#( i would've watched 'the marvels' fifty times by now )

[clochanamarc]

this is a placeholder for a little post i like to call "giving people superpowers does not naturally mean they're OP and in fact making characters OP is a lot more difficult than people realize" but i wanna write smth ic first okay? okay <3

[daveinediting]

Of course I'm writing about this after the fact and posting it to the day. 

What's already occurred is Seattle's 48-Hour Film Project. 

FRIDAY 730PM I was actually on my way home from work and tried to dial into the Livestream of the kickoff during which representatives from each production team draw two genres of which they can pick one. 

We drew Thriller/Suspense and Social Media/Influencer.

Oof. 

Neither of those genres hold passionate interest on our team. I tracked some of the conversation surrounding our choice on Discord, where it was eventually suggested to mash the genres we drew. Don't pick one or the other. Choose both.

Which is how our short film "Killer Content" was born.

A day or so after filming was complete, someone suggested the following log line to capture the essence of what our story's about—

"A social influencer will generate the biggest following, even if it kills her."

—but I'm getting ahead of myself.

SATURDAY 3AM Our writers wrapped the script coming up on three Saturday morning. Eight AM the crew's assembled at a theater on Capitol Hill to begin production. Three PM they're filming in a home in Wallingford. Fully wrapped between six and six-thirty.

As for me, I'm not on the clock 'til footage arrives at my place. So, nothing Friday night (of course). Nothing during the morning's and early afternoon's filming (of course) until filming at the first location wraps and a courier is sent my way, arriving at three thirty with the one camera card used so far.

After a selfie of the two of us doing the hand-off for photos posted to our Discord channel, I plug the card in, transfer all the footage to my workstation and now...

I'm on the clock.

The goal is to finish a first cut before I go to bed so that the producer and director can assess it first thing Sunday morning which they always do.

So. 

How long did that first cut take me?

Thirteen-and-a-half hours.

Yeah. I went to bed coming up on 5AM Sunday morning. The director watched it an hour fifteen minutes later, shot me an email a few minutes after that whilst I was still asleep, and I was up to feed our cats/shower/dress/make coffee for my wife/review my edit and begin the process of endless tweaking before the producer and director arrived a little after ten, five hours after completion of the first cut.

I actually went to bed at 445AM after exporting the cut, uploading to Dropbox, and sending copies to the composer, graphic designer, and sound designer. It was only after I was comfortably in bed next to my wife that I realized to whom I had yet to share the product of my work.

Yeah.

The producer.

And the director.

Woops.

So I got up, crafted a quick email to them including the Dropbox link, sent it, confirmed it was sent, and then went back to bed.

For real this time.

Okay. Let's rewind thirteen hours so I can point out something I think editors of old would've, I dunno... bristled at? Found confounding? Confusing? Distracting?

They definitely would've marveled at how the job's changed. And I'm not even talking about the computing workstations and the software for editing, graphic design, and sound mixing. Let alone the AI-powered tools. We'll file that all under the job of "editing" whether it's done today, ten years ago, or fifty years ago. Somehow the job of editing was completed with the tools at hand. So no. I'm not talking about how the craft has changed. What I'm talking about is what it takes to make a short film in 48 hours.

Of course for those of us engaged in post-production, that number's somewhere close to 24 hours. I don't, for example, start my work 'til the footage arrives. The composer can start as soon as the script is finished and they speak with the producer first thing Saturday. They can't really finish, though, until picture's locked. Same deal for the graphic designer, although since the script was 90% about YouTube streamers, most of the work can be assumed right from the pages of the script. They can't be done done, though, until the producer says they're done because, in this case, we were all still assessing what the film needed after my work was done, after my cut was locked. And again same deal for the sound designer whose work really does depend on my timing. They can get a head start... but they can't finish without my final cut.

So. 

What time did I finish my final cut?

Well, that was coming up on five Sunday morning. After that, say from ten that same morning, it was the producer's and director's cut as facilitated by me. The first of those subsequent cuts finished around twenty minutes after eleven. The second and final of those cuts finished at ten minutes after noon. Leaving about five hours for graphics and sound design to complete the film.

Earlier, I mentioned how editors of old would've been gobsmacked by how their profession's changed.

Here's what I mean.

Even though there are three professionals whose work cannot be completed until mine's complete, there's also no way, no way against a deadline that would otherwise impose a five-hour turnaround on them in this case... no way any of us would fully buy into that. 

So.

As I'm editing I'm also communicating with those other departments.

How?

On my phone through Discord, texting, and email. Any assets that would otherwise need to be couriered are sent almost instantaneously through Dropbox and Google Drive.

So that happened.

Right off the bat, soon as I start ingesting footage, music assets arrive from the composer. Assets called for by the producer as well as assets to cover likely contingencies.

We stay in contact until midnight, tail end of Saturday, regarding a further contingency I identified just as soon as I began laying down Scene 1.

I'm also in contact with the graphic designer until 2 Sunday morning coordinating a number of issues including the first of three element bundles he's sending me, including discussions of how to best take advantage of the opportunities presented by the fact that, in this scripted universe, three of the main characters are YouTube streamers so branding, branding, branding! Also, how are we sending assets back 'n forth? Google Drive. And then he lamented not having set photos of the lead actor so I sent some screencaps his way.

And so on.

Back and forth throughout the night. Not relentlessly, of course, but sometimes a full-blown text conversation would erupt momentarily as we coordinated, as I cut deeper into the script and had questions related to the use of graphics and animations.

I mention the sound designer last here because we had the most involved conversations on Discord regarding, ultimately, four scenes demanding his help. Actually three scenes. I was just curious what ideas he might have for the scene that was already pretty good to go. 

Okay but "demand"? What's that all about?

Well, the choice was made to not use music during any of the streaming segments... which is pretty much everything between titles and credits. One of the four scenes literally has no sound to propel it. Two more need the tension amped up on a mood pivot. And the last is pretty good...

But could be better I'm thinking.

In each case, the emotion of the scene pivots on a dime and we don't want to lose our audience in those moments, so...

Sound design.

It's the first time in this short film challenge across the years that I realize  I'm not the one who'll get this film across the finish line. Sound design's what's gonna get us there in our film's most important moments.

So.

As I work my way through the first cut, I'm communicating with the sound designer, sending him two of the four scenes for his consideration ASAP.

It's how we're gonna get through this together. So because all three departments are waiting on me... I'm gonna communicate as much as I can on the fly as the film takes shape.

That way, they're absolutely not gonna have to start from scratch with five hours to go on a hard deadline.

😐

[sevikasangel]

Heartbreak Hotel (Sevika X Reader)

summary: sevika falls in love with a prostitute who is too afraid of her own feelings. can she convince her lover to leave this life?

story type: angst

tw: sex worker reader, brief nsfw mention

word count: 1.3K

My eyes stared into the lost gaze of my girl's blissful ones as she slid down next to me, her body making a soft thud upon hitting the soft mattress of the cheap hotel bed. Warm trails of sweat dripped down her soft skin as she placed her thigh upon my hips, staying close to me, nearly heart to heart, as we were done fucking. (y/n) smelled like faint sweet perfume and felt as fragile and satiny as her white silk nightgown that she wore for me on the Saturday nights. I loved the sight of her breasts bouncing appealingly with the straps loosely hanging from her shoulders and the short skirt pulling up to her stomach as she bounced on my strap.

In the general run of things, I could never get this close to a prostitute. Black widows who have too many men tangled in their webs. I am glad when they arrive, and I am glad when they leave. I am glad to fuck, I am glad to care and I am glad when it's over. Glancing down at the woman clinging to my side, I couldn't help but let a smile creep in my features. Each time I see her, she looks better and better, it is part of her beauty, this quirk of being not quite there, dreamlike. Centuries ago, they would've burnt her at the stake, now she reached over for my lighter on the bedpost and lit up my cigar that was tugged in the corner of my lips.

"It will be fifty this time, Sev." Her soothing, purring voice reached my ears and I looked at her through the flame of my cigar. My eyes told her. She sighed and tilted her head to the side, propping her body up on one elbow.

"Oh," I whispered and took a long, thoughtful drag of nicotine. "What will it cost me? I don't think I can ever pay this price again." Burying my hand beneath the fabric of her nightie, pulling her closer as my fingers dug into her stomach, all I needed was her. I needed to have her in my arms, needed to hold her close and whisper that we'd find a way to be together.

Instead, she scoffed and fanned her hand between our faces as the grey smoke went up her nostrils.

"Get that cigarette smoke out of my face." (y/n) said with a hint of sadness in her voice. She slipped through my fingers and stood up, walking up to the large window to bend over it. The moonlight caressed her from the roots of her hair to the very tip of her toes and she gleamed whole. "You wasted my time, Sevika. I'm a prostitute. You are nothing but my client."

Her words stung like a sword to the heart because she had me at a point where I would've left the entire world behind for her. She was as addicting as the shimmer that corroded Zaun, a cruel, slow torture that pulled me in. I was certain she had me tangled in her web alongside other broken hearted lovers.

I sat up in bed and held the cigar between the trembling tips of my fingers as my eyes made their way to the back of her head. She looked just like a dream.

"I want you, (y/n). Please. You don't have to do this to yourself anymore, I can't bear watching you selling yourself for disgusting men. I want you, please, let me take you out of this life."

She only chuckled. So cruel. So quiet. A silent murderer.

"Do you always take what you want, Sevika?" She spun on the ball of her heels to face me and shrugged her shoulders. "Because you can't have me. And I don't need to be saved."

Standing up, I eagerly walked over to (y/n), closing the distant gap between us. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the crook of her neck, drinking in the marvelous taste of her skin.

"I…I love you." I felt a love so intense for her, so crumbling hurtful that whenever I spoke it, it was more of a vent.

"You don't know me." She looked down at her feet and I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She looked sad. Her eyes were deep, her shoulders slightly hung. With a closer look, you could tell that there didn't seem to be much life in her. She seemed gloomy. She seemed somewhat like me.

"I know you enough," I said. "I think you're very lonely, (y/n). You have a fucking shield for a heart and a knife for a tongue. But I can see it in your eyes that you love me too. You're just too scared to let people in. You must've had a fucked up past, and I want to show you that things can be different." My hands held her face as my eyes searched for hers. She glanced away. "Please…" I whispered.

"I am afraid I am far too broken to be fixed. I don't want to burn you." (y/n) blinked slowly and I couldn't help but crumble for those eyes. The most beautiful, sad eyes I'd ever seen.

"So be it," I blurted out. "burn me. I need to be close to your fire, not to control it. I've just been waiting for you to let me in your life. Please, (y/n). Are you scared of your pimp? I can protect you, you know I can, everyone is scared of me."

She sighed and shook her head dismissively.

"Why won't you stop being so fucking stubborn!?"

"Because you make me feel!" Her sudden shout caught me off guard and she abruptly pulled away. "You make me feel…" She whispered this time around. "And I hate it. I want it to stop. Now…"

I blinked a few times and then watched her undress to change into her casual night clothes: a short red dress. Then, she slipped her high heels, one by one. What a dreamy girl. To have a goddess like her to call my own…

"So…You do love me." My heart quickened at that and she smiled sadly.

"I do. And the thought of what I'd do for you terrifies me to the point I can't even talk about." She admitted with a shaky breath as she made her way to the crappy wooden door of the hotel room. "I have to go. I have a client." Her words broke my heart all over again. I felt jealous of a woman who wasn't mine.

"So why won't you be mine?"

"Each person kill themselves just enough to stay alive."

And she walked right out, leaving nothing but the shards of my heart on the floor and the deafening sound of silence in the dimly lit room.

After what felt like hours, I left. There was no trace of (y/n) in the empty, cold street. And I walked slowly, musing if that was what I really wanted to do. I looked behind at the hotel, and it made me wonder if it was really my fault having fallen for a black widow. But what else could I have done? I wasn't to blame for her unique way, for her breathtaking venom that I was willing to drink, the drug I'd destroy myself with. I loved her. I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone in my life.

And here I found myself, so close to crying, so close to breaking down, ashamed of all of the messy feelings engulfing me and the sadness of such a hopeless passion. A woman far too old, confused, walking under the rain, questioning herself if she was battling a lost war.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Though It Ain't 1955

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none this is just a meetcute fic lol

Genre: fluff- straight fluff

Summary: Bucky meets the reader on a time travel recon mission and resigns to never seeing her again- until he does. (inspired by the song 1955 by The Cobb except I didn't want to make it angsty so consider it very loosely based)

***

Bucky cannot believe what's happening right now. I mean he's seen sci-fi movies, courtesy of the spider kid and Sam and their long list of pop culture recommendations, and he knows that time is not to be messed with. Not once has time travel ever gone well in the movies. It always causes some crazy problems because of the thing they call The Butterfly Effect and yet, here he is. Walking through a bar in 1955 tracking down a HYDRA agent who jumped through a wormhole to escape the Avengers with a hostage. Now he and Steve are doing recon in the past. But as absolutely absurd as this is Bucky can't help but take in the sights around him, marveling at this glimpse of part of the life he was supposed to live.

"So this is post-World War II America." Steve hums.

"Man I haven't worn suspenders in ages." Bucky says snapping the band of the black elastics.

"Yeah- I bet it would've been cool to live through the fifties, don't you think Buck?" He asks.

"It- sure is something. But this isn't our world anymore and we certainly didn't come here to lament about what we should've had. We gotta find this Hydra guy." Bucky says.

"Of course." Steve nods, eyes scanning the crowd.

"There he is." Bucky nods towards him.

"Alright, I'm going in. We have to be careful not to draw too much attention to ourselves or to him." Steve says.

"I'll be on standby." Bucky slaps his back and finds a wall to blend into. Bucky watches as Steve closes in on the target giving Bucky the chance to intercept the hostage as Steve managed to remove the agent from the building.

"Hello, I'm Bucky. It's alright, you're safe now." Bucky says to the shaken up man.

"T-thank you Bucky." The man says. Bucky nods as he ushers the man outside.

"Once Steve returns we'll get you back to our time and you can get checked out by some members of the Avengers medical team." Bucky explains.

"Okay." The man says. Steve returns shortly with the HYDRA agent restrained.

"Alright, there's a specific location we have to get to in order to go back, it's not far, a couple of blocks from here. Let's go." Steve drags the HYDRA agent down the street, the hostage follows and Bucky stays at the tail end of the group.

The sound of bubbling laughter causes Bucky to look around as the four of them enter a different neighborhood. Before he can spot the source of the sound he hears a soft 'oof' as he feels something collide with him. You were so busy talking to your friends as you walked out of the dive bar you didn't realize until it was too late and you were crashing into what you thought was a wall. Well until the wall's arms shoot out to steady you before you fall.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry!" You say stepping back and shaking your head a little. Bucky can't help but take in your appearance, brown eyes, dark curly hair and a red polka dot dress.

"You okay doll?" He asks you. Your face heats slightly at the sound of his voice.

"I-I'm alright, thank you. Sorry for bumping into you like that." You mutter.

"Don't worry about it," he trails off in a way that signals you to fill in with your name.

"Y/n. I'm y/n." You say.

"Y/n- pretty girl with a pretty name to match." He smiles at you.

"Thank you." You reply shyly.

"I'm, James, James Barnes." He says holding out a hand.

"It's- it's nice to meet you James." You say intending to shake his outstretched hand.

"The pleasure is all mine." He says turning your wrist to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. You let out a barely audible gasp.

"Y/N!! Come on!!" Your friends wave you over from further up the road.

"Oh- I um, excuse me I have to go. Bye James." You smile once more before running off to catch up with your friends.

"Y/n what the hell were you doing talking to that white boy?" Your friend asks looping her arm through yours.

"I accidentally bumped into him." You say looking over your shoulder as he catches up with Steve and their travel companions.

"Y/n remember what time we're in. It's the 50s! You have to be more careful talking to white folk around here. Next thing we know we find you hanging from a tree tarred and feathered or something and if that happens-"

"I know Mel! If something finite happens to me here I can't fix it when we go back to the present. It's alright! We're done here after tomorrow anyway." You tug her along to your next destination.

"Thank goodness we're leaving tomorrow. I'm tired of the 50s." Mel huffs.

"Well yeah, we're Black, America is segregated, remind me to never come back in time again. We should fuck around and go to the future next time."

"Y/n we're here for something specific. But you're right we're never coming back in time again." Mel nods.

~

"Yo Buck, you okay?" Sam waves his hand in front of his friend's face.

"He's been spacey all week." Nat shrugs.

"No I haven't." Bucky frowns.

"Yes you have." Nat says.

"Something happen on your recon mission?" Sam asks.

"Is this about that dame that ran into you Buck?" Steve asks.

"No." Bucky rolls his eyes. Yes.

"What dame?" Nat asks.

"Some girl- she bumped into Bucky while we were heading to our rendezvous point. They talked for a short while." Steve explains.

"You lovesick Buck?" Sam grins like the Cheshire cat.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't even know the girl. And she's from the 50s." Bucky scoffs.

"Aw Bucky- never knew you were the love at first sight type." Nat says.

"Did you even hear what I said?" Bucky looks at her incredulously.

"Yeah but the look on your face tells a different story." Nat shrugs.

"It's not a bad thing to admit you have a crush." Steve frowns.

"I don't have a crush. I spoke to her for less than 5 minutes and she's from decades ago. She might not even be alive anymore." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Morbid." Sam mutters.

"Don't be ridiculous she's probably alive, I would guess she's in her 70s or 80s, 90s at most." Steve hums.

"What did she look like?" Nat asks.

"She had dark curls that sat on top of her head and really pretty brown skin-"

"She's a sister?! Man- now ain't that something." Sam laughs.

"Her eyes were dark brown, like smokey quartz. I bet they look like honey in the sun." Bucky mumbles.

"Oh you got it bad!" Nat laughs.

"Fuck off Nat." Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Alright well you've been moping around like a kicked puppy for long enough. Let's go to that coffee shop you're always at. Get you out of the tower." Nat says dragging the super soldier out of his chair.

"Nat-" he groans.

"You boys too, come on." She gestures for Steve and Sam to follow. The four of them make the two block walk from the tower to a local coffee shop that Buck went to regularly.

"This shop is cute!" Nat says as the group walks up to the entrance.

"Yeah, it's a nice place. Plus the coffee is pretty good." Bucky says looking back at her as he opens the door. Before he can actually enter the shop he hears a soft 'oof' as he feels something collide with him. You were looking through your bag as you left the coffee shop to catch up with your friends. You didn't realize until it was too late and you were crashing into what you thought was a wall. Well until the wall's arms shoot out to steady you before you fall.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry!" You say stepping back and shaking your head a little.

"You okay doll?" He asks you, a vague sense of deja vu settling over him as he looks at you. You blink at him curiously, wondering why this feels so familiar.

"I-I'm alright, thank you. Sorry for bumping into you like that." You mutter.

"Y/n! You comin!?" Your friend Melissa yells to get your attention. Bucky's eyes snap to her before looking back to you. There's no way.

"Yeah!" You yell back.

"What did she just call you?" Bucky asks.

"Uh- my name- Y/n?" You frown, confused.

"Son of a bitch." He mutters.

"Excuse me?" You blink.

"Uh- excuse my language it's just-" Bucky pauses unsure, "I'm James- James Barnes." He says. Your eyes widen as it clicks.

"Holy shit." You whisper, "wait but- how is that possible? You were-"

"So were you! How did you-"

"Y/n! We're gonna be late!" Melissa yells again. You glance at her and huff before looking back at him.

"I- I'm sorry, I have to go." You frown. You dig through your bag for a moment, pulling out a pen and a sticky note, scribbling on it before handing it over to James. "Here- my phone number. If you want meet without me crashing into you." You smile."It was nice meeting you, James." You call before running off to catch up with your friends.

"By gods that was her." Steve says.

"Wait what?!" Nat looks at you.

"How is that possible?" Sam frowns.

"No idea, but I plan to find out." Bucky says.

"She was very pretty though." Nat says.

"Yeah." Bucky says looking over at you as you walk away with your friends.

"What was that about?" Melissa asks.

"You're not gonna believe this- but that's the guy from the 50s." You tell her.

"Sorry what?! That white boy you ran into outside the bar?" She frowns.

"Yes!" You nod.

"But how is that even-"

"I didn't realize it before but it's obvious seeing him with the others- he's an Avenger."

"Seriously??" She looks over her shoulder at the group.

"Yeah- he used to be the Winter Soldier from what I remember in the news. I can't believe I ran into him again."

"Seems like you two are tied to each other." She nudges you.

"Maybe. Only time will tell." You say with a small smile. Mel squeals with laughter as the two of you walk towards your next destination.

***

[silverinia]

I came for Baranski, I stayed for Baranski - a quick Christmas On The Square review someone* actually asked for

(* thank you, anon)

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional of any sorts when it comes to film and I'm not a journalist either. The last movie review I've written was probably for a school assignment in eighth grade. I didn't do research for this and I've watched the movie exactly one time, so this is just for fun.

It was a Sunday, Sunday the 22nd of November, nearing the end of the train wreck of a year that is 2020. I woke up on an air mattress around seven am, my head aching, my throat itching with pyrosis and light nausea, it was still dark outside behind the closed blinds in front of the windows, when I slowly realised where I was, one of my best girlfriends sleeping next to me in her bed. I had crashed at her place after a warm, fuzzy evening of mulled wine, tacky Christmas movies I would never watch alone (Christmas Chronicles and Holiday Calendar, which I quite honestly didn't enjoy at all, but the company made it fun anyway), doing our nails, wearing the fun kind of face masks for a change and smoking too many cigarettes, as the soft pain in my head informed me right now. She woke up an hour later and the morning went by with coffee and reheated pizza for breakfast, when we decided to watch another movie and I realised that it was THE Sunday I'd been waiting for through Zoom interviews and Dolly Parton twitter memes and the infamous wig gate that will be briefly discussed in the following, and so we clicked on the small icon in the Netflix menu that said "Christmas On The Square".

And oh boy, was it a ride.

To start off, I should mention that I have a hard time watching most modern day American Christmas movies, as I noticed quite vividly again when I watched the two aforementioned Netflix productions last night. The character development is always foreseeable to say the least, the plot lines are plain clichés hunting each other like they're the kids in The Hunger Games, and the writing is generally so bad that you can join the actors in reciting the entire scripts on your first watch. I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas once a year while I'm gift wrapping and pause every fifteen minutes to shamelessly stare at forties Christine Baranski (I think we should all turn away from the birth of Jesus and instead count our years based on Christine Baranski's date of birth) in flamboyant nightgowns and short Christmas themed dresses, looking so fabulous that every interpreter of Santa Baby ever could only dream of it, I watch Love Actually at least five times a year to lust over Hugh Grant, cry with Emma Thompson and miss Alan Rickman, I enjoy Bridget Jones, which I would definitely consider a Christmas movie, and that's it. That's my yearly Christmas time entertainment routine and I can barely tolerate anything beyond, because I'm still traumatised from the time when I was around five years old and on a holiday family visit where had to sit through National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the dumbest movie I have ever seen (my apologies if you like it but also, who hurt you?), with my cousins. I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And it scarred me for life.

But this was a Christine Baranski movie, I knew she was going to play the lead and so I was pretty much as excited about this as I could. And the fact that Dolly Parton wrote the whole thing didn't hurt either. As I said earlier to my friend I was watching it with, I have the pop cultural taste of a fifty year old gay man, a quality I am most proud of, and this simply ticked off all my boxes.

I expected something similar to a Mamma Mia experience that wouldn't cause me to crave packing my bags, give Covid the finger and run off to Greece. Light-hearted entertainment, easy to stomach, uplifting music and so little plot that the simplicity feels like a creative choice. That's what my pained, hungover brain knew it could cope with and that's not what I got.

The movie started and I was immediately in the zone. I saw Christine Baranski's name in the front credits (an experience that never fails to make me scream "Yass Queen" at the screen, regardless of where I am and who I'm with, as if I'm the sobering result that pops out of the package when you order Jonathan Van Ness on Wish), the setting was wonderfully corny (I grew up watching Gilmore Girls once a week, so give me warm fairy lights and a gazebo and I'm perfectly happy) and as my friend wondered whether Dolly Parton, in her exaggerated homeless attire that didn't make her look shabby at all, was green-screened into the setting because she stood out so much (which she was because the background dancers were dancing in slow motion, but to be fair, we were probably still a little too drunk to notice that from the start) and I told her I thought that it was just the natural glow someone who's Dolly Parton simply carries with them everywhere they go, I was happy. This was the movie I was prepared for. A movie in which the most problematic thing would be stereotypical characters and the wig they hid Christine's real, flawlessly handmade by God herself hair under.

And then, around five minutes in, Christine Baranski's childhood love interest was revealed as she pressed her perfect pointy nose against the window of his shop and sang about her unrequited love.

And suddenly, things started taking turns at a pace I was still way too sleep-deprived for.

Suddenly, in the middle of my general amazement at seeing Christine Baranski do literally anything and laughing loud at her impeccable comedic delivery, there were unresolved daddy issues, hanging prominently at the wall in her marvellously designed house (she literally says "Daddy" at one point and I couldn't help but think that only someone with her vocal skills could keep from making it sound cringe-worthily kinky). One moment, I was clutching my chest above my heart while she was bonding with little bartender Violet and munching on pretzels while downing some whiskey in that elegant way only Christine Baranski can bond with ten year olds who had it rough, eat pretzels and down whiskey, and the next she felt responsible for said girl's mother's death (which she kinda was too, but I'm not the boss of her). I was still busy making fun of how the very annoyingly, but when you're snacking on pizza with extra cheese at nine in the morning also highly funny, slow talking pastor's name was Christian, and suddenly there was a cancer scare.

It was a lot, a hasty sprint from major issue to major issue with a hint of comedic relief every now and then, and it didn't get any less until the very, rather poorly resolved, end.

The entire, constant up and down was followed by the movie's peak of suspense, the near death of precious Violet, something I couldn't even get too invested in because I was still so busy worrying about Christine's MRT results (I was truly fucking worried), not to mention that I hadn't even started to really process the sudden revelation of the love child and how it had affected her character's actions until this point. Was her constant tendency of pushing people away, as we've seen most clearly with her angel in training assistant who's name I cannot recall right now, the result of her broken trust in her father who practically ripped her son away from her after she had just given birth to him? Was it a result of her never getting the closure she needed with plaid flannel wearing Carl she was clearly still in love with? Maybe both? And what of the many issues was it that made her so incredibly shaken up when Violet blamed herself for her mother's death? Was it 'just' due to the fact that the closed pharmacy was on her, or was there more to it? Was it because she had grown up without a mother herself? Or did I miss a major piece of information because I was momentarily distracted, dumbfoundedly staring at Christine's very blue eyes? No time to ponder on that, little Silverinia, because here comes unconscious Violet in an ambulance, WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

I'm not going to go in depth about what plot lines I thought were especially carelessly handled and why, real standouts were the sudden forgiveness towards her father who had still acted like a shitty asshole even though he might have had his reasons, because giving the baby up for adoption just wasn't his choice to make, and the fact that I kind of didn't buy how quickly Regina managed to forgive herself, especially for Violet's mother's passing, considering how deeply her tall, slim, dare I say angelic and entrancing figure was buried beneath the weight of all her issues. It felt rushed and incomplete, but that's as detailed as it gets because my major point is something else.

I think this movie made the great mistake of trying to be more than your average, flat, happy ending Christmas movie. I think no one involved thought it was possible to make it a big hit if the only real plot would've been great Dolly Parton music, fun ensemble dance choreographies, Christine Baranski's outstanding acting skills, fun settings and costumes and a redemption arch with as little plot as it could possibly take to make Christine likable to those who aren't already lost forever in the rabbit hole of being obsessed with her (poor fuckers, can't relate). They didn't notice that with the legends that were involved, they could've easily gone the Mamma Mia way. And I think that's why they tried to include heavier plot lines than most creators would've chosen, experiencing loss at an early age, struggling to find closure, dealing with sickness, teenage pregnancy, parents forcing their choices on their children when they affect their childrens' lives first, adoption, and the fear of losing your kid.

It was a lot and I don't want to say that it didn't work because my friend was crying, like, pretty hard and I questioned my entire existence all through the movie in not the worst way, and I did enjoy it a lot while watching. The "grief is love with nowhere to go" line was a real standout, for example, where the attempt of complexity DID work. It positively gave me fleabag season two, "I don't know what to do with it now, with all the love I have for her." - "I'll take it. It sounds lovely. You have to give it to me." feels, and that's about the biggest praise I can come up with. BUT (and this is written in capital letters because it's the big but) I'm also totally convinced that I wouldn't have enjoyed it if they hadn't cast Christine Baranski for the lead role. In my humble opinion, the hasty, not really at all resolved plot of this movie only worked because Christine Baranski is just a fantastic actress. She quirks a mocking eyebrow and you laugh. She parts her perfectly painted red lips and you immediately hang on them because you don't want to miss a single breath she, a literal goddess, graces us mere peasants of people with. She smiles and you're happy. She laughs and even while she's still laughing, you can't wait to hear her do it again. Her eyes fill with tears and you feel goosebumps on your arms, her voice slightly trembles, a breath hitches in her throat and you feel your heart shattering to pieces. As Chuck Lorre once said, this woman could read you the phone book and you would end up laughing tears because she just gets the job done. She knows what she's doing, she's an absolute pro in her game, and it doesn't matter, not even a little bit, what she's working with, because the work she eventually delivers with it is always at a minimum of 200%. I forced my friend to watch this movie with me because I adore this woman, and I felt for this movie because I felt for her. It wasn't the plot that sadly brutally overestimated itself, it wasn't the songs that I obviously enjoyed, nor the comedic elements that truly made me laugh a lot, it was all her. I came for Baranski, and I stayed for Baranski. This woman can do anything. She can even look graceful in a terrible wig job.

(side note / unpopular opinion: I actually didn't think the wig was all too bad. It wasn't good, actually far from good, but for me, nothing can match the awful wig game of Mamma Mia 2. I loathed that wig, I absolutely cannot stand it. So this didn't feel all that terrible. It definitely wasn't the most problematic part about the movie.)

I enjoyed watching this. It was a nice distraction from all the bullshit in the world. Watching it today was the first thing this year that actually brought me something close to excitement about the holiday season, even though everything will be very different and probably not quite as jolly this year. But it just gave me good vibes and as someone who did not watch this as a film reviewer, that's the biggest part of what leads me to enjoy a movie.

Will I watch this again? For sure. Will I enjoy it when I'm not hungover, having freshly done nails and munching delicious pizza for breakfast? Probably not as much, but it'll still have Christine Baranski in it. Would I recommend watching this? If you share my obsession with Queen B, one hundo. If you don't, probably not.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (1/?)

What started out as an idea for a short one shot grew into a multichap that I'm almost done editing. I think 🤔 it'll be either 4 or 5 chapters long depending on how long each chapter will be after I'm done editing. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy.

In this fic you learn how easily things can change, but how it effects you isn't always a bad thing.

________________

Chapter 1: The Phenomenon

There was little difference to what was happening around you at the moment. There were no little green men, or yellow submarines, neither were there tangelos, or bags of golden rings, but there was a blue-haired man with plenty of dreams. Still, life was swell; summer was around the corner, and you were reading in the garage just to be near Zeta-7; he was working on his latest piece of tech, and you were distracted by his charming quirks and ticks. If you hadn't known any better, you'd say it was business as usual. Yet, it was because you had been acquainted with Rick that the previous blindspots of your world were made known to you; conscious of the rare events which were going to take place in another quadrant of space.

A phenomenon was going to occur; one which would not happen again for another 1000 years; the blooming of the Milleannos flower. Legends say that those who touch its pollen might live forever, and those who smell its perfume might be cured of all that ails them, but those claims were supposedly unsubstantiated. There was to be a gala to celebrate the occasion; all in attendance were respectable, distinguished guests and because of Rick, you were also invited, but there were rules; strict guidelines which were to be obeyed unless you wished to throw away your life. And although you weren't happy about them, you were willing to abide by them for Rick's sake. However, there were a few things you didn't understand. "Rick, why won't we be allowed to dance together?"

His hands paused their activity, and his body sagged a little; dreading the reminder not because he's informed you already, but because it pained him to remind himself that he couldn't spend a once in a lifetime occasion with you. "B-because according to the laws of Petram Viridios IV, you are assigned a um - a party companion which is determined according to the alignment of your spine, carbon dioxide levels, as well as daily water intake. And due to the variety of guests, everyone must stand at least six feet apart to avoid air poisoning. However, if given an a-air helmet in order to assist with breathing, then I believe that the last rule isn't as severe. It's - there is a-a lot to remember."

Currently, he was piecing together the circuits and connecting the wires which would power his reflective shield. It was going to be worn under his dress shirt and would be undetectable under their scanners; as a precaution of course. "Ricky, you know I barely drink water." You weren't a fan of water, but you enjoyed flavored beverages and if you did drink water, it was always carbonated first. "I mean, I can get past the distance thing, but what am I supposed to do if I'm assigned to someone I don't like, and have to spend hours being bored and jealous that you're next to gorgeous, realistic fembots from Westworld?"

Unlike you, Zeta-7 drank so much water, you wondered how he wasn't rushing to the bathroom every five minutes. The only other people who drank that much water were beauty gurus who wanted to keep their skin in tip-top shape; you could really try harder if you wanted to. Good naturedly, he answered. "Gosh, y-you don't have to worry about that. I know a fembot when I-I see one."

You raised a brow at this, but seeing as he meant it literally, you listened on. "No s-siree, I won't be assigned a party companion because I'm going t-t-to be assisting the king in protecting their sacred relic."

How Rick became designated to assist with such a task was beyond you, but there seemed to be a glimmer of slight pride in the fact that he'd be so lucky and privileged as to be near the legendary flower, as well as to the beings who revered it. He was determined to find out the truth behind its properties, and if his hypothesis proved true, then he had a plan. You enjoyed when he was diverted with schemes; not the kind which was evil in nature, but the ones which could end happily or inconclusively. Anyway, you two were discussing how to go about it all.

The discussion had gaps of pause where he'd need to concentrate on bits of wiring that needed to be soldered or bent. Without distraction, you were more aware that it was humid, especially with the garage door being fully open for proper ventilation; bits of your hair stuck to your face and to the back of your neck despite how you'd try to tie it. As annoying as it was, it did have its draw; every so often, you'd catch Rick staring and you'd feel a thrill for it could be a year or ten years, but his shy tendencies would never stop being endearing; why he felt the need to reign himself when you were cool with him checking you out was something you hoped he'd someday become more comfortable with, but for now you'd simply giggle and wink at him to let him know you knew. He did his best to focus on the task at hand, but it wasn't going as well as he had hoped for it happened more than once that you'd have to hand him a tool he was blindly reaching out for. "You wouldn't happen to know who my party companion is," you inquired, as you were tying your hair up for the umpteenth time. "do you? And if you do, can't you change them?"

Giving you that look which always preceded his speeches of why he couldn't do that random illegal thing, he explained with kindly patience. "I could change th-the records, and assign you to someone I know, but that wouldn't be legal."

"I know."

"However," he brightened as he paused his work to face you fully. "I do have a copy of the guest list. Give me a-a moment to pull it up on my computer. Hmm," he wondered more to himself then out loud. "that's odd."

"What is it?"

Drumming his fingertips on his workbench, he double-checked his calculations, then went over and wrote it all out on a chalkboard to be sure. Tapping the freshly used chalk tip to his chin in thought, leaving a little powder on his face, he nodded when it seemed satisfactory. "According to um - to my calculations, it's possible that it's either the Salamandrian chemist, V'gha Khadaka or the Chordatan Knight, Noathamas."

"Is there a correlation between the two?"

"Other than their similar water intake levels, they both enjoy their privacy. However, I'm a-a little stumped as to how it might be possible to be assigned to them both. None of your occupations are similar, neither is there a species similarity, but I'm sure I'll figure it out before the event."

Great, just great. That sort of information wasn't all that helpful, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek to ease the worry which he had been hiding. You wondered if it was too late to back out, but for the most part you were determined to be there for him, even if it meant odd company. "Alright. Um… is there something I should keep in mind before I go dress shopping?"

A quick glance at your current outfit made him smile. You were wearing an old band tee and jeans with so many patches, that they were more patch then jean. "I-I don't think so. Almost anything is fine. Though, y-you might want to avoid plant-based materials in favor of synthetics just in case."

"Okay, I think I can do that, but don't be surprised if I look like I just walked out of a 1980s prom. I'll have you know that being slightly flammable is a dream of mine."

He chuckled at that and patted your shoulder. "Hohoho, I'm sure it'll be fine. You - you always look pretty in whatever you wear."

"If you mean that I'll be so fine, that I'll light up the room with my razzle-dazzle, then you better watch out. You never know who'll be charmed without my knowing."

Now, there had been little to no weight to your phrasing just now, but he felt differently. Giving your shoulders a squeeze, there was a distant, far off look in his eyes that you could only recall from specific occasions. It was a mix of longing, sadness, and regret, but you couldn't pin it on what exactly. It was as though he were trying to convey by sight that there was something he ought to do, that he ought to say, but as quickly as it had appeared, it left and was replaced by acceptance. He pulled away and returned to his previous task while you used a spare computer to begin the search for the perfect dress. He said it'll be fine, and you certainly hoped so.

____________

Adjustments in gravity made you feel as though you could jump in and out of craters as though you were wearing moon shoes; that is until you stepped onto a ship or station, then you felt as though you had fifty pounds tied to each foot. You were grateful for the terrain stabilizers that Rick placed in your flats a few adventures ago, otherwise, you would've already been worn out.

You two arrived a few minutes apart by way of the designated ship which held a variety of guests. To explain, the ship itself was a marvel and a work of beauty as far as intergalactic travel was concerned; its mechanical parts were held together by a compound whose main ingredient was a type of scarlet amber. Piece by piece, it had been crafted by a mixture of living matter and tech so advanced, that it'd have taken 300 years of Earth-based studies to understand a fraction of how one of its panels could work; probably sooner for someone like Rick.

Your eyes trailed the conduits as you were led through hallways that seemed to spiral and spill into larger hallways with varying temperatures and design and you wondered how it was those conduits crossed over and branched off like veins, but you had no time to find out and didn't feel privileged enough to ask as you were led into a cabin. Multiple voices hushed, but resumed to their usual loudness once you had settled into what appeared to be a loveseat with the coloring and texture of a pumpkin; it was your assigned seating, but it was not as soft as you would have liked.

It wouldn't be till later that you'd find out that Rick had traveled in a cabin on level 4 while you had been on level 2. In your cabin was a being composed of pure energy, with a name not spelled in letters but in frequencies, who was one of the musicians. A few feet away, was V'gha Khaḍaka; he was tall, sure-looking, had smooth, striped skin which glistened, and a tail strong enough to break someone's spine in a blink; the good thing was that he hadn't been trained in combat, but was simply a scientist who enjoyed the pursuit of knowledge. And a few feet away from the Salamandrian chemist was the knight Noathamas; he stood at half your height, but his chest was puffed out in such a way that made him appear larger, while his round amber eyes and curly whiskers gave him a soft, cuddly appearance; you had been warned by Rick that his appearance did not reveal much about his character and to watch out for him.

It was uncommon but not unheard of to be assigned multiple party companies as you had been; you were matched up to both V'gha and Noathamas due to your odd chemical makeup. Who would've thought that drinking a La Croix before leaving home would confuse their scanners? Goodness, you were grateful that it was a quick trip, and when it was time to depart the ship, you were escorted by two guards before you were given a helmet; it was nearly invisible except for its indicator light which was shaped like a flower, and it blended in with your dress; a colorful sequin cocktail dress you found on eBay. Not far from you were both your companions, who gave off the impression that they were your entourage rather than dates for the night. You saw Rick from a distance, and you knew he was trying to play it cool, but his eyes were sparkling with affection, although he knew he was supposed to suppress it due to the strict traditions imposed by the royal family; he looked away as he was escorted by six guards, but part of you wished that he hadn't.

You took a deep breath to calm your giddiness; this wasn't the time to allow your emotions to carry you away and affect the mission which was to get through the evening. V'gha could pick up on your subtle changes in body language, and thanks to a universal translator in your helmet, you could understand him. "From what I understand," he commented with a surprisingly smooth, velvety voice. "he's the smartest man in the universe. Is that true?"

"Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, "but he's more than just a brain. I heard he's a great lover. Not really my type," you lied because Zeta-7 suggested that you keep the details of your relationship with him a secret; again for safety, but you thought boasting up his reputation wouldn't hurt. "though, to each his own."

"Do you know him personally?"

When questions like this were thrown at you, it made you wonder about the curious people who meant it to sound nice, but in actuality wanted to test the waters as to how much can they ask so soon. Glancing at your nails, you feigned disinterest. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to give out that type of information."

"You two are the only humans here." he stated matter of factly. There were humanoid beings but he was right. "It doesn't take rocket science to figure that much out."

"How would you know," you retorted with an air of certainty. "you're not a rocket scientist."

"You're right, I'm not. However, I do dabble into it from time to time. I'm sure he does too. I can smell the exhaust from here."

Hmm, perhaps this event was going to be more interesting than you thought. You shared a look of understanding with the chemist, and thought that perhaps you wouldn't need to be so wary of him; his charisma gave him a charm you hadn't yet decided if it was welcomed or should be ignored; whether his earlier comment was out of egotism or curiosity. And before you could make a comeback, Noathamas commented. "Shall we find our assigned seating and continue from there?"

"Sounds fine. Why don't you two walk ahead," you suggested with a coolness you didn't know you had. "I'll be sure to follow."

When you were sure that they were far enough, you took out your miniature glass terrarium necklace, which held a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals; the one Rick had given you after a memorable date; it was made to remind you of how he saw you and you were very glad it had gone undetected under the scanners you passed through. And in your mind's eye you could still see the glimmer and shine of his electric blue eyes as he had taken in your appearance this afternoon before you two departed Earth; oh how he had wanted to kiss you and hug you but had refrained from doing so in order to double-check if he had all his supplies. His compliments had been many as he drove into the inky blackness of space, but when he parked at the station which was at the midway point, and you two lined up to board the ship which took you to this strange world, his face became neutral; his job made him good at that. You kissed your lovely necklace, replaced it so that it laid underneath your dress collar, and your heart called out to him in the void which was Petram Viridios IV; hoping you wouldn't have to go the through the evening without seeing your beloved again before you made yourself appear neutral and made sure to stay at least six feet apart from everyone in your midst.

Tbc

[jlpat82]

Not Our Home

Chapter 7

An shrill blasted penetrated the silence, startling me back to my reality. It had been the fifth one since the doors had closed. I was disoriented, looking around my surroundings. The metal shined brightly as the sunlight poured in the window.

I stumbled over and peered out, the grass swayed in the light breeze. In the distance I saw tall columns, dabbed in various shades of green. Trees, I had seen them in pictures and movies. It was marvel to behold, beauty that I had no words the describe.

I felt my stomach tighten and rumble, I knew what laid a head of me. Part of me wondered since there was little to no radiation how they managed to kill those sentenced to death. Bullets were scarce, and hard to make since the dropping of the bombs.

Other methods that they had used previously to kill those on the death row were no longer available. I had a week to figured out how to escape, or if I even could escape. All while becoming dehydrated and starving, with little to no sleep.

❧

"Sir, the prisoner is awake." The guard informed him. It was time to figure out how this girls little friend was getting in the building, disrupting the flow of things.

The metallic door slid open with a large bang, baldy stepped in waving his lakies away. The door slid closed with another large clang. He walked in towards me as I sat on the metal cot, his eyes concentrated on the window.

"It's amazing, never ceases to surprise me. It only took a couple of years for the trees to come back." His voice was cold, almost disgusted. "We almost had the perfect utopia. Everyone in their appropriate social classes, not mettling. Then you came along."

He finally turned his head toward me, his eyes narrowed. I stayed silent, I didn't know what he was planning but I didn't want to be a part of it. He looked down at me and folded his arms.

"You know, we only took the brightest of lower middle class. Before the bombs dropped, thinking maybe, just maybe it would make all of you smarter in the long run. Remind you guys if it hadn't been for our generosity to your grandparents you wouldn't exists. However, I felt obligated to personally take your dad in." I heard the disgust in his voice, it dawned on me. This man was easily a hundred and fifty. Which meant he was one those genetically modified.

"That's right, little girl, I'm like your little friend out there. The only difference is, I was able to live out my life in luxury. You see I was promised an amazing life if I didn't disarm the nuclear warhead in the bomb. I'm sure had your little friend not been so focused on her he would've noticed." He gloated. "Things ran smoothly for the most part around here, everyone happy in their classes, content. Till you started dabbling in the underground."

"Me?" I was genuinely confused by this.

"Yes, you. Bringing your books and movies top side had a long impact on our society. People talk, and whisper through the community. Telling stories of things you'd bring back to your friends. We let it slide, as at that point it hadn't caused to much trouble. People were still complacent in their dull little lives, that was till Reaper showed up."

"Reaper showing up had nothing to with me."

"Your right, and wrong. Had you not been curious that night and walked the tubes he would never had seen you. He would not have been fixated on you, as you look so much like your grandma. He had to come in, and you just had to make contact with him. Then stories swirled about that outside isn't as deadly as people were lead to believe, if people know that life is capable of surviving out there society will crumble again."

"I was right." I whispered, looking towards the ground. My mind began to tail spin.

"It took hours of persuading your friend Elise to rat you out. Ultimately we had to threaten her family but you get the point. She will be taken care of after we are done with you. We will slowly eliminate everyone you have had contact with, so not to draw any attention."

"You have held us hostage, kept us from a better life because the lot of you are to lazy to do your own work? That's what this comes down to?" I sprang up from my cot yelling, my entire body shook with anger. "You think by getting rid of me that will solve your problem? You think that nobody else will question your ideas of utopia? Your wrong, there will be others like me. Word is already spreading, you can't kill the idea once the doubt is put in their minds."

"How cute, you think this is the first time people have wondered if it's safe out there. News flash child, it's not. We will deal with it as we have always done, destroy the non-believers. We are due for a reduction in numbers anyhow, can't have over population happen. It makes people unhappy once the over crowding starts. Can't have that, unhappy workers make bad decisions."

"You’re a monster." I stated in disgust.

"So is your little friend, how do you think he earned the name Reaper." His lip curled as he smiled at me. "This has been a marvelous chat but I have better things to do now."

I watched as he banged on the metal door and left. I felt sick to my stomach, my chest started to heave. The realization of how bad our society really was hit me like a brick. Lives meant nothing to these people, killing people for having thoughts that didn't conform to their beliefs.

A scream startled me from my thoughts. It was deafening, and inhuman. A hallow metallic sound that chilled you to the core. My heart raced, I sprinted to the window and peered out. I watched as a pair of boots walked passed the window struggling to pull something. Another shrill scream pierced my ears louder then before. I clamped my hands over my ears.

Large pale white hands planted into the soil before my eyes, long talon like nails dug into the soil. The skin was almost translucent white, marred by large bloody blisters. It lowered it's massive head to the ground. It's smooth face was void of any eyes, sunken skin covered the sockets in the skull.

The creatures body was heaving with each heavy breath. It opened its mouth, sharp jagged teeth glistened, its eye teeth absurdly long. The abominations tongue slipped out and graced the ground licking the soil, saliva sticking to the ground.

It's body braced back as it took in a deep breath, that shrill, ear piercing hallowed scream exited it. I winced in response to its call. The thing snapped its head in my direction, I was confused as to how it sensed me.

It lunged at me through the glass, hissing. Pressing its flattened nose against the glass, and started clawing erratically. I instinctively took a step back, it lunged again and shrieked. In horror I heard a small crack and watched as a small fissure appear in the glass that separated us.

The boots came back into view, I heard the zap of electricity. It spasmed, and turned to the boots hissing. The thing slowly crept away from the window, growling. Whatever that thing was, whatever it's genetic make up, it was far from what it had originally been. Years of genetic mutation from radiation had taken its toll.

❧

Sasha waited in the tube as night approached, she didn't know who else to turn to. Reaper had found away into the building surely he could find away to rescue her sister. She had no idea where they housed the condemned, but she knew where the blue prints were contained.

She could see a storm rolling in, the first few droplets twinkled in the fading moonlight. A green light flickered through the night sky, thunder rocked through the tube. Sasha stepped closer to the tube wall, pressing her hands to the cool glass.

Lighting graced the blackened sky, she saw him. Reflecting in the glass, an irrational fear ripped through her body as she spun around. Their eyes locked, confusion etched across his worried eyes.

"They have her." She breathed out, his eyes narrowed.

"Where?" His voiced boomed.

"I don't know, I don't know where they house the condemned." His body began to tense up at her words. "I know where the blue prints are, Julianne found them once. She told me where they are."

"Where?"

"They are deep in the underground." Sasha stated turning walking toward the tube door.

"Do you know where at in the underground?" He asked as they paced through the door, he turned toward the elevator as she had turned to take the stairs.

"Yes, but we need to her bag, it has pepper spray. We're outsiders they will attack us." She watched as he pushed the call button.

"Then let them, you won't need the pepper spray. You will be safe." The doors dinged and slowly rolled open.

"Are you sure?" She asked, stepping in the elevator car.

"Yes." He pressed the U button, the car started its rickety descent downward.  Sasha watched him out of the corner of her eye, he was tense. His hands clenched into fists, causing the veins in his forearms to pop out a bit. She adjusted her weight to her foot farthest away from him.

"You don't trust me." His voice flat, her eyes trained on the door.

"I don't know you, or what your intentions are with my sister. All I know is you've killed at least three people since you arrived, and now I'm standing in a small elevator with you, descending into bowls of darkness riddle with crime and filth. My sister is awaiting death and we have absolutely no plan on how to rescue her and you're worried that I don't trust you?" She scoffed. "Trust is the last thing I'm worried about."

"Trust is needed in any mission." He replied, looking at her.

"The isn't a mission, and I'm not a soldier." She quipped, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her gently to face him.

"Without trust, you're going to worry that I will hurt you and not those who intend to do is harm. If I don't trust you, you could be leading me on wild goose chase that could get you or I killed. If we fight with each other the odds of us getting to your sister are slim. Trust is necessary."

"Okay, fine, I trust you." She stated, her eyebrow raised. He let go of her, his chocolate eyes bore into her, her body relaxed. She could almost understand why her sister felt at ease. There was something about him. "Why are you fixated on her?"

"She reminds me someone. Reminds me of a woman who gave everything, and expected nothing in return. I wanted to keep her safe, so she could return her family but I failed." He tore his gaze from her, and watched their reflections in the elevator door.

"Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. Trust me I learned a long time ago that you can't save everyone." She looked back the door. "My father said he failed us and my mother when they arrested him. I was tasked to take care her after they took him. Julianne would tell our mother amazing stories of adventures he was going on to get her the help she needed. Our mother thought our dad was on journey went she passed."

"Your father didn't fail though."

"It didn't matter, in his eyes he had. That's the thing, you may see yourself as failure but in reality to her, you weren't." The car started to slow as the number hit fourteen. "Just like no matter what happens from this point on, we won't fail. You can't fail if you don't stop trying."

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