#there was a few other things that made you legally independant like being orphaned but that's the gist of it

[thesmokinpossum]

just got very seriously told by an actual government employee that you only become legally independant from your parents if you get married or have a child yourself and I'm just standing there stunned by the insanity of it all

[ruoshik0]

DP x DC: The al Ghul twins but with a twist!

Danyal al Ghul was- is a phenomenal actor. Always have been.

He was one of the best in the league for infiltration and espionage. None can deny that.

Along with his twin, Damian- whose skill sets are the complete opposite, they made for a terrifying pair of twins.

Ra's al Ghul saw that. He would have been a fool not to. The heir and his spare were talented in a completely different way.

So much so that Ra's decided to team them up. In the spotlight, Damian- the heir- would fight with raw strength and brutal power whilst Danyal- the spare- would strike from the shadows with amazing efficiency.

However, as much as they are better together, the twins must learn to be independent. To better themselves by being alone.

Relying on another encourages codependency after all.

And Ra's did not want such a pathetic thing to be a bigger problem than it is now.

So, he sent the spare to learn more about the Lazarus waters. A long term mission of infiltration and espionage. And while the League did not do such missions, he needed to learn more about the waters and it's properties to make better use of it. And simply forcing the two scientists to spill everything may result in a less than favorable outcome. Learning from the inside is better, really.

And whilst Danyal was away, he would further along Damian's training.

It was a good plan. Two birds with one stone.

And when Danyal arrived at his destination, he was a little worse for wear. Torn and dirty clothes, messy hair and acted beyond his years. He was in the alley right next to the Fentons' house when they first found him. They decided letting him spend a few days in their home to get ahold of a normal life before sending Danyal to the CPS was a good idea.

They quickly got attached to the cute and soft child beneath the always suspicious and hesitant orphan.

The Fentons immediately adopted him after deciding he would stay.

His name is now Daniel James Fenton.

Daniel was an average kid who acted like how you would expect an orphan who had lived on the streets for a long time.

His academic performance is above average in comparison to the other kids.

Even without the Fenton blood running through his veins, Daniel fit right in with the weird family.

As stated before, Danyal al Ghul is a phenomenal actor.

When he first arrived, he engineered a situation in which the scientists had no other choice than to take him in for a time.

When he was successful, he didn't stop to celebrate. Danyal immediately started working on making them warm up to him. Little gestures such as a hesitant hug and following them around like a little duckling worked like charms. Little giggles here and a little harmless prank there worked too.

Those psychology books and being near civilians more often helped him with these things. As well as the specialized training from the League.

When the child named Jasmine had fallen in his trap, it was easy to get the parents in too.

After getting adopted, although not before getting him a legal identity, he immediately started working who exactly he wanted Daniel to be and how people saw him.

A scared little child who jumps at any loud noises and a big interest in space and stars. Mostly because Danyal himself was a big space nerd and it's hard to fake enough interest to seem real.

Then he had gotten himself friends. A quaint life in a quaint town meant having less than 5 friends.

Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley were both viewed as weird and should be avoided. The new kid in town has befriended both and thus should be avoided by association.

He did not want to deal with even more obnoxious kids.

Danyal had lived a fake life with a fake personality. He trained whenever he can, and helped in the lab other times.

Weekly written reports to the League.

And learn as much as he can.

That was then. Now, Danny was no longer as alive as he was. And while it's a nuisance, his ghostly powers brought a lot of advantage.

When he first became Phantom, he fought ghosts. Acted like the wimpy yet still brave Danny in front of his friends.

Every few days, he would complain about the vigilante life and every other day he would use make up to worsen his appearance. A little darker dark circles and messier nest of a hair.

And while Danyal got the hang of his new abilities in a few days, Danny took a few weeks.

He purposefully dropped his grades because Danny couldn't find the time to study and Danyal knew Sam and Tuck would get suspicious if his grades remained the same.

Weeks and weeks after, learning more about the Lazarus waters, ghosts, and it's properties at a faster rate than ever before, Danyal decided that his little engineering and sciencing hustle should end. And by that, he means he should end the mission. So he started working on the last phase of his plans.

(He got too attached. Oh Ancients, he got too attached. He wanted to stay there and actually live like a normal person. He wanted to but- but... what about his brother...? He had to leave. Leaving means more suffering for them. His... friends and family.

He is so gonna miss the cat and mouse chase with the Fentons. He is gonna miss everyone. He hopes everyone forgets him so that he can leave feeling a little better)

First step, making those who are in the know about Phantom, warm up to the idea of him leaving vigilantism behind.

Every few weeks, he would joke about quitting as Phantom. That turned into months and Danny started looking even worse than when he first became Phantom. Danny wouldn't have a future if he didn't study more. But he couldn't because of vigilantism. And the stress caught up to him.

16 year old Daniel James Fenton decided he should stop when he was finally convinced by his two friends and two sisters.

(He hated how much he engineered these situations)

And while Danyal knew Danny didn't have a future, Danny himself didn't and thus acted like it.

It was hard trying so hard to rebut his circle of people when he just wanted agree right then there. It all ended in a messy and teary situation Danyal would have liked to avoid altogether.

(His tears were real. He didn't want to admit that he was crying. Mourning his loss before it happened)

The things he does to stay character.

Phantom quit after loudly announcing he was moving to another place to haunt.

And Danny's grades slowly went up to what it used to be before the ghost nonsense. He was finally relaxing again.

He was anxious. Anxious to the point of tensing. His League training thrown put the window)

Few months after, Daniel James Fenton went missing with little to no clues as to why.

Everyone mourned him. His ghostly core was happy when he had caught a glimpse of his grave while he was... visiting, for a lack of a better word.

(Finally, he was being mourned. Because he did die. Death touched him and he didn't even have a grave before this)

Now Danyal al Ghul returned from his long term mission. He could finally be himself again.

(Somewhere along the way Danny had become Danyal's real personality)

The League of Assassins was exactly as he had first left it. There were a few very glaring issues though.

First, Damian isn't here. He had left. Left Danyal alone. It took quite the willpower to not go out and track wherever Damian had gone to.

Second, Ra's al Ghul wasn't here. Grandfather had died and his body was nowhere to be found.

Third, Mother was leading. While it is not that much of an issue, Danyal is to be the heir and shall by crowned the leader in a few weeks time. Which is a big issue. Mostly because he was supposed to be in the shadows. Danyal decided that he did not want to be in the limelight like his brother.

Plus, he was already the Eventual King of another dimension. A rather infinite one might he add.

Ugh, more responsibilities.

He decided that he would greet his brother on their seventeenth birthday. A little terrorizing never hurts anybody.

Till then, he'd have to train his ass off.

(He’d do just about anything stop himself from thinking about Amity Park and its residents)

Sigh...

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Simon is my comfort character..and he is like the least comfortable character like ever. Anyway...

I've been thinking about what Rainbow said in the WS annotated playlist when describing Simon's behaviour:

"Also, trauma, abuse and neglect kind of train you to keep other people at a safe distance."

I wanna talk about the first few paragraphs of the SS trilogy. It tells us everything we need to know about Simon and his situation and how trauma, abuse and neglect have left their mark on this kid and the rest of the trilogy hasn't even been inflicted on him yet.

He starts by telling us that he catches the bus by himself and explains that when in the children's home he is given no independence at all. He needs to be chaperoned everywhere when in the home but he will contrast this with the Mage totally neglecting him for the rest of the year. So for Simon it's extremes. He is either policed by the state or left without any supervision entirely, none of it feels like it's coming from a good place. In the case of the home it seems like the kids are being monitored like criminals and the Mage is not respecting Simon's independence he just can't be bothered. For Simon he's basically not being trusted and not being cared for by any of the adults in his life. Now at 18, he may technically be a legal adult but the years of this sort of treatment has left its mark where we see Simon on a couch in the next book. This is due to depression but as many studies show for kids in care whose lives are very regimented the loss of structure and additionally in Simon's case, purpose has left him in a slump. His chaotic/regimented extreme inconsistent childhood left him unprepared for the future.

The office ladies gossip about him while he's right there. Assuming the worst about his school and situation. And Simon says that this behavior towards him is constant even when he's in a different home every year. When Baz tells Simon that he needs to get over people giving him dirty looks in WS and that 'not everyone will like you', it made me wonder if the problem is that Simon needs everyone to like him because for a lot of kids growing up in care, the adults attitude towards you makes a difference towards your quality of life or if Simon assumes everyone hates him and its compounded by his guilt over failing expectations that were forced on him. Its attitudes like these ladies that can really batter Simons already damaged self perception. And his self perception is VERY damaged and becomes something Simon has to work through in the books. It's not unfounded either, Penny makes it clear that on top of the old families not liking Simon, even folks on the Mages side don't trust him and judge him for his lack of ability with magic. It's a shame because the things that Simon is really good at are not valued by Normal or magical society, Lady Ruth values them though! I think it's interesting that the two office ladies basically sum up how he's treated. Either they think the worst or they are indifferent. When the mages attack him during the confrontation with Smith, Simon mentions that none of these people know him. On the one hand the Mage didn't parade him out but on the other hand he was kept away from the community and so Simon is left to be speculated about but ultimately isolated. His new found knowledge that he is a Mage may change things though, but that news came with its own can of worms.

The next scene I want to highlight is when Simon talks about trying to sleep on the train. He feels some creep staring at him and it makes him wonder whether the man is a pervert, police or a magical threat. This is Simon's reality, not one page in and the threat of physical, magical or sexual violence is already introduced. Simon changes carriages and doesn't try to sleep after this. This scene sort of shows how Simon is in constant danger and that he, as the chosen one, and as a neglected orphan is vulnerable from predators, police (groups that enforce the status quo and protect the rich over the less fortunate of society) or magical beings that have a grudge against the Mage or use Simon as a symbol to take down for various reasons. Simon can come off as paranoid (especially when it comes to Baz) but not all of it is unreasonable (even when it comes to Baz, pranks can still make you jumpy even if its not murder) so you can sort of see his paranoia as a self defence mechanism that comes from a legit place because there are things ACTUALLY trying to kill him, how do you differentiate between mean people scowling at you, a harmless prank and a goblin with a weapon when you are already on high alert? In the end for Simon just getting to school is a whole miserable, violent slog and the story continues from there.

Anyway my point is FUCK THE MAGE. That's always my point.

[carewyncromwell]

“There's a strange exhilaration in such total detestation... It's so pure, so strong! Though I do admit it came on fast, Still, I do believe that it can last, And I will be loathing, loathing you My whole life long!”

~“What is This Feeling?” from Wicked

x~x~x~x

Oh my GOD, you guys, I’ve had this project in mind for a while, wanting to draw something to celebrate this character dynamic properly...and now, after so much procrastination, it’s finally done! This is Carewyn Cromwell’s son “ward,” my HPMA Sour Patch Kid Erik Apollo, with his schoolboy archrival, Azariah “Rye” Steele! @cursebreakerfarrier​ 💚❤️

Okay, so a few things you should know about these boys right off the bat -- 

Erik Apollo is the son of a deceased Muggle banker and his wife who, during the Second Wizarding War, was hunted down by the Muggle-Born Registration Commission before he could properly start his first year at Hogwarts. Erik’s arrest was very traumatic, not only resulting in Erik being kidnapped and getting badly scarred when Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle used a whip made out of Dark magical flames to bind him around the neck like an animal, but also in the death of Erik’s mother, which officially made Erik an orphan. Fortunately tiny, but hot-tempered and foul-mouthed Erik was rescued from Ministry captivity by Carewyn Cromwell and put into hiding, and after the War was over, Carewyn went looking for Erik and fought to become his official legal guardian. Out of love for his deceased parents, Erik never calls Carewyn his mother and Carewyn, out of respect for Erik, doesn’t call him her son, but the two do love each other like parent and child and would do anything to protect one other. Erik has a fund at Gringotts set up in his name that contains all of the assets his parents left behind, but otherwise Carewyn provides for Erik’s needs solely with her own salary as a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Erik’s also one of the very rare examples of a Muggle-born who was Sorted into Slytherin house, but given his intense pride, dislike of authority figures, vengeful streak, relentlessness sometimes to the point of brutality, and deep-seeded ambition to become an Auror, it truly was his proper place. Beware if you say anything negative toward his blood or especially his family, though -- there are few things in the world Erik hates more than blood purists, and he can get down-right vindictive toward anyone who ascribes to or shows any sympathy toward such beliefs. If you’re lucky, you’ll simply get off with being called a “pompous twat who thinks you deserve a fucking crown when your head’s only real hat should be your own arse.” If you’re not, you can expect Erik to skip settling your dispute on the dueling grounds and just send you straight to the Hospital Wing with teeth so overgrown that your jaw has become painfully dislocated. (“That should keep you from running your gob off, you son of a bitch.”) 

Azariah “Rye” Steele, on the other hand, is the sociable oldest son of a well-regarded magical family and a descendent of Godric Gryffindor. He’s well-liked by his classmates at large for his intellect, strong work ethic, and talent in wizard dueling, and he even eventually earned the position of Gryffindor Prefect in his fifth year, despite not being particularly attuned to the rules. And when this reckless, arrogant, playful Gryffindor collided with the surly, swearing, fiercely independent Slytherin, Rye found Erik (and his overly hostile reactions toward Rye ribbing him) absolutely hysterical. Rye’s amusement only served to insult Erik’s pride more and make him angrier, which made Rye tease him more, and the cycle continued ad infinitum from there. In short, these two became their generation’s James Potter/Severus Snape or Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy...only this time, the Slytherin never flirted with Death Eater rhetoric, and once these two become adults, they do actually bury the hatchet enough to work together as coworkers, when Erik becomes an Auror and Rye becomes a Hitwizard. (Though Erik never stops taking every opportunity to sass Rye’s face off whenever they collide.) 

Although just about all of you who are familiar with Erik know him as being very tall, that sadly is only when he’s an adult. Erik followed Ben Copper’s trajectory in that he was small for most of his school career, before he shot up like a friggin’ beanstalk over the summer prior to his fifth year. And this means, just like with a lot of things, Rye got his growth spurt before Erik...and the Gryffindor very much enjoyed ribbing Erik about it, in their fourth year. (Enjoy it while you can, Rye -- once you start your fifth year, Erik will be exactly your height. 😏) I daresay this pose was done just before Erik yanked his wand out of his back pocket and hexed this smug git right in the face. Yes, I see these two kicking each other’s arses on the dueling field constantly. 

Hope you like it, darling! xoxo

[prkdiana]

      oh heavens, is that DIANA PARK from CHESTNUT DRIVE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -STUBBORN & -COMPETITIVE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool SEAMSTRESS VLOGGER and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +PASSIONATE & +RESOURCEFUL. i hope i see them around again! 『 tally. 24. GMT+4. she/her. 』 @mapleviewstarters​

tw teenage pregnancy, very brief mention of abortion, child neglect

diana park, born bomi park –– park chaewon / gowon fc

birthday: november 19, 1999 - 21 yrs old ; scorpio

cis female, she/her, bisexual (all of my muses are bi, no questions asked 🥰)

truth be told, diana knew very little about her time as an infant. her entire life, she was passed around as a baby to whoever wanted to take care of her.

her parents were two teenagers in high school when they had her. somewhere in arizona, it was a typical story of two rowdy teens falling in love and partying together all the time until one of them got pregnant. 

everyone clearly knew that diana’s mother didn’t want her, but she couldn’t get herself to get an abortion. once she had the baby, she immediately left her behind and disappeared off the face of earth the next day. 

diana was first named bomi by her grandmother who is her father’s mother. bomi meaning beautiful treasure, also meaning spring since it’s derived from the word ‘bom’.

there was no one to take her other than her father, who also didn’t want her. he kept her with him and his mother for a few weeks before giving up and leaving her behind with his mother. he genuinely couldn’t care less, because he too disappeared. probably to follow the steps of his runaway girlfriend. 

her grandmother sadly couldn’t keep taking care of her as well, seeing as she had an abundance of children of her own. it was only before the girl’s fifth month that she handed her over to her grandmother from her mother’s side. 

that’s how bomi had ended up in texas, living with her mother’s side of the family until she was about 5 years old. it was a tough time for her, always feeling so useless and unwanted. she was always the kid who was picked on in the family and in school, and it was so bad for her mentally at such a young age. 

in comes her favorite aunt in the entire world. anyone else would call her the “weird aunt” who never got married and is probably a lesbian (diana would later find out that she indeed is a lesbian), but to bomi, she was the best person in the entire world. she radiated such a happy and free-spirited energy, and she was always the aunt who got her gifts and sweets, and made her so happy. 

her aunt, named patricia, loved the girl so much. and seeing how the family never really paid attention to bomi, she decided to officially take her in like her own child. the family was honestly happy to just hand her over to her. 

bomi eventually went by diana as her american name after moving to mapleview with her aunt and switching schools. she was named after princess diana, and diana barry from the anne of green gables books which were one of their favorite book series. ironically, the girl related a lot more to anne in the books with the whole ‘orphan girl eventually finds a loving family story’, but she liked diana’s name a lot, and her aunt said that she reminded her of her because of her starkly dark hair and insane beauty.

the two live in chestnut drive, their living place being two little cabins on the edge of the woods a little off the road, which they bought and renovated together. 

when diana was of legal age, one of the cabins was officially hers. it was like her moving out and living independently, but still being right next to her original home. she personally didn’t want to live anywhere else. 

she also went blonde after that, and has been for a long while now that if you see her, you’d think she’s a natural blonde lmao

diana has been so interested in fashion design and sewing for as long as she could remember. she thankfully had her aunt to provide for her and help her learn the things she wanted to get better at from a young age.

ever since she moved into her own cabin, she decided to start a youtube channel where she sews dresses, talks about fashion history, and documents her life and random projects that she decides to take on. sometimes even posting animal crossing speed builds. think a mix of: mina le, micarah tewers, hannahleeduggan, and gowon’s own messy ass vlogs 

while not being related by blood in any shape or form, diana would consider primrose ( @dagohoy​ ) an unrelated cousin. the reason being is that diana’s uncle, who is aunt patricia’s brother, is married to primrose’s aunt, which makes the two girls sort of a family but... not really. diana personally finds the way they’re related interesting, but ever since she met primrose when she moved to mapleview, she thought that the girl hated her.

personality;

cottage core princess to the fullessssssttt

hashtag nature girl ; will get mad at u for littering

she’s that person who’s unintentionally funny ? like she would say or do random things and she somehow makes it funny ?

she’s the sweetest person, and really so outgoing

but she’s also that person who prefers quiet places a lot

also she’s got such a high and cute voice, you’d think she’s younger than she actually is. and tbh she hates it a lot of the times when people assume she’s a lot younger. 

she is the embodiment of this twitter edit

and this fucking clip 😭😭

she loves making friends, but also lets first impressions get the best of her sometimes. if someone looked intimidating to her, she would either be a lot more quiet and reserved until she was sure of how to interact with them, or she would completely go with the flow and probably annoy them with crackhead confidence. depends on the day.

no challenge could get in diana’s way! if she was interested in trying something new and it looked difficult, she would try and try until she was good at it. 

come love my babie pleaaaaase

[beauzoleils]

ABIGAIL  COWEN ,  CISFEMALE ,  SHE / HER    →   according  to  the  school  records ,  NATALIE  LUCILLE  BEAUSOLEIL  has  been  attending  sacred  heart  for  the  past  three  years .  i  last  saw  them   hanging  around  the  john  bracken  library  ;  i  think  they  were  working  on  writing  her  novel .  at  twenty - one  years  old ,  natalie  has  been  studying  english  literature  and  get  this ,  i   heard  that  she’ll  zone  out  while  writing  papers  for  class  and  come  to  surrounded  by  pages  and  pages  full  of  archaic  languages  she  doesn’t  speak   —   figure  it’s  true ?  everyone  around  here  always  associates  them  with  a  moonlight  sonata  echoing  through  empty  halls ,  seats  in  the  back  row  at  the  opera ,  and  dead  flowers  pressed  between  the  pages  of  an  old  book .  in  the  time  since  these  strange  happenings ,  they  have  encountered  unexplained  occurrences .     

HI ,  hello .  i’m  hannah  n  this  is  like .  the  only  thing  i’ve  been  thinking  about  recently ,  aka  i’m  so  excited .  ok  anyway !  i’m  20 ,  kickin  it  in  the  est !  i’m  a  full  time  student  ( majoring  in  being  a  dumb  bitch  n  gay  rights  and  i’m  at  the  top  of  my  class  baby . . )  and  i’m  ALSO  a  preschool  teacher  so  if  i’m  ever  Not  here ,  i’m  with  my  babies  ! !  but  that  isn’t  the  reason  why  ur  all  here . .   ur  here  for  an  intro  post !  so !  

let’s  talk  abt  my  girl . . .  𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋 !

okay .  so .  first  thing’s  first .  i  have  some  Real  Things  prepared  for  my  girl ,  including  but  not  limited  to :

a  pinterest  board !

a  stats  page !

and  what  i  call  NATALIE :  A  TRAGEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS .  it’s  kind  of  a  bio ,  mixed  in  with  some  stage  directions  here  and  there .  it’s  a  quick  read  n  rly  gives  you  that  Natalie  Flavor  if  you  know  what  i  mean . .  so  if  you  feel  so  inclined  n  wanna  take  a  look . .  but  full  disclosure  it  rly  does  hit  different  than  just  reading  this  intro 

anyway !  i’ll  give  a  more  condensed  version  of  her  bio  here  n  some  info  abt  her  personality  n  some  random  headcanons . .  etc !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈 :  𝑨 𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

alright  SO .  our  girl  natalie  was  born  on  april  13 ,  1952  to  michel  and  colette  beausoleil .  it  was  a  thursday ,  and  it  was  ALSO  eleven  weeks  before  colette’s  due  date ,  so  we  all  know  that  can’t  be  good 

( spoiler  alert :  it  wasn’t )

natalie  was  supposed  to  be  a  twin ,  but  the  other  baby  ( a  boy  named  pierre )  didn’t  survive .  they  didn’t  think  that  natalie  would ,  but  she did !  unfortunately ,  her  parents  were  too  wounded  by  the  loss  of  their  other  baby  and  it  was  all grieving  and  no  celebrating .  

also .  there’s  more  info  abt  her  parents  n  how  they  met  in  the  bio  but ,  a  sparknotes  version  is  that  michel  was  a  playwright  in  paris  and  colette  was  a  ballerina / his  muse  and  they  rushed  into  a  marriage 

michel  made  it  rly  big  a  couple  yrs  after  natalie  was  born  and  so  they  decided  to  use  that  $ $ $  to  send  natalie  away  to  an  expensive  boarding  school  in  london  called  our  lady  of  sacred  suffering .  it  was ,  of  course ,  a  catholic  girls  boarding  school  and  natalie  hated  it  there

but  they  hated  natalie  there  bc  she  was  just  the  WORST  catholic  school  girl  of  all  time ,  so  it  was  mutual

meanwhile ,  her  relationship  w  her  parents  is . .  very  complicated .  her  dad  is  just  kind  of  The  Worst  across  the  board ,  very  reliant  on  drinking ,  definitely  got  into  drug  use  at  some  point ,  had  lots  of  affairs  with  the  young  actresses  in  his  plays .  and  colette  was  just . .  very  sad  and  very  absent  so  the  support  was  Minimal

natalie  has  a  lot  of  issues  that  are  all  rooted  in  her  childhood  tbh .

somewhere  along  the  way ,  she  found  a  deep  passion  for  Writing  and  developed  this  sense  of  purpose  and  for  a  minute  things  were  going  very  well 

which  we  all  know  means  things  are  about  to  get  WORSE . 

on  her  eighteenth  birthday ,  natalie  receieves  a  card  in  the  mail  from  her  mother  for  the  First  Time  Ever .  and  she  immediately  is  like .  huh .  well .  something  is  Wrong .

she’s  right .

( tw :  nondescript  mentions  of  car  crashes  &  death )

a  week  later ,  she  receives  word  that  her  parents  were  involved  in  a  serious  car  accident  at  the  pont  de  l’alma  tunnel  in  paris  and  her  did  not  survive  the  accident .

( end  tw )

her  mother’s  family  is  not  convinced  that  michel  should  walk  away  from  this  without  blame  and  decides  to  take  legal  action  against  him  and  get  him  convicted  with  a  more  serious  charge  than  just  manslaughter . 

they  promise  to  keep  natalie  out  of  it  as  much  as  possible  but  when  it  comes  time  to  testify  as  to  whether  or  not  michel  had  a  history  of  not  caring  about  colette’s  life  and  well - being ,  the  only  one  who  can  speak  to  it  is  natalie .

so  she  testifies  and  it’s  her  testimony  that  is  the  metaphorical  nail  in  the  coffin .  

( tw :  suicide  mention )

michel  knows  it ,  too .  that’s  what  natalie  thinks .  he  turns  up  dead  in  his  jail  cell  the  day  before  he’s  supposed  to  be  sentenced .  she  never  knows  if  he  deserved  the  life  sentence  he  was  going  to  be  given .

( end  tw ) 

so  then !  she’s  an  orphan !  but  she  does  gain  control  over  everything  that  her  parents  left  behind ,  which  turns  out  to  be  a  lot .  

she  sells  their  house  in  paris ,  goes  to  wales  to  begin  university ,  and  hasn’t  gone  back  since  then .  but  like ,  she  grew  up  in  london  for  the  most  part  so  she’s  not  exactly  sad  about  being  away  from  paris  and  all  the  ghosts  there .

and  now  she’s  at  sacred  heart ,  working  on  writing  her  debut  novel ,  which  is  the  ( albeit ,  dramatized  and  fictionalized )  story  of  her  parents !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈 :  𝑨  𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 .

so  basically ,  she’s  got  issues .

fictional  character  inspo  includes :  jo  march ,  alaska  young ,  cheryl  blossom

if  you  know  anything  abt  astrology . .  she’s  an  aries  sun ,  mercury ,  and  venus . .  and  a  scorpio  moon  and  mars . .  and  a  gemini  rising . .  i’m  so  sorry JKDSFM

she’s  very  emotional  but  does  a  super  good  job  of  hiding  it  and  keeping  all  those  emotions  ( esp  the  intense  n  darker  ones )  buried  away . .  deep  down  where  no  one  could  see  it

the  minute  that  ppl  kind  of  ? ?  but  two  and  two  together  n  realize  who  she  is  ( bc . .  in  my  head . .  her  dad’s  whole  trial  was  kind  of .  A  Thing  that  the  public  knew  abt . )  they’re  probably  rly  concerned  w  Little  she  shows  any  real  emotion  to  the  whole  thing . 

rly  she’s  just  the  queen  of  compartmentalizing  n  repressing !

she’s  very . .  Assertive .  like ,  when  she  wants  something  she’s  going  to  do  whatever  it  takes  to  get  her  way  

very  Very  reckless .  she’s  like . .  so  fucking  impulsive  that  it  physically  Pains  me  sometimes .

she’s  very  smart  but  like .  More  So ,  she’s  very  clever  and  very  sharp  with  her  words .  a  very  fast  thinker  and  a  very  loud  talker 

someone  please . .  tell  her  to  stop  yelling .  she  needs  to  Relax . 

she’s  very  charming  i’ll  say  it .  n  like ?  seems  cool ?  the  kind  of  person  that  you  meet  and  immediately  want  to  hang  out  w  them .  

very  flirty ,  has  always  used  that  charming  smile  of  hers  to  get  ppl  in  her  corner  and  she’s  not  gonna  stop  now !  she’s  very  good  at  making  ppl  feel  special  

but  like .  she  means  well  most  of  the  time  sdkfj  her  heart  is  in  the  right  place  okay

big  time  trust  issues .  big  time  commitment  issues .  painfully  independent  and  refuses  to  let  anyone  know  how  much  she  cares  about  them  until  she’s  like . .  Really  sure  that  they  aren’t  going  to  hurt  her

also  very  afraid  of  hurting  people ,  which  is  another  reason  why  she  struggles  to  get  attached  to  people .  she  definitely  has  this  deep - rooted  fear  that  Bad  Things  follower  her  and  she  doesn’t  want  to  drag  ppl  into  that

it’s  literally  a  toss - up  as  to  whether  she’s  going  to  seem  like  she’s  demanding  ur  attention  or  entirely  disinterested  in  it .  bc  she’s  all  over  the  place . 

but  like .  i’m  an  emotional  BITCH  so  she’s  probably  going  to  end  up  being  100000%  softer  than  i  intend  bc  i  project  too  much  soft  bitch  energy  onto  my  characters  Always .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈𝐈 :  𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 .

so  many  things .  literally ,  anything .  just  a  disclaimer ,  if  u  read  thru  this  and  had  An  Idea  then  like .  yes  Pls  tell  me ,  i  want  it  xoxo 

but  here  are  some  i  have  up  in  the  old . .  noggin .

EXES .  please ,  please . .  for  the  love  of  GOD  give  me  some  angsty  exes  nonsense .  do  you  need  someone  who  broke  ur  characters  heart ?  consider  natalie  UR  GIRL .  she’s  Emotionally  Damaged  and  has  the  capacity  to  be  the  angstiest  ex  of  all  time ,  okay ?

give  her  a  weakness .  she  needs  someone  who  she’s  Actually  vulnerable  around  and  actually  sees  her  have  emotions  and  knows  she’s  not  just  this  huge  Mess  all  the  time

i  rly  want  someone  that  is  like .  from  the  same  ( ish )  bg  as  her  in  the  sense  that  like . .  they  also  were  surrounded  by  nice  clothes  n   expensive  private  schools  n  Luxury  but  like .  they  Thrive  in  it  the  way  natalie  used  to  wish  that  she  could .  n  just .  i  think  it  would  b  a  super  interesting  dynamic  bc  they  would  just !  clash !  so  intensely ! !  n  tbh  nat  would  probably  b  lowkey  jealous  Still  n .  spicy !

@ all  those  ppl  who  are  into  theatre :  i’m  Dying  for  some  connections  of  ppl  who  knew / knew  of  her  father  n  would  know  what  happened  w  him  perhaps  on  a  deeper  level  than  ppl  who  read  it  in  the  newspaper  a  few  yrs  ago . .  ( bonus  points  if  they  lowkey  idolized / looked  up  to  her  dad  bc  thats  a  Big  Mess  and  could  b  spicy  as  fuck  to  explore ,  u know ? ) 

idk  if  any  of  y’all  have  characters  who  grew  up  in / around  paris ?  but  if  there  are . .  then  Perhaps  someone  who  knew  her  in  her  youth ?

okay .  not  to  be  Trash  but  like .  i  rly  want  her  to  have  a  dynamic  that’s  jo  x  laurie  adjacent ?  do  they  have  to  be  in  love  w  her ?  no !  i  just  want someone  that  has  that  genuine  bond  w  her  and  they  care  abt  each  other  n  goof  around  n  like . .  i’m  already  getting  soft  on  main ,  huh , ,

she’s  soo  fucking  messy  that  like . .  all  the  messy  fwb / frenemies  with  benefits / one  night  stand  type  of  plots . .  yes  pls 

i  always  want  there  to  b  a  badass  girl  squad  like .  a  group  of  ladies  n  theydies  that  take  no  shit  n  get  in  fights  for  each  other  n  rly  truly  ride  or  die  w  each  other . .  we  can  workshop  the  name  ok  but  for  now ?  my  girl  squad  is  open  for  applications 

okay .  let  me  cut  myself  off  right  there  but  i’ll  leave  you  with  my  WANTED  CONNECTIONS  TAG  n  also  again  i’m 10000%  okay  to  just  brainstorm  out  something  else  completely  if  its  what  ur  feeling !

if  u  read  all / any  of  this . .  i  love  u . <3  either hmu on discord ( let's go 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓈 ! #6227 ) ksdjfskm  OR !  like  this  n  i  will  come  to  u !  okay ,  that’s  all ,  bye 

[emperorsfoot]

YJ fic. # 2, “Emergence”

Originally posted on FanFiction.Net on 1/6/12

This was a fill for a prompt in the “Young Justice Fandom Challenges” forum. Amazingly, the forum is still active: https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Young-Justice-Fanfiction-Challenges/86355/

The prompt was to write a fic where Superman wanted to adopt Superboy and Supey was the one to reject him. 

There was some wiggle room for interpretation. 

My summary: “Fathers generally get nine months to get used to the idea. But when the child's already walking, talking and asking for attention, nine months might be to long to wait. -ONE SHOT”

Emergence:

Clark watched Bruce with his new ward. The two worked well together, better than one would have expected a newly orphaned nine-year-old circus boy to work with a still unfamiliar adult and far better than one would have ever expected the Dark Knight to work with… well anyone. Even the teamwork of the World's Finest would be hard-pressed in a comparison.

The Man of Steel hung back as he used his telescopic vision to observe Gotham's hero and his new protégé take down a small-time roof-hopper that Clark didn't recognize. The Batman was fiercely territorial about his city and Superman wasn't looking to step on his toes, he just had to see this for himself. He knew Bruce Wayne had adopted an orphaned circus acrobat a few weeks ago. The young billionaire bachelor and his flavor-of-the-week date for that week had been in attendance as spectators the day of the accident that had killed all but two of the Flying Graysons, leaving the youngest son orphaned and his only surviving uncle to injured to care for himself let alone the nine-year-old boy. That was note-worthy news for the gossip columns. But what brought Clark to Gotham tonight, almost a month since, were the rumors that the Batman was now being seen with a young boy by his side.

It was no surprise to the reporter that Bruce would take in a young boy whom had also witnessed the brutal death of his parents. He probably saw a bit of himself in the boy, felt a sort of comradery through their shared tragedy. But what the Man of Steel found hard to believe was that the Dark Knight would place such a young child in harms way by taking him out on patrols and cases every night. But there they were, a duo that seemed to be developing a very effective dynamic for fighting crime.

He waited until they had dispatched their quarry and finished their circuit of the city and returned to the Batcave. Bruce had just shifted the Batmobile into park and cut the engine when Superman entered the cave.

"I was wondering when you'd finally stop hovering and say 'hi'." The Dark Knight commented dryly as he hopped out of the driver's seat, cape swishing behind him. "Spying doesn't become you."

Before Clark had the chance to respond, he was cut off by the excited exclamation of the Wonder Boy, "Oh wow! You do know him!"

He did a forward flip out of his seat and landed, feet first, on the hood of the Batmobile. A second flip landed him directly in front of the Man of Steel. He beamed up at the famed hero with an almost worshipful grin on his face. But before the boy had the chance to say more, his legal guardian cut him off.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Right, right." The boy groaned and then was cartwheeling towards the stairs that lead into the mansion proper. Clark waited until the faux grandfather clock had shut firmly before turning his attention back to the Dark Knight.

"I must say, I'm surprised."

"What are you doing here, Clark?"

The Man of Steel suppressed a smile. He might have adopted a son and become a parent, but Batman was still the same blunt and sometimes abrasive Batman. "Honestly, I had to see it for myself. Bruce Wayne adopting a kid I can totally see, Batman taking a kid out on cases is just so out of character and plain irresponsible, to me."

Bruce pulled his cowl off and ran his fingers through sweat matted hair. "Since you're new to the whole spy thing I'm guessing you didn't see that he's more than capable of holding his own on cases."

Clark had noticed that the boy was rather talented, but he was so young and Batman's cases were usually so dangerous… "I just don't see why you'd want to get you're adopted son involved in this part of your life."

Bruce flopped down in the swivel chair in front of his monitors and said with a shrug, "Its our version of father-son quality time."

Clark thought about that for a long time after leaving Gotham. Father-son quality time, huh. If Clark Kent were to ever adopt a child he would never be able to include his hypothetical ward in his… extracurricular activities. Not unless the boy (or girl, he supposed) could also fly, had super-strength, and was invulnerable. His villain gallery may not be as mentally unbalanced or creative as Bruce's but that didn't mean they were any less dangerous. In fact, in many instances, his gallery was much, much more dangerous than the Dark Knight's, he could never in good conscience involve a child in that. If he were ever to have a sidekick or a protégé, they'd have to be a kryptonian like himself, with the same abilities he had. But that was something that would never happen. Kryptonian physiology wasn't compatible with humans'; no matter how much the two races resembled each other, they could not procreate. He would never have any progeny by normal means.

He could never include an adopted son in the 'Superman' part of his life and he could never have a son of his own. Clark supposed he'd never be able to relate to Bruce where that aspect of his life was concerned.

…

Barry was the second member of the League to take on a sidekick. His newly wedded wife, Iris, apparently had a nephew whom was blessed (cursed) with a keenly inquisitive mind and a pre-inclination towards science. He had not only discovered his newly acquired uncle's identity, but also managed to reproduce the experiment (accident) that had given him his super-speed. Now the Flash had a 'Kid Flash' underfoot trying to be a hero like his uncle.

Between bites of pizza and popcorn, Barry would regal anyone willing to listen with tales of his adventures and misadventures with the boy. He would whine and kvetch and complain about his youth and his inexperience, but behind the grousing and grumblings, Clark could hear amusement, affection and even pride in his voice. For all his complaining, Barry was happy to have a partner to help-out with keeping his own little rouge gallery in check.

"There is one good thing about having the Kid around." Flash gave a dramatic sigh, waving his arms wide before slumping his shoulders in defeat. He waited for someone to follow his cue. After a prolonged pause Clark decided to bite.

"Alright, Berry, and what's that?"

"Its good practice!" He answered with a smile. "Ya know, for when Iris and I have little speedsters of our own."

Clark had muttered something non-committal to that, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He made his excuses to the Flash and exited the mess hall. Barry could have little speedsters; the accident that had given him his powers had not robbed him of his potential to become a parent. But Clark would never have little boy scouts of his own; he wasn't human and so did not have the potential to ever become a parent with a human woman.

…

Ollie had been the next one, another adoption case. Clark had been rather busy with an off-world mission at the time and so didn't get to hear the full story of young Roy Harper from Green Arrow himself. Instead receiving the cliff-notes version from Aquaman upon his return.

"Batman seems to have set a trend." The Atlantian king joked. "What about you, Supes, any plans to become the next 'Justice-daddy'."

"The next what?"

"Its what Berry's started calling the members with sidekicks recently." He shrugged. "I'm not fond of the term, but I must admit that the idea of having a partner on certain missions would be advantageous. So, what about you?"

Clark answered with an uncharacteristically short and sober, "No."

A few months after that had been Aquaman's faithful battle with Ocean Master in which two students of the Academy in Poseidonis aided him; and Orin suddenly got himself a sidekick of his own. Maybe Batman really had set a trend that the rest of the League was slowly following by one means or anther. But it was a trend Clark could never follow himself.

He had long since resigned himself that he would never have any progeny, he also knew that no one born on Earth would be able to keep up with him and his villain gallery. He now began resigning himself to the belief that he would also have no one to pass on all the knowledge Jor-El had left him with. The legacy of Krypton would die with him.

Not for the first time, but the first time in a long time, the full weight of his title hit him. He really was the Last Son of Krypton.

…

Independence Day had been a shock to his system.

Superboy's existence gave him a great deal of food-for-thought. Upon later reflection, the usually-Boy Scout had to decide that his handling of the news and the boy himself had been less than admirable. But personal feelings (on both sides) aside, the boy's existence meant two things to the Man of Steel: first, there were very few places where Cadmus could have gotten a viable sample of his DNA which meant that one (or more) of the people on the short list of those he trusted were compromised, and secondly, grooming the boy as a weapon to destroy him so carefully and concealing his existence from the League so completely implied some greater and deeper plot than their standard run-of-the-mill Big Bad's quest for world domination. Before he claimed any sort of personal responsibility for the boy he had to get those two questions sorted out.

He had told the boy that the League would figure something out for him, and the League had. He was living at Mt. Justice, he was working on a Team under Batman's careful observation, he was surrounded by friends… the boy didn't really need him. Clark pushed the boy out of his mind.

Besides, it wasn't like the Superboy was his son. Superman couldn't have children.

…

Clark had all but forgotten about the boy until August when he showed up in Metropolis to help with a collapsing bridge.

At first he'd been annoyed. The clone's landing had been rough and shook the bridge enough to make the Man of Steel to a double take. He floated up totake hold of the bus that Superboy was trying (and failing) to pull back from plunging nose first into the bay.

"I had that!" The boy snarled at him.

Clark met the hostility with some blunt harshness of his own. "I didn't want to take the chance. As it is, your landing could have destabilized the whole bridge."

"But it didn't!" He argued.

"But it could have." Superman shot back deciding that he didn't have much patience for the boy right now. "As it is, we don't yet know the limits of your powers."

He had expected the boy to snap back with defensive anger, or lash out with an insult or maybe just shout that the Man of Steel didn't know what he was talking about and to take his advice and tell him where he could shove it. Instead, the Superboy gave him the same hopeful but vulnerable expression he's worn back in July.

"Maybe… you could, ya know, help me with that…?" The boy gazed up at him pleadingly.

Clark was assailed by a sudden stabbing of guilt. He hadn't seen the kid since July, hadn't thought of him in two months and when he did think of his clone, it was as the living weapon he'd been created to be, a tool made by a nefarious organization for an ambiguous purpose with no real mind or will of its own. 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words echoed through his head momentarily.

"Batman's got that covered." Clark suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to get away.

Luckily, Green Arrow happened to call just at that moment and he was gifted with an excuse to leave.

Let it never be said that metas were never saved by norms.

…

Perhaps his outburst at the diner had been a bit of an overreaction. But Bruce was pushing. If their rolls had been reversed and it was the Man of Steel pressuring the Dark Knight to take on an unexpected responsibility he'd have punched him in the jaw (there was some question as to with or without his kryptonite ring). So, yes, his public outburst might have been a little unreasonable given the setting, but it wasn't an overreaction. No.

But what had really set him off was not the fact that Bruce was asking him to take responsibility for the boy, but that Bruce had dropped the F-bomb. 'Father'. He had called Clark the boy's father and that was something the Superman had not been prepared to hear. Something he had not been ready to think about. He had lived almost his entire adult life under the belief that he could never and would never have any children of his own. Superman might be many things, but 'father' had never been one of the possibilities. …And now Bruce was implying it was not a possibility but his reality.

Clark lay awake chewing on that little tidbit.

He thought about how much Bruce's life seemed to have improved after he adopted Dick. How he seemed less angry, less hostile, more casual, more comfortable; overall the Dark Knight seemed just generally happier since the boy appeared in his life. Clark had never thought he would have children so he had never given the idea much thought, but now that he actually was thinking about it he began to wonder if another reason why he never gave the idea much attention was because he might have (on some level) been a little jealous. Jealous because Bruce had something that he believed he would never have and he saw how happy it made him.

But then he thought about Oliver and all the grief Roy gave him, not just with their falling-out and the boy's subsequent solo act, but grief over the boy's short heroin addiction a few years prior. Clark saw the strain it put on not only Green Arrow but Black Canary as well.

The decision to adopt the boy as his son and take all the emotional baggage that when with it would not affect solely him; the decision did not rest solely with him. The boy would be Lois' son too, she should have a say in the decision as well.

Clark rolled over and gently shook his wife awake.

"Wha'…?" She slurred drowsily. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Lois," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"No." She groaned and rolled over… and was back asleep before Superman could say 'Great Scott!'

"Lois…" He gave her another gentle shake and rolled her back over to face him.

She moaned in irritation. "You can do whatever you want to me, just don't wake me up."

"Sweetheart, I want to talk."

"Okay, I'm listening." Her eyes fluttered and then closed and she began to snore. Clark shook her awake for a third time. "Damn it, Clark! What!"

He recoiled at her ire but still asked what he wanted to ask. "Have you… have you ever thought about us having a kid?"

She yawned and ran a hand through her sleep-matted hair. "Why? Are you pregnant?"

"What! No! Why would you even…"

Maybe she was still asleep and this really was a conversation best left until morning. But he had been avoiding the subject of Superboy for so long, he wanted to stop procrastinating. The boy was on his mind right now, there was no guarantee he'd give a care about him in the morning.

"Well, you're an alien, Clark, for all I know on Krypton men could have babies." She stretched and cuddled up close to him.

"No." He said flatly. Then, before the conversation could swing off into a bizarre tangent he said, "Lets start over: Do you remember a couple months back when I told you that the League had found a clone of me?"

"I remember the incident at the bridge today a lot more clearly than I remember you telling me about him."

Clark suppressed a wince. Lois hadn't been anywhere near the Hobb's Bay at the time, but the emergency and his and the boy's response to it had been televised. Thankfully the cameras had been far enough away not to catch their conversation, but their body language had been just as telling. It was a far more accurate summary of their relationship (or lack there of) than the short, 'Lois, the League discovered a clone of me tonight,' he'd given her back in July.

"How would… um, how would you feel if I invited him to live with us?"

She missed one… two… three beats before saying, "Sure. But I think the rest of this conversation is best left for when I'm awake."

Unfortunately they did not discuss the subject of Superboy the following morning. A hurricane drifted unseasonably high up the eastern seaboard and Superman rushed off to offer his assistance in any way he could while Lois rushed off to cover the story. When they finally found a few minuets to once again be alone together, they were wet, dirty and in Lois' case exhausted, certainly in no mood to discuss a new addition to their household. The subject of Superboy went undiscussed for some time after that.

…

In mid-September he and J'onn helped defeat the pair known as the 'Terror Twins' in New Orleans. Bruce, in semi-classical Batman fashion, had a plan to sneak two members of the Team into Belle Reve as undercover operatives. Clark had stood silently in the Cave's briefing room while the Dark Knight explained the mission, but he had really only been partially listening. Seeing Superboy again had reminded him that he and Lois still were yet to discuss the possibility of his coming to live with them.

Standing behind Bruce and trying to stay out of the way, Clark watched the boy's expression shift from the blank stare of a soldier awaiting orders, to sharp attention as Batman began to speak, to fierce determination when he singled the boy out as one of the operatives. The Man of Steel was quickly reminded that, while he resembled a sullen teenager and Bruce insisted the boy was his 'son', he was actually a living weapon, a weapon created to kill him. Did he really want to bring something like that into his home? Expose it to his family?

He did not speak with the boy at all either after the briefing nor at any point during their brief jaunt in New Orleans. After he'd neutralized Terror and sent him and his sister plummeting towards the 'switch-point' he had prepared to leave. His portion of the mission was over; Bruce could handle everything from there. Before flying away his super-human hearing couldn't help but pick-up a brief exchange of dialogue.

"But I don just gone toe-to-toe wit' Superman!" That would be Tommy Terror, his grammatically challenged southern drawl was rather distinctive. What surprised Clark was the person who answered him and their reply.

"Congratulations. That's more quality time than he's ever given me."

Clark recognized that voice, it was his own voice only two decades younger, it was Superboy. The boy wanted to spend 'quality time' with him? Why? They'd only ever been in the same room together a handful of times; they'd only ever spoken to each other twice. What reason could the boy have to expect any sort of 'quality time' from him?

He remembered the pleading gaze the boy had given him back in Metropolis the previous month. It wasn't that the boy expected anything from him, but he did want certain things from him. Namely, just some of his time. He might be a living weapon, he might have been created to kill and replace the Man of Steel, he might be just a clone, but he was still also just a boy and like all boys, he wanted the time and attention of a parent. Bruce had called him the boy's 'father'; did the boy view him in the same way? Was that the boy's only interest in him?

The kid might be a weapon, but what was a weapon but a tool? And what were the merits of a tool but the way it was used? 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words once again echoed through his mind. If he didn't like being called an 'it' he probably wouldn't appreciate being compared to weapons and tools either.

Clark sighed. Bruce thought that him claiming the boy was what was best for him, but was that really what was best for the kid? Would it really be healthy to have the boy live with a person whom still viewed him, not as a fully formed individual, but rather a boy-shaped tool? A weapon that could be turned against the hand the wielded it just as easily as any other. If it was just him, he wouldn't have to think so hard about it, he could take care of himself, but would he be putting Lois in danger by inviting the boy into their home? Or, would he be avoiding danger by reaching his hand out to the boy and offering him the guidance and 'quality time' he seemed to crave so much?

He chewed on that question for a while, too.

…

"Lois, c'mon we're gonna be late." Clark paced the living room of their apartment with impatience. While their two year anniversary had actually been two weeks prior, this was the first night that both of them had actually managed to find the time to celebrate and he wanted to celebrate before some cookie-cutter baddie decided it was a nice night to try to take over the world.

"Oh, you actually made reservations somewhere?" His blushing bride emerged from the bathroom looking radiant in a blue silk gown with yellow trim. It hugged her figure, showing off the delicious curve of her hips to their best advantage while still concealing their creamy flesh to his eyes (well, to a normal man's eyes, if Clark wanted to see her creamy flesh all he had to do was…). She threw her arms around him and waggled a finger in his face. "Ah, ah, ah. There'll be none of that, you naughty boy."

"Lois, I'm insulted that you think I'd be so lewd as to-"

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms over her chest, the action pressing her breast together in a way that was thoroughly pleasing to look upon. "So, what are we gonna do?"

Clark helped her into a heavy coat before handing her her purse and lifting her up, carrying her bridal-style to the window. "I was thinking we'd do a little dancing." He said. "Maybe make a little love… generally just get down tonight."

She gave a snort. "Smallville, you are probably the corniest person I know."

He waited to see if she would follow that up with a crack about corn farming in Kansas but she did not. Instead she changed the subject.

"But I meant, what are we gonna do about the Superboy?"

His happy-playful mood deflated at the mention of the boy and he backed them away from the window and put her down. "Lois, its our anniversary, do we have to talk about this now?"

"Its just that its been a couple months since you last mentioned anything about him." She said. "The last time we talked about him, you woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if he could live with us, you haven't mentioned him since. I would kinda like to know what's going on…"

"But do we have to talk about him tonight?"

"No, I suppose we don't." She admitted. It was hard enough finding time when the two of them could spend a romantic evening together. She didn't want to spoil it any more than he did, but his lack of mention about the clone had begun to bother her. "Just know that I haven't forgotten and I expect to have that talk some time soonish."

"Yes, dear."

…

It would be late November before the subject of Superboy came up again in the Kent household.

Lois and Clark had flown to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with Martha on the Kent Farm. They sat around the table laughing and joking about the latest antics of the Smallville townsfolk, the misadventures of the Daily Planet in Metropolis and the latest exploits of the Superman. It was a perfect evening; the only thing that would make it more perfect was if Jonathan Kent were still alive to share it.

…But then Ma shattered the mood with the kind of calm command that only a mother could wield.

"I've been thinking." She said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. "You should convert the guest room in your apartment into a bedroom for the boy."

"What boy?" Clark had blinked in confusion only to realize what his mother must be talking about all to late.

"Lois and I have been talking, Clark." Neither her voice nor her posture changed, there was no outward indication that she was suddenly mad, but the Man of Steel had lived with his mother long enough to know when he had upset her. Forgetting about the boy had been his second mistake, but thinking that his wife wouldn't discuss a possible addition to the family with his mother had been his first (and bigger) mistake. "She told me that you mentioned an interest in taking in the Superboy I've been hearing so little about recently. I want to know why you haven't yet."

"I've been… thinking about it…" He answered her lamely.

"Well, its time to stop thinking and start doing." Martha Kent's eyes narrowed at her son. "You'll start by making a space livable for him, a teenage boy needs a room that's all his own. The next time Lucy or the General come by for an extended visit, I'm sure they can make do with your couch. You will invite the boy to live with you and you will make darn sure he feels welcomed, Clark, like he belongs. When he's settled, you'll bring him here for a visit. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma."

…

In between chasing stories as Clark Kent, saving the planet as Superman and one very awkward Christmas dinner with the Lanes, the Man of Steel found himself spending his free time going through, rearranging and moving things out of the guest bedroom. He and Lois had been using it as a sort of home office-slash-storage room for evidence they might have collected on their cases, copies of old articles, photos (both personal and work related), etc.

Clark had been willing to shred or burn most of it, but Lois refused to destroy a single page. And so he had spent almost all of December and the first week of January flying copy-boxes from their apartment in Metropolis to either the Kent farm to be stored in the attic or the Fortress of Solitude to be copied into his archives at a later date. When that was done, Lois put him to work rearranging the furniture a bit.

The second bookcase had to be taken out; it took up to much space and made the room feel cramped. Lois made him move it into the living room and then stood back and gave orders as to how the rest of the living room furniture was to be rearranged due to the addition of the new piece. Clark spent two obnoxiously long hours doing that, it would have been longer, but to his unexpected relief, Intergang decided to rob the Federal Exchange with a tank, and that sounded like a job for Superman! Their adventures in moving would have to wait a bit.

When Clark returned later that evening it was to find that Lois had acquired a new dresser for the boy. (Because, apparently, she felt a closet wasn't enough.) The movers had left the solid wood chest of drawers in the middle of the living room floor and guess who she asked to move it into the bedroom for her. They then repeated the furniture dance for the bedroom just as they had the living room until Lois was satisfied with the arrangement and thought the boy would be likewise satisfied.

The desk stayed. She said the boy would need a place to put his computer and when Clark asked why couldn't he just put it in the living room where they had moved theirs she told him that she didn't want the boy doing what teenage boys usually did with their computers in the living room. At that Clark had politely blushed and dropped the subject.

…

It was towards the end of January and the boy's room was all ready.

Clark stood back and surveyed the room that he had made for his clone, the boy that Bruce kept insisting was his 'son'. For a moment the farm-grown alien hero had the insane idea that this must be what it was like for normal expecting fathers when making up a nursery for their child. He squished that thought back down very quickly, however. He was not an expecting father, Superboy was not his son, this room was not a nursery. He was asking the boy to move in with them, he wasn't yet ready to officially adopt him like Bruce had adopted Dick or Oliver had adopted Roy. And he certainly wasn't ready to start calling the boy 'son'.

Still, the boy was going to move in. All that was left was to actually speak with Superboy about the prospect. But once again, Clark found himself hesitant.

Lois entered behind him, her arms encircling his waist. "Are you excited?"

'Excited' was not the right word. 'Nervous' was more accurate.

…

Superman did not go strait to Mount Justice. Instead he flew to Gotham, he wanted to talk to the original 'Justice-daddy', he wanted to revisit their conversation from Bibbo's back in August.

The Dark Knight was reclining in his swivel chair, watching his monitors, his black booted feet resting up on the consol, his cowl down, a bowl of cereal in his hands. He seemed so casual and laid-back. Four years ago Clark never would have imagined he'd walk into the Batcave one day and find Gotham's Hero with his feet up enjoying a bowl of… what was that, Apple Jacks? Fruit Loops? All the brightly colored ones looked the same.

"Something wrong with your JLA comm. or did your farm-boy upbringing never teach you to call before dropping by uninvited?"

"I was kinda hopping we could talk." He cast his eyes about for the Boy Wonder and found him nowhere in sight. "Where's Robin?"

"School." Bruce answered flatly.

Right… that was another thing Clark would have to think about. Superboy was still a minor and would need to receive some version of schooling. With his powers it would be a little to dangerous for him to attend public school with other children, he ran the risk of easily hurting or even killing another student. But he and Lois lead such busy lives, neither of them would have the time to home-school the boy. He supposed they could hire a tutor, but on reporters' salaries they'd have to tighten their belts and budget carefully. Good educations didn't come cheap and unlike Bruce he wasn't made of money.

How was the Dark Knight handling the boy's schooling? Someone as careful and paranoid as Batman would never allow a civilian tutor to come to the boy at Mt. Justice. Was he having different Leaguers teach the boy different subjects, maybe?

"Listen… I, uh, I want to talk about Superboy."

Bruce set his bowl of cereal aside, lowered his feet down from the consol and turned his chair to face the Man of Steel. He folded his hands and waited for Clark to continue.

"I, uh, Lois and I were thinking… um…" Not for the first time the Superman found himself at a loss as to what to say on the subject of the Superboy. Perhaps it was because he himself hadn't quite yet sorted out his thoughts and feelings about the boy. He was firm in his decision to take the boy in, but that didn't mean he was sure of his view of the boy. Recently, he had been imagining him as a lost relation of his that had somehow managed to find him from across the cosmos. It was a nice fantasy, but Clark knew it wasn't true. But it was also the best explanation for how his perceptions of the boy were changing and how that change was starting to make him feel. "How's Superboy been doing?"

Bruce raised one quizzical eyebrow at the Man of Steel. "Lois wants to know this?"

"Well, no." Clark fidgeted under the Dark Knight's questioning gaze. "I was just wondering how he's doing… and stuff." 'Great, real eloquent, Kent!' "Its, um, its been a while since he and I last spoke… I just wanted to touch base and see if he's adjusting alright…"

It had been almost six months since the Man of Steel actually exchanged words with the Superboy and they both knew it. Bruce's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his sudden interest in the boy he'd been ignoring for almost half a year.

"Also…" Clark continued with increasing unease. He hated it when Bruce gave him that look. It was the same look he'd often seen the Knight give criminals from his gallery during interrogations, it made Clark feel as if he were being given the third degree when he was the one to come to Batman, not the other way around. "Also, I was wondering if you still wanted me to take the boy. Lois and I… we've made up a room for him and… and well, I… I, uh, I can take the boy for you."

Those narrowed eyes and questioning gaze did not change, but Clark could detect the slightest bit of surprise from the man. It was subtle, a slight shift in posture, he probably only detected it because of his superior senses and the fact they they'd been friends for so long. He had managed to shock the World's Greatest Detective! Great Scott!

"Do you want to take the boy in?"

Clark paused to consider his answer. The boy had been a great shock to him at first and that had been his reason for not claiming responsibility for him in the first place. Then, after the shock had worn off he had viewed the boy as a possible danger, he had been created to kill the Man of Steel and so would have no problems harming or killing his wife or mother. It had been for their protection that he'd continued to refuse to take the boy. But at the bridge he had seen, not a living weapon, but a lost and lonely child reaching out to him for guidance.

That had altered his perceptions of the boy greatly. It had also heaped onto him a great deal of guilt. And because of that guilt he became afraid of facing the boy for a different reason. That guilt had latter been compounded in New Orleans when he'd heard the boy's comment about 'quality time'. The boy wanted him, needed him and for the first time in his life, the Man of Steel, the Boy Scout, the Superman had turned his back on someone in need. Clark had spent four months chewing on that realization and come to the conclusion that he'd behaved in a despicable manner. The boy was blood of his blood. Even since he learned that he had been adopted, Clark had wished to find another living blood-relative of his, the boy wasn't a blood-relative in the conventional sense, but there was no denying that they were, indeed, related.

"Yes." He said at length. "Yes, I want to take the boy."

This time the Dark Knight's surprise did show on his face and Clark found the image of a shock-faced Batman sans his mask a little disturbing. The World's Greatest Detective wasn't supposed to be taken by surprise, especially not twice in one conversation. It took the man some time to find his voice again.

When he did, the Dark Knight said, "You've missed allot."

And so, they spent the next few hours going over the mission reports for the last six months. Bruce noting things of importance while Clark nodded his recognition. He was a little ashamed that the job of naming the boy had fallen on the Martians, naming a boy was supposed to be his father's job and Clark hadn't bothered to- Hold on a minuet! The Man of Steel brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. He was not the boy's father! He reminded himself firmly. He was taking responsibility for a clone he hadn't known about, not an illegitimate son he hadn't known about. Big difference! He was willing to admit to the boy being related to him, it would be difficult to deny anyway. He was taking the boy into his home and integrating him into his household. He would guide and support the boy as he grew into his powers. But he was not the boy's father.

He hoped none of his sudden internal turmoil showed on his face. Thinking the F-bomb in his head was one thing, but he didn't want to hear it from Bruce a second time.

Then they got to the botched training simulation, the psychic no-win scenario, and Clark halted his friend's narrative with an exclamation of, "Why didn't you tell me!"

The quizzical look was back on the Dark Knight's face and the Man of Steel regretted his strong emotional outburst.

"The situation had been dealt with before the day was even over." He explained. "There didn't seem to be any reason to worry the other mentors or parents over it. After they woke up, their families and mentors were briefed on what happened so they could look for and recognize any lasting effects."

"But why wasn't I told?"

"Honestly? After our conversation at Bebbo's, I didn't think you'd care." The Dark Knight answered flatly.

"His coma could have been permanent!"

"I was aware of that." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I still didn't think you'd care."

"What kind of monster do you think I am?" Clark had no idea why he felt so strongly about this. It had happened back in October, the boy was obviously fine. There was no reason to get so worked up. "Of course I would care! He's my- !"

For a second time in the conversation Clark found himself slamming the breaks on his train of thought. His speech abruptly cutting off before the particular word that had almost escaped his lips.

" –clone." He finished lamely. "He's my clone."

…

When he returned home that evening Clark gave the boy's room another critical look. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

Maybe this was how normal expecting fathers felt; nervous, apprehensive, wary, unsure –overall conflicted. Maybe, somewhere between his conversation with Bruce at the diner and today he had come to view himself as the boy's 'father'. He had always known that he'd never have any children though normal means, but the boy –Conner- hadn't come into the world through 'normal means'. Perhaps a clone was the closest thing to a son he'd ever have, and perhaps on some level he recognized that fact early on. It had just taken his conscious mind a bit more time to catch up.

And Conner was already mostly grown. He could take care of himself in a fight. Clark wouldn't need to worry about the boy being in danger if (when?) he took him out with him as a sidekick. The Man of Steel smiled to the empty room. He'd also always said that if he were to ever have a sidekick it would have to be another kryptonian, someone with the same powers he had (or in the boy's case, someone who'll develop the same powers he has). It all seemed so clear and simple now. Like some missing pieces of a puzzle had been found and put in place. All was suddenly right with the world. He may not be the boy's 'father' in the conventional sense of the word, but since when was he a conventional person? Since when was his family ever a conventional family?

Behind him, Clark heard the door to their apartment open and the lights flicked on. He turned to find Lois in the doorway juggling groceries and he rushed forward to help her.

"Thanks." She smiled as she passed custody of the bags over to him and took off her coat. She scanned the apartment with her reporter's critical eye. "I can't help but notice that Superboy still isn't here."

"Conner." Clark corrected her. She looked at him in confusion. "Superboy's name, its Conner, Conner Kent."

"I see." It figured he'd end up with the same initials as Clark. "And where is the young Mr. Kent?"

Here Clark turned shamefaced. "Still in JLA custody. I haven't spoken with him yet."

Lois crossed her arm over her chest, planted her feet and dropped one him in a pose that Clark recognized as her 'annoyed' stance. "Well, you better step on it, Smallville." She said. "He might not be willing to wait around for you forever."

"I know." He replied soberly. "I already missed my chance at naming him."

"His civilian name, yeah, you really dropped the ball on that one." She agreed. Oh, Lois, you were so empathetic sometimes you could apply for Sainthood. "But I doubt anyone in your League would have given him a kryptonian name."

That perked him up. "Lois, you are beautiful!"

She smiled a sultry smile and crossed the small distance between them to press her body against his. "Hm, flattery will get you everywhere."

…

Clark spent the first week of February sifting through kryptonian boys names. He had narrowed his choices down to three, Jor-El III, Kon-El and Erok-El. Jor-El in honor of his father and grandfather, Erok-El after his ancestor, the first Bethgar of Urrika and Kon-El just because he liked the sound of it. Clark had written his final three choices out in Kryptonese to see how they looked aesthetically, hoping to break the three-way tie between them. He sat in the Watchtower's mess hall, tapping his Daily Planet pen on the stainless steel table in thought.

"Hey, Supes, what'cha' doing?" The Flash plunked his tray laden with food down next to the Man of Steel. "Some kryptonian word game or something?"

"No." Clark shook his head and allowed a tentative smile to creep onto his lips when he explained, "I'm trying to decide on a kryptonian name for Superboy."

Berry paused in his meal to stare shock-faced at the Superman. "For Conner?" He gaped. "Are you and he speaking now?"

"Well, no…" Clark had to admit. "But I will soon. Lois and I are gonna take the boy in and I just thought it might be nice to have a name for him, to show the boy that I'm serious."

"I… see…" The Flash fidgeted, suddenly very awkward. "Supes, um, a bit of advice from a 'Justice-daddy', you shouldn't take so long when dealing with children. They're young and impressionable and impatient. Its better to do things sooner rather than latter. Otherwise they'll decide that they can't depend on you."

"I understand that." Clark assured him. "I just needed some time to get my own feelings sorted out. I'm going to see Conner soon."

Berry patted Clark's red-caped shoulder with something the Man of Steel would have sworn was preemptive sympathy. "Good luck, Big Guy."

…

'Soon' for the Man of Steel turned out to me the first week in March. Shortly after he and Lois had celebrated Valentines Day there had been a call for some off-world aid and that sounded like a job for Superman. Clark had been gone two weeks, returning just in time for the months to change. He was frustrated with all the delays, but now finally seemed to have found the time and opportunity to speak with Conner.

It had been nine months since Independence Day.

…

Conner leaned most of his weight on Kaldur as he limped down the boarding ramp of M'gann's bio-ship. To spite a twisted ankle, an injury of his own making, the Boy of Slightly-Less-Durable-Than-Steel (apparently) couldn't help but grin with satisfaction.

"Best. Mission. Ever!" He declared. Then paused when he saw who was waiting in the hangar with Red Tornado. What was he doing here?

"Dude, are you mental?" Kid Flash zipped out of the ship only to skid to a halt in front of their unexpected visitor. "Whoa! You're not Batman!"

Well spotted, Wallace. Clark shook his head at Berry's nephew before turning his full attention to Superboy –his clone, Conner –his son. "How did you injure your foot?"

Conner glared at the Man of Steel with eyes full of distrust and guarded emotion. He missed, one… two… three beats before saying, "Its nothing for you to worry about." He lifted his arm from where he'd slung it over Aqualad's shoulders and limped over to Tornado. "Is Batman in the briefing room?"

The android gave his affirmative and the Boy of Steel began to limp out of the hangar. Miss Martian followed after him, insisting that they put some ice on it before Batman debriefed them. One by one the teens filed out of the hangar, each giving him a questioning or even suspicious look at they passed the Superman. Robin was the only one to stop and speak with him.

"His super-speed kicked-in in the middle of the mission." He said.

"That's great." Clark nodded. "That'll be one of the first things I'll work with him on."

Dick opened his mouth to speak. Thought better about it then closed it again. There was a prolonged pause, then the Boy Wonder said, "Wait until after the debriefing."

…

Clark did not attend Bruce's debriefing of the Team. He waited patiently outside for them to finish, leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on the lead-lined, sound proof, door of the briefing room. Ah, Bruce, your paranoia would be amusing if it weren't so damnably frustrating.

From the floor below in the hangar, Clark heard the computer register Black Carany's arrival on the base and sure enough, the blond bombshell appeared in the hall with him a few moments later.

"Hello, Dinah." The Man of Steel offered her a friendly smile.

"Clark?" She all but froze in surprise at seeing him in the Cave. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to pick up Conner." He said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he had to marvel at just how natural it felt to him. He felt an almost nervous pride whenever he mentioned the boy by name nowadays. Was this how normal fathers felt?

"Oh, I… I, uh, didn't know you two were speaking now." Dinah said awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact with the Man of Steel.

"Well, we're not really." Clark admitted. "But I'm going to change that."

"That's… nice…" The fem fatal fidgeted, uncomfortable.

She was quickly saved from the awkward moment, however, when the door to the briefing room slid open, the meeting over. Upon seeing her, Conner rushed out, hopping on his good leg.

"Canary!" He beamed and threw his arms around her in an affectionate hug. "Guess what!"

"You're practicing for a hop-scotch tournament." She guessed in reference to his hopping on one foot.

Clark stood and gaped at the pair.

"I got super-speed!" The boy announced. "Do you know what that means!"

"That we've exchanged a bending forks and breaking glasses problem for a running into walls and melting shoes problem."

"No." The boy shook his head. "It means I'm not flawed!"

"That's great, Conner!" She stroked the boy's hair with motherly affection and then cast an apologetic smile to Clark from over the boy's head.

The others gave the three awkward glances as they filed out of the briefing room on their separate ways, all trying to escape their notice and avoid becoming involved in what would undoubtedly become a train wreck. Batman was last to exit. He look one look at Clark, glaring jealously at another mentor embracing his son with maternal warmth.

"Room's free." He said and stood back for the three of them.

"What for?" Conner blinked in confusion.

Dinah offered him a strained smile. "Conner, Superman has an offer for you."

The boy glanced between them, the guarded suspicion back in his eyes.

Bruce took that as his cue to leave, the Dark Knight slipping away with the slightest notice, as was his fashion, leaving the trio alone in the hall. They ignored the empty open room, Clark diving right into the conversation.

"Conner, I'd like you to come live with me." He said.

He had hoped that the declaration would melt some of the guarded suspicion from the boy's eyes, instead it only intensified the expression. He took a step back from the Man of Steel and asked, "Why?"

Clark supposed he deserved that, his distrust. He had been missing in action in regards to the boy almost since his first appearance nine months ago. He was ashamed of his behavior and sorry that it had taken him this long to get his feelings sorted out, but he was here now. He was reaching his hand out to the boy, ready and willing and wanting to give the boy the guidance and attention he's asked for back in August.

"Well, it would be a heck of a lot easier for you to be my sidekick if you're also in Metropolis."

Silence followed that statement.

Dinah placed her hands on Conner's shoulders, a silent statement that she would support him in whatever decision he made. Clark's eyes focused on the action and he couldn't help but feel a sudden stab of territorialism that was not in his usual character.

"And…" He added, now glaring a challenge at Black Canary. "I also wanted to give you a kryptonian name and officially adopt you into the House of El." A pause. "Conner, I want you to be my son."

More silence.

Then Dinah patted Conner on the shoulder and took a step back, ceding to Clark. "I'll leave you to alone."

The boy turned, a silent protest on his lips but he said nothing. Turning back to Superman, he glared up at the man whom looked so much like himself only two decades older. The Man of Steel expected an answer.

The silence dragged on.

"Conner?" Superman finally ventured.

"Don't." The boy said at last. "Don't call me by my Earth name. I'm sure you learned it from Batman, but I haven't given you permission."

Clark paused, thought, began again. "Last summer you asked me to help you figure out your powers. I'm ready to do that now."

"Batman's got that covered." The boy said, throwing his own words back at him, verbatim.

"Conner, I-"

"Stop. I've already asked you not to use my name once. If it happens again I'll report you to Batman for harassment. That is the word applied to the action of continuing an unwelcome behavior after being asked to stop."

Clark paused.

Superboy crossed his arms over his chest. "There's an old axiom Green Arrow told me not to long ago, 'if you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a night; teach a man to fish and he'll never starve', as a companion to that one, Aqualad also told me that people either 'sink or swim'. Both are metaphors for coping with trials in life. After you rejected me last summer I was forced to 'sink or swim', I chose to swim and I learned how to fish. I don't need you anymore, Superman and, frankly, I'm not really sure I want a person like you close to me."

Clark was shocked speechless.

"If there's nothing else, you can go now."

The boy turned to leave.

Clark found his voice again. "Don't… don't you at least want to know your kryptonian name?"

The boy paused but he did not turn to face the Man of Steel. "No, I don't."

He left.

…

END

[joannalannister]

Another ask, this time regarding dorne - I was under the impression that the people, in regards to skin tone and appearance, were based of the Spanish? If so, why does the majority of fan art seem to draw them (and lots of fan castings) with an Indian/middle eastern appearance? I noticed that they also have typically Indian clothing (sari and veil) and jewellery - is this true for their intext descriptions?

Hi. So this is a controversial subject, not least of which because GRRM has said in extra-textual comments that he imagined the Martells as “Greek, Spanish, Italian, Portugese”. I think this is a situation where “Death of the author” applies, because I think GRRM’s is obviously wrong here. 

I think there is significant evidence in the text that Dornish people, if they existed in the real world, would not be European. 

My friend @lyannas has written extensively on this topic, and I highly recommend her posts:

“Dorne’s Not White” 

“Dorne is more similar to MENA than India“

These posts on @asoiafuniversity are also good:

POC fans and Western fantasy

A collection of official ASOIAF artwork that portray the Dornish as non-European (this addition by @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly is good too)

The Case for Dorne being Nonwhite

“I’m worried about Oberyn Martell”

Dornish clothing

These posts go through many textual descriptions, so I will leave the quotes to them. I also recommend going through these tags on @asoiafuniversity, because I only linked some highlights above. If you want more, I suggest you look through:

#dorne (there are 14 pages there, go aaaaall the way)

#dornish racism

#racism

Also, many people fancasted Alexander Siddig (who was born in Sudan) as their dream fancast for Doran Martell, loooooong before the show casted him. So that casting / fancast has influenced the way fandom thinks about the Martells. 

I’m aware of this comment by GRRM: 

In the case of Dorne, yes, Wales was definitely an influence, for all the reasons you cite. But there’s also some distinctly unWelsh elements down there. South of the wall of mountains you have a hot, dry country more like Spain or Palestine than the cool green valleys of Wales, with most of the settlements along the seacoast and in few great river basins. And you also have the flavor given the culture by the great Rhoynar influx led by Nymeria. I suppose the closest real life equivilent to that would be the Moorish influence in parts of Spain. So you could say Dorne is Wales mixed with Spain and Palestine with some entirely imaginary influences mixed in. Or you could just say it’s Dorne….

and I think @lyannas does a good job addressing the “Spain” part in the links I gave above. 

(When I think of sandy deserts and armies being engulfed by sand storms, I do not think of southern europe, even if that is what GRRM thinks of.)

Regarding Wales, I’ve talked before about this with my friend @girlwholovesherwords​, who is my expert on Wales, and she explained to me that Wales historically had strong female inheritance laws, similar to Dornish female inheritance laws, so I think GRRM’s comment about Wales had more to do with legal traditions than skin tone. (A lot of people like to take GRRM’s Wales comment and use it to whitewash the Dornish, but those people are obviously wrong, when the text describes the Dornish as brown-skinned.) 

(@ Gemma, I thought you made a post about this? But I can’t find it? idk if you would like to share your thoughts again if you see this?)

So anyways I think there’s a very strong case to be made that Dornish people most resemble Palestinians, or at least people from the Middle East. 

Why do some people imagine the Dornish as southeast Asian rather than Middle Eastern?

Well, for one thing, GRRM told Janina Gavankar, who has Indian ancestry, that she looks like Nymeria Sand. (GRRM fancast Apollonia Kotero, who has Mexican ancestry, as Arianne Martell, so GRRM is kind of … all over the place … with Dorne, and someone needs to tell GRRM that pocs aren’t interchangeable.)

The official art of Sunspear was based on the Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddin Mosque, which is in Brunei (southeast asia), while the domed architecture of Sunspear has been compared to Mughal architecture. 

The Dornish paint their silk - painted silk is a tradition that originated in east Asia. “Silk painting in India touched great heights during Mughal rule in 17th – 19th centuries.” 

When I was first reading ASOIAF, before I became involved in the online fandom, I personally associated Dorne with southeast asia / India for various reasons:

Dornish subcontinent // Indian subcontinent

Dorne becoming part of the Targaryen empire (elitist/racist white people) // India becoming part of the British Empire (elitist/racist white people)

Dornish desire for independence // Indian desire for independence

(Obviously Palestine also has a history of British occupation, I’m just saying that it was India I thought of while reading, rather than Palestine.)

In India, the British made arbitrary distinctions based on colorism // In Dorne, Daeron I arbitrarily divided the Dornish based on skin color (“salty Dornish” and “stony Dornish” and “sandy Dornish”)

Martell princes retaining royal status under Targ rule // Indian princes under British rule

the Ganges as a sacred river of great cultural and life-sustaining significance made me think of both “Mother Rhoyne” in Essos from which the Rhoynar came, and now the Greenblood which the Orphans go up and down in their boats

When someone asks me to think of a snake, the first one that comes to my mind is Kaa from the animated Jungle Book, this is just who I am, ok, that snake scared me as a child. I know that Kaa is a python and Oberyn called himself a viper, I know these things, I’m just explaining how my mind works

Dornish deserts // Indian deserts

Important agricultural products as exports (British really like drinking tea from India // Westeros really like drinking Dornish wine)

food cooked with lots of spices

I’m not saying these are the best associations, I’m not saying these are even all that accurate. I’m only saying that these were the associations I brought to the text as a reader, and these are the associations that shaped my imagination of Dorne as drawing a lot of inspiration from India. In the words of Ursula Le Guin, 

As you read a book word by word and page by page, you participate in its creation, just as a cellist playing a Bach suite participates, note by note, in the creation, the coming-to-be, the existence, of the music. 

Your reading experience depends on what you bring with you to the text and that shapes how you imagine it, how you create the world inside the book. 

So whatever associations and backgrounds and personal experiences readers are bringing to the text, the important thing to keep in mind is that the Dornish aren’t white people, especially when the text describes the Dornish as dark-skinned and “brown” skinned. 

I don’t necessarily think it’s wrong if some people want to imagine the Martells as Moroccan, and other people want to imagine them as Palestinian, and other people want to imagine them as Egyptian, and other people want to imagine them as Indian, and still other people want to imagine them as Chilean. (Pedro Pascal was a wonderful Oberyn Martell.) Different people are bringing different things to the text, and they’re “creating” the world of ASOIAF in different ways, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. 

The other thing to keep in mind is that making quality gifs / graphics / fanart is hard and poc are unfortunately very underrepresented in Western media. Photoshoppers might imagine something really amazing, but not be able to execute it very well, because they’re limited by the movies and tv shows that are already out there. (Fanartists have more flexibility, but they still often need references.) Photoshopping difficulties aren’t an excuse for whitewashing, but it does explain why, for example, gifs/graphics/fanart of Elia often depict her in a saree when she should probably be wearing a more medieval style gown, if we’re going by how GRRM describes Dornish clothing. (The closest thing to a saree in ASOIAF is probably the Ghiscari tokar.) 

Finally, I’m white, so my thoughts here might not be the most valuable ones to have in this discussion. I’ve tried to give as many links as possible to poc discussing this topic, but you might want to ask a poc directly what their thoughts are. @lyannas is always very eloquent and insightful, so you might want to send more questions about this to her. 

EDIT #1 - Yes, I am aware that medieval Spain was not necessarily white and there was a significant Moorish influence (including people from North Africa) in medieval Spain. That’s why I linked to lyannas’ posts above discussing this issue (did y’all click on all my links??), and that’s why I specifically mentioned Moroccan and Egyptian up above. This ask was in the context of fancasting, ie what ethnicity/race of actors alive today should be fancasted as Dornish.

EDIT #2 - @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly also recommended this post of hers. 

@nobodysuspectsthebutterfly replied to your post:

[wales is] only a reference to their guerilla warfare, not their ethnicity

also, for further Wales influence on Dorne: www.westeros.org/Citadel/SSM/Entry/Asshai.com_Forum_Chat

Thanks!

[ruffoverthinksthings]

(I haven't seen how many were for it ), how/what do the some of the ones (like Corona, etc) who voted against it feel about Adam and Belle after the isle was created and/or the magic ban being put into place?

When it comes to expressing their distaste about the Isle, and later on, the Magic Ban, many royals had to make it very clear that their personal opinions did not reflect that of their professional, political opinions, or the states they represented.

They’re adults, they can separate ruling their people and looking out for their well-being from their own petty grudges. 

(Well, mostly, anyway.)

Robin Hood saw a new Prince John in the making, as did Maid Marian, which is why their daughter Raven is such an odd duck, and knows how to live “off the grid” and connect with her numerous “backwoods” allies.

Elsa, as an ages old drabble showed, made her displeasure very clear, as did Beast. Though she quieted down after her historic loss, so as to focus on the problems she knew she had a better chance of solving, Anna never fails to bring it up in debates and discussion about policy, and in private conversations with her sister.

Eugene and Rapunzel faced a series of tricky legal precedents and scandalous cases, where the two of them went on a two-pronged protest: one was “Would you lock me away?” program where Rapunzel got the life stories and painted portraits of the people due for deportation, the other was a series of unflattering wanted posters declaring Beast all manner of awful, controversial things, along with giving him a silly mustache.

Mulan quietly doubled down on her organizations and causes aiming to dismantle many of the customs and traditions she believes to be outdated, like the restrictions on girls, Shang found himself asking how to support them more often after too many nights questioning his father’s most sacred and most important value, respecting the chain of command.

Aladdin and Jasmine always managed to find some sort of reason to not attend any events with Beast and Belle. Generally, they happened to involve spontaneous trips to the “Grays” of Auradon, those that were pardoned at the last minute, or saved through the efforts of many lawyers and civilian support. Though it was never proven, there were rumours that it was Aladdin’s own personal flair on some of the mustaches on the Mad King Beast posters.

Tarzan and Jane frequently join Lady Waltham (Clatyon’s sister) in her attempt so to rescind the ban, or at least, get her and everyone else’s “forgotten nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and cousins from that forsaken Isle.” Lady Waltham has never spoken well of Beast nor his decisions from then on, and while Jane and Tarzan can’t be acussed of supporting her views, they don’t really call her out on them, either.

The Pridelands never was the same again after all the research stations and human rangers had to come in to help maintain the balance, now that there was suddenly a lack of the usual predators and scavengers and an overpopulation of prey species. Simba had thoughts of backing out from the Auradon state agreement, though that would mean a long and extensive process to try and get the hyenas and Scar back, and trying to justify needing them when the Auradon Wildlife Preservation Society could (functionally, at least) maintain the balance was an exercise in futility.

Wonderland remains largely isolated from the rest of Auradon, as it always was, due to how different the culture is. The King of Hearts still rules over what’s left of the kingdom. He’s not seen often, though he does have a regular staff of humans dressed in card costumes, to replace the missing members of the various suites, though he and Alice never play a full set as the Queens are always missing.

The Americas remain mostly a Native American preservation, shut off from the rest of the world, save one or two of their members; they obey international law and standards, and do participate in trade and tourism, but few of their leaders or people ever want to participate in large-scale politics, or even just attending the annual Great Uniting festival, knowing they’ll have to stand with Beast for the big picture. 

Similarly, Neverland has also isolated itself from Auradon, those who are left behind forming their own mini-society that largely acts independently from the rest of the country, save for the “price of being left alone.” (Tax remittances to the Central Bank.)

Tiana and Naveen “said all they needed to say,” and went on to hold, and are still holding, bake sales to try and raise funds for the many orphans and families that were ripped apart when members were taken away, or children that were already born BGU were rescued by child services, to send them to school, or just help them through the day to day. The La Bouffs generously donate all ingredients, and advertise heavily beside.

Though not a direct consequence of this loss, the Archdeacon of France found himself with a smaller and smaller congregation and region of influence. The Romani people do as they always did and travel from region to region, though you can’t help but notice that some of them intentionally avoid Auradon City despite the potential gain from such a large, rich, and novelty-hungry audience. Phobos still continues to work as a Captain enforcing the law, though he claims “I still keep a portion of my blindfold turned up, just enough to see a little.”

Cinderella regularly attempts to write letters to her step-family on the Isle. Whether or not the goblins actually send them like she tells them to, whether or not they read them, or have bothered to make a reply, no one really knows. She doesn’t really ask Beast nor Belle about it.

Though mostly felt by her sisters and her people, Ariel also agrees that this is where everything started to go downhill for Atlantica, and that maybe joining Auradon was a very big mistake--if only because of who they agreed should be its leader.

[click2watch]

The Crypto ‘Trichotomy’ – CoinDesk

Timothy Enneking is the founder and the primary principal of Digital Capital Management, LLC (DCM).

The crypto space ain’t what it used to be.

In the good old days when bitcoin was the only “cryptocurrency” around, life was much simpler. Then, a few other “currencies” came along, followed by ICOs and things rapidly got much more complex.

Somewhere along the line, folks started paying as much or more attention to the technology underlying bitcoin as to bitcoin itself. Distributed ledger technology (DLT) or the “blockchain” suddenly became household words (well, with slight exaggeration…).

In the roaring months of 2017, crypto pundits, analysts and funds developed various taxonomies of the rapidly diversifying crypto space: exchange tokens, utility tokens, payment tokens, asset-backed tokens, etc. (My personal favorite was Tetras Capital’s, but there were many.)

However, the blockchain and asset-backed tokens were still part and parcel of the crypto space. I believe that is no longer the case. In fact, I would argue that the crypto space has split into three different spaces (hence “trichotomy”) and that the term “crypto” no longer applies to all of them.

I label these three spaces “trading tokens,” “blockchain” and “asset-back tokens.” Except for the first, I realized that there’s nothing even vaguely innovative about the names. The most important takeaway is probably that the latter two (and certainly the last one) have nothing to do with what most people think of as “crypto.”

As for first, “trading token” is really a more accurate label for what most people refer to as “cryptocurrencies.”

The word “currency” was actually never really applicable to the technology. (In fact, I published an article on this very theme in July of 2017; “token” is much more appropriate. The word token is hardly new; it’s over 2,000 years old). We often forget where “token” came from in history: amusement parks, subways and, more recently, token rings, LANs, etc.

In IT, a “token” is basically an information packet which is optimized for transfer between computers. If someone feels (hopes) that the data packet has exogenous value, that person may try to sell it.

Others may feel a given token has no such value – even in an identical sector. (So, tZERO tries to sell its near-real-time trade settlement token, but NASDAQ does not.) Hence, the ICO was born. (For more on this topic, in particular on external drivers of price formation, see an article I wrote on that subject).

Of course, whether a crypto token is traded externally or not, it still relies on the blockchain (or a blockchain) or generally similar protocol consensus algorithm. Regardless, these mechanisms all record tokens’ existence, movements and changes. However, the growing percentage of blockchain projects (the largest of which may be the IBM-Maersk effort) do not rely on trading tokens.

This means that they have not identified an independent driver of price formation (among other things) for their token, but readily acknowledge the manifold advantages of the trust and reliability of DLT (blockchain) technology.

Because of this, most DLT investments must be made in seed/VC/PE (“early stage equity”) form, not in the form of trading tokens. This change radically affects the structure of, investment in and returns from (in terms of type, timing and amount) “ICO” (now “STO” or Security Token Offerings – and even the newer IEO or Initial Exchange Offering) v. “blockchain” projects.

So radically in fact, that the DLT/blockchain space is essentially totally separate from the trading token space. It’s the second prong of our crypto “trichotomy”. (And note that “crypto” no longer even really applies to this second space.) The third space is asset-backed tokens.

This space is quite interesting because, in reality, tokenization is simply another form of securitization which has no inherent relationship to “crypto” per se. One could have tokenized (“atomized”) ownership in this fashion at any time in the past and done so without the blockchain. The constraints weren’t legal – and, in fact, there might have been few or no constraints other than cost – but DLT certainly makes it easier and more viable.

Now we come to the truly interesting part: scale.

It seems quite clear that trading tokens will reach an aggregate value of single-digit trillions (in US dollars). In December of 2017, the total trading token space (as measured by market capitalization) reached about 80% of that level. It will probably reach it in 2020 or thereabouts. I have my doubts that it will ever (and if so, not soon), reach 11 digits (US$10 trillion or more).

The blockchain, however, seems destined to easily reach double-digit trillions in value. If one simply looks at the value of logistics chains being put on the blockchain, one reaches well over half of that value. The provenance of virtually every asset where determining provenance is important (from diamonds and art to wine and all types of collectibles) will easily put one over the top.

Adding financial transactions to the mix blows through 11 digits quite easily. Triple-digit trillions may be possible but, again, not any time soon, if ever.

Asset-back tokens – which, as you may recall, used to be a single, rather orphaned category of cryptocurrencies (orphaned because their value was actually tied to something while the value of other ICOs and tokens seemed to limited only by human imagination and foolishness) – may actually end up being the large of the three branches, easily reaching triple-digit trillions.

Real estate alone, much of which seems to be destined for the blockchain, hits that value. If a material portion of financial assets (securities of all types) come tokenized, it’s a no-brainer to reach 12 digits. And notice that one can discuss asset-backed tokens without ever once using the word “crypto.”

The child will clearly outgrow its parent.

The one potential flaw in the analysis is the potential for double counting between the second and third categories. Title to real estate (and probably all real estate) will almost certainly be recorded on the blockchain. Much (but not all) of it may also be tokenized. If we count the value of real estate in both categories, the second will, perforce, exceed the first.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter how the taxonomy is specifically developed, the main point is the same: “crypto” has already given rise to technology and concepts that are much bigger than “cryptocurrencies” ever were and it is probably impossible to overestimate the importance that the blockchain and the tokenization of real assets will have on our world – any negative connotation which “crypto” has picked up recently be damned.

Three crowns image via Shutterstock

This news post is collected from CoinDesk

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[njawaidofficial]

Angelyne's Real Identity Is Finally Solved

http://styleveryday.com/2017/08/02/angelynes-real-identity-is-finally-solved/

Angelyne's Real Identity Is Finally Solved

Way before Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, the enigmatic blonde bombshell was famous for being famous, perpetually driving the streets of Hollywood in that pink Corvette. But her true identity has remained secret all these years … until now.

“Would you be interested in a story on Angelyne’s true identity?” the man wrote last fall under a pseudonym, referring to the enigmatic L.A. billboard diva who has been a pop culture icon of self-creation and self-marketing since the early 1980s — and is now regarded as a forerunner to Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian and every personal-brand hustler on social media. “I have many details on her life — all well documented — from when her parents met to early adulthood. It’s very different from her public, concocted story — and more interesting.”

Angelyne is one of the vanishingly few contemporary public figures whose background has remained shrouded in mystery, along with the conceptual artist Banksy, Bitcoin founder Satoshi Nakamoto and aircraft hijacker D.B. Cooper. The man, who claimed to work in an undefined role for the federal government, said he was a hobbyist genealogist, occasionally taking on paid assignments in the field as an amusing side gig. A few years earlier, he’d decided it’d be fun to set himself the challenge of cracking Angelyne’s case. “And I did,” he explained.

Later, at the 101 Coffee Shop in Hollywood, the genealogist — who looks like Michael Kelly’s contained political operative Doug Stamper from House of Cards — unfurled an elaborate story of Angelyne’s past, based on material he contended he’d enterprisingly pulled and synthesized from a global network of public databases. He laid down a folded printout of a row of yearbook photos.

“This one,” he said, pointing at a 1967 Monroe Senior High School sophomore from the San Fernando Valley, third from right, “is Angelyne.” A schoolgirl with hooded eyes and long center-parted locks, in a button-down white shirt and tie, stared out across half a century. “Also known as Renee Goldberg.”

The Hollywood Reporter has since independently confirmed this is Angelyne’s real identity with public records and family members. Far from the archetypal transplant-with-a-dream, as she has tacitly long alluded, she’s the locally raised daughter of Holocaust survivors, a Jew who has found refuge in shiksa drag. It’s a fascinating, only-in-L.A. story of identity, history and a symbiotic yearning both to be forgotten and to be famous.

•••

The yearbook photo was no smoking gun. By her own cosmetic surgery confessions, Angelyne has had quite a bit of work done — and if the genealogist was right, that high school junior is now 66 years old.

Copies of immigration, marriage and death records pointed to a cloaked prehistory of Renee Tami Goldberg (originally Ronia Tamar Goldberg), which seems to reveal the trauma Angelyne had both emerged and escaped from. She was born in Poland on Oct. 2, 1950, the daughter of Polish Jews who’d met in the Chmielnik ghetto during World War II — they were among 500 to survive out of a population of 13,000, the rest sent to death at Treblinka. According to the documentation — obtained from the International Tracing Service, established by the Red Cross as an archive of Nazi crimes — her parents, Hendrik (aka Heniek or Henryk) Goldberg and Bronia (aka Bronis) Zernicka, endured unimaginable horrors at a series of concentration camps, first together at Skarzysko, where prisoners’ main job was to make munitions, and then apart at the 20th century’s most infamous hellscapes, including Buchenwald and Bergen-Belsen.

Bronia later submitted paperwork to Yad Vashem indicating she’d lost more than 40 relatives in the Holocaust, including her father, three brothers and a sister. Shortly after liberation, she and Hendrik married in the Foehrenwald displaced persons camp in Germany. They were eventually repatriated to Poland, which remained hostile to Jews after World War II. So after Goldberg’s birth, the family immigrated to Israel, remaining in an ultra-orthodox community of Hasidic Jews called Bnei Brak, east of Tel Aviv, until 1959. (A younger sister, Annette, was born in 1954.)

They boarded a ship leaving Haifa for New York and settled in L.A.’s Fairfax District. Her father worked as a tool-and-die mechanic. Then, in 1965, her 44-year-old mother died of cancer. Goldberg was 14.

The next year Hendrik (now Henry) remarried another Holocaust survivor, a seamstress divorcee named Deborah, and Goldberg acquired a younger stepsister, Norma. She and her father moved from the Westside to Panorama City, deep in the San Fernando Valley, where she’d begin high school and Henry and Deborah would run a strip-mall liquor store in nearby Van Nuys. She’d have a brief marriage to the son of a Beverly Hills executive, living in Hollywood with him. Goldberg’s paper trail ends with their divorce in 1969.

•••

Angelyne had single-handedly created and then inhabited a modern myth of L.A.: the platinum blond bombshell in the bright pink Corvette forever circumnavigating the city, seeking to enchant by dint of her sheer superficial glamour. It had the aesthetic power and emotional resonance of genuine performance art, Marina Abramovic by way of John Waters, particularly as she kept on rambling around the city over the decades while she aged.

I’d written a profile about Angelyne for THR in 2015. She attempted to micromanage the terms of our time together in sharp-elbowed fashion before agreeing to let me ride in her Stingray 1LT. Once inside, reality quickly shone through her constructed shallow facade: a keen intelligence, a striking vulnerability. Also something else, undefinable but perceptibly troubled, even haunted.

When I asked about her family and her past, she described herself as an only child and an orphan. “I lost my parents at a young age,” she said, “and because of that, I sought the attention of the world through my tricks. I said, ‘Well, I’m going to get the love of the world.’ ” When I pushed for more, she shut me down. “It’s just a long story,” she said, the cartoonishly girly lilt of her voice gone flat. “I don’t want to get into it. I made my way here.”

Angelyne was similarly mum or vague when I inquired about other things that might have forged her, from religion (“I’ve tried them all — Jewish, Catholic, Hindu: too many dogmas”) to her place of origin. Some internet stories suggest that she is from Idaho, but she wouldn’t talk about where she grew up. A distant hometown perfectly fit her narrative of an American small-town girl coming to L.A. to fulfill a dream. (I searched Idaho public records and could find no indication of someone named Angelyne, Angelyne Lyne or Angelyne Lynne — all names that have appeared on her business filings.)

I came away with an understanding of how she’d built and perpetuated the Angelyne phenomenon — including the business by which she made a living: lucratively marked-up and vigorously hawked merchandise sales out of her trunk, plus licensing and appearance fees. (Of course the Kardashians and other proteges have exponentially scaled and digitized the model.) But I’d fallen short in penetrating who she really is, why she’d dedicated her life to transforming herself into what she described to me as a “Rorschach test in pink” — a figure who simultaneously elects to commute among us and hold herself apart, in her formulation, “on top of a pink cloud on top of a pink mountain.”

•••

Jews had assimilated in the postwar period. Surnames Anglicized, religious observance ebbed, kosher compliance curtailed — both to better conform to their American homeland and, often, as a conscious or unconscious departure from the trauma of their European pasts. They’d arrived and imagined themselves anew.

Yet Goldberg becoming Angelyne: That would be a feat far more radical, a leap far more extreme, out of a grim and drab past into a realm of complete fantasy. How fitting it would be for such an act to take place amid the New World shtetl of Hollywood, defined by metamorphosis and make-believe.

To many Jews, Angelyne reads distinctly gentile, the quintessential shiksa, whether by accident or intent. Her taste and status cues exist in a goyish Bermuda Triangle somewhere between Dolly Parton, Loni Anderson and Traci Lords.

But once I floated the idea of Goldberg as Angelyne to friends and colleagues who had been fascinated by her over the years and occasionally had had their own fleeting curbside run-ins, the surprisingly unsurprised reaction (particularly from the Jewish ones) was consensus and instantaneous: That makes sense. The stereotypical old-school shmatte-selling, the hardnosed negotiations, the pure all-purpose chutzpah — “I’ve known that woman,” one happily told me, as if welcoming home a long-lost relative, “all my life.”

As thorough as the genealogist had been in piecing together Goldberg’s early life, he’d missed an easily Google-able recent connection between Angelyne and her alleged true identity. Late last year, I saw that The Fillmore Gazette, a community newspaper of a small town 60 miles northwest of L.A. in Ventura County, had published online a legal notice on April 28, 2016, that Renee Goldberg had petitioned to change her name to Angelyne Llyne at Ventura Superior Court. (After short-selling her Malibu condo in 2010, she now lives in the Ventura County area of Thousand Oaks.)

If the genealogist’s claim is to be believed, Goldberg recently had become eligible to collect Social Security benefits. (It is unknown whether Angelyne has applied for such benefits under any name.) While the Social Security Administration had previously not required applicants to document proof, the policy changed in 2005 after Congress took action in response to terror concerns.

I drove to the Ventura County courthouse to get the document. She claimed to have been born on Jan. 26, 1962 (a dozen years after the genealogist’s records indicate), and to be from the statistically gentile Louisville, Kentucky. As for the reason for the name change, she states on the form, “This is my stage name that I use and have used since 1978.”

Goldberg also listed a residential address that was 2 miles away. When I headed over, I discovered it was a commercial showroom for personalized trophies, plaques, gavels, medallions and clocks called Custom Awards & Engraving. I decided to refrain from asking owners Jerry and Linda Mendelsohn about Angelyne for the time being.

As it happens, Goldberg’s sister, now Annette Block, lives in Oxnard, 10 minutes south of the showroom. She and her husband run a wholesale business selling stuffed animals and dolls. (Angelyne, incidentally, had quite a few stuffed animals strewn about her Corvette when I drove around with her.) One of the dolls for sale is named the Angeline, an alternative spelling she used early on — and was credited with when she played a part in the 1977 sex comedy Can I Do It … ‘Til I Need Glasses? (the film debut of Robin Williams).

•••

Scott Hennig, a 60-year-old portrait illustrator from Idaho, has been Angelyne’s assistant, close friend and gatekeeper since the late 1980s. We’d spoken many times but always over the phone. He’d declined to meet when I requested an interview while profiling Angelyne two years ago, stating he preferred to remain “behind the scenes.” I told him that a self-described genealogist had come forward with documentation attesting to the fact that Angelyne was in fact Renee Goldberg.

Hennig scoffed. “This stuff comes up every few years — it seems to get more and more ridiculous,” he says. “My favorite one of all was this 300-pound black woman who claimed to be her mother. ‘I’m your long-lost brother,’ ‘your twin sister.’ Chalk it up to life in Hollywood. I’ve never heard of ‘Renee Goldberg.’ It’s laughable, it’s outrageous.” And as for the genealogist? “This guy needs to get a life. It’s almost like …” He thought for a moment. “Like stalker stuff, it really is. It’s kind of creepy. It’s weird.”

I brought up the name-change document connecting Renee Goldberg to Angelyne, and told him I would be happy to send over some of the genealogist’s material for her review. “I’m not saying the paperwork isn’t legitimate,” he responded, growing testy. “I’m saying it ain’t her. Look, I get emails from another Scott Hennig, a karate expert in Texas. People think that’s me. There are a lot of girls out there named Angelyne. I don’t know what to tell you. And who knows how legitimate this old stuff is, going back to World War II?”

Hennig went on, wondering, “And who’s this guy? He’s poking into Angelyne’s business — why don’t we get his name?” I put that question to the genealogist soon afterward, who’d communicated with me under the pseudonym Ed Thompson.

“There’s a difference between her and me — and she and most people,” he reasoned by phone. “She’s a celebrity, and beyond that, she forfeited any claim of privacy when she ran, as a joke or a stunt or not, for governor of California” during the recall race that Arnold Schwarzenegger won in 2003. “As for me,” he went on, explaining he had a government job that included a top-secret clearance, “reputation is fairly important, and the controversy that might be involved in this situation is not part of that culture. There’s a minute possibility that surreptitious activity — not illegal but surreptitious — could reflect badly on a top-secret clearance.”

I sent Hennig the name-change document and the yearbook photos the day after we spoke. Subsequent efforts by phone and email to discuss those materials with him — or, better yet, Angelyne — were repeatedly dodged.

•••

On a rainy Tuesday evening nearly two weeks later, I was reporting on another story at a Sunset Strip tattoo shop when I spotted Angelyne’s new Pepto Bismol-hued Corvette Z06 gleaming under a street light across the street. It was parked in front of 1980s hair metal haven the Rainbow Bar & Grill.

I soon found the reclusive Hennig, clad in a denim jacket and jeans, loitering in an empty upstairs hallway next to a Pantera poster. He looked just like the lanky fellow whose over-exposed vintage photos had appeared beside his boss’ in the 2005 premiere issue of Hot P!nk, Angelyne’s short-lived glossy fan magazine. Before I could say hello, she emerged from an adjacent restroom, in full regalia.

Her eyes went wide as she shook my hand. I asked if Hennig had conveyed my queries about Renee Goldberg and the Holocaust. While he stood mute a few feet away, she stammered, “I have a weird stalker who has been following me and hanging underwear outside my home and all sorts of things. We’re going to catch him — big time!” Usually, she explained of her history with obsessives, “I use reverse psychology on them and they go away.”

As Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” softly piped in overhead, I offered my sympathies, asking if she’d yet taken legal action or informed the authorities. In the past she’d told me she’d filed restraining orders against two stalkers. Angelyne said she and her team hadn’t — that they were “building a case.”

Angelyne cast herself as a victim of a scheme, and me as an unwitting — or even witting — pawn. (The next day I spoke with the genealogist, who’d previously told me that he had “no tie to her other than curiosity,” and asked him if he was stalking her. “No, not at all,” he chuckled. “It’s a contorted, convenient way to try to come up with a semi-plausible story. Or not even that plausible. It doesn’t even make any sense. How could this kind of information about her past possibly be part of a plot to force her to do anything?”)

I asked Angelyne about the Ventura County name-change document. Her expression scrunched. “It was a complication thing,” she said, tipping from one foot to the other. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I pressed, and she said she’d have her lawyer call me. I asked if it would be her business attorney, William Remery, or the attorney on the document, David Lehr. “Someone else.”

She wheeled around to Topic A. “I know you want it to be true because you’re Jewish — and that’s adorable!” This last word was enunciated with her breathy falsetto inflection, a stagey girlishness that Paris Hilton appropriated. I told her, without success, why my interest was justifiable on journalistic terms. She nodded, unbowed: “Is your editor Jewish?”

She bid me goodbye with a hug — “I know you love me and don’t want to hurt me” — and a promise that I’d hear from her lawyer. Angelyne also stated that it’s her inalienable right alone to share her story as she sees fit — or not. (Earlier, regarding the details of her past, she’d told me, “I want to save it for my memoirs; that’s my right for my own financial interest.”) Later, when I left, I saw her on the sidewalk beside her Corvette under a translucent pink umbrella, huddled in what appeared to be an intense conversation with Hennig.

The next day, curious to revisit those Hennig photos, I unearthed from the bottom of a pile on my newsroom desk the premiere issue of Hot P!nk, which Angelyne bulldozed me into purchasing two years ago for $50 — along with other merchandise — before even agreeing to seriously discuss participation in a potential profile in THR. What instead caught my eye were the advertisements, which on closer inspection all seemed to be personally connected to her: the North Hollywood auto body shop that I’d elsewhere read custom-paints her Corvette; the late Beverly Hills plastic surgeon Dr. George Semel, who she’d previously told me was her “artistic collaborator.”

I kept scanning. There was an eighth-page ad from Custom Awards & Engraving, the trophy business Angelyne listed as her residential address on the name-change document. Co-owner Linda Mendelsohn also was mentioned in the text, which congratulated Angelyne on the launch of the magazine. Bingo.

•••

A fortnight passed without word from Angelyne. I rang Hennig and told him I was still looking for clarification. Where, at least, was the follow-up from the mystery attorney? This time he was curt. “I’ll tell her you called,” he said, his tone cold, hanging up. It would be the last I’d hear from either of them.

The next day I dialed Goldberg’s sister, Annette Block. Her husband, Stanley, picked up. I explained I was working on a piece about Goldberg and her life before becoming Angelyne. “Well, Angelyne …” he began, knowingly, tentatively, before a voice in the background interrupted him. He came back on: “Give me a call tomorrow.” When we talked again, he acknowledged knowing Angelyne at “one time in my life, maybe 40 years ago,” but insisted that “my wife is not related to her.” His spouse declined to speak to me.

Next I called Goldberg’s stepsister, Norma St. Michel, who resides in Van Nuys in the San Fernando Valley. I brought up Angelyne. “Oh, I have no idea,” she said, an edge to her voice, cutting me off and hanging up.

Finally, I tracked down Michael Strauss, the Jewish boy (scion of a Beverly Hills dynasty forged by the changeable reader board on movie theater marquees) whom she’d wed in the late 1960s. He was now a family man living in Carlsbad after a successful career manufacturing acrylic furniture.

I told him what I was calling about. “Holy smokes,” he said, astonished. “I haven’t talked to Angelyne in years. I’ve kind of followed her on the internet.”

We chatted for an hour. Strauss had tender memories of Goldberg, referring alternatively in the past and present to her as “Angelyne” and “Renee.” He’d never spoken publicly about the identity of his first wife before, and only rarely in private, he said. (An exception: In 2016 when she applied for a new driver’s license, a DMV investigator contacted him to corroborate her true identity.)

They’d met through mutual friends while she was still living on the Westside. “She was the most gorgeous redhead,” he said. “She was unique, beautiful, smart.” Later, during their short matrimony, they lived together with Annette and her first husband at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street, “right where Wolfman Jack used to record.” Strauss emailed me photos while we were talking: the pair posing barefoot by the pool at a friend’s backyard party, a striking black-and-white portrait he’d taken of Goldberg at his family’s Trousdale Estates home. (A budding photographer, he shot the likes of Donovan and War.) And, most importantly, he sent the same yearbook photo the genealogist had shown me.

Strauss explained that Goldberg’s childhood had been difficult. Her father, a man with a concentration camp number tattooed on his arm, had been controlling, cruel and narrow-minded, propelling her to flee home early. Like many survivors of trauma, Henry didn’t discuss it. This extended, to Strauss’ memory, as far as Goldberg’s own history; her father told her she was born in Israel, not a German displaced-persons camp. Regardless, “she has never considered herself Jewish.”

Strauss was surprised to learn from me that Goldberg’s mother had died just a few years before he met her; he’d always thought it had been much earlier, a hardened scar. “She’d never talk about her mother — ever, ever, ever. It was a subject that couldn’t be brought up. If I brought it up, it was shut down.”

After they broke up — it was amicable — he traveled for several years, returning to L.A. in the mid-1970s. “I hooked up with Renee again, and she was Angelyne,” he said. “I wasn’t there when she made the transition. All of a sudden, big boobs, blond hair, this voice — the voice used to make me nuts. It didn’t compute with who I’d known she was.”

It would be another decade before she’d achieve notoriety for her pioneering famous-for-being-famous billboard campaign. “As an entrepreneur, I was sad that she wasn’t ever able to be more [financially] successful,” Strauss said of her career, which emerged out of punk and new wave bands and occasional bit parts in films. “Why didn’t she take it farther? Why not a TV show? She invented this marvelous, crazy, out-of-this-world character but couldn’t fully sell it. I was always a Renee rooter: ‘Come on, girl, take it to the next level!’ But she only had the capacity to take it so far.”

When they broke up, Strauss held on to some of her effects — personal photos, official documents — “because she didn’t want them, and I wasn’t just going to throw them away. I mean, what if she eventually wanted them back? Except she never did. I saw her in the early 1990s, and I said, ‘I have these things.’ She didn’t want them. She wanted nothing to do with it. She’d created another life.”

Why had she done it? “You’d have to ask her that,” he said softly.

Renee Goldberg had purely committed to the fundamental principle of Hollywood — escapism — by inhabiting the character she conjured to the point of no return. Like many dreamers, she adopted a stage name and altered her body and behavior to better position a prospective entertainment career that, like many dreamers, never panned out quite as intended. Nevertheless, far more than most, by any definition of success, she truly became the person she was pretending to be.

Strauss eventually, reluctantly, ventured a guess. “It’s a persona that must have suited her,” he said. “It made her way in life. It’s not an easy world out there.”

A version of this story first appeared in the Aug. 2 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.

[carewyncromwell]

General #1, Love #8

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Hahaha, Carewyn initiated, once she was sure that Orion had feelings for her too, that they saw eye-to-eye about how any relationship between them could be, and that Orion would be okay with being in a relationship with her. 

Although by the time they got together after the Second War was over, both Carewyn and Orion had been in relationships previously and Orion specifically had been in more relationships, he was actually the more timid out of him and Carewyn when it came to broaching anything more romantic between them. This was partly because Orion as an INFP tends to get lost in his own head and neglect to act on his thoughts and feelings and partly because he being gray-A honestly is very happy being on his own and isn’t often focused on being in a steady relationship. (This actually is why two out of his three previous relationships were so short-lived -- his partners ended up trying to “fence Orion in” out of jealousy or a misguided attempt to “move on to the next step,” which sort of put Orion off. Even when he was with his daughter Eos’s mother Delilah, Orion honestly saw no reason to really settle down and get married just because she was pregnant -- he’d be active in his child’s life regardless.) Orion’s also rather shy when it comes to romance in general given that, being an orphan who grew up in an orphanage, he wasn’t raised with a lot of physical affection and isn’t completely used to it -- so as much as he can enjoy cuddling and kissing sometimes, he’s often a little passive in actually initiating anything, and will often just follow Carewyn’s lead. Basically what I’m trying to say is that Carewyn wears the pants a lot in this relationship. XDD

Fortunately once these two talked everything over and Orion was able to encourage Little Miss Planner Carewyn to take things one day at a time with him, their relationship ended up going pretty smoothly. Neither of them had to give up the independence they valued, and yet they could constantly visit each other and share in each other’s troubles and joys alike. The “dating” period between them was honestly pretty short, because by the time they both acknowledged the depths of their feelings (after, like...thirteen years of knowing and admiring each other), they were already hard-core in love, so they signed the paperwork and became legal partners not long after committing. Although Carewyn and Orion’s relationship is far from a traditional marriage or even domestic partnership, it’s ended up working out very well for them.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

I do have a playlist for Carion as a ship, but here are a few of the songs that I most associate with them!

Walking in the Air (cover) by Chloe Agnew ~ Carewyn sings this while spending time with Orion after his very last Hogwarts Quidditch match. Although she didn’t admit it, she picked it because it made her think of Orion. Orion himself was fond of it pretty much immediately, and after becoming a father to his daughter Eos, the song seemed to always return to his mind whenever he was trying to think of something to sing her to sleep.

I Should Tell You from RENT ~ This song is kind of evocative of the start of their relationship, to me. Like Roger and Mimi, they’re both a little unsure and a little out of practice being in the dating sphere, and yet their feelings are strong enough that they cautiously decide to take the plunge anyway.

Dear Theodosia (duet) by Regina Spektor and Ben Folds ~ For me, this song represents these two as single parents of daughter Eos (for Orion) and ward and surrogate son Erik (for Carewyn). It just...I HAVE SUCH FEELS LISTENING TO THIS, okay??

Ship Question Asks!