM A TRAIN TICKET, instead of picking him up like a normal adult would.

The whole film, we spend watching Tim, who is lonely, awkward and doesn’t have a Pokepartner, or like Pokemon bond and grow to care for Pikachu, only for then to have his father come back, and he ends up without a Pokepartner again. So why were we building up this Pokemon-master relationship the whole film?

Everything to do with Tim’s mom and his dream to be a Poketrainer was done really poorly. Until my friend pointed it out, I didn’t even realize Tim had stopped training Pokemon because he missed the tournament the day his mother died. There could have been some real drama there, about a child being angry at his parents for not taking him to his then most important event in his life, only for him to then lose one of those parents and have to live with the guilt of being angry at his mom the day she died. But we get nothing like that in the film; Tim is just angry at his dad, with good reason, I might add.

His dad was a shitty parent; he left Tim alone after losing his mother, and he couldn’t even bother to come pick him up and take him to the city, sending him a ticket instead. He then never contacted Tim for the next 9 YEARS. I can’t blame Tim for thinking his father didn’t care; I’m more shocked he so quickly decided he did care because he saw the picture of Tim’s mother in his dad’s house. And then his dad thought it would be a wise idea to send him another train ticket for his 21st birthday? I feel like there are some steps he could’ve taken in between, like I dunno, maybe CALLING HIM.

There is also a twist in the film, that is so obvious and predictable, it’s insulting to call it that. Throughout the film, we never see Tim’s dad; he’s always in silhouette, or obscured or out of frame. The only other big name actor in this movie, outside of Bill Nighy is Ryan Reynolds; hmmm, who could Tim’s dad be.

Let’s ignore the fact that Smith and Reynolds look nothing alike, not to mention Reynolds doesn’t look a day above 30, so him having a 20 year old child is wild, we are supposed to find it heartwarming when Tim throws the stupid train ticket away and stays in Rhyme City. But Reynolds acts nothing like what he did when he was Pikachu, and we spent the whole movie watching Tim bond with Pikachu, not his dad. So for us, this is a complete stranger, who is even less funny than when he was playing a yellow rat, so how is this a win for anyone?

Overall, I only recommend this film if you really, desperately want to see CGI Pokemon, or you have young children who are into the games. I promise, you will have more fun just watching the first movie, or the show, or heck, just playing the games. It’s uninspired, it’s predictable, and it’s not really funny; watch anything else instead.

[jaerie]

11/11/11

I was tagged by @phd-mama and @allwaswell16 and @chloehl10 so this is more like 33/11/11 hahaha  I got a little carried away with this but I love answering stuff like this

Answer 11 questions, come up with 11 more, tag 11 people.

1. Tell me, do you like music on when you write?? 

No, I have to have silence.  Or, you know, normal household noises.  When I was in high school I listened to music with the tv on while doing my homework but now.... I think it’s moreso because I periodically close my eyes and visualize the scene or really throw myself into the character to get the emotions right and the music just takes away from that.  I also hear music in a really complex way which I won’t explain here because this is about writing, but yea, it’s too much stimulation

2. Are you someone who plots everything out before you write it?

Absolutely not.  I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve actually plotted something for a fic in this fandom.  I’m definitely a fly by the seat of my pants kind of writer.  I generally have somewhere the fic is going, but I usually let the characters steer so sometimes it vectors off someplace I never expected it to go.  That’s how so many of my better fics have gone.  I did have to plot out As We Were, As We Are extensively because wow complex precise true to life timelines, but that’s really the only one I’ve actually done a real one for. 

3. Do you write in chronological order?

Most of the time, yes.  Occassionally I’ll jump down and write or start a scene that either inspired the whole fic or that I want to get down before I forget it, but I usually write from start to finish.  

4. Do you like to eat while writing?

hahahahaha usually no.  But only because I’ll get distracted and like.... not write.... 

5. Is there a trope you love?

I am a sucker for fake/pretend relationships.  It’s so obviously one of the most predictable storylines but I’ll read every one of them.  I don’t know why.  The misunderstanding angst of it... I don’t know! 

6. Have you written it? (See 5)

I don’t... think so... Is that bad I don’t remember?  But I don’t think I have 

7. Is there a trope you hate?

I can’t really do the sugar baby/daddy scenario... there are a few cases where it’s worked but in general, no.  

8. Have you written it? (See 7)

I think there is a little bit of it in a couple maybe?  And someone asked me to write one that’s still in my maybe pile... so I might.  

9. Can you read your main ship with other pairings?

Depends.  Usually yes because if it’s a pairing I don’t like I just kind of generically gloss over it in my mind a bit?  Or imagine the same description but not that exact person?  But there aren’t really a lot of absolute nos for me and it’s usually related to me not like that PERSON rather than the ship (taylor swift for example, have to really speed through fics with her in parts BUT like I said, it’s easy for me to imagine a likeness that’s not HER specifically. Idk).  If it’s well written then it’s worth getting through it, if it’s not well written, I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.  

10. What’s a solid NO GO for you?

I don’t have many and most of them even have exceptions so I don’t know what a solid no is until I see a tag that’s a solid no??  And they’re the usual general niche things?  (scat, watersports, idk those things)  Hardcore bdsm-type is a no for me (but there have been some exceptions).  MOST things that are nos for me like daddy kink, I can still read the fic, I just kind of... speed through those parts?  I don’t really have any actual triggers...  I don’t really read a lot of girl direction if they’re both girls.  Which is a weird complicated issue for me because I WRITE IT.  And there are some good ones out there that I have read but in general...?  idk it’s weird and probably has a lot to do with me being sdpofijapsdgjoidsjfosdj about words for vagina rather than it actually being girls.  But to be fair it took me years to be comfortable writing cock and dick without blushing and running off.  I don’t know, it’s something about reading it that it usually isn’t my first choice.  That was a long complicated answer just to say “not really”

11. Do you have a signature move, aka, let’s say for no particular reason, just because, coming in pants?

oh my god.  Yes.  Probably.  I can’t think off of the top of my head but I definitely find myself returning to the same phrasing or words or actions.  Especially when it comes to abo and knotting.  

1. What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written, and why?

Sisterwives and As We Were, As We Are I think because they are the two I put the most into.  Plotting, planning, emotions, etc. 

2. Pick three words that you think describe your works overall.

Problematic (lol), intense/emotional, sexual. 

3. How long does it take you to write a fic?

Varies.  I’ve written 20k+ in 24 hours and I’ve written 5k in a month.  Really depends on what I’m working on and my emotional state of stress.  

4. What’s the hardest thing about writing?

For me?  Fluff and filler.  And English.  I’ve fallen into a pattern of writing that probably has a lot of errors in tense.  But... it is what it is.  

5. Do you listen to music or anything while you write? What’s normal for you when you write?

I answered this one in depth above 

6. How do you come up with titles for your fics?

I have this terrible thing where I just name a fic and run and then regret it and want to change it once it’s already posted hahahahaha There are a handful that I’ve named after Hanson lyrics just because I think it’s funny... but most of the time there is no rhyme or reason to it.  

7. What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a new writer?

Just keep writing.  Because it’s easy to get discouraged about kudos and attention.  Kudos and attention does NOT equal quality.  It’s still something that I struggle with letting go, but as a new writer it’s more difficult not to see that as a failure.  But my first fics in this fandom still have some pretty low kudos counts and my fics in other fandoms have as few as FIVE kudos.  Five.  I think they’re great fics, but I’m just not as known in that fandom/there aren’t as many readers.  For example, I wrote this AWESOME Brokeback Mountain fic for the Hanson fandom and it has only 15 kudos.  

8.  How important do you think tags are when you are publishing a fic?

*gets up on soapbox* Tags are the most important part of publishing a fic.  I am a firm believer that anyone can write anything the want as long as it is properly tagged.  Proper tagging is the writer’s only responsibility to the reader.  If those are in place, what follows doesn’t have to be tailored to anyone.  

9. Do you write for fests/exchanges? If so, do you enjoy them? If not, why not?!

I have mixed feelings about this.  I used to write for both.  Now I exclusively write for fests and I’m selective about the ones I participate in.  Why?  Well for one, deadlines.  I’ve made the mistake too many times of overcommitting and then nothing felt right and I was stessed about it and just... not good.  As for exchanges... I’ve been burned in the past?  By dropouts and such?  Or by the giftee not liking or never reading the fic?  Or by me needing to drop out for mental health reasons but not because I was writing FOR someone?  I’ve done a handful of pinch hits since I swore off exchanges, but they’re too much anxiety for me personally.  (I have had some good experiences with exchanges though!! Not all of them were bad!!)

10. Which work of yours are you most proud of and why?

As We Were, As We Are..... because.... DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FRICKIN RESEARCH I DID FOR THAT FIC!? ALL WHILE WRITING IT DURING NANO?!?!  I put soooooooo much into that fic that I’m sad it didn’t get much attention.  It was written for the Alex exchange so Harry is written as Alex so that’s probably why.  Some people have a big problem if fics aren’t written a certain way.  I don’t know.  I was really sad about that though.  I LIVED in WWII for months with that fic and it will always be special to me.  I’ve even thought about putting more work into into it to have it published somewhere.  I know it’s not like... classic 1D fic quality or whatever but I think the bones of it are strong enough.  I don’t know, I’m probably delusional. haha but I still like it

11. What’s next for you?

Oh man.  Well.  I said I was going to stop writing for this fandom.  But then this rush of support came in and then I started to feel really spiteful and thought that I’d keep going just because of that... and I feel like I’m only just now gaining a following for my fics that keeps me motivated enough to keep improving... soooo I’ve committed to a few fests coming out this fall.  I am also participating in Wordplay going on right now.  The first fic comes out tomorrow I think.  I also have some Sisterwives timestamps.  

1. What fic have you written that you wish everyone would read?

dunkirk fic and sisterwives probably 

2. What’s your favorite character you’ve ever written?

hahahahaha harry from one of my yet to be published sekret fics hahahahaha but I really love so many of them like shifter harry

3. What’s your most popular fic and why do you think it’s your most popular?

By Kudos?  Where Do We Go Now.  And I have no idea.  Because I always have to click to even remember which one it is.  And it was written so fast and I remember not liking where it went but just hit publish because it was a pinch hit... I honestly have no idea.  Someone please give me insight on this because i have no idea.  

4. What’s one of your favorite fan fics that you haven’t written?

I kind of answered this above but I’ll also say The Wilds because it wrote so fast.  I wrote the whole thing in under 24 hours

5. What is your current WIP about?

Ummmmm Some of them are going to be posted on anon I think?  So I’ll just say Thor Harry

6. What is a fic that you hope to write someday?

siiiiigghhhhhhhh my Almost Famous au

7. Do you read fics from other fandoms? Which ones?

I read a lot of Thorki... and random fandoms.  I love to read a lot of fucked up shit just for the shock value of it?? I don’t know, I’m weird like that.  So I started branching out to general tag searches so I’ve read stuff from tons of fandoms that I don’t even know what they are.  I think Supernatural is one I frequent a lot because they have some real fucked up fics. 

8. What author or book has influenced you as a writer?

Sooooo There was a writer that really sparked my creativity back when I was in a different fandom.  But then they disappeared from that fandom and I ran into them as a popular figure in the 1D fandom but they’re kind of hated in the fandom now?? so I won’t say their name.  BUT in the other fandom, they had this fic that I still go back and read to this day every once in a while.  It was intense, a lil fucked up, and just... yeah.  The kind that sticks with you.  

9. What’s one of your favorite books from when you were a child?

Island of the Blue Dolphins.  Which I reread a few years ago and ??? idk I was a weird child.  I mean I didn’t think it was a BAD book

10. What’s an au/trope that you thought you didn’t like until you read one and loved it?

Harry Potter AUs?   haha I’m sure there are more than that because there have been a LOT I didn’t think I’d enjoy and then I loved... OH THE TIME TRAVELER AU.  I don’t remember why but I didn’t read that foreeeeever because I didn’t think it was my thing.

11. Choose one: angst or fluff?

angst.  this isn’t even a question.  

Wow.  I probably spent too much time on that.  If you’ve made it this far, kudos for sticking in there through my ramblings.  

Let’s see.  

1. What is the most problematic concept in one of your fics?

2. Mpreg. Yey or ney and why.

3. What aspect of a fic can you write but not read? 

4. What aspect of a fic can you read but not write? 

5. What fic is your most popular? 

6. Is it a fic that surprises you or is it one you wish was not as popular?

7. Is there an exchange/fest that you didn’t write for that you wish you would have?

8. Do you write in any other fandoms? 

9. What was the first fandom you started writing for? 

10. Do you write other pairings other than your main? 

11. What projects are on the back burner?  

Omg this was so hard.  um.... @tragic---love @wendydarlingfics @reminiscingintherain ummmmmm omg tagging people gives me such anxiety bc i feel like i’m annoying. its a struggle.   back at cha @chloehl10

[comingouttoteach]

Week 9

‘Twas the week of formal observation and meltdown. Lessons learnt this week: if you wake up at 3am from stress do not attempt to eliminate the stress by planning lessons or doing work of any kind at this hour.

The week started well. I had been away visiting family at the weekend. I had completed two lesson plans for my year 7s. On Monday I organised the year 7s into groups and set the work: write a group poem. It was raucous, there were political divisions, some mutiny, but also some leaders emerged, some good listeners and mediators arose and many interesting ideas were heard ‘miss can we write a poem about two gay turtles called “gay is ok”??’ Yes you certainly can. It soon became apparent that the groups would not be ready to perform the following day (for the observation) so I spent the rest of the afternoon altering my lesson plan. This left me with little time to plan the year 10 & 9 lessons which were the next day. Error indeed. These should have been planned at the weekend but I was too busy strolling through coastal scenes and buying chocolate. I put together a rough plan for year 10 in the evening and gave up on year 9. I had a half a mind to spring the lesson on the teacher but I had done that once before and didn’t want to abuse that kindness.

The formal observation went well. As I know the year 7s well I could let myself go a bit in the lesson and didn’t think too much about being observed. The recurring issue of low level disruption (chatter when working or re-focusing the group) rose its head multiple times. I knew this would happen as I haven’t set and reinforced clear expectations with them about silence and listening. This is partly because I am still at the point where I can’t see the long term effect of these boundaries being set. Yes, I can imagine that over a year it would be very annoying if they chatted over me and others often but at the moment I am just trying to get through lessons. The reasons to be firm have not yet been proven to me, although I am well aware of the rationale behind being that way. Also, I think this is linked to my confidence issue: I am still not yet sure that what I am telling them to do is the best way for them to learn. If I was 100% sure that it was I think I would demand their full attention and be less accepting of deviation and disruption. Do I know best? Does this matter? 

After the formal observations I did take the year 9 class despite my doubts. I told the students we’d be reading a bit, doing some short activities and then watching the film. I started by fielding some queries about the homework, then we went straight into reading. I had already read through the scenes and made annotations, so I wasn’t totally clueless. I invented a few short activities for them to do along the way and asked questions based on my annotations. We got to the scene where Juliet goes to ask the Friar’s advice and he tells her to take this here potion and play dead. I got the students to pretend they were Friar Lawrence and give Juliet advice about how to get out of her scrape. I am not entirely sure what the point of this exercise was, although they did have to demonstrate that they understood what had happened in the plot, but darn did they enjoy doing this! One made the sensible suggestion that she become a nun, another had the same idea but with the addition of her being a lesbian nun. Great. Most other ideas involved murder of some kind. My favourite plan was that the Nurse should dress up as Juliet and marry Paris. I think the Nurse would be happy with that option, Paris not so much but who really cares about Paris. We then watched the Zeffirelli film version of the same scene and the lesson finished. 

With the year 10s I tried to get them thinking about introducing a character through actions. I used photos again though. I really need to move on from this tactic. Even so, I am continually pleased with my photo selection skills, as is the class teacher. This time I found an old black and white photo of a coal miner with a gloomy look on his face. I named him Jeff. The class took to Jeff so that was good. I set them homework to introduce and develop their own character through actions. My regret in this lesson is that I didn’t give them a WAGOLL. What A Good One Looks Like; for those of you who don't know. I did give them sentences and went through with them how one could change the verbs and add adverbs to show the reader what the character was like, rather than telling. However, I could have found an example paragraph from a novel quite easily. I had even selected the opening of a Nick Hornby novel but was unconvinced that I could explain it properly (returning to the lack of confidence theme). 

I went in on Wednesday and heard my year 7s perform their group poems. It was quite hit and miss but the students were definitely enjoying themselves. I am pleased that one of the low-attaining girls who I encouraged to speak, even if it was just one word, read a whole stanza! The teacher was even surprised. They gay turtles poem was a bit of a disappointment unfortunately. They’d only picked one rhyme for the end of EVERY line, which was ‘arry’. They said they wanted to say that the turtle smelt like curry but that didn’t rhyme with the ‘arry’ theme so they just changed it to ‘smells like carry’. I think I should have stepped in sooner with that group. The world peace poem group who had done a practise performance the day before were definitely the strongest. They’d learnt it off by heart for their second performance, except the slightly absent looking boy. I got the students to score each other’s performances. The turtle poem won. I think I should have pretended the world peace poem had won but I didn’t want to lie. Overall the lesson went ok. It was the most raucous out of the lot though. The teacher, who hadn’t been with me for any of the group work lessons so I think the setting and noise came as a shock, said it was a shambles though. This is the harshest feedback I’ve had. I think she felt bad, she tried to retrace but also started to dig of a hole. She said there was lots to learn from, that I’d never do that again, that I needed to be firmer (true) etc. I think my lack of sleep and low energy meant I couldn’t really face this feedback at that moment. 

I spent the rest of the day feeling quite low and gradually more and more ill. By the evening I felt a full on cold/fever coming on. I awoke at 5am in with a fever and emailed to say I wouldn’t be coming in the next day. I also took Friday off. I did absolutely no work on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, except reading. Although I still feel ill I feel rejuvenated and less tired. Today I went for a massage and a tapas lunch. After the three days of no work I am finally feeling ready for the final two weeks of placement 1. Let’s hope my croaky sore voice holds out.

My aim next week is to remain as calm and fluid as this stream:

[necromancy-savant]

My opinions on Early Modern plays other than Shakespeare

I’m definitely going to keep this updated since I intend to read a lot more of these. I’m putting them in the order I read them, except that the Ben Jonson plays are going to be listed separately, in the order I read them, for now at least, because I’ve read a couple of those, because when I find something I like I might as well keep going with it. If you want to know more about a particular play, feel free to ask me. I don’t want these to get too long so I’ll refrain from putting in too much summary, but I love talking about plays so if you want a summary before you decide to read something, hit me up. I’m going to include very brief summaries of each play because I assume most people haven’t read these and would like to have some idea of what they’re about. 

Doctor Faustus – Christopher Marlowe

Summary: Wanting greater things in life, Faustus summons a demon to serve him for 24 years, after which time he will go to Hell as part of a contract signed in blood. 

This play is a weird combination of bleak and silly that somehow works. On the one hand, Faustus just wants to feel like something he does will do him some good, but the devils he sides with are even worse than Christianity is in terms of the freedom he wants and they don’t give him any answers. On the other hand it’s really funny. Some of the things the demons and Lucifer say are hilarious, Faustus literally uses his powers to “haunt” the Pope and hit him in the face and give a guy literal horns over some petty argument. He does all kinds of stupid shit and hangs out with frat boys, but he eventually regrets all of it and get dragged to Hell still lacking any purpose in life. It’s also different in that it doesn’t follow the typical 5 act structure.

The Revenger’s Tragedy – Probably Thomas Middleton 

Summary: The old Duke killed Vindice’s fiancee, Gloriana, before the events of the play, and he seeks revenge for that while everyone else in the Duke’s family is 100% out to get each other.

I really love this play. It’s sort of like a cross between Richard III, King Lear, Measure for Measure, and Titus Andronicus, except it’s more violent than Titus Andronicus. Like, this is mire what I thought Titus Andronicus would be. There’s one really fantastic scene where a guy makes out with a poisoned skull and then they stab him and kick him while he watches his bastard son hook up with his wife and it’s just so good. The language strikes me as crude compared to Shakespeare and I don’t mean that in a bad way; actually there’s something I rather like about it. Everyone is out to get each other, except they’re all terrible at it except for the protagonist, Vindice, and his brother. Those guys get what they’re after and then some, and they almost get away with it too if they weren’t so goddamned pleased with themselves. Talk about letting your guard down at the wrong moment.

The Duchess of Malfi – John Webster

Summary: The Duchess has two brothers, Ferdinand who is her twin, and the Cardinal. She’s a widow and they forbid her from getting remarried but she does anyway to a lower class guy named Antonio and has a couple of kids with him in secret, and her brothers really don’t like that.

It takes a little while to pick up, but once it does it’s a wild ride. You’ve got some crazy shit going on here and most of it is Ferdinand: he loses his shit over every little thing and is constantly just screaming bloody gore for no reason, he fakes killing his sister’s children, gives her a motherfucking severed hand (and mind you the stage direction does not say where this hand comes from, it’s just a severed hand he happens to have on him), hires a bunch of crazy people from the asylum to yell random bullshit at her, and by the end of the play he’s running around digging up skeleton’s legs because he thinks he’s a fucking werewolf. Everyone in this play is so extra. The Duchess herself could stand against Constance in terms of being extra. Also, her servant Cariola is like the nicest person in the whole play and everyone is so mean to her, like when Ferdinand finds out about the Duchess and Antonio (they get married in secret behind her brothers’ back) the first thing Antonio does, he comes in and points a gun right in Cariola’s face and says “it was YOU” and then later they’re talking about faking going on a pilgrimage so she can see Antonio and Cariola’s like “don’t you think it’s sacrilegious to fake going on a pilgrimage” and the Duchess is like “shut up Cariola nobody cares what you think is sacrilegious” only she definitely should have listened to Cariola. Cariola deserves better.

The Roaring Girl – Dekker and Middleton

Summary: Moll Cutpurse is a woman who dresses in men’s clothes, spends her time chilling in taverns with sketchy people, and doesn’t give a single fuck. A young man, Sebastian, is in love with someone his father doesn’t approve of, so he tells his father he’s in love with Moll to make his actual girlfriend look good by comparison, and enlists Moll to help him get his father’s permission so they can marry. 

The jokes in this play are really silly, the plot is a little confusing, but even so I like it. Mostly I like Moll Cutpurse. She is a badass and yet also somehow surprisingly upstanding for someone named Cutpurse. I kind of thought she would be some sort of queer, and there’s really nothing in the play to suggest that, but there’s also nothing in the play that says she isn’t. She stands up for everyone with the use of her sword. She pulls her sword on fuckboys all the time, and she keeps people from getting arrested and from getting pickpocketed, and so basically she’s like a vigilante who isn’t concerned with the law at all, only with what’s right. She says she is not a cutpurse or a thief at all but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of her but just wants to be independent. She threatens this one guy Laxton saying he’s one of those guys who hits on women and then goes around calling them whores whether they have sex with him or not; he uses women and then punishes them for either doing what he wants or denying him sex. Also this play has some ridiculous archaic slang but it has Moll translate for you. And there’s a whole scene where they’re just chilling and smoking a few bowls and I have so many ideas for how you could do like a stoner version of it, you wouldn’t have to change any words or anything, just in terms of staging and blocking. It’s really all I could think of that whole scene. I may have read it wrong but I think I saw a line where it says that nobody wants to smoke with Laxton because he cheefs the bowl. Typical Laxton. 

‘Tis a Pity She’s a Whore – John Ford

Summary: Giovanni is in love with his sister, Annabella, and their father is currently trying to marry her off to one of a few other men. Giovanni and Annabella start hooking up and chaos ensues as they try to cover it up at the same time as a few different subplots involving revenge and murder go on. 

I don’t think this is a bad play by any means, but it mostly reminds me of The Revenger’s Tragedy and a little bit of The Duchess of Malfi, except that I like both of those much better. Like, it was a quick, entertaining read and I was never bored, but I can’t say it’s one of my favorites. There is incest, and that adds a new level of fucked up I suppose, but the novelty/shock of that wore off after like half a scene. The last scene was pretty great, but the rest doesn’t live up to that. Having Giovanni walk into the banquet with Annabella’s literal heart is a nice touch but it’s nothing compared to that poisoned skull. As a side note, Bergetto reminds me of Bartholomew Cokes, and really all this leads me to my final point. The book I read it from calls it derivative but not in a bad way, and that is a good way to describe it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing and I don't wholly dislike that it reminds me of a bunch of other things I like, but it didn't really give me anything new so on the whole I don’t find it too memorable.

The Spanish Tragedy – Thomas Kyd

Summary: A war between Spain and Portugal has just ended, and everyone’s ready to make peace, except that Balthasar, the prince of Portugal who has been captured and brought to Spain, falls in love with Bel-imperia who is in love with Horatio. He and Lorenzo kill Horatio, prompting his father, Hieronimo, to seek revenge.

Now this one was really good. It takes a solid two acts to pick up, but when it does, it’s worth it. You’ve got ghosts, personified Revenge, and descriptions of Hell which is basically Hades. It’s kind of a play about how just when everything seems peaceful and good after a conflict, there’s still a billion loose ends and everyone secretly still hates each other.  This was written in the 1580s and predates Shakespeare or anything else I’ve read, and you can tell it had a big impact. It’s got the play within a play thing from Hamlet, but way better. I loved that whole scene so much. Lorenzo reminds me a little bit of Iago, Horatio and Bel-imperia remind me a little bit of the secret meetings and honor concerns from ‘Tis a Pity (but don’t worry, they’re not related), there’s some lines that really remind me of Richard III and Anne but they’re played straight and honest unlike Richard’s use of the same kind of language. I really wonder how you would stage Hieronimo biting out his own tongue though. Also, there’s a lot of Latin which is always a good thing, and a lot of rhyming which is a little annoying but I feel like it rhymes less and less as it gets to the end, but I may have imagined that.

Volpone - Ben Jonson

Summary: Volpone is really rich, has no heir, and is pretending to be sick and dying so people will bring him presents in hopes of being made his heir. His servant, Mosca, keeps telling people throughout the play that they are the heir to get more stuff out of them and tries to get everything for himself until that backfires. 

Absolutely hilarious. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect going in but I was really impressed. It has kind of a fucked up sense of humor that really does it for me. Jonson’s sense of humor actually reminds me of Spongebob. I love how Volpone can’t resist sneaking out of the house at every possible moment to go troll people he’s already trolled, like he has to go and see the outcome of his trolling. And it’s so funny how Mosca promises four separate people they can be the heir, then has to kick them out at the end of the play and he’s like to Voltore: “damn I thought you’d be out the door first you’re smarter than this. You know I would give you everything but it says it’s all for me, so, you know…plus you already have a high paying job, and you’re damn good at it too you really killed it out there I’ll hit you up if I ever need a lawyer now have a nice life” and then everyone just fucking books it back to the courthouse to go tell on each other. Also when Lady Would-be comes over and Volpone keeps trying to get her to shut up and she’s like “actually I have this long ass book on me right now let me read you some” and I just picture him signaling wildly to Mosca to kick her out of the house. Actually Mosca’s entire job is basically getting people in and out of the house as fast as possible so Volpone doesn’t have to talk to them, and make sure they keep coming back with more stuff. Also, Volpone’s first line is basically “good morning world, and my gold that inhabits it!” He’s such a piece shit I love him in spite of myself. The only thing I didn’t care for was the subplot.

 Bartholomew Fair - Ben Jonson

Summary: Bartholomew Fair was a fair that was held every year in August. A bunch of people go to the fair, including Bartholomew Cokes who is 19, really stupid, has supervision from his servant Wasp but runs away and gets lost, and is supposed to get married to a young woman who really doesn’t want to marry him because he’s such an idiot. Meanwhile this guy Overdo who is a judge and gets people sent to him from the fair every year because so much sketchy shit goes down, disguises himself to go to the fair and see for himself what goes on there. 

I got a real kick out of this one too. It’s very different from Volpone but still has that sense of humor I enjoy so much and the kinds of sketchy characters I like reading about. It was a little confusing keeping track of such a large cast of characters, but god if they don’t have the best names. Just reading the Dramatis Personae I was like “this was a good choice I’m already having a good time.” I literally waited the whole play for Wasp to demand to some vendor that he speak to their manager after the fit he threw waiting five seconds for Win to get him that marriage license in Act 1, but it never happened. Anyway I would go to this fair; they have alcohol, tobacco and food. I imagine it’s somewhat like the little festival they have in my hometown every year except with alcohol and prostitution. Although nearly everyone has a pretty bad day there, except for Quarlous and I guess Purecraft. I thought it was really funny how they wanted to make the puppet show, which is in part a version of Hero and Leander, like a modern edgy version so Cupid’s the bartender and he puts something in her drink. I see so much bullshit like that today. I’m starting to see how some of these comedies are a bit like Measure for Measure but this one is actually funny. I love reading these plays about sketchy people, because they remind me of the many sketchy people I have known. 

The Alchemist - Ben Jonson

Summary: There’s a plague in London and this guy Lovewit leaves his house indefinitely, leaving his servant, Face, in charge. Face has an extended sleepover with Subtle, a con artist who pretends to know alchemy who he finds on the street, and Doll, a bawd, and together the three of them draw in customers as the house becomes a brothel and a place where Face can lure people in for that and for Subtle’s alchemy scam.

Reminds me of Volpone in that you have these two guys who just cheat everyone out of their money and keep piling on the cheating and lying until it all blows up in their faces. Something about the way characters in both plays flatter people and lead them on so enthusiastically is just hilarious to me. Like Bartholomew Fair, the ending is kind of abrupt and not what I was expecting. Also I really don’t think Lovewit has the whole picture because he’s willing to forgive his house becoming a brothel and them hiding all kinds of stuff they cheated out of people in the basement in exchange for a 19 year old wife. Like, he shows up to his house after having been gone a few months and left Face in charge, and is like “what the fuck has been going on here?” and Face is like “never mind that, I got you a 19 year old wife” and suddenly it doesn’t matter what else he’s done. The plot is a little hard to follow because they tell so many lies to so many different characters, and a lot of the play is Face just making stuff up on the spot to keep himself out of trouble so it can be easy to get lost in all of that.

Epicene - Ben Jonson

Summary: There’s this guy Dauphine who’s uncle, Morose, who is fanatical about needing everything to be quiet at all times, is trying to cut him out of his will. Dauphine devises a plan to trick him into making him his heir in writing. He gets Epicene, a teenage boy, to go undercover as a woman and marry him under the pretense of being silent and then start talking as soon as they’re married so Morose will do anything to get a divorce. 

There are some really funny lines, and it did teach me the word “wind-fucker,” but on the whole it’s not my favorite. The characters are all upper class and don’t really do much of anything. Compared to other city comedies, it’s less Saints Row and more Importance of Being Earnest. They spend the play getting ready for a party, going to the party, playing pranks, and not much else. Like I said, it’s funny but very silly and I don’t really get it in some respects, maybe because I don’t live there. And I really don’t know what to make of the ending. I can’t decide if I think it’s sexist or not, but as a man I’m not the best person to decide that. It does seem vaguely sexist that the best woman is a man. Plus I don’t think any of the male characters have ever spoken to a woman. There is the possibility that I’m supposed to be laughing at how stupid they are, but even then the women really aren’t given an opportunity to weigh in on any of the things men say about them. They do say that they should accept favors from men, because if men are going to be stupid enough to do things for them hoping for sex that’s on them, and they do refrain from slut-shaming Epicene in a show of solidarity at the end. On the other hand, they’re quick to turn on each other in competition for Dauphine, a man they all desire, and their independence, at least Mrs. Otter’s, serves to humiliate her husband in front of other men. But the play says explicitly at the end that he, Daw, and La Foole are punished for being the type of guys who spread rumors about women who reject them, which is similar to something Moll Cutpurse accuses Laxton of in The Roaring Girl. So there’s a lot going on and it’s hard to say where it stands.

[astralbooks]

A Place Called Zamora by LB Gschwandter

Read: 04/09/2020 - 08/09/2020

Rating: 1/5

Review: 

CW: violence, murder, child murder, child abuse, sexual assualt, rape, mention of pedophillia, ableism, fatphobia, homophobia, pushing of Christianity as moral, victim blaming

This is the worst book I’ve read so far in 2020. It’s up there among the worst books I’ve read ever. I only read the whole thing because I don’t think that it’s fair to give a book that I DNF’d 1 star and a full negative review, and at least one of the criticisms I have for this book required me to have read the whole thing to ensure that it was valid. This book isn’t just bad, it’s harmful. This will be a rant review, there will be spoilers, and I will not be polite.

The worldbuilding was awful, and at times what little of it there was contradicted itself a few pages later. The world is a fairly generic dystopia, nothing about it stood out to me, and it wasn’t particularly imaginative. The villain is named Villinkish, for crying out loud. A lot of people live in deep poverty and struggle to feed themselves on a day to day basis. Oh! Except for this old woman who sells fresh produce, sandwiches, and ice cold cans of lemonade across the whole city that she gets from ~somewhere~ and everyone’s able to buy things from her every day. The Regime (that’s what the government is officially called in this book, by the way) decides that all the children have to be surrendered and raised by the state. Oh! Except for a lot of people apparently, with no rhyme or reason as to who gets to stay with their family and who gets taken away. I would put actual money on this just being an excuse to get Niko away from his parents, and Gschwandter completely forgot about it afterwards. Religion has been completely outlawed, and all the priests were hunted down and executed years ago. Oh! Except for a convent that was allowed to keep running for some reason, and this one priest who somehow survived and is able to keep being very public about being a priest and everybody knows him and he doesn’t get executed because.......... I have no idea.

In addition, this book was straight up badly written. There were often sentences that made no sense, which made it obvious to me that this badly needed at least one more round of edits, though I doubt that would’ve managed to save this mess. When sentences did make sense, the writing style was overly simplistic. It read like a children’s book, and a bad children’s book at that. Which makes no sense considering the amount of times that rape and sexual assault were used throughout the story.

The story was mostly told out of chronological order. This wouldn’t be a problem if the flashbacks had been clearly defined as such, or if they’d been woven seamlessly into the story. But they were not. Every single POV and time switch was done with nothing but a new line, with no indication of what was going on, and with no logic to them at all. This had the end result of the majority of a section titled ‘The Aftermath’ mostly showing events from before the incident that its supposed to be about the aftermath of, and there being at least one scene that I legitimately cannot place anywhere in the storyline as the flashback shown immediately after it overtook and contradicted the original scene. It gave me the impression that Gschwandter had heard the writing advice to write scenes in whichever order you want to, which is usually good advice, but then she forgot to move them into their correct places afterwards.

Circling back to the use of rape and sexual assault, it was all just there for shock value, and to emphasise just how evil some of the people in this world are. To me it just communicates a lack of creativity on Gschwandter’s part. Also, a major incident in the book is when Niko nearly rapes El, only changing his mind at the last second. El cuts his face during the struggle. First of all, I don’t know how Gschwandter expected me to be able to sympathise with this character for the rest of the book, because I was certainly unable to. Second, El cutting her would-be rapist’s face and Niko nearly raping someone are treated as equal crimes by absolutely everybody in the book, without exception. This victim blaming isn’t condemned by a single person, not even El, which results in a narrative that pushes the idea that if you defend yourself when you’re getting raped then you’re just as bad as your rapist. This is appalling and disgusting. Third, the almost rape isn’t actually shown to the reader through the ordinary narration, but through both El and Niko telling side characters their side of the story after the fact in excruciating detail. This was a defining moment in the book, and a major incident for both these characters. And it wasn’t shown, it was told. Either have the guts to show (not tell) what you want to include in your character’s storylines, find a better way of telling (The detail wasn’t necessary! It all boils down to a single sentence and that was truly all that needed to be said!), or just don’t include it at all.

Near the end of the book, El suddenly had major wilderness survival powers, despite having been raised in a convent for most of her life and never having had any reason why she should possibly know how to make cups out of leaves. Because of course she does.

If the only reference to queer people in your book is in the context of someone maybe being a pedophile, then you have written a bad book. It’s that fucking simple. Gschwandter has written a bad book.

The narration contained multiple incidences of ableism and fatphobia, and unsurprisingly these went unchallenged and uncondemned.

If I had known that this book was going to push Christianity as being the last bastion of goodness in an otherwise awful world, that would have been enough for me to not pick this book up. This isn’t something that I’m interested in reading about at all, and nothing about this book’s marketing mentioned that this was the approach that it would be taking. There are also several references to the crusades, specifically framing them as a good as positive thing for the church to have done. There’s also no mention of how other religions were treated during and after society’s collapse. All that anyone cares about is Christianity.

I’m a firm believer that, when writing, you should google the names you’re planning on using in your book at least once, even if that name is for a minor character who isn’t going to be on more than one page. Do me a favour and google the name ‘Osana’. What’s the main association with that name? Is it something that a sensible author should want their book to remind the reader of, even for a moment? I could give Gschwandter the benefit of the doubt and assume that she got the name off of a baby name website and just didn’t check it, or I can assume that it’s a deliberate reference to yet another fictional mess. Come to think of it, it would be fitting if the link was intentional. This character is only mentioned once, and doesn’t appear on page, but seeing the name ‘Osana’ on the page gave me such a visceral reaction that I had to step away from the book for a bit.

When I saw that Gschwandter had included questions for book clubs at the end of the book, and on her website, I couldn’t help but laugh. No self respecting book club would discuss this book using those questions. If they discussed it at all, it would be about how terrible it is. A Place Called Zamora is a masterclass on how to get absolutely everything wrong. If I’d written anything that was even a fraction as bad or harmful as this book, quite frankly I’d be embarrassed, and it would never see the light of day.

I requested this because I share my name with one of the protagonists. More fool me I guess. Obviously, I don’t recommend this to anyone.

I received an e-arc through Netgalley in return for an honest review. Any quotes may differ in the published version.

[abadmeanman]

Secret Santa! @do-the-fandom-mash!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, @do-the-fandom-mash! I’m your secret santa! My Adrien/Rose fic is below, and I’m going to post it on AO3 at this link, too: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13088808. 

Title: 

Not That It's A Competition Or Anything

With a flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder, the akuma struck Ladybug with a jolt of electricity. Her pigtails briefly stood on end and her skeleton briefly become visible, cartoonishly. She blinked, shook herself, swung out of the way on her yo-yo as a thin plume of steam rose from her head.

“I can’t believe Aurora got akumatized again! I didn’t even know that could happen!” she shouted to Chat Noir, as he pole-vaulted Rose Lavillant away from the park-cum-crime-scene. “And as basically the same akuma!”

“And same park! It speaks to Hawkmoth running out of ideas, my Lady,” he said, as Rose’s floppy sun hat and picnic basket flapped in the akuma-related turbulence. Juleka had already been safely spirited away by Ladybug, pre-zappage. “How else would he land on Stormy Weather 2: Electric Bugaboo?”

Ladybug paused, mid-swing. Which is to say, she kept swinging, but turned to stare at him, incredulous.

“How long were you waiting to use that pun?!”

“ALL DAY,” he shouted over his shoulder, alighting on a rooftop and setting Rose down gently. “There you are, Ro--I mean, citizen with whom I am unfamiliar.”

“Chat Noir, haven’t we met like, seven times?”

Chat Noir simply grinned and shrugged, turning back to re-enter the fray.

And then he made a little cringing sound as he saw that her picnic basket had tipped over during his landing. He scrambled to set it back upright and replace the no doubt delectable confections therein, except…

“Hey… is this picnic basket just full of flowers?”

“Of course!” said Rose, chipper despite the mortal peril. “It’s a romantic picnic date, after all!”

“Uh, very good, citizen,” said Chat Noir, batonning off back into the fray. “Carry on! Stay safe!” He threw her a wave with one hand, which she returned with a smile and a blown kiss.

And meanwhile, in his own private monologue, he kept repeating to himself: Damn. That’s romantic.

--------

Once Stormy Weather 2: Electric Bugaboo had been defeated (using same lucky charm, it turned out), Ladybug and Chat Noir went stealthily back to the Louvre to detransform.

“Hey Marinette… if I were, to, say, ask Rose out…”

“Do I think she’d go for it?” replied Marinette. “Oh definitely. She’s just about the only person who could manage to out-romance you, I think.”

“Part of me wants to take that as a challenge, but my heart is aflutter regardless.”

“Well don’t use up all the magic,” said Marinette, slipping her hand into his. “But I doubt anything could beat when you learned how to bake for me. You are my king of romance, after all.”

“So sweet, my lady,” he said, pulling her up into a kiss. “Put in a good word for me in the girls’ group chat?”

“Oh babe if you think she doesn’t already know all your tricks you’ve got another thing coming.”

----------

The date was off to a promising start as soon as both Adrien and Rose brought flowers.

It went like this:

Working up to it, Adrien was a little nervous about bringing roses to a date with a girl named Rose. But what can you do--romance traditions are heady things, after all, and what was an impressive first date without roses.

He went with one dozen, pink. A little off-brand, as you’d expect the color red to do the heavy lifting in the romance department, but bonus points for being her favorite color, Adrien thought. And given that Marinette’s favorite color was also pink, he already knew a guy who could get him the good stuff, and by good stuff he meant pink roses.

And so he found himself, hand-on-the-back-of-his-neck nervous, holding a dozen pink roses, standing in front of Rose’s door, blushing.

Rose, for her part, practically bounced in her pumps as she opened the door, one dozen red roses in hand, with a blush almost exactly matching the pink of Adrien’s bouquet. Nice, Adrien thought to himself. Nailed it.

“We match!” said Rose, leaving to the interpretation of the viewer whether she meant the flowers, or them both blushing, or her blushing matching his flowers, or what. It worked on multiple levels, but then again, so does… rrrromance. And nothing is more romantic than matching your bouquet to your date’s blush. He’d picked that trick up with Marinette on like, date two.

Not that it was a contest or anything, but Rose: 0, Adrien: 1.

-----------

“Oh Adrien! These seats are perfect!”

What’s an evening on the town without some theater? Adrien had managed to score some primo matinee seats at the (AUTHOR’S NOTE: look up a famous French theater and put it here) (EDITOR’S NOTE: this omission was intentional, as a gag). Front row, center, with plenty of legroom. One could practically high-five the comic relief.

“Oh!” said Rose, folding down her theater seat to find yet another bouquet of flowers decorating the velvet. Red, this time--Adrien had figured he’d cover all the romance-color bases. Rose picked them up with a grin, and read the note aloud.

“My dearest Rose,” she read. “I hope that a gift of more of your namesake will bring you as much joy as I have in accompanying you. Oh you scamp!” she said, slapping his arm lightly. “Double roses! I am impressed.”

“I can’t get enough rose in my life, I suppose,” he said, smirking. At last. The five days of puncrafting pay off in this moment.

Rose made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a squeak, and kissed him on the cheek, sweeping up her new bouquet and settling onto the cushion. “You scallywag! What a line,” she said. “Well don’t just stand there! Join me! I’ve got all of these knees, and no free hands to squeeze them with.”

Adrien obliged.  

-----

The play that evening? A romance, of course.

Well, a romantic comedy. Twelfth Night was technically one of the Bard’s comedies, but it carried its weight in raised eyebrows and kissing and innuendo and what-have-you.

The perfect kind of play to see while holding hands with a lovely young fashion model, or an adorable young parfumier. And if Rose’s foot happened to slip up Adrien’s calf a little bit during the final few acts, and if Adrien’s hand squeezed a bit northward of the knee, well, that’s no problem at all. After all, Shakespeare was a dirtybird, as we know.

Adrien did, however, receive the start of his life when, after the cast had done the curtain call and taken their bows, “Viola” stepped forward and announced that the performance was dedicated to the most striking man in Paris, who happened to be in the audience that very night: Adrien Agreste.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 1, Adrien: 1.

------------

Adrien was very proud of himself for his next trick.

Modern restaurants are generally equipped with electricity, for a variety of reasons--candle-only illumination had gone the way of the dodo back when France had an emperor. But, if one happens to be the scion of the Agreste fashion empire, it’s a simple matter to reserve an entire restaurant for a night, and have the whole place lit with candles.

Rose gasped, putting a dainty bisexual hand up to her lips. “Oh Adrien! So romantic.” She reached to her left (daintily shifting her many bouquets to the crook of one arm) and pulled on a velvet rope that Adrien hadn’t noticed. “It matches the chandelier!”

His heart skipped a beat, with a surge of anticipation making his fingers buzz. Directly above their table, a panel opened in the ceiling and a glittering glass chandelier, illuminated by dozens upon dozens of pink candles, descended to light their meal. The flames danced in the shape of a heart.

Adrien, for his part, gawked. Now that was romantic.

“Thank you,” said Rose, and kissed him on the cheek, gracefully accepting Adrien’s silent compliment. “Now, what did Monsieur Agreste select for the wine pairing?”

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 2, Adrien: 1.

-----

The problem was (and it wasn’t really a problem) that Rose was incredibly, unbelievably, dramatically romantic. She was an elite, and Adrien had never before been truly challenged, in the romance department.

He was sweating under his cravat (blue--matched her eyes), and dabbed lightly at his temples as his next romantic maneuver was wheeled out. It already seemed so weak, so tawdry compared to the various glories of romance that Rose had devastated him with.

The waiter placed the chocolate fountain on their table, and Rose clapped excitedly. That was simultaneously the best and worst part. She was soundly defeating him in romantic firepower at every turn, and yet she also sincerely and earnestly enjoyed and appreciated every gesture he made. No matter how she’d outdone him.

By god, she’s gracious in her victory, he thought. And I’m just getting competitive as Kim trying to keep up. I should… I need to live in the moment. And with that, he picked up a fork, speared one of a curated assortment of tidbits to envelop in liquid chocolate, and began to truly enjoy the decadence of the chocolate fountain.

… Until he unfolded his napkin and discovered a small, folded piece of paper under it, which contained a poem that she had written for him.

And it rhymed.

Adrien sat back, eyes drifting to the glimmering chandelier above. I am absolutely destroyed.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 3, Adrien: 1.

--------

But Ladybug never gave up and dammit neither did he.

Adrien thought he had Rose on the romantic ropes when an attendant wheeled over the grand piano. Nothing is more romantic than playing a song you wrote for your lover true.

“I was so happy you said yes when I asked you out, Rose, that I couldn’t help but compose a little song. If you’ll indulge me, I’ll--wait.” He looked around. Where had she gone?

“Oh Adrien,” said Rose, reclining slinkily atop the grand piano, flower clenched between her teeth. She somehow maintained perfect diction with a mouthful of stem. “How you do go on. I’d love to hear your song!”

How did she… damn, thought Adrien. There is nothing more seductively romantic than a woman draping herself over a grand piano, or at least that’s what all the midcentury black and white movies implied. But… I haven’t unleashed my art yet.

He grinned as rakishly as he could up at Rose, who beamed around the flower in her teeth, and fingered the first chord of his--

And someone had put a note reading “I hope that chord isn’t the only thing getting fingered tonight” in the middle of his handwritten sheet music.

He played, because there was absolutely nothing to do but serenade her. Even if she’d absolutely devastated him, romantically. Even if he was helpless silly putty against her powers of seduction. How had she even gotten to his sheet music?

Rose stretched languorously, or as languorously as a very short French girl can stretch, arcing her back up from the piano, as the perfect aperitif to the last resonant notes of Adrien’s song. She removed the rose from between her teeth, and, holding it at arm’s length, prodded him on the nose with it.

“How did you even…” he began, but couldn’t continue.

“I’m exquisite,” said Rose, by way of explanation.

And she was.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 4, Adrien: 1.

But Adrien mentally rolled up the sleeves on the romantic leather jacket of his imagination. He wasn’t nearly done romancing Rose.

-----

Red velvet carpet muffled their steps up the stairs as the doors to the Agreste mansion parted, and the string quartet started playing. Rose gasped, and Adrien felt her hand (which he was carefully clasping as he led her up the portico) squeeze his, in an involuntarily clutch of delight.

One of the advantages of being filthy rich (or as they would say in France, crasseux riche), is the fact that the atrium of your mansion becomes a ballroom if you simply add an orchestra. And oh, Adrien knew a great orchestra.

After all, if you’re going to take the most romantically inclined gal in Paris back to your place, one simply must do it in style.

He might not be able to outdo her at romance activities in a restaurant, but something must be said for having a private ballroom at one’s disposal. And so they laughed, and spun, and Rose found out just exactly how much she could feel like a princess all in one night. Adrien had nailed it.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but Rose: 4, Adrien: 2.

-----

As Adrien and Rose made out on their way to the boudoir (which is French for bedchamber), bouncing off of the walls at irregular intervals and giggling, a corner of Adrien’s mind was congratulating himself for absolutely and literally romancing the pants off of the most romantically-minded girl in Paris. She had been sneaky--romantically sneaky--during their dinner and during his piano recital, but oh, a ballroom dance is a pièce de résistance before which no romantic heart can fail to melt. Or, as the French would say, a pièce de résistance before which no romantic heart can fail to melt.

In anticipation of this eventuality, Adrien had made some preparations. The pathway to the bed was lined with candles, a cheery fire glowed softly in a fireplace he’d had specially installed, and he’d done some decoration on the bed itself.

Just in case.

(It was more rose petals)

… But how the fuck had Rose managed to scatter rose petals in a pathway to the bed?

… And how the fuck had she managed to surround the bed with candles in the shape of a heart?

… And how had she managed to install a hidden reservoir of rose petals which would gently shower over two people in a bed when you pulled on a velvet rope?

“How did you--” he began, surrounded by a cascade of petals. Because he had to know. But before he could complete the thought, he was interrupted by the soft plap of a pink tulip plapping against his lips.

“Shhhhhh, shhh shh, my darling,” said Rose, raising one hand to cup his cheek as she whispered. “Let the romance find you.” She tugged him gently, but insistently, to sit upon the bed.

Aha! thought Adrien, who had also prepared for this eventuality. He plapped an orange tulip of his own against Rose’s lips, even more gently, shushing her, but in a romantic way.

“Shhhh, quiet my love, let the emotion overcome you…” he whispered, around the tulip, delicately cupping her chin, and reclining further on the bed.

“No no no, shhhhhh,” replied rose, plapping him in the eyebrow with a second tulip, red this time. “We need no words.”

“But I must express what I feel,” said Adrien, who felt like he had just aced that delivery. Pure rom-com dialogue, right there. He stroked his second tulip (pastel yellow this time) down the line of her cheek and lips as they lay down on the bed.

“Shhhhhhhh,” said Rose. “Our love is so much more than we could ever say,” she said, as she plapped a third--

Wait a minute.

Adrien took a quick inventory: One tulip plapped against his lips, another against his eyebrow, both of which Rose was still holding in her dainty, pinkly manicured hands. And a third tulip plapped against his nose, held by…

He looked down his and Rose’s reclining figures, to see an appealingly bare length of Rose’s leg extended from her hiked-up dress and bent up towards his face, the third tulip daintily clutched between her toes, plapping it onto his face. Adrien turned back to her, phenomenally impressed.

There is nothing more romantic than softly holding someone’s face and plapping them with flowers. And Rose had done it thrice.

His admiration must have shown on his face, because Rose blushed the perfect amount, averted her eyes a tiny bit, then brought them back to gaze full into Adrien’s own extremely fucking emerald orbs, and giggled softly.

“I’m very flexible.”

And at a certain point on a date, that is one of the most romantic lines you can say. Rose had undoubtedly, unbelievably vanquished him with romance.

Not that it was a competition or anything.

And, cinematically speaking, the rest of the night gently faded out on a soft-focus shot of the fireplace.

--------

“What’s the final score?” asked Marinette, cuddled up with Juleka under a blanket in front of a horror movie.

“Looks like Rose: 23, Adrien: 2, from Alya’s latest update.”

“Sweet. I beat the spread,” said Marinette as she popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth, and fed another one to Juleka.  

“Honestly, I’m surprised he scored at all,” said Juleka around said popcorn. “Rose is phenomenal.”

“What can you do? Bringing flowers to the door is a power play, and so is a ballroom dance. Those were his aces in the hole,” said Marinette. “Plus, I think we both knew he was going to… score.” Marinette emphasized her extremely mature joke by elbowing Juleka in the ribs. Juleka giggled, and elbowed her back, which started a brief elbow fight that ended with them getting yet snugglier.

Juleka sighed, and tilted her head into the crook of Marinette’s neck. “It was awfully sweet of Alya to spy on them for us. How extra do you think they’re being right now?”

“At least extra extra, we’re in 2X territory absolutely.”

“Maybe even extra extra extra?”

“Oh definitely possible we’ve hit 3X.”

“Well, I for one know that Rose was definitely hoping for it to get a little triple-X at the end.”

They giggled at that for almost the rest of the movie.

When the credits were rolling, Juleka got a little smirk on her lips, and ran her hand up the back of Marinette’s neck, very gently. She whispered into Marinette’s ear:

“I’m, uh… a little scared after that movie. Maybe you could… escort me back to my room?”

Marinette smiled and nodded, walking back to Juleka’s boudoir still wrapped in the blanket. After all, who said Adrien and Rose got to have all the romance?