#all the articles are like 'oh cooling centers will be set up around the fair grounds!'

[imwritesometimes]

I'll believe it when I see it

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yancy x Illinois - First Impressions Aren’t Always the Best

I decided to try properly writing Yanois, just to see how I’d manage it. After rewatching Illinois’ scenes, I think he would get on the nerves of the Yancy I write at first.

Word Count 2,122

(Read more because Illinois talks so much...)

-

Happy Trails Penitentiary was renowned for its rehabilitation initiatives. They had a wide variety of classes and visitors to help prisoners. Educational courses, chances to learn new skills, pen pal projects. Many prisoners would never have the opportunity for such experiences, and it was an integral part of helping them prepare for a better life outside of prison when their sentence was finished.

There was one visitor that most prisoners in Yancy’s ‘Gang’ adored. His name was Illinois, a renowned adventurer and archaeologist. Between his job in the university and research trips, he only had time to visit once every few months. It worked in his favour, as those that wanted to visit were able to to hear the various stories that Illinois was more than happy to tell. Not only that, it would encourage the small ‘fan club’ among the younger prisoners.

It was one of the few events that Yancy avoided. Something about Illinois rubbed him the wrong way. He was so arrogant and cocky, acting like the world revolved around him. It wasn’t an act, either. Yancy had spotted Illinois speaking to the Warden on his first visit two years earlier, and he acted the exact same way as he did in the talk that happened that day. After that, Yancy decided he didn’t want anything to do with the adventurer. But if Illinois were to ever become an inmate? Yancy would make sure Illinois had the snot beaten out of him within the first week.

Unfortunately, a lot of the Gang were of the opposite view, especially those around Yancy’s age. To them, Illinois walked straight out of an adventure movie and lived the ideal life. What prisoner didn’t dream of going exploring in uncharted territories? It meant that they would frequently share Illinois’ tales in rec yard when he came to visit. Yancy would roll his eyes, but keep quiet. Let them have their fun.

Today was the day that Illinois visited the prison. It had been over three months since the last visit, so there was an excited buzz among individuals in the Gang. Yancy spent the morning bracing himself. There was a talk after lunch that the others would go to, which would mean the rest of the afternoon and evening would be nothing but historical chatter and “Illinois is so cool!”. He would grumble, but he would keep that to himself. It wasn’t fair to deflate their excitement. He went to the library, found some random book and focused on that for the day. Then, once they had their excitement, it would die down and Yancy could enjoy more casual conversation.

Which was the plan… Until Bam-Bam pleaded for him to go to the last talk of the day. It turned out that his shift clashed with the talk everyone else they knew went to, and he didn’t want to go alone. Begrudgingly, Yancy closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and followed Bam-Bam. A flaw of being a loyal friend was knowing when to swallow your pride and do something you would rather not do.

-

When you go to something with low expectations, it can be incredibly difficult to feel the time was used in a worthwhile manner. Some might have memories of a teacher they hated, or a family gathering they had been dreading. This was a similar position to what Yancy found himself in. One of the ‘classrooms’ had been adjusted slightly to allow various displays to take center stage, with the chairs in neat rows in front of it. Bam-Bam and Yancy claimed two seats at the back, allowing the greaser to slouch in the chair with his arms crossed. Then, once more prisoners had arrived, the talk began.

On and on Illinois went, droning endlessly in that slow drawl. Yancy wished he had a TV remote to speed up the talking a fraction. Was Illinois focused on making sure everyone could understand him, or did he want to prolong the joy of hearing himself talk? It might have been more tolerable if Bam-Bam wasn’t genuinely engrossed in the lecture. They could have made amusing comments throughout. Instead, Yancy was stuck. Sure, history was interesting, but Illinois really drove home the stereotype of boring history teachers. The ‘adventures’ even sounded cliché and fake. Maybe he should have taken the book with him after all...

A painfully slow half hour passed. Once the talk was over, Illinois would literally open the floor to the other prisoners. The chairs would be pushed aside and those that wanted to look at the items Illinois brought were welcome to do so. Yancy was dragged along to view the pieces. Most of the articles were dated to be approximately eight thousand years old. What caught Bam-Bam’s attention was a stone carving that vaguely resembled a cat.

“Ahhh, I see the ‘White Jaguar’ has caught your attention.” Yancy had to repress a shudder at the smooth voice interrupting their own questions back and forth. Illinois stepped over, resting an arm against the perspex container. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? A miracle we even found her in the first place. She was why I wasn’t able to visit like I said I would last month.” Bam-Bam’s eager question had Illinois chuckle and shake his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you two gentlemen have much better things to do than hear about how I nearly lost my right hand in my most recent adventure.” When Bam-Bam insisted otherwise, Illinois smirked (and Yancy nearly gagged).

“If you insist. While on our recent dig, I noticed one of the ruins had a floor panel that looked a little different from the rest. It took a little persuasion, but I got that pesky stone up. There, sprawled out before me, was a staircase leading down into the earth. I picked up one of the torches and made my way down. Slowly, I delved deeper into the darkness. One step gave way under me to set off a series of poison-dipped darts, but I was able to dodge them all without breaking a sweat.” Illinois continued, dramatically regaling every single trap that he encountered until he found the White Jaguar. When taking everything around it, he surmised that the owner of the house had been a thief. The jaguar motif was familiar, as he had noticed something similar in a nearby cave that had been repurposed at the time as a sacred spot.

“- Now, this heart of this cave was still guarded by ancient jaguar spirits. They rattled the large statues as I approached, obviously sensing the treasure I carried. In the middle, there was a jaguar’s head carved out of stone. Its jaw was open wide and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was just the right spot for this precious lady. But then, skeletons of what I assume were magic users from an era long gone by pounced and tried to wrestle the statue off me, but I was too fast for them. At last, I reached the carved head, put the White Jaguar in the mouth… and the stone head moved, trapping my arm in a ferocious bite!” He gestured to the cloth wrapped around his right wrist. It was unwrapped just enough to show the healing bite marks. “It had the strength to bite it clean off, but relented when it realised what I had done by offering my arm as blood payment to return -”

“Wait wait wait.” Yancy’s interruption had Bam-Bam elbow him, but it didn’t stop the objection. “That can’t be right. If youse managed to bring this back to where it’s meant to be, why the fuck is it here?”

“An excellent question. This is my recreation of it. I am no thief. I return artefacts to where they belong. Archaeology has a rotten connection with thievery, and I try to rectify the mistakes of my predecessors.”

“So then this entire thing could be bullshit!” Yancy scoffed. “Bam-Bam, this guy just got bitten by someone’s dog and has made this pile of baloney to hide that.”

“Are you accusing me of being a liar?”

“Well, I ain’t calling you a ‘truther’, that’s for sure!”

Yancy was ready for a proper argument. In fact, he was hoping for one. Instead… Illinois laughed, and it wasn’t that typical ‘cocky chuckle’. It was a bright, genuine laugh. He could almost see Bam-Bam go starry-eyed at such a rare moment. Typical Yancy. Getting more attention from Illinois when he wanted to rile him up.

“I suppose it all does sound rather suspicious when you put it that way. Let me show you something.” Illinois gestured for the pair to follow him toward a display of photographs. Instead of pointing to these, he instead reached for his briefcase. A small photo album was pulled out. Yancy noticed that it was dated three months prior. While Illinois flipped through it, both prisoners could see what looked like an area that had been dug up. It matched the pictures in front of them of an excavation site. At last, Illinois found what he was looking for.

“One Guardian Jaguar, complete with the White Jaguar in its mouth. As you can see, the teeth have fresh blood on them. It was an… Oddly tranquil sight, despite the unfortunate situation.”

“So then why act like these are the real deal? People just take youse’s word for it?”

“Normally those that attend my talks know that what I show are my artistic recreations for purely educational purposes. I suppose I do take for granted that those who attend here are invested regulars.” Illinois gave a small shrug. “It’s an easy mistake to forget to remind people who might be new to my talks. I’m sorry if you thought I was a fraud, but I am the real deal. Too good to be true, yet here I am.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sucks that I’m perfect as shit’, I get it. Least you knows not to make that mistake again.” Yancy rocked back on his heel with the intention of turning and walking away.

“Now now. I can’t let you walk off like that. Take this.” Another item was pulled out of his briefcase. “I made this smaller model of the White Jaguar as a ‘first draft’. I was intending on using it as motivation to my first-year students but… I think it should stay here with you.” Illinois took the opportunity to reach for Yancy’s hand. The small clay model was gently placed in it before Illinois curled Yancy’s fingers over it to keep it in place. His hands stayed where they were as he continued, “We think the White Jaguar was a symbol of good fortune. Perhaps it might bring you some good luck.” He smiled at Yancy, only to have the moment broken by the guard announcing that there were five minutes before the prisoners had to return to their cells for the afternoon count. Yancy took the chance to quickly leave the room without as much as a ‘goodbye’. At least his friend, who introduced himself as Bam-Bam, quickly thanked Illinois before darting out.

A few more questions were asked of him by other prisoners and curious staff; and then it was time to tidy up to bring everything back to the university. It was only when he reached the White Jaguar model did Illinois hesitate. There was something about that abrasive prisoner he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it because he seemed uninterested in the adventurer? Or was there something else? It was a rare moment that Illinois wished he’d had an excuse to chat to the prisoner longer. Maybe not here, but somewhere quieter. Just the two of them.

Huh… Was this what an attraction felt like? He joked about others falling in love with him so often, he wasn’t sure if this was payback for never returning interest in others. He was drawn toward a prisoner that seemed keen to dismiss his hard work and reputation. And worse! Illinois didn’t even know his name!

Then again… A good adventurer always loves the thrill of a mystery. Maybe he could try and find that prisoner next time he visited. Now that the university was open again, he’d be able to drop by more frequently…

--

For what it was worth, Yancy also had a mystery on his hands.

Namely, how to get away from Bam-Bam - who would not SHUT UP about their prolonged conversation with Illinois - and half the gang - who were incredibly jealous Yancy got a gift from the Illinois!

He dropped his head against the chow hall table with a low ‘thunk’. This was the opposite of getting the others to stop talking about Illinois around him!

[musings-from-mars]

part 4 por favor? Maybe Ruby starts noticing the "tension" between Cinder and Blake and starts setting them up?

Freelance Love Triangle AU - Part 4

They arrived at the outdoor gallery, and Ruby was already zipping around here and there, thinking out loud about angles and framing, all while gushing about the art on display, choosing her favorites. “This is so cool!” She said to Blake and Cinder.

“It’s a lovely installation,” Cinder agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up. “Don’t you think so, Blake?”

It was a pretty magnificent showcase. Crude marble pillars of varying heights and widths stood in a seemingly random arrangement, each with art pieces hung on the sides. The pieces of 3D art stood in spaces between pillars. While there were two equally tall pillars that served as the “entrance” to the exhibition, it was open air and seemingly boundless, as the pillars became fewer and farther between the further from the center you moved.

At the very center of the gallery was a massive metal sculpture of what looked like a suit of armor, but it was matte black, and the plates of armor were spaced out from one another so it was easy to see right through the gaps. It stood on a concrete cube labeled “SOAPBOX” with “various artists” engraved underneath. The artists were making a point, and Blake’s mind raced trying to decipher what it might be.

But then Ruby started talking to Cinder, and that broke Blake’s focus immediately.

“The suit is faceless, and the armor having such obvious gaps indicates that the suit is vulnerable,” Cinder explained to Ruby as she looked up at the sculpture, which Ruby craning her neck to do the same. “Yet it stands on a soapbox, elevated and arrogant, despite the flaws in its defenses. I think it makes a point about the illusions of authority and strength of those in power, and the general populace’s compliance despite the obvious flaws that everyone can see if they look close enough.”

“Woah, that’s so cool…” Ruby murmured with wonder.

Blake didn’t want to feel as annoyed as she did, because Cinder’s take on it was pretty much exactly how Blake viewed the piece, but dammit, she wanted to impress Ruby too! She tried to come up with something original to say, but she didn’t want to sound desperate. Cinder was too smooth and eloquent.

“I imagine it took a long time to fashion the metal and assemble it, probably took several weeks, even for a team of artists,” Cinder pondered.

“If you were to get into contact with the artists, you might know for sure,” Blake remarked, not intending to sound so combative, but it was said. “There’s more to this than what the viewer can interpret. Anyone can come around here and write an article about what they think it all means in a day, but we’re putting together something bigger. We need testimonies from the artists, opinions of other creatives…”

Cinder had turned from the sculpture and was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, isn’t that why you’re here? You’re the networking specialist, after all.”

“It’s your project too, you know,” Blake said, stepping closer to her, then sort of regretting doing that now that she was close enough to smell her perfume. “I’m not doing all the interviews while you sit back and write down your opinions. You’ve got to pull your weight.”

“I’ve pulled plenty of weight. I haven’t even shown you the drafts I have yet,” Cinder countered, and for some reason thought it appropriate to smile at Blake. She looked down her nose a bit at her, making Blake resent Cinder’s slight height advantage. “After all, isn’t it only fair that I handle the majority of the writing, you acquire the testimonies, and Ruby handles the accompanying media? Let’s all do what we’re good at here, huh?”

Blake hated it when she made a good point. She wanted to counter-argue but she knew that would be counterproductive. “So I’m going have to handle all of the interviews? That will take up so much of my work time, you really will be on the hook for pretty much all of the writing.”

“Like I said, it’s what we’re good at,” Cinder repeated and shrugged. She leaned her weight on one leg in that sexy way that kind of pissed Blake off. “You think so, Ruby?”

Ruby had been silent the whole time, pressing her lips together as she stood by during the intense exchange. When she heard her name spoken, she snapped out of it a bit and blinked. “Oh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Uhm, Robyn wanted us to allocate, right?”

“Right,” Cinder agreed and nodded. “That was easy, we’ve already allocated. Wonderful job, team.”

If Blake gritted her teeth any harder she’d have to book a dentist appointment. Thankfully, Cinder took that moment to turn away from her and walk over to one of the gallery’s pillars, swaying her hips like an annoying exotic bird.

I hate you I hate you I haaaaate you—

“Ruby, I think if you got one of these pillars in the foreground with the sculpture in the background, that could maybe be a candidate for cover,” Cinder said.

Ruby hurried over to look at what she meant, leaving Blake standing next to Soapbox, shoulders slumped forward and her face burning hot.

Was getting cover worth it? Was getting to work with Ruby worth how insufferable and annoying aloof Cinder was? Blake was seriously considering it, but then she watched as Ruby giggled at something Cinder said, and she knew then that she had to stick with this, for whatever other reasons, but mostly to make sure Ruby and Cinder didn’t become a thing.

Was that shitty of her? Maybe. But the thought of that happening made her blood boil.

~~~

“How about I take you both for a drink?”

The offer felt like it came out of nowhere. The three of them were waiting on a bench not far from the gallery. Night had fallen, and while they had gotten plenty of photos and Blake had gotten the chance to take some notes about the various artists, it wasn’t that late. Blake was about to hail a rideshare because she just wasn’t in the mood to walk all the way home, but (while she kind of hated that she did), Blake considered Cinder’s offer.

“That sounds like fun, sure!” Ruby said. She sat between Blake and Cinder, tapping away at her laptop as she backed up the photos of the day. Even as time went on, she hadn’t lost any energy, which Blake was impressed by. She certainly couldn’t say the same for herself she was fresh out of college.

“Lovely,” Cinder said with a smile.

Well, if Ruby was going with Cinder, Blake was definitely going, too. “Sure. I could use a drink. But I’m not staying out late, nor should any of us. We’ve got more work to do tomorrow.”

Cinder nodded knowingly. “Just a little excursion. We’ll save the proper night out for Friday.” Blake couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “I know I nice little bar near here. It’s the quaint type, for hipsters like us.”

Blake chuckled a bit at that. “Great, I love craft beer,” she said sarcastically.

“I’ve never had anything other than hard seltzer,” Ruby admitted with a shy chuckle. “Do they have that?”

“I’m sure they do, hun,” Cinder assured her with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Blake’s neck stand up.

Ruby rubbed the back of her neck bashfully as she shut her laptop, having finished saving her images. “Not to be a stereotypical gay or anything.”

Blake snorted a laugh, then blushed at the fact she’d snorted. “What, do gays like hard seltzer?”

“I guess?” Ruby shrugged, still blushing.

“I’m more of a red wine lesbian myself, we all have our tastes,” Cinder told her, her voice dripping with a flirtatious lull, as if she were already a glass deep.

Blake chewed on the inside of her mouth. She figured “whatever sounds good at the time bisexual” wouldn’t sound as sexy as red wine lesbian. Then again, she’d never had a hard seltzer. “I’ll get whatever you get, Ruby. I’m curious.”

Ruby giggled, her cheeks rosy and dimpled when she grinned. “Oh no, now I really hope you like it or else I’ll seem like I have bad taste.”

Blake smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry, hun, I think I’ll like it just fine.” She felt proud of herself for slipping a “hun” in there like Cinder had. The combination of Ruby blushing and Cinder shooting her a glare of recognition was a satisfying confidence boost.

Ruby tapped her feet on the concrete a few times, like she was letting out a sudden excess of energy, and she hopped off the bench. “We should go! The night’s not getting any younger, right?”

Cinder stood with her, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. “We should. I’ll lead the way.”

Blake sighed as she followed, the group beginning to follow Cinder’s lead away from the park. She hoped she’d seen the end of Cinder’s funny business, but she knew that was a hope in futility. She had to be planning something, right?

The best Blake could think to do was be there to see what it was.

[slasherholic]

(psst... did someone say Mikey whump? guys I think someone said Mikey whump…) 

Frisky February Prompt: Electricity~ (yes it’s 15 days too early shush)  @slashthedice

synopsis: Michael gets served up some nasty, nasty revenge by someone who really, really has it out for him.

warnings: torture in a medical setting, sexual assault, mikey has a bad time ok

foreword: the opinions expressed here by the POV character about certain sensitive topics in no way reflect my own beliefs <3

No Faith in Medicine | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The hospital corridor is long and grey and stretches onward toward a single bolted door, labeled by the rectangular sign hanging above it as Therapy Theater No. 5.

This deep within the bowels of the sanitarium, below the patient wards and the enrichment centers and the checkered courtyard, there is hardly any of the familiar clamour; so as you stride closer to the door the clack of your bootheels over the beige linoleum carries like thunder.

Smith’s Grove was never the sort of place you had pictured yourself ending up during all those sleepless nights studying for your Ph.D, and truthfully, you can’t stand it here. The deliberate blandness of the hospital, with its color palettes limited to inoffensive whites and blues and greys—meticulously designed so as not to provoke its residents—wears on you more than anything else.

You feel like you’re suffocating here; but it doesn’t matter.

This job was never about you to begin with. It was never about some commendable interest in the healing of troubled minds, either; oh-no. There are two-hundred-and-forty-nine permanent patients living inside these sound-proof walls, and while it may not be a very doctorly thing to admit, you don’t give a rat’s ass about two-hundred-and-forty-eight of them.

...and as for that last “troubled mind,” well…

The breezy summer afternoon that Michael Myers was sentenced to life imprisonment exists in your head as vividly as a snapshot picture.

Almost as vivid is your memory of the Halloween that a policeman had come knocking at your front door to inform you in a strictly-business-voice that your sister was found dead in her kitchen, her throat slit open from ear to ear.

You remember watching from your couch as the gavel came down and the judge ruled the man who had taken your sister’s life away as criminally insane—and not responsible for his actions on that fateful October night—and therefor not legally a candidate for the death penalty.

You remember the burning, frustrated tears streaming down your face, the shatter of glass as you hurled the remote at the television screen, and then sinking down in a heap on the floor and screaming until your lungs were raw and your voice was in tatters, because it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair.

So when the news came out that Myers was to be transferred back to Smith’s Grove—hardly a forty minute commute from your own house—you had been out the door that very same day, speeding in your car down the highway, ready to accept any available position the Sanitarium would offer you for your credentials.

It had been your one shot at revenge on the sick, evil fucker who had ruined your happiness; and you were prepared to move heaven and earth just to bring Myers hell.

It had taken eight months before you even laid eyes on the man for the first time.

You’d landed yourself a patient therapy position, but only had the clearance to treat patients who fell under the “medium” and “high-risk” categories. In the entire hospital there were only two patients who fell under the third and final category: a spitting lunatic of a man, who couldn’t be safely approached without first being drugged half-asleep with antipsychotics...

...and Myers.

You had possessed the patience of a saint, climbing through promotion after promotion.

And the very minute that you were handed back a fresh copy of your I.D, now with a little red stamp at the bottom, the stamp that meant you were cleared to work with Myers, you had raced down to the front desk to file your recommendation for treatment.

Three days later, after hours of debriefing by Dr. Ashton, Myers’ new court-assigned psychiatrist, you came face to face with the worst criminal the sanitarium had ever known.

You had seen Myers’ face pictured in black and white on newspaper articles and in fuzzy low-definition on T.V. 

And absolutely none of that could have prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh.

The thing that had startled you most when you were led by Dr. Ashton into Michael’s barren, cramped room—the thing that practically had you reeling when your eyes fell on the motionless figure sitting on the cot in the corner, chained at the wrists and ankles by a metal link fastened to the floor—the thing you still despise yourself for thinking—

—is that Myers was jaw-droppingly, stunningly handsome.

His were the kind of ethereal good looks that you might expect to find in some renaissance painting, or a Grecian statue, or a fantasy book.

You had stood staring across the room at the motionless young man, drinking in all the features of his vacant, pretty face; overcome by complete and total disbelief that this was actually the person responsible for all your grief.

And the very next second, that disbelief was shattered like a dropped vase; when you looked into Myers’ stare.

It brought down the temperature in the room like a cold-snap. It was not directed at you, only at the floor, yet it had you shuddering anyway, had all the hairs on your arms standing straight up. It was not a lights-on-but-nobody-home sort of gaze, the kind you were expecting from how Myers had been described by his former psychiatrist. His face was blank, yes; that was accurate enough.

But his eyes, they were the furthest thing from it. 

Michael Myers had the eyes of a ruthless, calculating, viciously deliberate predator.

The longer you had stood there, gawking at Myers as if he were a tiger in a cage, hardly listening to Dr. Ashton’s rambling about his admiration of your interest in his patient’s treatment, the more you became aware of the charge crackling in the air; like the moment in a thunderstorm just before lightning rips through the sky. It was as if every fiber in your body could sense the danger radiating from this man; you could all but see and smell the invisible blood staining his hands.

It had turned your vision into a seething cloud of red. 

Here was a murderer—the worst kind of murderer, who was perfectly, undoubtedly aware of his crimes, a fact you could tell from just his eyes—who carried in his heart not a single shred of remorse for the lives he’d ripped away. Who, when he was unable to kill, had resigned himself to sitting and anticipating the day when he might once again have his hands around a warm throat, the day when he would pick right back up where he left off and take another life as carelessly and thoughtlessly as one snuffing out a candle.

And this man had been allowed to keep breathing.

You think of all these things as you reach the end of the corridor and swipe your I.D card on the door to Therapy Theater No.5. Hidden locking mechanisms whirr and click open.

You place your hand around the cool metal handle. For a moment, you just stand there. Feeling your pounding heart in your chest.

It pounds not because you are fearful; you don’t care if you get caught because of what you are about to do. You don’t care if you get fired, or if you get your license taken away, or even if you go to jail. Those are the most trivial, unimportant things in the world. No. Your heart does not pound for those reasons.

It pounds because, finally, there will be justice.

Finally, the evil son-of-a-bitch who slaughtered your sister is getting what he deserved all along.

And you get to be the one to flip the switch.

You turn the door handle and step into the room.

Therapy Theater No.5 is bathed in bright fluorescent light and smells strongly of antiseptic and sterilization. Three people are already in the room: two armed guards, who nod in acknowledgment at you when you enter.

And laid out at the center across a white padded table, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, strapped tightly down at the wrists and ankles by hospital-grade cuffs, looking up at the ceiling as if utterly uncaring, motionless save for the rise and fall of his ribs—Myers.

A nurse had come in before you to prepare the room for treatment. The therapy you’re meant to be administering is simple and painless: electrodes are fixed to the patient’s body and a weak electrical current is passed through, stimulating choice muscle groups—and in more recent cases, even parts of the brain.

You had emphasized that part specifically in your pitch of the therapy to Dr. Ashton, referencing a study which showed how violent tendencies could be soothed in patients who underwent the treatment.

And no, you’d reassured him, it was nothing like electroconvulsive therapy.

The electrical current used in E.S.T is never strong enough to induce seizures. The only thing the subject feels is a mild, if not pleasant, buzz...

·…or at least that’s how it’s meant to be administered.

Tampering with the wattage of the machine had turned out to be laughably easy. A few snipped wires here, a few crunched numbers there, and now the bulky device sitting atop the roll-around table beside your “patient” can deliver a shock nastier than a taser with every throw of the switch.

It’s not strong enough to stop a human heart (god, you wish.) But it is enough to make Myers hurt.

Enough to make him writhe on that table.

Maybe even enough to make the heartless bastard feel something for a change.

You thank the guards before dismissing them. They leave the room but you know they won’t go far; no further than right outside in the hall, waiting through the entire session with their hands on their batons in case Myers gets out of hand.

Their security would be a welcome thing, if you were actually about to /treat/ Myers instead of torturing the living daylights out of him. But now, the guards are just another problem in need of a solution.

Though you are almost confident that Myers will retain his silence throughout the ordeal—that he’ll uphold his veil of distance and aloofness and total lack of care with the stubbornness of an ass—you’re not about to bet your shot at justice on it.

That’s what the ball gag in your coat pocket is for.

Reaching down to check that it is still there, excitement swells in your belly as your fingers graze the black silicone.

On the table, Myers is still motionless. He doesn’t tilt his head to regard you. He pays you no attention at all, in fact, as if you aren’t even there to begin with. Never do his steely eyes move from their fixed place on the ceiling light hanging above him.

As you walk up to the roll-around table, plucking a pair of latex gloves from a box stashed on the shelf beneath before snapping them curtly on, for a reason that you can’t put into words, you find yourself hesitating to look Myers in the face.

It doesn’t matter that he’s restrained; it doesn’t matter that there are two armed and capable guards standing watch right outside. Despite both these things, that vitriolic, charged aura you had felt in his cell still surrounds him now, polluting the room, hanging like a storm cloud over your head. 

It’s as if some submissive animal instinct has gripped your brain and now screams warnings at you: Predator. Danger. Don’t look it in the eye. Don’t provoke it.

You do your damndest to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

In a little white tray next to the E.S.T machine sits a filled syringe; a sedative. Dr. Ashton has insisted on it to better ensure your safety, as well as Myers’ cooperation. In the psychiatrist’s exact words:

“These days Michael is, ah, fussier about this kind of treatment—you know, the kind they gotta bring in the guards for, the needles, the cuffs, the whole nine-yards. 

It’s a theory of mine that, after living with the sort of power Michael did, the loss of his own control doesn’t sit as nicely anymore. He doesn’t like it. And he’s not afraid to let us know just how much he doesn’t like it.”

Fussy. That was the word Ashton had used to describe Myers. 

It had taken every shred of self-control you possessed not to scoff in the Doctor’s face at that; as if the man laid out before you now were some sort of stubborn, overgrown toddler, and not a remorseless, murderous psychopath.

You don’t spare the sedative a second glance as you unravel the bundle of wires and nodes connected to the E.S.T machine; Myers is going to be awake to feel every goddamned second of what you do to him.

Only after you’re finished with him will you finally send him under.

You can picture the conversation with Ashton now: Yes sir, the sedative worked like a charm, he was out like a light the entire time; no sir, no complications at all.

You take your time setting up the machine because you’re still hesitant to even look at Myers, let alone touch him. But when the wires are all connected, the red power button flashing idly in standby, there is nothing left to do except attach the electrodes.

You force yourself to look him in the face as you approach. You should not be afraid of this man; you should resent him, should despise him, but should not fear him. He doesn’t deserve to hold that sort of power over you, or anyone else, ever again.

So you look.

Michael is still watching the ceiling. According to his eyes, he does not acknowledge you.

But just from how the hair on your nape stands on end you know you’re being watched.

Myers is regarding you coolly in his periphery with the curiosity of a feline, feigning detachment and disinterest; but the weight and pressure of that penetrating gaze could not be more obvious if it were a ton of bricks coming right down on your head.

With a deep breath to rein in your resolve, you reach down, your fingers working to undo the first knot on Myers’ hospital gown.

Quickly, you discover that it is one thing to look at Myers; to feel for yourself his ruthless awareness, the raw intensity of his presence.

But to touch him is another thing altogether.

He draws a breath of his own as you fidget with his gown, his strong rib cage expanding beneath your fingers. You shudder at the sudden pressure of his body; whether out of disgust, or anger, or some fucked up fascination, you aren’t sure.

After undoing the ties on both sides, you lift the front of his gown up and off—

—and find that Myers is totally naked underneath.

Standard hospital procedure for a therapy like this one. Nothing new.

But it’s different when the patient looks like this.

You hate yourself for ogling him. You detest the way your eyes rove across Myers’ body, lingering on all the features that your lizard-brain decides it likes; from the stark tendons in his neck to his sharp and angular collarbones, from his broad, rounded shoulders to the beautiful definition in his abdomen, and down even further than that before you can stop yourself.

To the V of his obliques—to the trail of curly brown pubic hair on his pelvis—and all the way down to his flaccid penis.

You snatch a towel from the roll-around and drape it hurriedly over his hips. Not for the sake of his modesty; just so you don’t have to worry about your eyes straying down to the cock of the man who murdered your sister.

As far as the placement of the electrodes on his body, you honestly haven’t given it much thought. It seemed like the sort of thing that would come to you like an epiphany, as if suddenly, in the moment, you would know exactly where to hit Myers to really make him suffer.

But no such epiphany comes. Oh well; you have an hour to experiment.

Grabbing the two nodes off their holders, you run the wires across his chest and press the little round circles down flat against his pectorals.

When your gloved fingers graze Myers’ skin you nearly jerk back your hand, startled. The man is hot like a stove.

Your medical fascination is instantly piqued—Myers must have the hottest resting body temperature you’ve ever encountered. You have to force away intrusive thoughts of sticking a thermometer in his mouth to see that number for yourself.

Focus.

Tugging up on the wires, you test the integrity of the node’s suction. They don’t budge from his chest, lifting his skin with them as you pull. Perfect; It’s nearly time. 

Now for the gag.

You just have to cross your fingers and pray that you can actually get it in his mouth.

Looking Myers in the face a third time proves to be no less jarring than it had been the second or the first. You’re just relieved that even after all your poking and prodding he is still pretending not to be interested in you, or in the things you’re doing to his body.

You clear your throat before speaking to him because you don’t trust it enough not to crack.

“Open up,” you command him, mustering every authoritative bone in your body and sounding very official even to your own ears.

Removing the gag from your pocket, you hold it up as if to show him, taking care to conceal the black silicone ball with your hand.

“Mouthguard.”

You doubt that Myers has seen this sort of gag before. Or that he even knows what a gag is. Still, you’re not taking that risk. If this doesn’t work then you’re going to have to drug him just to get the damn thing in place, then wait for him to sober up again—a colossal waste of time.

For a tense second, Myers does not respond to your command. He just lays there on the table, inhaling and exhaling, looking incredibly bored with you, with his nakedness, with the electrodes strapped to his chest.

Your jaw goes tense. You nearly repeat yourself.

But then, he opens up his mouth.

Beneath the harsh overhead lighting his teeth gleam wetly. You suspect immediately that he’s going to try and bite your fingers off the second you get too close.

Game on, fucker. 

From the shelf below the roll-around you snatch up a small blotting rag. Walking around to stand at the head of the table, you gaze down at Myers again.

“The strap goes underneath.” You inform him. “I need you to lift your head up.”

He does.

And you strike. Faster than you had thought yourself capable.

You drape the rag over his eyes so that he can’t see what’s coming. Thrusting the gag hard into his open mouth, you wedge it firmly between his teeth. In the corner of the room, Myers’ heart monitor spikes suddenly, the electronic beeping speeding up momentarily—a sound that has you beaming with pride.

You’ve actually managed to startle him.

As you clip the strap into place around the back of his head, a strange sense of accomplishment floods your body—you’ve done it. You’ve actually done it. Everything is ready. 

Every sacrifice you’ve made in these past eight months, every hour spent in this godforsaken hellhole, it was all worth it just to bring about this single moment.

The moment is made only sweeter when you rip the rag away from Myers’ face.

Oh. Now you have his attention.

Those pale eyes are looking straight up at you. Considering you with the cutting gaze of a hawk. Working out the situation. 

You glare right back down at him. You stare deep into his eyes, the triumphant fire now raging in your chest burning hotter than the ice in his stare, more furiously than all the danger—and you find that you are not afraid of him anymore. Like this, Myers is nothing. He’s not a boogeyman. Not a phantom. He’s just a man—stripped of all his mysticism. Strapped to a table. Naked. Gagged.

Powerless.

Just as powerless to stop what you’re about to do to him as each and every one of the people whose lives he took away.

“Hello, Michael.” You hold his fierce eye-contact as you speak. “Ten months ago you broke into my sister’s house and murdered her.”

Myers doesn’t blink. But neither do you.

“When they tried you, you were supposed to leave that courtroom a dead man walking; you were supposed to die. That's how our justice system works—when you do the things you did, you don’t get to keep on living.”

Nothing changes on Myers’ face as you speak. Nothing changes in his eyes. Not one molecule in his body has an atom of care to give about the words you’re saying. He breathes around the gag, his heart monitor beeping slow and steady.

“I don’t give a single fuck about what that judge said,” You continue. “And I don’t care how sick in the head you really are. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. I can see it in your eyes, Myers—you loved every fucking second of it. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

You draw a long breath. One that you hold in your lungs before letting slowly out again.

“You’re the evilest son-of-a-bitch on this entire fucking planet; and you deserve to die.”

Walking over to the E.S.T machine, fighting back with tooth and claw against furious tears now threatening your eyes, you place your finger over the power switch.

Myers watches you; and you notice something flicker to life in his glacial eyes. Not an emotion. Just a realization.

Good. He understands now. He understands what you’re about to do to him.

“Someone has to make you pay. Someone has to.”

Michael just stares. Watching you. Watching your finger on the switch. His pulse on the monitor ticks as leisurely as if he were about to fall asleep.

“And guess what, you sick fuck?”

Still staring—not blinking—breaths coming slowly.

“I’m so fucking happy that it’s me.”

You throw the switch—

—the wires crackle with live electricity—

—and all of Myers’ deliberate, calculated control is shattered like a dropped glass.

His body seizes. His eyes snap shut. His fingers curl into fists that turn his knuckles whiter than the table beneath him. The tendons in his neck and forearms jump out, straining beneath his skin. His heart monitor beats erratically, the little green line on the screen spiking sharply, racing out of control.

Your eyes are glued to the grisly scene. You devour each and every involuntary reaction, relishing in the complete and utter breakdown of his control.

Fifteen gorgeous seconds pass before you remember that you were supposed to be counting to ten. Whoops. You might be frying his brain into an unfeeling stupor at this point. You flip the switch off in an instant because you need him awake, aware.

Myers’ back falls flat against the table, the current cutting off as abruptly as it began. The muscles in his chest continue to contract and seize beneath his skin long after the electricity is gone; you count the spasms as they tear through his pectorals like sets of waves.

When the spasming stops, his chest heaves up and down, winded. His breaths around the gag come heavily. His eyes are still shut; but no longer are they /squeezed/ shut.

For a moment, you really think that he’s passed out.

Then his eyes twitch beneath their lids and flutter open again. Blinking. Focusing—

—flitting right back on your face. Right back to the spot where he had left them before the current forced them shut.

Myers’ eyes are devoid of care. He is entirely unperturbed by what has just happened to him; entirely unthreatened. But now, that murderous intent—the charge which until now you’d only felt in the air around him—is written in his stare as plain as day.

I am going to kill you, says Michael’s gaze, as nonchalant as if he were stating some trivial fact about the universe, like water is wet, or the sky is blue.

It makes your blood boil.

Adding insult to injury, the speed at which Myers regains control of his body is nothing short of infuriating. You fume as you watch the way his breaths level out again, the beeping from his heart monitor falling back into the former slow, rhythmic pace.

You feel as though you should say something to him; like you should retaliate to this defiance in some way that isn’t staring, because you’ve already lost that battle; you cannot possibly hope to match the severity of Myers’ gaze.

But you don’t.

In your heart of hearts you know that your words will go right through his skull, unheard. There is only one language that Myers understands; only one language that he can comprehend down to his marrow. So you’ll speak it to him.

Without wasting another breath, your fingers find the power switch again. And those defiant eyes of his snap shut a second time.

When you shut the current off the results are the same as before; Myers is heaving on the table. But he takes back his control just as quickly, his stoicism prevailing.

By the third time however, his breaths have begun to linger in their heaviness—

—by the fourth he draws them as shallow as a winded sprinter running a race—

—by the fifth, the intervals between the violent seizing-up of his body are too brief for him to catch his breath—

—and the way he now gasps around the obstructing gag, fighting and failing to suck in air past its silicone, his nostrils flaring rapidly to compensate, is the most beautiful display of desperation that you have ever witnessed.

The sixth time you throw the switch, Myers actually does pass out.

When the current stops his body loses its tension with the abruptness of a cut wire. You wait impatiently for him to open his eyes again with your finger lingering over the switch, preparing to meet that steely gaze with another brutal jolt of electricity.

You wait; and Myers’ heart monitor chugs away like a freight train going up a hill.

Still waiting… waiting...

...and nothing happens. Myers is out cold.

The contentment now pulsing through your veins is what you imagine a shot of heroin feels like. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, you walk up to the side of the table to admire your work.

The first thing you notice is the sweat. Myers’ body is drenched in it. It beads up on his chest and clavicle, on his biceps and shoulders, on his brow and cheeks, the skin there flushing a shade of stark, exhausted pink. Gorgeous.

Your eyes travel down his body to continue the examination; you stop at his hands.

Myers’ hands are bloody.

Crescent-shaped cuts litter the skin of his palms, marking the place where his own blunt fingernails had dug in uncontrollably, over and over and over again. The fresh blood streaks in little rivulets down his hands and pools on the white padding of the table beneath. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you stare at the mess; these cuts might be tricky to explain away. You’ll have to gauze them and tell Dr. Ashton that his patient did it to himself; maybe recommend that he be switched to a higher Thorazine dosage to really sell the lie.

Luckily, that’s a problem for the future. As for right now, you’re rather enjoying the irony of Myers’ own blood staining his hands for a change.

The inspection continues. Further down his body, you finally notice it; the bulge beneath the towel strewn across his pelvis. 

Oh my god, he isn’t. You think, lifting the side of the towel for a peek.

And oh my god, he is.

Rather frustratingly, just like the rest of him, Myers is pretty down here, too. Pretty and big. Which is not a compliment, you reassure yourself. Just a medical observation. You let yourself stare this time, because you’re not ashamed anymore. You’re not threatened by the notion of admiring Myers’ physiology anymore.

Not when he’s so completely at your mercy.

Somehow, Myers doesn’t seem to be the masochistic type, so you highly doubt that actual arousal is responsible for this. Sheer adrenaline coupled with his frantically pumping heart are probably to blame, his brain mixing and misinterpreting the signals, resulting in this little accident.

The longer you stare down at the “accident,” the more you find yourself wondering what Myers would look like fully-erect.

You cannot rip the electrodes off his chest fast enough. Plucking the towel from waist and discarding it on the floor, you stick the two nodes down flat against his obliques, then hurry to rig up a third. That one you plant just above his penis; as close to its base as the curly dark hair will allow.

You stand with your finger ready on the go-button again, opting to let Myers’ still-racing pulse dip out of the red before you pull the trigger and plunge him back into hell. Bloodied hands you can explain away, but cardiac arrest? Not so much.

The beeping slows. The green lines on the monitor settle. You throw the switch.

Myers’ pelvis bucks uncontrollably up from the table—

—and he grunts.

The sound makes your heart sing. It is muffled by the gag, low and reverberating, not very loud to begin with. Most definitely not on purpose; just a reaction that’s managed to slip through while his barriers are down.

Myers’ groin is still quivering when you cut the current off. His cock stands upright, stiff and swollen, totally erect. A line of saliva now dribbles down the side of his mouth, trickling between the gag, collecting in a shimmering mess on his shoulder. He blinks sluggishly up at the ceiling light as if transfixed; still dazed, you would guess.

Something twisted occurs to you as you drink in the scene. Something that you can’t deny.

Seeing Myers like this—fighting for his very consciousness, struggling to retain some sliver of control—is the single most arousing thing you have ever witnessed. You want nothing more in the entire world than to climb onto this dangerous, wounded man’s hips and claim him. 

You want nothing more than to give him a taste of what true powerlessness feels like.

It’s a lovely fantasy, a beautiful temptation, and a real shame that it can’t happen. You don’t feel like getting knocked up with the child of your sister’s murderer today; or ever, for that matter. Instead, you think you’ll make a game out of guessing how many more shocks will have Myers coming on his own thighs.

Striding up to the head of the table again, you plant your arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him, hardly ten inches from his face.

“Looks painful Myers.” You jest. “How about I make you a deal?”

Michael looks up at you. Unfocused. Blinking slowly.

“I flip the switch,” you continue,

“—and I keep it flipped until you’re covered in your own semen, and after that I jam a needle in your arm, pump you full of drugs, and you get to live out your next eight hours as an unfeeling fucking vegetable. Fair?”

You wait for Myers to do something. For your words to register in his brain. For some flicker of a response to let you know that he’s even still in there.

To your immense disappointment, Myers does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just...

...well, you can’t even call it staring anymore.

He doesn’t seem able to manage that sort of focus, you realize, inspecting his face closer. His eyes are alarmingly barren; there really isn’t much of anything there, now. None of the ruthlessness, none of that predatory awareness, none of the murder.

You’ve actually shocked the bastard totally, one-hundred-percent out of it.

Whoops.

Back at the roll-around, you snatch up a hand light. Returning to the table, you shine it in his eyes, assessing the damage. His functioning pupil is slow to dilate. Worryingly slow. You click the light off with a contemplative frown.

Half of your mind begs whatever force might be listening that this isn’t a passing affliction, that whatever damage that’s done is done. If the courts insist on keeping Myers alive, then maybe reducing his brains to soup is what it takes to keep him docile. To keep him from hurting another living thing ever again. You can only hope.

As much as you’d love to do so, electrocuting the living daylights out of him some more isn’t likely to bring Myers back to awareness; and the session is supposed to be over soon.

You glance at the clock on the wall—

—Shit. Very soon.

You need to find out right the fuck now if you’ve just rendered Dr. Ashton’s patient catatonic.

Walking around the side of the table, you take Myers’ swollen cock in your gloved hand—trying not to think about the fact that you’re jacking off a condemned murderer—and pump hard, stroking him all the way from the shaft to the swollen tip, squeezing the head, massaging your thumb over it, rubbing all the way back down again.

“Come on, asshole,” you spit. “That can’t be all the fight you’ve got.”

Myers’ hips jerk slightly up from the table as you touch him. Probably just an involuntary reaction. You’ll need him to do better than that. Stroking him faster, squeezing even harder, you pray that the friction of your latex glove against his cock feels just about as pleasant as a rug burn.

As you watch his vacant face like a hawk you see him begin to blink harder, his eyes squeezing shut, twitching beneath their lids, staying closed for a beat before opening up again, like he’s struggling to wake from a deep sleep. A much more deliberate motion; he’s coming back to it.

“Can you feel that? Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He breathes hard around the gag. His knees lurch up from the table, the cuffs around his ankles straining, holding him in place.

You give his cock another hard squeeze.

“Forget where you are Myers?”

His jaw goes absolutely rigid with tension.

Ah. He heard you that time. He’s back.

How unfortunate that his brain isn’t fried after all.

You can see it all coming back now as his eyes flit down, locking on your face, rebooting within him like a program on a script; the chilling intensity, the sharpness, all the things that had made your skin crawl in the days past. Despite the torture, nothing at all about Myers’ demeanor has changed.

“Welcome back.” You state dryly. “We aren’t done yet.”

As if to make your blood boil on purpose—as if the battered state of his body means less to him than dirt, as if he hasn’t spent the better part of the hour being brutally, mercilessly tortured by you—

—Myers just watches you. Damning you with his eyes alone to the same grisly demise as before.

An odd sense of something, not quite admiration, sparks in your gut. Looking into Myers’ eyes, there is one single thing that you are willing to give this monster credit for:

What sits before you is a creature that cannot be broken. One that will never be dissuaded from its primal, violent nature. To try it is an impossible task. You suspect that you could stand in this room for days, flipping the same switch, delivering the same current, knocking him to and from consciousness, and into all the states in-between.

And the result would never change. Not ever.

He’d still be looking at you with that same deadly stare. A stare as cold and sharp as the blade of a carving knife.

And it would only get more piercing.

And what a relief it is that your goal in the first place was never to break Myers,

just to bring the gates of hell down on his pretty, curly head.

And you have. You can hear it in every breath he takes; he’s struggling. Although he draws his inhales slowly, with mechanical control, the ragged wheezing in his chest is no longer possible for him to hide. Myers is hurting—he’s hurting bad.

As much as you would love to stay and twist the knife in even deeper, it's time to wrap things up. You’re all out of time.

Pulling the electrodes from his groin and thighs with one hand, you let two of the nodes dangle freely off the side of the table.

The third you stick against his cock.

“Count your lucky fucking stars that not everyone in the world is as heartless as you are.” You tell him, walking back around to the E.S.T machine.

Myers follows you with eyes the entire way, stone-faced, impassive. Like the fact that you’ve just fastened a live wire to his dick is about as boring to him as watching paint dry.

Flick goes the switch.

His back arches off the table like a bent bow. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing hard around the gag, tugging furiously at the cuffs, the muscles in his calves and biceps straining dangerously, pulling upwards with a brutish force that has table whining beneath him.

You’re transfixed as Michael comes. His mess shoots out in thick ropes, reaching further than you thought possible, coating the table, getting on his legs. The sheer power of his body is a stunning thing to witness. You keep the current running to milk him down to the very last drop.

When he stops coming, you power off the machine.

The node comes away from Michael’s skin in a “pop” that is all-too satisfying. Bundling all the wires and electrodes back into place on the machine you listen to the only measurable signs of the man’s distress; the tortured intake of his breaths, the elevated beeping of his heart monitor.

Then, picking up the needle from the little white tray, you cross back to Myers’ side.

The vein in his forearm is thick and pronounced and the needle slips in beautifully. You press slowly down on the plunger, grateful when he doesn’t try to yank his arm away, relieved when he accepts the drug without a struggle. He must be exhausted.

The sedative works its magic quickly. You pull up a stool and sit down beside him to watch.

The vitriol in his eyes begins to melt and soften. One by one his strained muscles are allowed to relax again, the tension ebbing away; from his jaw, his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs. The electronic beeping on the monitor slows and slows until its powerful rhythm beats steadily again.

Evidently, Michael has decided he isn’t ready to go under just yet. Though sleep pools in his eyelids he blinks it away, clinging in a death grip to his consciousness.

Just to leer at you. Just to picture in his mind the day he will have his hands around your throat; as if it is already set in stone. As if it is just a matter of when.

Then, Michael’s eyelids flutter—

—fighting to stay open, still staring—

—closing, for just a beat too long—

—lingering shut—

—staying shut.

You move to clean him up quickly. The gag comes out first. Lifting his head to unbuckle the strap, you tug out the black ball, letting his strained jaw fall shut again for the first time in an hour; then carelessly drop his head. It thunks satisfyingly as it comes down hard against the table. Glancing at the gag’s silicone, you notice the deep markings worn into it, perfect impressions of Myers’ top and bottom teeth. You almost shudder; a bite from him would have been nasty.

You blot away the drool dribbling down his chin and shoulder with a rag, and then move on.

The last thing you expect as you begin to clean Michael’s bloodied hands is the tears that spring to your eyes. Even with your fear of the man gone and buried, you wish that you didn’t have to touch these awful hands; let alone treat them, bandage them, heal them.

You wipe away the tears on your sleeve as you gather your supplies together on the roll-around.

Grabbing each of his wrists just above the restraint cuffs and turning them so that his palm is facing upward on the table, you hastily swab him down with alcohol pads, wiping up the clotting blood from his skin, squeezing out a blob of antiseptic from a tube to smear across his cuts. As you wrap Michael’s palms tightly in gauze you try your hardest to snuff out that invasive thought when it comes searing like a bullet through your skull—

—these are the hands that killed my sister.

You simply can’t afford to linger on those thoughts right now. Maybe when you’re at home tonight, alone in your bed, you will let yourself cry; but not now. Not while you still need to clean up after Myers’ unfortunate mishap.

Toweling him down from his forehead to his calves, you soak away the sweat. And the semen. Then, you fasten back up the front of his hospital gown, knotting each and every tie.

And just like that, the job is done.

You knock on the door. The guards come in and wheel Myers’ unconscious body out of the room.

The next day, you have a debriefing session with Dr. Ashton. You feed him your meticulously rehearsed lie: that the therapy went without a hiccup, that you firmly believe this treatment could be the key to alleviating Michael’s tendencies for violence.

The moron laps up your every word.

Ashton ends the session with a delightful little surprise; he’s pulled some strings to allow for Michael’s therapy to be carried out bi-weekly. He is so impressed by your drive to treat his patient that he’s offering you a position as Michael’s secondary caretaker. He only hopes that you’ll accept.

The smile you give him is bright and sincere, one that beams from ear to ear.

“Doctor, believe me when I say that nothing in the world would make me happier.”

[hopelikethemoon]

Celebration (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Celebration Rating: Explicit Length: 3700 Warnings: Smut (Pegging, toys, overstimulation, sex, female recieving oral)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set New Year’s Eve 1998. I’ll post Reader’s outfit after I post the article.  Summary: They make up for lost time. 

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“Are you sure you don’t mind watching the girls tonight? Don’t you want to go celebrate?” You questioned as you sat a mug of coffee down on the table in front of Monica, before circling around to sit across from her. 

“If today was the weekend, it would be a different answer,” She told you as she blew on her coffee before taking a sip. “But she’s got work tomorrow. We’re probably gonna go to Disney for the weekend.”

“Oh?”

Monica nodded, “Her aunt’s got a timeshare in Orlando and they said we could use it.”

“Epcot was fun if you like to drink,” You told her, “We haven’t been back since Josie was little.”

“Did she have fun?”

“Javier and I went alone,” You explained as you sipped your coffee. “It was hot, we both had different ideas for the trip…” You laughed quietly, “But Sofía was made, so it worked out in the end.”

Monica made a face, “TMI.”

You gave her a look, “Oh, I’m sorry. Sofía just appeared one day. No idea how she came to be.”

“Didn’t you find her under a rock?”

“Actually, she was chilling with the alligators.” You snapped your fingers, “She does like to bite.”

She laughed, “It would make a lot of sense.”

“What are your plans?”

“Still undecided,” You confessed with a shrug. “But I think we might go down to the bar for a little revelry. With everything that’s been going on the past few months, we never got to enjoy that lingerie set you unwillingly witnessed.”

Monica covered her face, “I am still trying to forget.”

You laughed with a grin, “Sorry. You should just be thankful you didn’t walk in about thirty minutes later.”

“I can’t believe you played hookie! That both of you did.” She took another sip of coffee, “I am scarred for life.”

“I’m just saying — it could’ve been so much worse.”

“I like living in the world where you and Javier just bake cookies and knit or something.” She scrunched up her nose. “It was bad enough when I caught you at school before I knew you.”

You made a face. “Sorry.”

“I mean, more power to you,” Monica laughed. “But there wasn’t enough brain bleach.” She stuck out her tongue. “I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.”

“I don’t know who was more traumatized, you or Javier. Because nothing fun happened after that.” You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “For all of his very public history in Colombia, it's pretty easy to make him blush like a virgin.”

“He’s so bashful!” Monica leaned against the table. “He was so clearly uncomfortable after dinner that night.”

“It’s very endearing.” You admitted with a smile. “He can be an enigma.”

“I’ve noticed.” She nodded. “Before break, one of the students in class actually brought up the article and he looked like he wanted to die.”

“Ah, yes. He mentioned that,” You toyed with a lock of hair as you sank back in your seat. “I heard they seemed rather shocked that I’ve stayed in contact with Elena.”

Monica tilted her head, “I mean, I was a little shocked too. But if they knew you, it would make sense.”

You pursued your lips, “I learned very early on that it was better to keep certain connections because they could be useful in the future.” 

“Except for toxic people.” She pointed out.

“Exactly.”

 ——

 Javier’s hands skimmed over your velvet-covered hips as you moved to the music with him, your bodies pressed close together. 

The bar was packed with patrons drinking and dancing to ring in the New Year. You were both buzzed, but not drunk because you had plans for when you got home that would not work if you were both drunk. 

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, leaning in to kiss his lips as his hands slid under your leather jacket. 

“Tonight’s a very important night.” You told him, as you pressed kisses along his jaw and let your lips linger by his ear.

“And why’s that?” He questioned, giving your waist a squeeze as his hands wandered. 

“Tonight’s our first New Years as a married couple.” You reminded him with a grin as you pulled back, brushing your fingers through his hair where it fell against his forehead. 

A lazy grin spread over his lips and he cupped your cheek and leaned in to kiss you, “So many firsts with you.” He murmured, brushing his nose against yours. 

You slid your arms over his shoulders, “Seven New Years with you.” 

Javier ran his hands over the small of your back, keeping you pressed close to him, “I’m a lucky man.”

“You’re going to get even luckier when we get home.” You taunted, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Only took three months.”

“We’ve been busy,” He reminded you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “I’ve been looking forward to it, baby.”

You kissed him again, “Call a cab and I’ll close out our tab.” You told him, running your hand down the center of his chest. 

It took longer than you wanted it to, to close out your tab at the bar, but atleast by the time you were done the cab had arrived. 

Javier kept his hand curled around your upper thigh the entire ride home, one finger sliding over the bare skin just above the lacy top of stockings. 

After the last disastrous attempt on the sofa, you both bypassed the family room and went straight back to your bedroom. 

He followed you into the closet when you went to retrieve the box of toys crowding close to you. “You have been driving me crazy all night, baby.” Javier drawled out as he snaked his arm around your waist. 

You leaned back against him, forgetting the box entirely as he dragged the fabric of your dress up your thighs. He traced his fingers along the straps of the garters, up to the lacy edge of the lingerie. 

“I enjoyed dancing with you,” You told him, reaching behind you to curl your fingers around the back of his neck as you slowly pressed your ass back against his noticeably hard cock. “And I think you liked it too.”

He pushed the straps of your velvet dress off, before helping you shimmy it down your hips and discard on the floor. 

Javier’s teeth scraped over your bare shoulder, his tongue sweeping out over the marks he left as he ran one hand up along your inner thigh to cup your cunt through the lace. “Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” He whispered, dragging his fingers over your sensitive flesh. 

He sought out your clit, circling his fingertip over the tender bundle of nerves. Your hips rocked back against him and you squirmed in his vice-like hold. “Javier.”

“I want you to open the box for me,” Javier said lowly, his finger stroking you more rapidly then. “That’s it. Good girl.” He practically purred as he watched you open the box. 

Javier released his hold on your waist, reaching into the box to pull out the little remote control vibrator you’d purchased over the summer. “I want you to enjoy this too.” He told you, catching your earlobe between his teeth. 

“Fucking you is very enjoyable.” You assured him as you turned your head to look back at him. “Don’t tease.”

Javier pressed a too-brief kiss to your lips before he caught your hand and placed the toy into your palm. “You know you want to.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked between him and the toy with a slow-forming smirk. “I love the way you think.” You quipped as you handed the toy back to him. 

He mirrored your smirk, “I thought you might enjoy it.” His hand slid back between your thighs, teasing your slick flesh through your underwear before he pushed the lace aside and worked to press the toy into you. 

Javier gave you cunt a quick pat once the toy was nestled within you. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?” He questioned as he set the toy to one. 

You moaned, momentarily stunned by stimulation that was buzzing through your pelvic region. You leaned back against the shelves, cupping your breasts as you met his gaze. “I can’t wait til you feel this, Javi.” You told him, your breath coming out in shaky exhales as he brought you towards your orgasm. 

He descended upon you, his knee pressed between your thighs to give you something to grind against as the heat blossomed within you. You trembled as you came, your cunt clenching desperately around the toy as he got you off. 

Javier quickly shut the toy off, turning his focus to kissing you then. His mouth slanted hungrily over yours, his tongue exploring your mouth as he fondled your breasts, touching you wherever he could. 

“Go undress,” You told him, tugging at his hair sharply. “And grab the lube.” 

“Whatever you want, baby.” Javier told you as he stole another kiss before vanishing out the closet door. 

The harness worked perfectly with your lingerie, none of the fastenings rubbing against each other uncomfortably. 

The toy he had bought at the shop seemed larger than the first model — though not by much. A little more girthy and just a little longer. And with a quick switch of the remote it came to life where it protruded from the harness, buzzing with the same intensity as the toy within you.

It would certainly be an interesting way to bring in the New Year. 

Javier was waiting for you on the bed, a hand lazily stroking his rigid cock as he laid there. 

“Are you ready for this?” You questioned, hands on your hips as you approached the bed.

Javier’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Yes.”

“Same rules as before. Safe word or tap out with three squeezes.” You reminded him as he climbed onto the bed and laid down beside him. 

“I love you,” Javier whispered as he cupped your cheek and kissed you. 

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too.” 

He chuckled, tucking hair behind your ear. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again.”

“I’ll mourn that there’s no hair to tug at,” You snapped your fingers as you gestured to his hair. “Even if it looks good.”

Javier pulled your in for another kiss, “Next summer.”

“Good.” You stole another kiss before you moved down the bed and settled onto your knees in front of Javier, your gaze flickering between his face and his cock, where it laid against his lower belly. 

Javier ran his hand over his chest, exhaling shakily as he glanced downwards at the toy protruding from the harness. 

“Like what you see?” You questioned as you slid your hands up his legs where he had them bent over your thighs to accommodate you between his legs. 

He nodded his head slowly, working his jaw as he stared at you. “It’s bigger, isn’t it?” 

You laughed softly, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Just a smidge. I don’t think Rocky’s led us astray yet.” You reached for the bottle of lubricant, squirting some into your palm and coating the shaft of the light blue toy. “If you hate it, we can stop.” 

It had been awhile since the last time you’d played with the harness. 

“I’m good, baby.” He assured you as he sank back against the pillows. Javier slid his hand over to grab the remote that was connected to the toy nestled within you. 

You twitched as he set the toy to the first setting, a pleasant hum of desire being stoked within you. It wasn’t enough to get you anywhere fast, but it was enough to make your body come alive all over again. 

You were still reeling from the first orgasm he’d brought you towards, the lacy crotch of your underwear soaked through with your own arousal. 

“Tease.” You hissed out lightly as you squirted out another dollop of lubricant, coating your fingers. 

Javier smirked at you, his eyes warm with desire as you held his gaze and stroked your finger down the length of his cock, over his balls,  down towards that tight pucker. 

He stiffened and you were quick to soothe him with gentle words as you rubbed the top of his thigh, “I’m good.” Javier assured your, exhaling again as he tried to relax his muscles. 

You pressed lightly against him, watching his face cautiously as you worked your two fingers into him. “Look at you,” You whispered. “Fuck. Is this what you want, Javi? Do you want me to fuck you, just like this?”

Javier grabbed at your knee, his hips shifting towards your touch. 

“Use your words,” You reminded him, squirting a little more lube onto your fingers as you continued working them in and out of him. “I want you to beg for it.”

His eyes clenched closed and he let out a low moan as you pulled your fingers out of him. “Baby, please.”

“Please what?”

Javier glared at you, “I’ve waited three months for you to fuck me again, baby. You know exactly what I want.”

You smirked at him as you curled your fingers around the shaft of the toy, guiding it into position. You pulled the remote out of the waistband of your underwear, letting your finger hover over the settings as you prepared to work the toy into him.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” His back arched and you marveled at just how good he looked like this. Javier looked good when he relinquished control. “Fuck, baby. Please.”

Another sound escaped him as you the tip of the toy brushed against his puckered center. He winced momentarily as the toy pressed into him. 

“You’re doing so good.” You promised him, grabbing at his leg for support as you continued working the length of the toy into him. You waited until you were seated fully within him before you turned the toy on. 

His cock twitched against his stomach as the toy buzzed to life within him. “Holy shit.” He breathed out, shifting beneath you as he curled his hands around your legs, his fingers fanning out over the dark tights covering your skin. 

“Is that a good holy shit?” You questioned, remaining completely still within him. 

Javier nodded, “Yes.”

You drew back until just the tip of the toy was still in him and you switched the toy up another notch as you slid back into him. You moved slowly, rolling your hips as you worked the toy in and out of him. 

The look on his face was enough to make your entire body throb with want. His cock was leaking against his stomach and his lips party with unspoken words as you fucked the toy into him. 

It took you a moment to find the right angle, to reach his own sweet spot and when you did—

Javier fumbled with the remote, switching it from one to four in one motion. 

Your pace faltered and you rocked forward roughly as he sank the length of the toy into him. Your head fell forward and you moaned in unison with the sounds falling from his lips. 

“Javier,” You managed. “You look so fucking good like this.” You bucked your hips into him, trying to keep pace with the pulsing throb of the toy inside you. 

You fumbled for the remote, shutting it off as you let him climb down from the high that was building.

“Fuck!” Javier grabbed at the sheets beside his hip as you pulled out of him completely. His eyes were blown wide as he lifted his gaze to find yours. “Baby, don’t stop.” 

You ran your hands over the tops of his thighs, “Twenty minutes until 199–“ You moaned as the toy within you continued to charge towards your own release. “1999.” 

Javier writhed beneath you, “Baby.”

You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip as you looked down at him. “Do you want something?” You questioned as you lined the toy back up. 

Javier’s back arched as you pressed into him again and the sound he made set you alight, fanning fresh heat through your lower belly. 

You held onto his legs for support as you shifted, keeping yourself pressed into him as you moved to lean over him on your knees. 

His cock was trapped between your bellies as you planted your hands on the bed beside his chest. 

“Are you going to come for me?” You questioned, your lips barely brushing against his as you spoke. You grabbed for the remote, switching the toy back on to a pace that matched the one vibrating within you. 

Javier scrambled to touch you — fingers in your hair, hands sliding down your arms, his breath hot on your lips. 

You rolled your hips with a little more haste, chasing your own release as much as his. With every movement, the strap of the harness was rubbing the lace of your underwear right against your clit and in tandem with the vibrator you were dangling right on the edge. 

His fingers curled around the back of your head as his lips crashed into yours, his tongue unfurling against your tongue as he kissed you desperately. 

Javier stiffened beneath you, his hips rocking to meet your thrusts as he came apart for you, his cock spilling over his stomach, trapped between both of you. 

You grabbed at the remote, cranking up the setting to four — just to watch the utterly fucked look that passed over his face as the overstimulation from his release flooded his senses. 

“Shit!” Javier swore through clenched teeth. You sat back on your knees, keeping the buzzing toy seated within him as you watched him. 

“You’re so good, babe.” You told him, petting your hand over his thigh. 

You were so close to your own release, you could feel it building. But that mounting pleasure was cut short with a wave of concern as Javier grabbed at your knee and gave it three quick squeezes.

“I’ve got you,” You assured him as you shut off the toy and quickly withdrew from him. “Hey, hey. Are you good, Javi?” You questioned as you took the remote for your toy out of his hand and shut it off. 

“Yeah,” He grunted, giving a stiff nod as he stared up at the ceiling. “Holy fuck, baby.” Javier breathed out, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “Shit—“

You shook your head as you brushed your knuckles over his cheek, “Don’t. I’m fine.” You promised him, tracing your fingertips over his nose. “Are you sure you’re good?”

“It was too much,” He told you, rubbing at his forehead before he let his head tilt to the side to look at you. “But fucking amazing.” 

You scooted closer to him and pressed your lips to his, “Worth the three month wait?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled as he kissed you again. “It was very good.” 

“I’m gonna go clean this off.” You told him as you moved to get out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You’d deal with the mess tomorrow, you figured as you removed the harness and sat in the bathtub to clean later. You washed off your hands and grabbed a damp cloth to clean him up with. 

“This is a good look for you,” You told Javier as you stepped back into the bedroom. “You’ve got this glassy-eyed freshly-fucked thing going on.”

Javier snorted, “I wonder why.” He jerked a little as you used the cloth to wipe off his stomach and cock, before sweeping it down between his thighs. 

“Sorry.” You grimaced, giving his leg a reassuring squeeze. 

“Baby, it’s alright.” Javier assured you again. “It was just overwhelming in the moment.” 

“I’m allowed to worry about you,” You reminded him as you laid back down beside him. “Last thing I want to do is accidentally hurt you during this.” You gestured between the two of you. 

Javier ran his hand over your lace-covered lower belly, trialing downwards between your thighs, “You didn’t come, did you?”

You shook your head, “Babe, it’s fine.” 

“There are five more minutes of this year and I know how I want to end it.” Javier told you as he hooked his fingers into your underwear, “These need to come off.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing at the bedside clock as you sat up to unfasten the garters and slide your underwear off. You were aching — even your thighs slick with your desire as you angled yourself towards him. “What did you have in mind?”

Javier ran his tongue over his bottom lip and smirked at you, “I think you know.” He retorted as he beckoned you closer. 

You moved to straddle his chest, letting him maneuver himself beneath you until his mouth was between your thighs. 

“So this is how you want to ring in the New Year?” You questioned as he played your fingers through his hair. 

Javier’s answer was to turn the toy back on, the first setting reigniting the flames that had gone cold. He held onto your hips tightly, keeping you from rolling them and accidentally breaking his nose in the heat of the moment. 

He held you steady with a grip hard enough to bruise as he wrapped his lips around your clit and teased it in tandem with the vibrations of the toy. 

You let yourself get lost in the sensation, your entire lower stomach throbbing with desire as you coaxed another orgasm from you. Your thigh muscles twitched and you tried to squirm out of his hold. 

It felt like heaven. Your body perfectly in tune with his. It was hard to believe that yet another year had slipped by — and an eventful one at that.

“Happy New Year, baby.” Javier whispered as he lazily kissed your inner thigh, his mustache glistening with your arousal as he eased the toy from you. 

You slumped forward, grabbing at the headboard for support. “Happy fucking New Year.” You laughed as you grinned down at him. 

There was no one else you wanted to spend your years with. 

[viking-raider]

The Bat’s Sister *Fic Request*

Summary: You’re Bruce Wayne’s little sister, and after meeting at a Charity Gala, you and Clark Kent kept running into each other. So much so, that the pair of you fall in love, much to Bruce’s annoyance and attempts to stop it. But, both Clark and Bruce would do anything to keep you safe.

Pairing: Clark Kent/Reader

Word Count: 14,274

Rating: Superman/Batman AU, Fluff, Violence, overprotective superheros

Inspiration: Request by @jessevans​ (x)

Author’s Note: This is my first Clark Kent/DC story! I had a lot of fun writing it too!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans​ @MITZWINCHESTER @rosie-loves-things​, @ohjules​, @mary-ann84​, @omgkatinka​, @hm-fck​, @the-freak-cassie-131​, @heelsamizayn​, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4​, @michelehansel, @katiebriggs004-blog​

Clark first met you at one of Bruce's Charity Galas. He was there to write an article on the event for the Daily Planet, when he noticed Bruce pull you aside into a corner as you entered the venue, handing you a glass of champagne. Clark let the rumble of the hundred plus people in the room around him fade away and honed in on the conversation between the two of you.

“You're late, y/n.” Bruce told you in a concerned voice, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I thought...”

“Bruce, just because someone is running late, doesn't always mean something happened to them.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your older brother. “You know what the traffic from Metropolis is like at this hour trying to get into Gotham. Especially, when the great and mighty Bruce Wayne is throwing the gala of the century.”

“If you'd called me, I could have gotten you a helicopter in.”

“Dear God, Bruce.” You laughed, sipping your champagne.

“What's the point of being so rich, if you don't enjoy it?” Bruce teased you, grinning.

“Being rich is your thing, Ru.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I am more than content on living in my flat in Central Metropolis, and doing my simple nine to five job.”

“A flat the our inheritance pays for, and a nine to five that's at Wayne Biotech.” Bruce rolled his eyes back.

“I pay my own bills,” You defended yourself. “Our inheritance only pays for the rent and whatnot. As for Biotech, I enjoy it, helping the world invent and discover new vaccines and medical treatments. You know as well as I do, I can't sit around a multi-million dollar mansion, while servants take care of literally every whim and fantasy I may or may not have. I'd lose my mind.” You sighed, setting your glass down on the table behind you. “It's not like I can run around the city in a rubber suit.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you, you'd been the first person he told about being Batman. “You're the only family I have left, y/n. I don't want to lose you, like we lost our parents.” He told you, taking your hand in his. “You know, that's the main reason I do, what I do at night.”

“I know it is, Bruce.” You told him, resting your hand on his cheek. “But, I can take care of myself as well, you know.”

“Mr. Wayne.” Clark beamed, stepping up to you and your brother. “Ma'am.” He smiled, sweetly at you.

“Mr. Kent.” Bruce replied, turning to the reporter. “How can I help you?”

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at your brother, seeing his shoulders tense as he looked up at Clark, giving you the odd feeling that the two knew each other.

“I'm well.” Clark replied, his smile smug, but familiar. “It's an amazing party you have going on here.” He said, gesturing around to the rest of the room, like he was reminding him that there was more than just the three of you in the room. “Can I get a statement about it?” He asked, pulling out a pen and small notepad.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but something else caught his attention and he patted Clark on the shoulder. “You know what, I forgot to check on something downstairs. But, I'm sure my sister, y/n, here would gladly give you a statement about it. It was her idea to throw this gala to raise money for a wonderful cause.” He grinned at you, chuckling seeing the utter look of horror in your face as he walked away.

“Oh, I hate him.” You sighed, picking your glass back up and downing it.

“Would you like that to be your official statement?” Clark asked, grinning amused.

“I wish.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “But, no. Of course not.”

“So, tell me, what it is that the gala is about?” He asked, poising himself to write down your answer.

“Um,” You glanced around the room, hugely uncomfortable about being in the spot light, you never liked being the center of attention.

Clark watched and listened to your heart beat become erratic with panic and tucked his pen back into his front pocket and his notebook in his back pocket. He turned around as a waiter walked behind him and picked up two glasses of wine, holding one out to you. “How about we go somewhere quieter, that way you're more comfortable answering any questions?” He suggested, your fingers brushing as you took the glass from him.

You took a deep breath and a gulp of the wine. “Sure.” You nodded, looking around and then motioned for him to follow you out of the main room of the event and down the hall to one of the empty offices. “Ask your questions, Mr. Kent.” You told him, sitting down across from him.

“Right.” He smiled at you, pulling out his pen and pad again, setting it on the desk next to him. “You're Bruce Wayne's sister?”

“Little sister, yes.” You nodded, turning your wine glass between your hands. “I was two, when our parents were killed.”

“How old was Bruce?” Clark asked, scribbling in his pad.

“Sixteen.” You replied, shifting in your seat, neither you or Bruce liked talking about the death of your parents.

“I'm guessing, he took care of you, after that?” He inquired, tilting his head at you and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Sorta.” You shrugged, taking another gulp of wine. “Between him, our butler, Alfred, and nannies. All rather lonely, really. But, you have to make the best out of what life gives you.”

“And being a Wayne, that's pretty much everything you want, since your family as huge chunk of the world's wealth.” Clark chuckled, smiling at you, but his smile faded see you didn't find it funny. “I'm sorry, that...what is this gala about?” he asked, shaking his head and changing the subject.

“The Gala is to raise awareness about the hunger crisis in third world countries.” You explained to him. “Wayne Industries started a food supply market in the 1910's, that helps feed low income families and homeless in Metropolis and Gotham.” You continued, crossing your ankles.

“What made you want to throw the Gala for it?” Clark asked, intrigued.

“I spent a year in Africa helping try and treat a disease outbreak, then helped develop a vaccine for it with my position in the Wayne Biotech labs. While I was there, I noticed how so many villages struggle to keep themselves fed, and figured that Wayne Industries had more than enough money to help, as would many of the other rich socialites over here. But, rich people don't generally like donating money, unless they get to dress up and mingle with other rich people.” You chuckled, finishing off the rest of your wine. “and yeah, you can put that down as my official statement.” You added, seeing Clark's eyebrow raise as he finished writing down what you said.

“That'll make for some scandal.” He giggled, setting his pen down. “A rich woman calling out other rich people.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just because you're rich, doesn't mean you get to think you're above everyone else in the world. Besides, I'm not into being rich. It doesn't really give me what I want out of life.”

“And what do you want out of life, Ms. Wayne?” He asked you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

“Something quiet and simple.” You sighed, looking out the open windows to the bright and dark night of Gotham. “I've lived in the city for ninety percent of my life, and I've never felt more one with the world, than when I'm somewhere quiet, where I can look up and see the stars, and not the lights of a million buildings, airplanes and satellite dishes.”

“Why don't you move out somewhere in the country?” Clark asked, he could relate to how you felt, he'd been a small town boy, and coming to Metropolis the first time was overwhelming, especially with his Kryptonian powers.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Bruce got me a house out in the country for my birthday a couple years back, but I don't get to spend too much time there. I'm the head Biochemist at Biotech, so I work a lot and when I'm not working a lot, I'm traveling for other Wayne industry responsibilities.”

“You're quite the busy young lady.” He complimented, taking a sip of his forgotten wine.

“Indeed, I am.” You smiled at him. “Tell me, how do you and Bruce know each other?”

“What makes you think we know each other?” Clark asked, smoothly. “We've met at several events I was writing a article on for the Daily Planet.”

“I know my brother, Mr. Kent.” You told him, smirking and crossing your arms. “I know, when my brother is acquainted with a reporter, and when he knows someone.”

“Well, I guess when you run into someone as often as he and I do,” He told you, acting cool. “You just start becoming very familiar with each other.” He explained, dancing around the fact, he and your brother had met each other two years before, and ended up leveling most of Metropolis and Gotham, as Superman and Batman. “I end up attending nearly all of your brother's events for Wayne Industries.” He added, pressing his lips together.

“Hm.” You hummed, knowing he was hiding something. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

There was a knock on the office door and one of Bruce's assistants stuck her head into the room. “The silent auction is starting, Ms. Wayne.” She informed you, looking between you and Clark.

“Thank you, Felicia.” You told her, standing up and smoothing your dress down. “Mr. Kent, it was a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for the interview.” You said, extending your hand to him.

“The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Wayne.” He told you, standing up and shaking your hand, gently. He moved out of your way and held the door open for you, smiling sweetly as you nodded your head to him, and walked out.

Clark ran down the street, in a complete rush to get his latest article into Perry White before his deadline. All he needed was to have Perry chewing him out again for being late, and holding up the printer. But, he couldn't help the detour to rescue people from a major apartment fire. He turned the corner and collided straight into someone, knocking them over and his glasses off.

“Oh, gosh!” He exclaimed, shifting the strap of his shoulder bag. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention.”

“That's quite alright, Mr. Kent.” You told him, picking up your bag and grabbing his black framed glasses off the sidewalk.

Clark blinked several times, looking down at you. “Ms. Wayne.” He grinned, helping you up. “Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over.

“Other than feeling like, I ran into a bull made out of a brick wall?” You chuckled, holding out his glasses to him. “The only injury is to my pride.” You assured him, readjusting your jacket and backpack.

“Well,” He sighed, biting his lip. “Is there anything I can do, to ease that for you?” He asked, tilting his head at you.

“Not unless you can get me across town in,” You glanced down at your watch, and groaned. “an hour.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping. “I'm running late for my flight to Jordan.”

“I could get you to Jordan in less than an hour.” Clark commented, licking his lips.

Laughter bubbled out of you at his comment, your hand resting on his upper arm. “If only.” You giggled, looking up at him.

He raised his eyebrows at you, pressing his lips together to keep himself from making another comment. “I should let you get to your flight, I'm sorry about being a brick bull.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“No harm, no foul.” You assured him, going on tiptoe and giving him a hug, surprising him into hugging you back.

“Tell your brother, I said hello.” He called after you, as you rushed into awaiting car.

“I will!” You called, slipping into the car and your driver closed the door.

Clark watched your car pull away and disappear in the traffic, running his hand through his hair again and then turning on his heels and continued to rush down the street and into the Daily Planet. He managed to get his article in on time, but he ended up spending the rest of the day thinking about your body hugged around his. By the time he clocked out and started his walk back home, Clark had already settled it in his mind that he was going to try and get his hands on your phone number and ask you out to dinner, for an interview, of course. Perry had asked him to do a follow up on the Wayne Charity Gala he'd attend the month and a half before, so it was the perfect reason to ask you out. He just needed to find out when you'd be back from your trip.

“Yes, Hello,” Clark said, when someone from Wayne Industry Headquarters finally answered the phone. “I'm Clark Kent, a reporter for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I did an interview with Ms. Y/n Wayne, and I need to schedule a follow up interview with her.”

“Ms. Wayne is out of the country, at the moment, Mr. Kent.” the Secretary informed him.

“I am aware of that.” He said, running his hand through his hair as he paced his small flat. “Can you tell me when she'll be back, and how to contact her when she returns?”

“Um...” The Secretary groaned, typing quickly on her computer and shaking her head. “Ms. Wayne is due back into Gotham in two weeks. If you'd like, Mr. Kent, I can pass on a message to her assistant, Felicia, and have her call you when Ms. Wayne returns.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.” Clark replied, it wasn't exactly the answer he wanted, but it was better than her telling him to fuck off and hanging up on him. Clark wasn't off the phone with the woman when his phone rang again, with a private number. “Clark Kent?” He answered, pathetically hoping it was you.

“Why are you asking about my sister, Superboy?” Bruce asked, leaning back in his chair as he sat in his office.

“Bruce.” Clark smiled, tightly, dropping onto his couch.

“Answer the question, Clark.”

“I was asked to do a follow up interview with her, after the one I did with her at the Gala. Where you ditched her, to go play Batman.” Clark told him, giving into the older man's protective banter. “How did you know I called about her?”

“Clark, y/n is the only blood family I have left in this universe.” Bruce told him, rotating in his chair to look out over Gotham. “I know, if someone three countries away, breaths in her direction. I especially know if someone is inquiring after her in my own company, or any company.”

“Don't you worry about smothering her?” Clark asked, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She knows, I do it, for her own good.” Bruce growled, squeezing his phone a bit tighter.

“I'm not going to do anything to your sister, Bruce.” Clark sighed, picking up on the edge in his voice. “I just need a follow interview with her.”

“Then, why didn't you call me?”

“People don't usually call the owner of a company to ask for an interview with one of their employees. They usually call the front desk and ask for one to be scheduled.” Clark countered, dropping his head back.

“Y/n isn't one of my employees, she's my sister, and I'm her guardian.”

“She's a grown woman, Wayne.” Clark shook his head. “She doesn't need you acting like her father, or her personal Batman. She needs you to be her brother, and let her live her own life.”

“Coming from the alien, that's an only child.” Bruce snapped, hanging up on him.

Clark dropped his phone on the couch beside him and sighed, heavily, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. He got up, stripping his clothes off as he made his way into the bathroom and cranking the hot water tap all the way on and stepped into the spray, groaning as the hot water soaked into his skin and muscles. He leaned on his arms against the shower wall, letting the water rain over his head, and watched as it swirled down the drain.

“Just an only alien child,” he groaned, tilting his head back to let the water hit his face. “That might be in love.”You were on the jet on the way back from Jordan, when Felicia sat down across from you. You cocked an eyebrow at her, knowing by the look on her face, she had news to tell you.

“We had a request come into headquarters for you.” She told you, scrolling through her phone.

“Oh?” You sighed, you really weren't in the mood for people requesting you. You just wanted to get home and sleep for a week. “What do they want?”

“An interview.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't do interviews, everyone knows that.”

“Well, it was an ask for a follow up, to one you've already done.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then it dawned on you. “Clark Kent.” You nodded, it made sense now.

“Do you want me to contact him, and tell him, you'll be denying his request?” She asked, glancing up at you from her phone.

“No.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I'll do the follow up, just make it a point to tell him, I'm not answering an personal questions.” You told her, getting up and going to the back of the jet, to lay down.

Felicia called Clark as soon as the jet landed back in Metropolis. “Mr. Kent, I'm Felicia Davis.” She introduced herself.

“How can I help you, Ms. Davis?” Clark replied, pressing his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he sat at his desk in the Daily Planet.

“I'm Ms. Wayne's assistant.” She explained, sliding into the car beside you. “I'm calling in answer to your request for a follow up interview with her, about the Charity Gala.”

“Oh, yes, right!” Clark grinned, ear to ear. “Is there a good time for Ms. Wayne to meet me? I was thinking over dinner, if that's alright with her.”

“Ms. Wayne just arrived home from two weeks in Jordan, and is rather exhausted.” Felicia told him, opening a personal planner she carried around for you. “So, she'll need a couple of days to recover from her work trip.”

“Of course.”

“How does Saturday night sound to you, Mr. Kent?” She asked, tapping the date with her finger and looking at you, to confirm you're all right with it as well. “Excellent. Ms. Wayne will meet you at 7 pm, Saturday night. Do you need us to make the arrangements?”

“No, no.” Clark shook his head, like she could see him as he rummaged around his desk for a sticky note to write on. “I can make a reservation at a restaurant in down town Metropolis, and then send you the details.” he told her, finding what he was looking for.

“Very well, you can contact me with this phone number.” Felicia told him, penning it into the planner.

“Thank you, Ms. Davis.” Clark said, leaning back in his chair, with relief.

“You're welcome, and have a good day, Mr. Kent.” She replied, hanging up with him. “He'll be making a reservation for dinner this Saturday at 7pm. He'll call me with the name of the restaurant.”

“Strange for a man to pick the restaurant, we usually do.” You chuckled, glancing out the window.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Bruce had caught wind of you going to dinner with Clark, and in his typical fashion as your overprotective brother, he completely blew it out of proportions. You both spent that Friday in his office at Wayne Industries arguing about it, and most of the morning and afternoon Saturday doing the same.

“Oh, for the love of Superman, Ru!” You snapped as you stood in your closet, trying to pick out a pair of shoes to go with your outfit.

“Don't say that name!” Bruce barked over the speaker of your phone.

“What name?” You quipped, picking up a pair of black flats. “Ru or Superman?”

“Superman.” Bruce sighed, he'd stopped trying to prevent you from calling him, Ru, decades ago.

“Good Lord, Bruce.” You rolled your eyes, slipping your shoes on. “You still feel threatened by Superman? Ye ol' Batman's jealous.” You teased him, knowing it get under his skin.

“I'm not threatened or jealous of him, y/n.” He told you, rolling his eyes. “Not like that anymore, at least.”

“Then, enlighten your dear sister, and tell me how you are threatened and jealous of him?” You kept teasing him, checking yourself out in the mirror.

“It's complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it.” You pressed, going to your jewelry box for a pair of earrings.

“There's not enough time to do that, your date is in twenty minutes.”

“It's not a date, Ru!” You snapped, turning to look at your phone. “It's business. Business, you got me stuck in, when you left me at the Gala with Clark, so you could go play rescuer.”

“Don't remind me.” He groaned, still feeling the deep bruise on his side.

“All right, I'm going.” You told him, picking your phone up off the bed.

“Call me, if anything happens.” Bruce told you, quickly. “Or if you need an alibi to call it short.”

“I will, bro.” You told him, going out the front door. “And, Bruce, don't fucking stalk me. You, Alfred or anyone else, for that matter.” You warned him, hanging up before he could protest. “Off we go, Hector.” You said, as your driver opened the car door for you.

Clark stood out front the restaurant waiting for you to arrive, and smiled brightly, seeing your car pull up and your driver open the door for you. He offered you his arm as you got out of the car. “How was your trip to Jordan?” He asked, leading you inside.

“It was very good, thanks.” You told him, smiling softly. “How's work going for you?” You asked as the waiter showed the pair of you to your table.

“It's never a dull moment for a reporter, especially in this world.” He teased, pulling your chair out for you, then moving to his. “Your assistant, Felicia, made it clear I wasn't supposed to ask you any personal questions.” He said, setting his pen and notepad on the table by his menu.

“Well, if you do, they're to be off the record.” You explained, picking up your menu and browsing the selection of food and wine.

“Of course.” Clark nodded, following your lead. “What was your business in Jordan about?” He asked, looking at you over his menu.

“It was a Biotechnology convention.” You explained, turning the menu page. “Biochemists and the like gather every few years to discuss their research, breakthroughs and such with each other. Swap what info we can to help each other out, typical boring Scientist mambo jumbo.” You chuckled, looking over your menu at him.

“What made you become a Scientist?” He asked, picking what he wanted and setting his menu aside, but didn't bother with his notebook.

You shrugged, setting your menu down. “I enjoy helping people. I'm no Superhero, so I help in the ways and places I can.”

“You don't need to have super powers, to be a Superhero.” Clark said, looking at you, softly.

“That's possibly true.” You nodded, agreeing with him.

The waiter came over and took your dinner and drink orders, and you and Clark chatted away through two glasses of wine and most of your food, before you really realized that Clark hadn't written a single line in his notepad.

“Isn't this an interview, Mr. Kent?” You asked him, as dessert was set in front of you.

“You can call me, Clark.” He smiled at you, picking up his spoon to dig into his ice cream.

“Clark,” You grinned, taking a bite of your chocolate lava cake. “aren't you supposed to be interviewing me?” You repeated your question, smirking at him, impishly.

“I am supposed to be interviewing you, Ms. Wayne.” He nodded.

“Y/n.” You told him, staring at him across the table. “You can call me, y/n.”

Clark blushed and took another bite of his ice cream. “Admittedly, y/n, this is an interview with a motive.”

“Typical reporters.” You teased him, rolling your eyes playfully.

“My Boss, Mr White, asked me to do a follow up interview on your Charity Gala, but I really just wanted to ask you out to dinner..”

“So, you used the interview as an excuse.” You chuckled, nodding your head and amused that Bruce was mostly right.

“I am sorry.” He told you, abashed.

“That's quite all right, Clark.” You assured him, you really didn't mind at all. “But, won't you get in trouble with your boss for not doing the interview?”

“Yes, probably.” Clark nodded, worried at that prospect, he'd been on thin ice with Perry for several months.

“Well, how about we finish our desserts, and we take the actual interview on a walk around the park?” You suggested, setting your attention back on your cake, hoping to hide your blush.

“I rather like that idea.” Clark said, seeing your blush, easily, and blushing a bit, himself.

Clark paid the bill and you both left the restaurant, stopping long enough for you to tell Hector the change in plans. You took Clark's offered arm, resting your hand in the nook of his elbow as you strolled through the gates of the local park. The sound of late night birds, other pedestrians and the gurgling of the various fountain filled the cool night air, making it feel like You and Clark were blanketed in another world altogether. Clark took out his notebook and pen, and started funneling out all the questions he had to ask you for the interview and you answered them with a calm ease. It took no time for you and Clark to knock out the interview, and get to spend the rest of the time making several rounds around the park, oblivious of time and space. You were laughing at a joke Clark had made about himself being a small town, country boy, when you suddenly felt the cords of his muscles under your hand turn into steel, cutting off your laugh and glancing up at him.

“Clark?” You frowned at him, as he pulled you both to a stop and he looked around the dimly lit darkness around you, his head tilting slight side to side as he scanned around. “What is it?” You whispered, looking around with him.

“Stay calm.” He told you, softly, taking your hand from his forearm and carefully pulling you behind him, as three guys came out of the dark treeline, beside the sidewalk. “Evening, gentlemen.” He greeted them, every muscle in his body tensing, making Clark come off even bigger than he already was.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, pressing one hand to your stomach and resting the other one on Clark's hip as you peeked around his arm.

“Hand over the jewelry and cash, and you and your sweetheart over there,” one of the men said, winking at you. “have to get hurt.” He said, the unmistakable click of a knife opening muted out everything else around you.

You looked up at Clark as he slowly shook his head.

“Not going to happen.” He told them, licking his lips. “I'll give you this one warning, to walk away.”

“I don't think, you understand your situation.” Another of the three said, taking a step forward.

“Clark.” You whispered, squeezing his hip.

“It's alright, y/n.” He told you, his eyes still glued to the men. “They're not going to hurt us.” He assured you, grabbing the arm of the guy as he shot forward, twisting his arm behind his back and shoving him to the side.

The one with the knife came at Clark next, raising the knife high. But, Clark easily grabbed him by the wrist, wrenching the weapon out of his hand and punched him across the face, forcing him back into his friends.

“I suggest you leave.” He threatened them, tossing the knife aside and giving them an expression that sucked all the courage out of them. “Now.” He snapped, rolling his jaw as they scrambled to their feet and haul themselves out of the park. “Are you all right?” Clark asked, his body relaxing as he turned around to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“I'm fine.” You told him, looking in his eyes, utterly shocked. “You could've gotten hurt!”

A smile broke out over Clark's face, and his hands dropped from your face. “I'm all right.” He assured you. “I'm use to people trying to fight me, I was bullied as a kid.” He explained, looking back to where the would-be robbers disappeared. “I should get you back to your car,” he added, looking up. “It is getting rather dark.” He offered you his arm again, and you slowly took it, still in shock.

“Of course.” You nodded, letting him lead you back the way you'd come.

“Good night, y/n.” Clark smiled as you stopped by your car.

“Good night, Clark.” You smiled back, still in a bit of a daze over what happened.

He blushed, slightly and started to walk away. “Do you think I could see you again?” He asked, turning back around, spurred by a bit of courage.

“Uh,” You blinked at him. “Sure.” You nodded, ducking into the back of the car and pulling out a card from your bag. “This is my private number.” You told him, holding it out to him. “Just so you don't have to go through headquarters or Felicia, to get a hold of me.”

Clark looked down at the card, then back up at you, spinning the little card around his fingers, nervously. “I'll give you a call, some time soon.” He promised, then wished you good night again, before turning himself towards home.

“Mr. Wayne called, while you were on your little walk.” Hector told you, as he pulled the car away from the curb.

“Of course, he did.” You rolled your eyes.

“He wants you to call him.”

“I'll call him in the morning.” You told Hector, rubbing your neck. “I just wanna go home and sleep, right now.”

Clark was staring at the card with your number on it as he sat at his desk at work, trying to work up the courage to call you, when one of the secretaries for the newspaper came over and told him, he had someone waiting for him in one of the conference rooms. Sighing and slipping the card into his pocket, Clark got up and found the conference room his visitor was waiting for him in.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?” He snapped, closing the door behind him.

“You took my sister on a date last night, disguised as an interview.” Bruce told him, clearly fuming already. “And you almost get fucking mugged in the process.” He snapped, slamming his hand down on the conference table.

“First of all, it wasn't a disguise.” Clark barked back, his anger flaring. “I do admit that when Perry told me to get a follow up interview with her, I also used it as an opportunity to take her out to dinner, I wouldn't call it a date though. Secondly, She was in no danger of those three punks, with me there with her, and you know that.”

“That doesn't fucking change the fact, she could have gotten hurt, Clark!” Bruce yelled, not even bothering to keep his voice low.

“I wouldn't have allowed it, Bruce!” Clark yelled back, moving closer to the table that thankfully separated them. “I would have protected her. I did protect her. They never got within two feet of her.”

“Oh, but they got within three feet of her.” Bruce snapped, mocking him. “Mighty Superman only have a detection range of two feet.”

“I knew they were there, I didn't fucking know they were going to try and mug us.” Clark countered, glancing behind his shoulder, to the door. “There were dozens of people in that park with us,” he told him, calming down. “Not every person that comes within range of her, is going to try and harm her. I certainly never would, and would never, allow anyone else to either. Y/n is as safe with me, if not safer, than she is with you.”

“Oh, you thinks so?”

“I know so.” Clark answered, a sharp tone in his voice. “You're just a mortal human. You get stabbed with a knife and you're fucked.”

“You think since you can take the hit of a bomb, you're better than me at protecting my baby sister.”

“She's not a baby anymore, Bruce.” Clark snapped, that upset him more than anything else in this conversation. “She's an adult, and you need to start treating her like one. You're not pissed off about what happened last night, you're afraid that she might fall in love me.”

“I'm not afraid she might fall in love with you.” He growled, raking a hand over his face and turning away from him.

“Then, what are you afraid of?” He demanded, leaning against the table.

“I'm afraid of her getting hurt.” Bruce said, quietly. “Especially, because I know she's already in love with you.”

“She is?” Clark asked, shocked and staring wide eyed at Bruce's back.

“Yes.” He sighed. “But, I can't allow that.”

“Why?” Clark groaned, rolling his eyes. “Cause I'm an alien.”

“Because, you're Superman.” He answered, spinning back around to look Clark in the face. “How many enemies do you have, that are looking for you to have a weak point? She would be that weak point, Clark.”

“She's your weak point as Batman.” Clark argued, sitting down at the table. “She's your weak point as normal Bruce Wayne, richest man in the world.”

Bruce huffed, sitting down at the table across from him. “I know she is, that's why I go so far out of my way, to protect her.”

“And you don't think, I can do the same?”

“I know you can,” Bruce sighed, feeling older than he really was. “I'm just not use to having to share her, is all.”

Clark laughed and shook his head at that. “We can protect her together, Bruce.” He told him, leaning over the table to him. “It doesn't have to be one or the other of us. It doesn't have to be Clark Kent vs Bruce Wayne, or Batman vs Superman, all the time. We found our common ground on protecting Earth in the Justice League, and we can find the common ground of protecting y/n.”

“I don't want you to tell her, you're Superman.”

“Does she know you're Batman?”

“She does.” Bruce nodded, checking his watch.

“But, you want me to lie to her about who I am?” Clark narrowed his eyes at him.

“She found out about me being Batman on accident.” Bruce told him, meeting his eye. “She found Alfred tending to one of the injuries I sustained after our battle with Steppenwolf. Wasn't like I could exactly lie to her after that.” He ran a hand through his hair, remembering the look on your face when you walked in on them. “But, you're Superman, you won't have that issue.”

“You do recall my dying?” Clark asked, cocking an eyebrow at Bruce.

“The kryptonite was destroyed when you killed that monster, Clark. There's no more of it on Earth, and probably the universe. It's nothing you have to concern yourself with anymore. What you do need to concern yourself with now, if you choice to pursue my sister, is her safety and keeping her in the dark about who you are. We both know the more she knows about who we are, and what we do, is more a danger to her life.”

You sat, cross legged, on Clark's couch with a bowl of cereal balanced in your lap as you watched the news, in one of Clark's plaid shirts. You spent more time in Clark's flat now-a-days then you did your own, and were content to do so. Clark appeared in the door way of his bedroom, watching you as you ate, momentarily oblivious to his presence. He grinned seeing you in his shirt, only three of the center buttons closed to keep the over-sized garment on your small frame, even then it slipped down one of your shoulders. He could still smell the lingering scent of sex from the night before and earlier in that morning.

“You sleep well?” He asked, stepping into the living room.

“I always manage to sleep like a baby, with you.” You told him, looking up at him as you took another bite of your coco puffs.

“That makes me feel good.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, then padded into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. “What's your day looking like?” He asked, glancing around the corner to look at the tv.

“I have to go into work at the lab in an hour or so, then two board meetings.” You answered, setting your bowl on the coffee table, and grabbing the remote to turn up the news. “I do have another conference in Jordan in two days, some issue going on with one of Wayne labs there. Bruce is sending me over to deal with it, since the rep that's there now, is doing fuck all.” You explained, frowning at the news.

“How long will you be gone?” Clark asked, his own eyes glued to the tv as he made his breakfast.

“Shouldn't be more than a week,” You replied, absentmindedly. “With any luck of them being competent.”

“Well, if they're not competent enough to listen to you, they're in real trouble.” Clark joked, reassuring himself that what was happening on the news, wasn't something he needed to rush out and present Superman too.

“I'll fire every last one of the idiots, if they fucking try me.” You said, rolling your eyes at the thought of them giving you issues, which you knew, with men of their caliber and brains, they most certainly would.

“Well, it gives us enough time.” Clark told you, coming to sit down beside you on the couch.

“Enough time for what?” You frowned, turning your head to look at him.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He told you, resting his plate on his thigh.

“Oh, god.” You moaned, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. “Perry didn't fire you, did he?”

Clark laughed, shaking his head. “No, I'm still a reporter at the Daily Planet.” He assured you, with a blush. “We've been dating for a year now...”

“Yeeah..”

“I was going to ask, if you wanted to move in with me...” He said it slowly and quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. “You practically live here anyway.” He added, with a nervous laugh and looking around his flat, he could identify more of your things than his own, in the living room alone.

“That's a serious commitment, Clark. “ You said, just as slowly.

“I know it is.” He told you, pushing the food on his plate around with his fork. “I thought, maybe, we were at that point...”

“Bruce would have a heart attack.” You chuckled, at the thought.

Bruce didn't like the thought of you dating Clark, he didn't like you spent so much time with him, especially in between the sheets. But, he'd stopped nagging you about being with him, almost a year ago. He still gave you disgruntled remarks when you spoke about Clark in his presence, and he always seemed a tiny bit on edge, when the three of you were in the same room together. You didn't care what Bruce thought or felt on the subject, you were happy and content with Clark, the relationship the two of you had together. You'd also never been in such a serious relationship with someone, that you moved in with them, either.

“Does his opinion, matter so much, that it would make an impact on our relationship?” Clark asked, concerned it would, Bruce had promised to ease up on his attitude towards him and his love for you, but, Clark also knew, that what Bruce thought and said mattered to you.

“No.” You shook your head, resting your hand on his arm. “No, Clark, it wouldn't.” You tried to sound as convincing as possible, but could tell by his expression, it wasn't enough. “Just...give me until I come back from my trip, to decide?” You asked, biting your lip.

“Take all the time you need.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

You smiled at him and kissed him back, before getting up to get dressed and rush off to work. You left on your business trip two days later, and both you and Clark called it, when the people in charge of the Wayne Biotech lab in Jordan would give you trouble and annoy the hell out of you. Your temples throbbed as you fell back on your hotel room bed, staring up at the ceiling, the arguments you had with the board still bouncing around your brain, making the migraine you had worse.

“Bunch of brain dead morons.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A loud crash from outside your room door startled you up out of bed, you stumbled away as the door flew open, your back hitting the wall behind you as a disguised man stepped through the opening. The only thing you could see on him, was his eyes, and you didn't like what you saw in them. He advanced towards you, putting you into instant fight or flight mode, and decided to do both. Picking up the closest thing to you, the lamp on your bedside table, and launched it at him, before scurrying over your bed and making for the door. You'd almost made it down to the lift, when he caught up with you, grabbing you by the back of your hair and painfully yanking you backwards against him.

“Hello, Ms. Wayne.” A woman called stepping into the hall from another room.

“Who the fuck are you?” You panted, struggling against your captor. “What do you want?”

“I'm Pamela Evans.” She grinned at you, giving you a once over. “And I want to know about the advanced gene development project you and your brother are working on.”

“We're not working on gene development.” You growled, bearing your teeth at her.

“My sources say otherwise.” Pamela said, grabbing you by the jaw.

“Your sources are fucking brain dead.” You snapped, jerking your head out of her hand.

“I don't believe you.” She growled, giving you a super dirty look.

“That's your issue.” You growled back. “Wayne labs and Industries have never, and will never, do research on the type gene development, you're apparently going on about. Whoever is doing it, is a mad scientist asking for trouble.”

“You see,” Pamela brought her face inches from yours. “I've seen the files on your and Bruce's computers. So, you're going to tell me all about it.”

“You're delusional.” You shook your head the little you could with the man's hand still tight in your hair. “Fuck.” You gasped suddenly, feeling a cold tingle in your thigh and glanced down to see her pull a small pocket knife out. “You don't understand we're no....”

“No, sweetheart, it's you that doesn't understand.” Pamela mocked you, pulling something out of her shoulder purse. “We're going to get that research out of you, one way or another.” She pressed something to your neck and you felt a sharp pain. “I'll give you long enough to sleep off your nap, to tell me.” She said, as the black fog around the edges of your eyes grew and your body went limp.

You woke up God knows how long later, shackled to a concrete wall in a dimly lit room. There were no windows in the square concrete room, a single light set deep into the center of the ceiling and a metal table and a single chair below that. There was a thick metal door opposite of you with a slot window set in it. You were drawn to the sound of that opening, a pair of eyes looking in on you, then slamming shut again. It was several minutes before the actual door itself opened, and in walked Pamela and a man, the man from the hotel. Even with him out of his disguised, you could identify those eyes from a mile away.

“Good morning, Ms. Wayne.” Pamela smiled, giving you a smile that would have made Mary Poppins sick. “Or is it night, Eli?” She asked, turning to the man, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn't matter, have you decided to give me the information I've asked for?” She asked, turning back to you.

“I told you, it doesn't exist.” You told her, groggy and fearful, your thigh throbbed and you could feel a small steady stream of blood ooze from it, leaving a puddle around your foot. “Messing with human genes is dangerous, and ridiculous.” You tried to reason with her.

“Then, what's this?” Pamela asked, pulling a sheet of paper from the table and bring it closer for you to see. “That's an email, from you to your brother on the subject. Telling him, that it was possible for such advancement.”

“It's opinion, not research.” You panted, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. “Someone at one of my brother's many business ventures wanted to know if he thought it was possible to do so, and my brother asked me.” You explained to her. “While, I think it might be possible for such development and advancement, neither of us are conducting research to find out. It's purely academic.”

“Why do you think it's possible?” Pamela questioned, turning her back to you and setting the paper back down on the table.

“I believe anything is possible, with the right circumstances and factors.” You told her, focusing on her back.

“Do you think you could achieve it, if you were to try it?”

“I don't know, and I wouldn't try.” You told her, honestly and shook your head at the thought.

“Even if, your life depended on it?” Pamela asked, smirking at you as she leaned back against the table, to look at you.

“My life, for the lives of all the failed test subjects it would more than likely take to prefect it?” You summed up her thoughts, you knew the math on how many people would be needed to be experimented on, and the decades it would take to achieve on top of that. “Yes, then I'd die, to prevent you and anyone else from trying it.” You nodded, confident in that choice.

“Well, let's see if we could,” She shrugged her shoulders, glancing at Eli. “persuade you.”

Eli dropped a rolled up bag onto the table with a emphasized thump, and rolled it open, revealing several instruments, you didn't need to be a Scientist to know were about to be used to torture and, likely, kill you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm your heart and make peace with your choice. Eli removed something from one of the pockets, it looked like an ice pick or something, and moved over to you, running the sharp tip down your chest, between your breasts and down your stomach.

“Change your mind now, or I'll let Eli have his fun.” Pamela tried to give you a chance.

“No.” You said in a small, but steady voice.

Pamela waved her hand at Eli, and he easily sank the object into your stomach next to your belly button. You howled in pain, yanking on your bonds as Eli slowly removed it, grinning at you like a little boy on Christmas morning. Eli, luckily, didn't get far in the quest to torture you to death, as serious commotion sounded from the other side of the closed steel door, catching the attention of all three of you. Pamela looked to Eli, then hesitated for a moment, but she moved to the door, she'd just rested her hand on it, when it blew off the hinges, launching her halfway across the room. Eli dropped his weapon and moved away from you, as a figure stepped through the dusty doorway.

“Superman!” He snapped, jaw falling open.

Superman looked from Pamela under the heavy steel door, Eli backing up into a corner and You chained to the wall, head lulling and struggling to keep your heavy eyelids open to stay conscious. He wasted no time dispatching Eli, throwing him across the room as another figure stepped through the doorway and made for you, cupping your head in their hands.

“Y/n?”

You blinked several times, shaking your head and trying to clear way the heaviness in your mind. “Bruce?” You panted, recognizing your brother's voice through the fog.

“It's alright, sis.” Bruce reassured you, taking something out of the utility belt of his Batman suit and cutting you free. “We've got you now. You're safe.” He supported your weight against his body and turned to Clark, standing above Eli's lifeless body, in all his Superman glory.

Clark looked at the pair of you and the pure anger on his face melted, seeing you. “She's hurt.” He said, crossing the room to you, cupping your face in his hands. “She's bleeding internally, whatever they stabbed her with, nicked her intestines. If we don't stop the blood now, she'll bleed to death.”

“I have something on the plane.” Bruce said, lifting your shirt and grimacing at the wound to your stomach.

“It'll take too long.” Clark said, shoving everything off the metal table. “Lay her down, I'll cauterize the wound.”

“I'm not letting you heat vision my sister.” Bruce snapped, shaking his head and shifting your weight against him, to support you as you grew limper against him.

“Bruce, she's going to die, if I don't!” Clark barked, impatiently, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I know what I'm doing, I've done it before.” He tried to reassure him.

“Trust me.” He added, quietly.

Bruce sighed, and let Clark lift you up and lay you down carefully on the table. Clark peeled up your bloody shirt, biting his lip as he saw the wound to your stomach and noticed the one to your thigh. He glanced up through the opening and pressed his lips together, hearing more people coming.

“We've got more guests on the way.” He told Bruce, over his shoulder, trying to keep his focus on you.

“I'll deal with them.” Bruce said, moving around the table and out of the room.

“Y/n.” Clark whispered, resting his hand on your cheek. “Y/n, look at me.”

You blinked hard and groaned as Clark put pressure to your wound, you looked up at the blurry double face hovering above you. “Clark?” You whined, blinking repeatedly trying to clear the strange look your boyfriend had. “Clark?” You repeated his name, stronger this time, but no less confused by what you saw.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He forced a smile, brushing your hair out of your sweaty and grimy face. “I'm going to stop the bleeding, but it's going to hurt, a lot.” He warned you, with a pained expression. “But, you have to hold still and trust me.”

“I've always trusted you, Clark.” You groaned, wincing.

“Good.” He panted, sounding relieved. “Take my hand.” He told you, slipping his hand into yours. “And squeeze as hard as you have too, baby.” He instructed you, his eyes turning red.

You screamed at the top of your lungs at the excruciating burn to your already agonizing wound, squeezing Clark's hand so tight, it felt like the bones of your hand were going to shatter. You'd passed out from the pain and came to sometime later, finding yourself in bed on one of the family jets and Clark sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, holding your hand in his.

“Clark?” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“You're all right, y/n.” He told you, letting your hand go to turn off the lights, and pull down the window covering. “You're safe now, love.” He promised, sitting back down next to you, and brushing his fingers through your hair.

“How?” You moaned, opening your eyes to look at him.

Clark blushed, looking away from you and biting into his lip.

“You're-” You blinked up at him, your mind finally connecting. “Superman.”

He nodded his head, taking your hand and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“That's why Bruce was so set against us.” You nodded, regretting it. “He didn't want me dating you because you're Superman, and you two are practically enemies.”

“We're not enemies anymore, y/n.” Bruce said, appearing in the room. “Clark and I are in Justice League together.”

“Jesus.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The two most important people in my life, have lied to me, to such a degree.”

“We were trying to protect you.” Bruce tried to reason with you.

“Protect me?” You snapped, turning your head towards him. “That bitch kidnapped and tried torturing me, because she thought we were trying to do research on advanced gene development, Bruce. I can imagine what she'd have done if she knew by brother, is Batman, and my boyfriend, is Superman.” You looked at both of them, angrily.

“Advanced Gene Development?” Clark frowned at you. “Why would she think that?”

“Someone contacted Bruce about the possibility of it, and he and I discussed it.” You explained, no less angry. “She got a hold of the emails we exchanged on the subject, thinking we were actually doing it.”

“But, we're not.” Bruce frowned at you, as well. “I wonder how she got those emails as well, they're supposed to be secure.”

“Well, she's got people in a high enough place in the company to get a hand on them.” You snapped at him, annoyed. “Were you ever going to tell me, you're Superman?” You asked, turning your attention to Clark.

“I wanted too.” He whispered, dropping his eyes to your hand.

You rolled your eyes over to Bruce, narrowing them as he refused to look at you. “The fuck of men.” You growled, looking away from both of them.

“He's an alien.” Bruce mumbled, fidgeting with his watch.

“He's got a dick. I know, I've seen it.” You snapped at him, eye twitching. “He's a man. A man from another planet, but a man, nonetheless.”

“I didn't want to know that.” Bruce groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“And, it's not your business what Clark decides to tell me.” You told him, sharply. “Especially, in reference to my and his relationship, Bruce.” You winced, pushing yourself up more against the pillows piled behind your back.

“You are my wa...”

“I haven't been your god damn ward for over ten years, Bruce!” You shouted at him. “That ended the hour I became eighteen, and you know it! Stop trying to be dad, you're not dad and you never fucking will be! He'd have let me be a long time ago, he'd let me be my own woman, instead of trying to control what I do with my life and who I see, whether they're from this planet or not.”

“I'm your brother, it's my job to protect you.” He shouted back, turning to you.

“Protect me!” You yelled, your voice cracking. “Not keep me prisoner and suffocate me!”

“Let's calm down.” Clark said in a calm voice, squeezing your leg.

“NO!” Both you and Bruce yelled at him at the same time, and making his sensitive ears twitch with the volume.

“You're staying home with me.” Bruce seethed at you, but his tone was quieter.

“Fuck you!” You barked, your voice still loud.

“You're not safe on your own, y/n.” He tried to reason with you, again. “Whoever these people are, who think we're doing advanced gene development, are going to try and get their hands on you again.”

“And you're safe, cause you're fucking Batman.” You mocked him, rudely.

“That,” Bruce snapped back at you, snarky. “and I'm not the head Scientist at the biggest Biotech laboratory, and company, in the world. You, out of anyone on this planet, can make that advanced development happen, and these people know this.”

“As I told that bitch,” You told him, crossing your arms. “I'd rather die. The decades it would take to perfect the genes for testing. Then, the number of lives, the trials would claim to attune the genes for the subject, is astronomical. If, I was the person that could manage to pull this off, perfect the genes, and find the correct subject for them; there's between a five to ten percent chance, it would even work.”

“What would such an advancement even be used for?” Clark asked, leveling an eyebrow at you.

“Anything.” You shrugged, looking at him, brows creased. “You could edit a person's genes for anything, from preventing certain illnesses. Body characteristics, like if you wanted them to be tall and muscular. You could delete genes, so they felt no pain or be more aware of it. You could engineer super soldiers, or make it possible for people to have a long life span. There's so many options, and they're only limited by imagination and technology.” You rubbed the crease between your brows, feeling a stress and tension migraine forming.

“You could create the Earth equivalent of me.” Clark summed it up, a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Yes.” You nodded, that thought hadn't occurred to you. “Pretty much.”

“So, do you understand, why you're not safe?” Bruce sighed, feeling the tension knot up his shoulders. “You need to be somewhere safe, until we get this sorted out.”

“They'll look for her anywhere Wayne Industries is affiliated.” Clark said, softly, rubbing at his neck and looking at Bruce.

“I can have Alfred find us a safe house for her.” Bruce agreed, nodding his head.

“I'll take her home with me.” Clark said, smiling gently at you.

“Your flat isn't safe.” Bruce stated, looking between the two of you.

“I know, it's not.” He answered, still watching you. “I mean, I'll take her to my mom's, in Smallville. No one's going to look for her in Kansas, it's such a small and middle of nowhere town. I'll take time off from the Daily Planet, and stay there with her to make sure she's looked after. My mother could use my help on the farm, anyway.”

“Is this your way of introducing me to your mother?” You grinned, teasingly.

Clark laughed, blushing and nodded his head. “I guess, it is a way to think of it.”

“I like his idea.” You told Bruce, looking at your brother. “He's got a point.”

Bruce sighed, his shoulders slumping, he was begrudged to agree with both of you on the subject. “I'll have the pilot redirect us towards Smallville.”

“You shouldn't.” Clark said, stopping Bruce as he headed out. “If anyone notices a Wayne plane landing at the airport in Great Bend, it'll be a dead giveaway, that's something's going on.”

“Then, how do you propose on getting y/n to your mother's farm?” Bruce asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

A lopsided smirk pulled on one corner of Clark's mouth as he looked at you, eyes sparkling. A slow grin pulled across your lips as you caught on to what Clark was suggesting, and you were more than cool with Superman flying you to his parent's farm. Bruce groaned as he figured out the same thing, rolling his eyes and throwing up his arms, he couldn't fight you two being together and he couldn't fight doing what he had to do, so you were safe.

“Fine.” He sighed, deflated. “We'll land in G.I. Airport as scheduled, and you can take y/n to Smallville from there.”

Clark nodded, pressing your knuckles to his lips. “We'll stop by my place, so we can get a couple changes of clothes before we go.”

“You have clothes at his place?” Bruce asked, looking at you, surprised.

“I've been staying at Clark's a lot the last couple of months, so it's just easier to keep some clothing there.” You answered, blushing at Clark. “He also asked me to move in with him.” You added.

“You never did get the chance to answer me.” He reminded you, glancing up at you.

“I know.” You replied, nodding and biting your lip.

Bruce looked at the two of you, then quietly excused himself and gave the pair of you space and privacy.

“I think, I'd like to move in with you, Clark.” You told him, carefully leaning forward and brushing your fingers through his short curly hair. “I want to take us more seriously.” You admitted, smiling sweetly at him.

“I'd love nothing less, than the same.” He smiled back at you, leaning in and kissing you, tenderly, on the lips.

You rested back, wincing that the discomfort of your stomach. You peeled back your shirt and grimaced at it, even though Clark had cauterized the wound, it still hurt and was tender as hell. Clark gently traced the tips of his fingers around the wound, mindful of sensitive areas and looked up at you, sadness in his blue eyes. You reached out and cupped his cheek in your hand, caressing his skin with your thumb and gave him back a similar sad expression, but one tinged with love and trust.

“It's going to take a bit of time for you to heal.” He told you, his fingers moving down to your torn and stained jeans, where Pamela stabbed you in the thigh. “You'll have scars...”

“I'm use to having scars.” You told him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “Inside and outside.”

The jet landed in Gotham International Airport, Clark easily carried you off the plane and to the car Bruce had waiting for the three of you. You rested your head on Clark's shoulder, you'd tried to sleep on the plane, but you couldn't get comfortable enough. Clark wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his cheek on top of your head. The chauffeur dropped the both of you off at Clark's flat, you said good-bye to Bruce, who promised to keep in touch and visit, if he could. You managed for first stairwell and a half up to Clark's flat before the pain in your leg became too much, and Clark carried you the last of the way up. He set you down on the couch and went into the bedroom, dumping his gym bag on his bed, then shoved yours and his clothes into it.

“Okay, I think that should tide us over.” He said, slinging the bag over his shoulders. “If not, I still have clothing at my mother's...”

“And I can always buy some.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “So, how do we do this, Superman?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Let's go up to the roof.” He told you, going around the coffee table and picking you up into his arms. “It's a good launching pad, since this is the tallest building in a decent radius.” He explained, taking you up the stairs to the roof.

“I'm guessing that was a factor in your renting the place.” You teased him, hugging your arms around his neck.

Clark blushed at you, smiling guiltily. “It was.” He admitted, standing in the middle of the roof. “Hold on really tight and take a deep breath, hold it and I'll let you know, when to let it out, okay?” He explained to you, shifting your weight comfortably.

You nodded, hugging your arms tighter around his neck and took a few breaths, then held it. Giving you a nod of warning, Clark flexed and both of you rocketed into the clouds with an insane speed. What would have taken almost four hours, nonstop, on a normal flight, took less than twenty minutes for Clark to achieve. You panted as he carefully set you down on the dirt driveway of his childhood home. You heard the screen door open and saw a beautiful, older woman step out onto the porch, shading her eyes from the mid afternoon sun.

“Clark?” She called, taking a step down off the porch.

“Hey, Mom.” Clark grinned at her, his hand slipping into yours. “Mom, this is y/n.” He introduced you as she came closer to you both.

“She's the one you've been telling me about?” She asked, grinning at you, brightly. “It's so nice to finally meet you.” She said, giving you a hug.

“It's nice to finally meet you as well, Mrs. Kent.” You smiled, hugging her back.

“Oh, please, call me Martha.” She told you, holding you at arm's length, making your heart skip a beat, finding out the Clark's mother's name was the same as your own mother. “What are you two doing here?”

“Um,” Clark blushed, looking down at Hank as he sniffed around his feet. “There was a bit of trouble, and I need somewhere safe to keep y/n, until her brother and I figure it out.” He told his mother, patting the dog on the head.

“What kind of trouble?” Martha asked, looking between the two of you, and noticed the blood on your jeans and shirt. “Good lord.” She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Mom, it'll be all right.” Clark said, resting his hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. “I'm staying here with you guys, I'll help you around the farm. I know there's a few projects dad started and that I promised to finish.” He pulled back, smiling at her encouragingly.

She stood there, quietly looking up at her son, worried and concerned, but you could see that hint of relief on her face, as well. “Why don't we get you two inside.” She said finally, turning and motioning to the house.

Relieved himself, Clark picked you back up and carried you up onto the porch, stopping as he caught the look on your face. “What is it?”

“I feel like you're carrying me over the threshold, on our wedding night.” You chuckled, resting your hand on his cheek as he blushed.

“I'd be a lucky man, to have you as my wife.” He smiled, teasing you and kissing you softly on the lips as he walked into the house.

Clark carried you upstairs to his bedroom, flicking the light on and setting you down on the double bed. He dropped the bag on the floor and pushed open the window, letting in the cool late summer breeze into the room. with the sound of the wind ruffling the corn stalks, tree branches and tall grass. It felt surreal to you, even the few times you stayed at the country cottage Bruce bought you, there was a busy road not far from it, so you never completely lost the busy city feel. But, here in Smallville, there was none of that, you were literally miles from the busiest road, just endless farm fields, nature and the occasional bark from Hank down in the yard.

“It's so quiet.” You commented, laying back in his bed and grinning at the hanging planets above it.

“Is that going to bother you, city girl?” Clark teased, sitting next to you on the bed, looking up at the planets with you, and tenderly rubbing your good thigh.

“I find it disconcerting, that I can hear my own thoughts without them being interrupted by a car horn, siren or someone yelling a rude comment at someone else.” You teased back, with a giggle. “But, I love how peaceful it is.” You added, in a softer tone, eyes flicker back to his.

“That's one of the things I love about being raised here.” He told you, shifting to lay down on his back, beside you. “It took me a long time to hone my powers, so I didn't hear every huge and microscopic thing. I would sit in the corn field, and just zone everything out, except the sound the stalks made when the wind rustled them, or fixate on a bird, singing in its nearby nest.”

“Are they hard to deal with in a city like Metropolis?” You asked, turning your head to look at him, slipping your hand into his.

“At first it was, cause there's so much sound and its so quick, if that makes sense.” He answered, still looking at the planets. “But, over time, I fine tuned it, and I'm able to control it now, no matter where I am.” He explained, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“That's good.” You smiled, shifting uncomfortably.

Clark turned his head towards you, sensing your pain. “Can I do anything?” He asked, brushing his fingertips over your cheek.

“Not unless one of your super powers, is relieving pain.” You quipped, weakly.

“Sadly, I don't have that super power.” He frowned, sympathetically. “How about a bath instead?” He offered. “Get you cleaned up and into clean clothes, the hot water might even help.”

You let your eyes drift shut at the thought of a nice hot bath, washing off all the grim, dry sweat and blood off your body. “Join me?” You asked, tilting your face towards him, hopeful.

A grin pulled across his lips, and he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Can you make it that far?” He asked, motion to the bathroom door on the other side of the room with a raise of an eyebrow.

“If I can't limp three hops to the bathroom.” You said, sitting up beside him. “You might as well put me down.” You chuckled, but the glint in Clark's eye told you, he didn't find it funny. “I can make it.” You told him, kissing his cheek and propelling yourself up and hopped into the bathroom. “Tah-dah!”

That did make Clark smile, getting up to join you. He helped you peel off your shirt, unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, carefully tugging them down over your wound. He hadn't cauterized the wound there, Pamela had managed to miss any major or troublesome veins, so it had stopped bleeding sometime ago. It still cut through muscle and nerves, making it hard and largely uncomfortable to walk, or limp for that matter. Letting you lean back against the sink, Clark drew the bath and helped ease you into, before taking off his own clothing. You slid forward, letting him slip in behind you and then eased back, resting against his broad and strong chest, melting as his arms locked around you, his chin resting on top of your head. You both just rested in the hot bath, eyes closed and enjoying the safe and peaceful tranquility of the moment. You could hear Clark's mom bumping around downstairs, humming to herself.

“She's making dinner.” Clark suddenly said, as he read your mind.

“Hm.” You hummed, feeling your stomach growl as the mention of food. “It sounds, and smells, amazing.” You commented back, resting your hands on his as they rested on your waist.

“You want some help, cleaning up?” He asked, tilting his head to look at you.

“How can I say no, to a handsome man, offering to wash me?” You laughed, nodding your head.

“You can't.” Clark laughed, softly, into your ear, pressing his lips to your neck.

Clark let you sit up, between his legs, and picked up the soap and a wash cloth. It felt incredible to have his strong hands on your body, rubbing the soapy cloth into your skin and massaging the tight and stressed knots of muscle in your back. He was mindful of your wounds, rinsing away the soap, before letting your hair down, attentively pouring water over your head to wet your hair, then gently working the shampoo into your hair and scalp, making you moan at the amazing feel. Hair and body washed, Clark helped you out of the tub and dry off, you limped back into his bedroom, picking the bag up off the floor and digging through it for your clothes, while Clark took a shower. You limped downstairs, looking at all the family photos that lined the wall going down the steps, smiling at the younger Clark. You found Martha in the kitchen, stirring something that was in the pot on the stove.

“See you got cleaned up.” She said, smiling as she noticed you standing in the kitchen doorway. “Must feel nice after what you've been through.”

“Incredibly so.” You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Dinner smells good.” You complimented her.

“Thank you.” She answered, giving you another smile. “So, tell me, how did you and Clark meet?” She asked, putting a lid on the pot and turning to you.

You blushed, brushing your wet hair behind your ear. “I met him, when he was doing an article on the Charity Gala my brother, Bruce and I, were hosting. He interviewed me at it, and we just kept running into each other, until we fell in love.” You told her, smiling.

“Your brother, Bruce?” Martha asked, brow slowly creasing. “Bruce Wayne? You're Bruce Wayne's sister?”

“I am.” You nodded, frowning back at her.

“He's the one that helped Clark and I get the house back.” She told you, her eyes a bit glassy at the memory.

“Get your house back, how did he do that?”

“Clark was...gone for a while, and while he was away I fell behind in the bank payments, and they foreclosed on the house.” She explained to you, turning back to the stove, needing a psychical distraction. “Your brother and Clark are friends, and he helped us get the house back from the bank.”

“The Smallville Union Bank?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow at her back.

“Yes, you know it?” Martha asked, looking at you over her shoulder.

“Yeah...” You nodded slowly, shocked. “My brother, he bought the bank, out right...” You told her, glancing around as it struck you why Bruce had bought the bank.

“He did it,” Clark's voice came suddenly. “as a gift to me.” he explained, sliding into the seat beside you.

“That's so incredibly sweet of him.” Martha beamed at the two of you, touched.

“It really is.” You agreed, dumbstruck, and looking at Clark, who offered you a small smile, his hand squeezing your knee.

You'd stayed on the Kent farm for nearly two months before Bruce finally did come to visit. He hadn't even so much as call, or send any other type of communication to you, while you were there. He feared that if he did, the people that hurt you would pick up where you were and come after you. So, when he showed up on the porch early one morning, you knew it was because he'd found something out about the people wanting to know about the Advanced Gene Development.

“Bruce?” You said, stepping out on to the porch with him, you'd healed well enough by now that you only had a minor limp. “Did you find out anything?” You asked, feeling your anxiety rise.

Clark had been asleep upstairs, and sensed the rise in your anxiety, he'd become quite attuned to you in the past two months, even more so than he had the year you two spent together back in Metropolis. He figured it was because you two spent every waking moment together, from sun up to sun down, you'd just become synced to him. You also found you really liked the small life of Smallville, quiet and not many people, helping Martha in her garden, and Clark on various of the farm projects; he'd even taught you how to fix the tractor in the barn. So, when he sensed your anxiety, even while dead asleep, he was up and at the screen door in a microsecond.

“Clark.” Bruce greeted him, lifting an eyebrow at the fact Clark was only in his boxers.

“Bruce.” He greeted him back, unbothered.

“I came with news.” Bruce said, turning his eyes back to you.

“Well?” You pressed, sitting down on the porch swing.

“Seems three of the CEOs in the company were working for Pamela Evans, she'd corrupted them.” he started to explain, pacing the length of the porch, which gave you an even more unsettled feeling. “They, ironically, call themselves, the Council,”

“How ominous.” You rolled your eyes, rocking back and forth on the swing.

“It was a rogue group, trying to reproduce and enhance humans,” He looked at Clark, and sighed. “to try and fight any more aliens that might try and take over the planet.”

“Such as Superman.” You understood, glancing at Clark yourself.

“Luckily, they're a small group and easily taken care of.” Bruce went on, leaning back against the porch railing. “I've tracked down most of them, and dispatched them. But, there's one person left, the leader of the group.”

“Pamela wasn't?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Bruce shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Then, who is?” Clark asked, moving to sit on the swing with you.

“His name is Oliver Maddox.” He sighed, rubbing his scruffy face. “He has a very small and faint paper trail, a trail that leaves behind a lot of bodies.” He pressed his lips together, looking at you with a down turned face.

“So, where is Maddox?” Clark asked, on edge.

“I was hoping, you'd help me find him, Clark.” Bruce told him, lifting his head. “If we can eliminate him, then the group will fall apart, and y/n will be safe again.”

“Give me everything you have on him,” Clark told him, adamant. “And I'll take care of him.”

The tone of Clark's voice worried you, but you trusted him. Bruce gave Clark the file on Oliver Maddox, but declined to stay at the farm, even for breakfast, saying he had pressing matters to deal with inside Wayne Industries. You understood that with the corrupted CEOs he had to get rid of, there would be a lot of paperwork and damage control to take of. You sat on Clark's bed after breakfast, worried over the prospect of Clark going after Oliver Maddox, and potentially killing him.

“Y/n.” Clark whispered, leaning against the door jam, and frowned when you didn't answer him. He pushed off the door frame and moved to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Y/n.” He said your name, even softer this time.

You blinked up at him. “You're going to kill him, aren't you?” you asked, quietly.

Clark sank to his knees, moving his hands to hold both of your in his, pressing his lips to your fingers. “If I have to, then, I will.” He whispered, against your knuckles. “But, I will bring him to justice, and keep you safe, y/n.”

You leaned forward and kissed him, deeply, holding his head in your hands. Clark slipped his hands up your arms, gripping your shoulders for a moment, before his hands glided down your back and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, so your legs wrapped around him. He stood up, supporting you with one arm under your butt, turning long enough to close the bedroom door, and lay you back down on the bed. He pulled your sweats and panties off, shoving down his boxers enough to get himself free. You ran your fingers through his hair, fingertips caressing his neck and shoulders, nails racking, harshly, down his lean back and dug into his round ass, making him moan and growl into your neck as he sucked on it. His hands went behind your knees, pushing them farther up and rubbing himself against you, causing you to moan around your trapped lip as you bit into it, and you felt his cock grow and harden against your wet core.

“Clark.” You mewled, breathless, using the advantage of your hands grasping his plentiful ass to jerk his hips against you.

“Y/n.” He groaned back, his eyes squeezing shut at the feel of you.

Sex between the two of you had always been balanced and gentle, but this time it wasn't, it felt desperate and rough, like you needed to keep each other grounded by pure force. Clark rocked his hips into you, driving himself deeper into you each time, your hands moved up his back, hooked under his arms and around to his shoulders, nails breaking the skin at the top of his shoulders and making Clark hiss. The headboard knocked against the bedroom wall to the uneven and hard thrusts, catching Martha's attention as she walked into the house from picking vegetables from the garden, for that night's dinner. She looked up at the ceiling, hearing the faint noises the two of you were making, even above the banging headboard, blushed and shook her head.

“Let's go take a walk, Hank.” She called to the border collie, setting the vegetable basket on the counter. “Give the kids some space.” She chuckled, holding open the back door for the dog and following him out.

“I love you.” You moaned, pulling Clark into a kiss as you both came, needing the taste of him on your lips.

“I love you too, y/n.” Clark moaned into your mouth, brushing your hair out of your face.

It was the screen door slamming that woke you up an hour later, you found yourself alone and knew what was going on. You yanked on your sweats and ran down the stairs, your thigh throbbing from the excretion. Clark was standing a few feet away from the porch, long red cape blowing in the gentle breeze, he turned to you, the breath and words you were starting to form stuck in your throat, seeing him fully decked out in his Superman suit. It defined every muscle you worshiped and hugged the amazing curve of his ass. But, it made a huge swelling of pride burst from inside your chest, and a smile crossed your lips. You looked him in the eye, both of you smiling, both of you knowing what he was going to do, and why. Your feet didn't even touch the porch steps as your ran for him and found yourself wrapped up in his arms, his lips on yours.

“Go get them, Superman.” You whispered against his lips. “And don't be late for dinner, Clark.” You added, chuckling as you stepped back.

“I will, and I won't be.” He grinned, then shot up into the sky, a sonic boom punctuating his ascent, before he vanished into the clouds.

[miscellaneous-miraculous]

Painted Lady Chapter 3

Read on AO3 here

*four years later*

The apartment was a mess and Adrien loved it. He loved finding Nino’s headphones in the most random spots. He loved Alya’s ‘conspiracy wall,’ photos and articles pinned up everywhere with sticky notes of every color. She claimed there was a system, but no one except Alya had ever figured it out. He even – no, especially, loved finding Marinette’s stray needles everywhere. It reminded him of when he was younger, before his father became a supervillain and all-around jerk. It also made their apartment feel lived in, something his own home had never been like.

“Marinette!” Adrien dropped his keys in the bowl, kicking off his shoes at the door. “I got the fabric!” It was Nino’s turn to cook dinner if the scent of tajine was anything to go by. Adrien could already feel his mouth watering.

“Thanks!” Marinette called from the mezzanine. Her ‘nest’ as Alya had dubbed it. Marinette practically lived up there during finals or when she had big projects. Adrien had carried her down after finding her asleep at her desk more than a few times. She leaned over the edge, a tape measure draped around her neck and a few pencils stuck in her hair. “I’ll be down in second, I’ve just got to finish hemming this.”

Adrien nodded, turning his attention to Alya and her wall. “Anything interesting happen today?” He noticed a few new sticky notes.

“Miraculous wise? No. Journalism wise? Also no,” Alya sighed, pushing her glasses up. She was still wearing the white button down she’d put on in the morning, but she’d changed from her skirt into a pair of orange running shorts, her plaid blazer tossed over the back of her desk chair. “Any chance Chat Noir wants to graffiti the Eifel tower or something?”

“I think I’ll pass on that one, but I’ll let you know if I see anything on patrol later.”

“Fair enough,” Alya shrugged, returning to her board. “I’ve got a few leads to check again, but I doubt anything new will come up. Still nothing in any international news either.”

“Is bad I just want something happen?” Adrien set down the fabric bag on the couch. “We finally solved the thing with my father, but Lila’s still out there. I just wish we had a clearer target.”

“Me too, Sunshine,” Alya took a sticky note from her wall, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re on patrol later, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I tag along?” she folded the sticky note into her shorts pocket.

“Sure, you know you’re free to come whenever, right?”

Alya smirked, “Like I’d ever willingly tag along on a day that’s just you and Ladybug.” Adrien blushed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “There’s a reason we alternate patrol days.”

“Like you and Nino are any better.”

“Try you and Nino,” Alya snorted in laughter. “Last time you two patrolled together all the news stations were covering a brain freeze contest between Chat Noir and Carapace.”

“That I won!” Nino called from the kitchen.

“Did not!” Adrien protested. Alya only rolled her eyes, looking amused.

 “Case in point.”

Adrien was spared replying by Nino shouting, “Dinner in five!”

“I’ll get Marinette,” he said, picking up the fabric bag.

“Don’t get too distracted, lover boy,” Alya said with a wink.

Adrien ignored her, making his way up the ladder. Marinette had several pins in her mouth as she worked on the hem of her dress. It was plain black aside from the two tiny Ladybug stitched over the right shoulder and there weren’t any fancy folds or stiches because of the jacket she’d paired with it. Adrien hadn’t seen it finished, but he knew it was a pink silk bolero that she’d spent days hand embroidering with different flowers. It was the final piece in a collection of six.

“Marinette, Nino said dinner’s almost ready.”

“That’s five minutes of work I can squeeze in,” she said, taking the pins from her mouth.

Adrien sighed, resting his head in his arms as he waited. Then his eyes zeroed in on the basket of yarn in the corner. He had barely reached for it when Marinette said, “Absolutely not, remember what happened last time you got into my yarn?”

“It was one time!” he protested.

“And how many hours of rerolling the balls?” She shook her head, still focused on her work.

Adrien mumbled something about the softness of the yarn before reaching for it again. “Adrien Agreste, I will bring out the laser pointer.”

“Is that a promise?”

Marinette sighed, “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” She laid the pins and tape measure on her desk, shuffling a few papers before making her way down the ladder. “How was your day?”

“It was alright. Finally finished the equation set from the beginning of the week, with a little help from Plagg. Who knew he was so good at explaining Physics?”

“I’ve been around since before Physics was invented,” Plagg yawned. “Now cheese bread, there’s an innovation worth celebrating.”

“I’ll pick some up next time I’m at the bakery,” Marinette promised. “Just try not to eat through it in two days, Mama was worried last time since three out of the four of us are lactose intolerant and it was all gone in a day.”

“You poor, poor humans,” Plagg sighed. “Missing out on all the gooey goodness of cheese.”

“I’m so glad Wyazz just eats lettuce,” Nino said, placing a large dish in the center of the table. He was still wearing the apron Marinette had made him – a green hexagonal pattern embroidered with the words ‘turtle-ly awesome’ and a little smiling turtle underneath.

“Yeah, you and Marinette really lucked out in the kwami feeding department,” Alya said, taking her seat. “Remember when Trixx had me going to the store for frozen mice?”

“I’d rather not.” Adrien shuddered as he remembered opening the freezer and thinking they looked just a little too appetizing for comfort. Marinette might be fine eating flowers but if he ever found a rodent in his mouth, he and Plagg were going to have a serious talk. Especially since he and Marinette had talked about going to the pet store to pick out a hamster once the school year ended.

“I still remember Nino’s screams when he found one on his pillow,” Marinette giggled.

“That was not cool, dude,” Nino frowned at Trixx who merely shrugged.

“I was saving it for later.”

“And you wanted to see Nino’s face when he found it,” Tikki added. It had been her who told Alya that kwamis could eat almost anything, even if they did have their preferences. After that Trixx had been negotiated down to chicken and the occasional sugar mouse.

“Oh, of course,” Trixx smiled indulgently.

“Nino, do you have a gig tonight?” Adrien asked, changing the subject before he could think any more about the possible taste of frozen mice.

Nino shook his head, “Nope, finally got a break in my schedule. Next week’s packed though.”

“Up for some Mech Strike after dinner then? I convinced Marinette to take a break and join us.”

“Since when?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“Since just now,” Adrien said, pulling out his best kitten eyes.

The battle didn’t last long.

“As long as you’re prepared to lose,” Marinette said, getting herself more tajine.

“I’d expect nothing less, my lady.”

“Speak for yourself, bro,” Nino protested. They all gave him a look – Nino was notoriously bad at video games. Even though he’d been getting slightly better over the years, he was still no match for Marinette. “Can’t a man dream?”

They all laughed at that.

After dinner Marinette went to set up the game while Alya and Nino did the dishes. Adrien and Alya had been banned from doing dishes together ever since Alya had realized he hissed like a cat whenever the water splashed him, and she found it entirely too entertaining. The moment Marinette sat down Adrien sprawled himself across her lap. “I hope this isn’t some elaborate scheme to distract me,” she said, shifting to a more comfortable position as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Adrien gasped in mock hurt as he placed a hand on his chest, “How could you think so low of me? I simply missed my lady’s company.”

“We spent the entire day together yesterday,” Marinette said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Exactly, yesterday, today is an entirely different day.”

"Hmm," Marinette tapped her chin. “Well, we could always meet up for some late-night ice cream after your patrol.”

“Ooh, that new place that just opened? With all the toppings?” Adrien’s ice cream usually ended up at least ninety percent toppings.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to try it out.”

"Let’s do it then,” Adrien said, practically purring with excitement.

Continue on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580646/chapters/58909261

[tellthosewithpowersafeintower]

Ramblings About What I Loved In A Live Production of Newsies I Had The Chance to See

I loved! Everything this cast did so much I'm so thrilled I had the chance to see it

Three's The Day was real with this cast okay

There were several times I had to twist my head away freaking out because I was like this is my ship and holy heck I'm too gay to handle this

It was very gay

OKAY so I’m going to ramble about Three's The Day stuff that made me so happy and excited and if you don’t want to listen to that feel free not to read

This is very lengthy

Okay. So it opens with the Santa Fe prologue and Crutchie got up and I immediately adore him

The ladder is like on the right end of the penthouse and Crutchie's climbing down before he tries to reach up to grab his crutch and slips

Jack pushes Crutchie's crutch into his chest and just seemed so panicked and worried about him

Jack blows a raspberry at the streets of New York and giggles and I died inside

He made the funniest voices and faces and was just so playful and cute I can't

Jack and Crutchie sing directly into each other's faces during Santa Fe prologue and always looked like they're about to lean in and kiss

Crutchie just looks so adoringly across the rooftop to Jack the entire time he's singing

Crutchie starts crying a little after the "watch me run" instead of just his face falling and tries to hide his face bc this is Jack Kelly and he can't let Jack see him cry and Jack just runs over and pulls him into a hug and rests his hand over Crutchie's heart and sings so tenderly to him

The transition into Carrying the Banner is great

The towers were so cool! They had to hook/unhook little door things to connect or wall up the areas and it was really cool to watch

Their Race is so fun

Albert just goes about his activities like it was the easiest flow in the world and grabs Race's cigar so fluidly as if it was part of his routine and Race becomes so indignant

He shrugs a little and like "that's fair" when Albert told him he'd steal another

All the boys are just so cute through the whole explanations

Albert just gestures like his brain exploded and "duh! That's so obvious" after the whole "any banker, bum, or barber"

In Carrying the Banner Jack does these little wiggles and shuffles around at the front of the stage with the boys and it was lovely

After the boys scoff and turn away when Crutchie starts singing about his personality Jack runs to him and is super supportive and sweet and pats and hugs him and they were both so smile-y and sweet

Jack was constantly swinging or dancing in the background when he was watching the boys

Crutchie hands Finch his slingshot before he ran up to sing his line

Specs blows a raspberry at the Delanceys and pulls faces at them when they chase after Jack after he knocks them around for going after Crutchie

Wiesel mostly stays Center Stage and yelled out to the boys from there to go where both of the Delanceys have the papes

Davey stops by Crutchie to count his papes and Crutchie is sneaking looks from behind his papers like "oooh what's this?" about Davey

Jack is the one who gets Davey's last paper and crosses to give it to him

After he gets his papes (all 20) he tries to jet for the exit as quickly as possible

He gets stopped by Crutchie talking about Jack and still seems to want to get out of there as soon as he can

Davey shakes his head a little when Les fake cries and sniffles to look sad

Les lights up when Jack goes to spit shake

His jaw just drops and he gasped a little like whoa, we can do that?! He looks so gleeful

It was baby's first show beyond small community theater and he was SO SO AMAZING I ADORE HIM

I'm so sad I can't remember some of the smaller things he did bc I love him

Crutchie is the first one to greet Davey and shakes his hand while Jack starts talking to the other boys and their expressions were just. The sweetest. Davey's little shy smile is the first expression he's shown really beyond like a hand on Les's shoulder and a little protective glance

Les has a limp when he goes up to sell a pape and is fake crying and he doesn't drop it even for a few seconds after she's walked offstage

Jack runs across stage to him and is so thrilled

Davey lingers as far back on stage as he can in most of the scenes

Jack's delivery of "I said he heard it right here and he did" was so great

Davey starts to walk off stage when Les blurts out "doesn't everyone" and Davey fumbles to try to explain to Jack why they're there when he crosses back

Jack panics and Davey immediately is on his heels following without hesitation no matter how much he's seemed to want to get out quickly

When they're running from Snyder Jack guided the Jacobs up the stairs in front of him before going after the cop to try and keep them safe

He shoves the cop back and ran up the other side of towers before Davey and Les meet him in the middle of the balcony thing in Medda's theater

I loved Medda!

Les like

Wiped his arms and hands ALL up and down Jack's painted set in the theater for a while before asking "you pictured that?"

Davey looks a little overwhelmed when the lights came down in the theater and flinches slightly but when he started watching Medda he became really invested and it was cute to watch

Medda's voice is deep and rich and she sung so gorgeously

She interacted with the audience and was just so amazing

Jack stuck around from back on the towers behind her balcony trying to see how Kath reacted to his drawing

Jack and Crutchie are like always chest to chest or hugging or touching at least several times each scene

One of the boys yelled "that's-" and then tries to do the math for what 60 cents per hundred would mean after they see the headline

Davey stays as far back from the boys huddle as he can and is pretty far away when he says "you mean like a strike" and Jack's head just snaps up

Davey keeps talking but seems a little flustered and is trying to keep as much space as he can

Crutchie limps over to Jack as quickly as he can after nominating him president and Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they grinned at each other and it was the sweetest thing

After the boys start talking and gathering close together Davey hovers at the edges like he doesn't know what to do and backs as far off the stage he can muster before Jack asks him "Davey?" and he looks so visibly uncomfortable like he doesn't know how to interact

Davey slowly stepped up onto a stack of newspapers as a few of the boys darted over and gathered around him

He was so happy to be included in the pats and lingering hugs with the newsies and it was the cutest

Crutchie's so excited to beat people up at that one point in World Will know and frantically thrust his crutch in the air for emphasis and stomped and flung his fist a little after they said he couldn't like "dangit I wanted to beat people up with my crutch"

Davey starts doing smaller little motions and sometimes getting really into the dance like the other boys and it was great to watch

Jack climbs up to write Strike on the board and Davey stands with Les like downstage right away from the rest of the boys singing sneaking looks up at him

When Jack said Davey would go to Brooklyn Davey went, "Me?" And he kind of slumped and his voice went whiny "I have to do it?" Like Jack don't make me interact with people

Jack and Crutchie brush hands almost like they wanted to hold each others' but didn't have time/oh wait we can't do that right now

Crutchie was so sweet in all his scenes

He was constantly chatting with the other newsies and sitting next to them

Kath starts going up the stairs before Davey says they should save any exclusive for a real reporter and Jack starts nodding before Kath spins around and is like "Do you see anyone else giving you the time of day?"

Jack was so excited all the time

He never stayed still

He constantly swung down from the railings and kicked his feet in the air when he was really happy

He jumped up and down and stomped when he got emotional

He pounded his arm over his chest rapidly and gestured a lot and all the little quirks were just SO WELL DONE and made my heart so happy

Crutchie was the sweetest friendliest boy who constantly was talking with the newsies and gravitates to Jack always

He darts between Jack and Davey visibly on stage like he couldn't decide which one to go to during a lot of the numbers scenes and they were all just really sweet with each other

Katherine was so cute

Her voice went really high and it sounded like she changed what she was going to say halfway through when she said Plumber

She did this like sassy type thing during Watch What Happens and got really frustrated with her writing and did a whole bunch of gesture things that are a Writing Mood

She was so pretty and her voice was gorgeous

She just gestured angrily with the paper she crumpled up after she yanked it out to try to start the article fresh

She posed like she was going to fight when going through Watch What Happens

I really wish I remembered more but I loved her!!

She was rapid typing when she was wheeled off stage

Davey tries to talk to Race or Albert but he's so nervous he can't talk and stammers and runs over to Jack asking him to tell them because he can't

He starts singing Seize the Day immediately after being told and is so awed like "whoa I did that"

Davey's voice was really deep and when he went to sing Seize The Day I swear my heart stopped

Davey stammers at the start and someone snorted before he gets traction in courage and went on

Davey goes to Crutchie around "You're still our brothers," and their faces were so close and they looked so adoring

And then Jack joins them and they all look at each other and kind of hug/drape their arms around each other and sneak looks while singing

Their "and we will fight for you" is for each other okay

Jack and Davey and Crutchie were constantly drawing close to each other and were just super tactile

And then when they go into the next Seize the Day's

Davey and Jack are nearer to the front of the stage with Les tucked in front of them

Jack wraps his arm around Davey before Crutchie joins them and then he has an arm around each of them and the three of them sing and sneak glances at each other while the rest of the newsies sing on the other side of the stage

Crutchie was READY to throw down with the scabs and looks so disappointed when everybody else has to stop him from going after them

When Les said "Please?" he was up on the cart with the newsies and Specs ruffled his hat and the other newsies reached out to him and it was adorable

Davey looked so startled and touched when he glanced back and saw that the newsies were singing after him in Seize the Day

Davey runs up to join Jack in the dance line without prompting and they both were just super sweet

Davey glances over to watch Jack when they were running the line trying to make sure he was doing it right/follow

Crutchie stands by the curtain and was so bouncy and cheerful for the boys

When Jack was running off stage after they did the line stomp and paused for a second by Crutchie who was so bouncy excited for them being like "You okay boo"

HOLY HECK THE DANCERS WERE SO INCREDIBLE BEYOND WORDS

The boys come on to do their fancy flips and twirls and they did so much on stage everyone was screaming

Jack and Crutchie stand by each other back on the pillars during the dance break and dork off sneaking looks at each other

They're so happy

Davey is behind Jack and Crutchie and grins a little

Crutchie and Les tear the paper and Crutchie only got a tiny corner

When he and Les walk off they're talking and I couldn't hear but it seems like yeah kid, you did it! good job bud

Jack and Crutchie are constantly on each other

Tommy Boy? Or whoever spun so many times KICKED UP PAST HIS HEAD after he did the spins

Davey seems so animated and expressive and so happy for himself when he starts dancing when he never seemed to have the courage to go all out in the other numbers before

They all pose and Crutchie comes on and he is just such an expressive boy okay

Jack is the last to notice the bulls because he was really happy and faced to the crowd and he sort of faded out like "what? What's happening?" and he turned to the boys and saw the bulls

They all just throw the papers and none of them really hit anyone but they are all trying okay

Davey got so beat up in the fight

Everyone did

Poor Jack was just knocked everywhere

Davey got pinned by a Delancey and beaten on the cart and only got away by chance bc the bull showing up and hitting Romeo was a surprise long enough for him to get out

He had to stop a bull from snagging Les

The bull pinned him to a wall and started beating him

He got away and hid behind a cart with Les and he looked so agonized when Crutchie was getting beat because he couldn't leave his baby brother alone like this but that's Crutchie

Jack looks so hurt and terrified and when he starts screaming for Crutchie I couldn't even

When Davey ran with Les he looked so unbearably guilty and Jack's expressions... There are not words for how easily they could rip the heart out of your chest okay

I have seen the fight scene so many times

Never live

But this one felt so. Much. Worse

Everyone was getting knocked around and hit so many times (a lot more than they seem to in live) and it was so chaotic and helpless and it was devastating

Jack sounded like he was trying not to sob when he was breathing when he made it to the penthouse and he threw the door open to pace

He stopped where Crutchie was crying at the opening

Santa Fe

There are no words

He paced the penthouse and he was so emotional

I swear you could just see a lifetime of that weight and tragedy and abuse and this man just SHOWED ALL OF THAT that he hadn't lived in a few minutes

His emotion just blew me away

At one point he reached up to the spotlight like it was the moon so big and yellow and stretched his hand out like they were the stars and it was just beautiful

Near the end of the song he turned his back and it just felt several times like he was seeking for Crutchie expecting him to be there but he WASN'T THERE

He hit that note and held it for a long time and it was so gorgeous

When the curtain slowly went down Jack stayed there devastated and unmoving without twitching until the curtain was all the way down, maybe even a few seconds after

Davey seems really awkward in the start of King of New York, I couldn't even find him from where he was in the corner of Jacobi's

Race is so amazing

He was so dramatic with his gestures and I adore him

His the world is your erster is great and he just kept his cigar in his mouth and drew it into his hand to give them a long disapproving look before repeating himself

Specs glances over his shoulder to make sure with Davey he got the word right and Davey is so gleeful excited because he finally understood something

Les is the one who battled one of the newsies in the spoon-fight esque thing

After he did he ran back to Katherine and jumps up on the table by her. Les is so excited and she is telling him "yeah?" And it was the cutest thing

Davey looks so thrilled whenever Les did anything

Proud big bro

Les just seems SO SO EXCITED when Davey was getting more expressive and becoming happy as he spent more time with the newsies

Les and Davey were constantly goofing around together, more in later scenes because Dave was growing more comfortable

Letter From The Refuge broke me

You do not understand

They started wheeling the bed on with Crutchie folded over and his bruised eye and bleeding

And this kid started singing and I died

He hunches over mostly so you can't see him and he quietly set the paper aside to sing out at one point

The only time he seems happy and excited is when he sounds so entranced and adoring singing about the penthouse and Santa Fe with Jack

One of the boys hits Crutchie's bad leg to get him to stop during Letter From the Refuge and one of the boys smacks him upside the head

Crutchie breaks down sobbing which is when he barely manages to get out "damn this place"

He's trying to scrub tears away when he's saying "I'll be fine"

His voice grows (and holy heck this kid can sing) when he's begging for Jack to tell the others to take care of each other

He grabs the paper in time to try to write his farewell

They had a flickering candle (not sure if it was a cool effect battery powered one or something) that he blew out and the stage immediately went dark after

Jack looks like he wants to flee after Davey enters but Medda gives him a Mom look

Davey dropped the bottom half of the paper and did the cutest little laugh grin after above the fold and it WAS SO PURE

His delivery of the we're inevitable line was SO GOOD I don't have words

You could just see the slow shift in Davey's mannerisms as he grew more confident in himself and it was so so gorgeous

Davey whacked Les with his hat after the "and then he died" like Les that isn't polite people talk

Jack becomes super tense when Kath and Les show up

He grows more and more panicked and jumpy and he had a very visible bruise on his face

Davey's voice sounded like it broke after Jack talked about Crutchie

Jack made these little side to side head nod tilts as Davey was singing behind him trying to explain that they had them all scared

Davey and Jack sang into each other's faces like Jack and Crutchie did at one point in Watch What Happens Reprise

Katherine and Davey just shared these little looks

They held hands for a moment after they got Jack to listen to them encouraging him to come join them before he hops up next to Les

Katherine was really kind to Davey and I would die for their little friendship interactions

Katherine and Jack and Davey and Les all stood together like a proud family and then Jack and Les and Davey played around for a little near/after the end of the song

Jack was so goofy and fun in the office and he loses it when Snyder goes in

He looked so terrified of Pulitzer especially when he shoved right into his face and was snarling about the Refuge and went rigid and I was left wondering if Jack was bracing to be smacked hhhng

He was yelping and shuffling and trying to keep the Delanceys from touching him when they were guiding him away

Brooklyn's Here was amazing!

So many red colors

Everyone was up there on ‘the bridge' and Spot was so expressive and all the Brooklyn boys were great to watch

Spot posed and folded his arms and tipped his chin up on the ending note of the song

Spot pumped up the audience until everyone was screaming and then silenced us

He started the chant of Jack and Davey looked so panicked

Davey's voice is high and really fast when he steps into the center of the rally incredibly stiff and says "Newsies of New York!"

He like squeezes his eyes shut and winces for a second

And he gasps and glanced around a little looking so terrified and awkward and anxious and stammering before he gets into his speech

The boys start yeahing and cheering

By the end Davey looks so proud of himself as he gets more into it and is yelling words and looks so freaking accomplished

YOU DID IT YOU BEAUTIFUL CHILD

Davey stammers so much

Davey constantly stuck at the edges of the stage at first (even in KoNY) and seemed to really struggle with understanding interactions

But he's proud and happy and speaking up at the end and my heart was so happy beyond words

Then Jack comes in

Kath snuck in to stand on the balcony by some of the other borough's boy at some point

Davey looks so happy! He's watching Jack and smiling and then things twist and there starts to be quiet dissent until everything falls apart

Davey is the first one stepping up and protesting because Jack turns to him first

All the boys were yelling and Davey was right there like "Jack no!"

Davey literally put himself between Jack and Spot who was trying to hit him and then all the other boys after the Bowery Speech when everyone was yelling and lurching towards Jack to guard him with his own body

He was like no you aren't touching him okay I love him

Les got knocked to the floor by Jack after he got the money in the chaos and Davey looked so heartbroken before he grabbed Les to get him out of there

I think Jack made a little choking noise and didn't even have time to shout Davey's name

Jack was so tense and rigid when he made it to the penthouse

He seemed so terrified and it TORE MY HEART OUT OKAY

He froze for a second when Kath kissed him like for a second he hadn't made the connection and still thought he was about to be hit or just had been

Les was the most adorable child ever

He was so intense and did everything he could to be with the newsies and it was wonderful

This kid was so vividly expressive okay

Kath made a voice to imitate Les and Davey looked so offended for a split second like 'don't insult my baby brother'

Davey puts a hand on Jack's shoulder to slow him and looks so hopelessly gone when he says it's good to have him back again

Jack got so flustered and stammered for several seconds "Shut up"

Jack grabs Davey's collar and they leaned really close together when they were excited during Once and For All and they were both gleeful and excited and looked like they were going to pull into a kiss

Jack squeezed Davey's shoulders and grinned at him when he was walking past him behind the printing press

Once and For All gave me so many chills

Jack went to spit shake with Davey and it's the first time Davey does it back

They lingered for a minute just giggly and in awe and staring at each other softly. Jack looks like he doesn't want to stop or move away from each other when they had to go opposite ways on the stage

They both end up on opposite towers on the ends of the middle row closest to each other

Jack reached out to Davey as soon as he was near enough to reach him when their two pillars were being pushed together and pulled his arm around him when he was close enough to do so in their Once and For All's

In Once and For All Jack and Davey just touched whenever they could

They sang so emotionally to each other and looked so in love

Jack just… pelted into Pulitzer's office and slammed the paper down on the desk

When he flicked the money back it bounced off Pulitzer's stomach and landed on the desk and it was really funny

Davey didn't even flinch going up to Pulitzer

He might have glanced at Jack once in the exchange

Jack just watched where he was lazing having fun on the chair looking so smug and proud

Jack got up to go to Davey and say "Cause guys like Joe don't talk to nothings like us" and it broke my heart a little but he and Davey just shared a really touching look

The light on the stage is red in Pulitzer's office and it cast really cool shadows!

The newsies came in along the aisle to sing Seize the Day up to Pulitzer's office and I noticed when they were creeping in and I was so happy

Les was sitting on one of the newsies shoulder's holding up the sign they had for Manhattan

They all did an awesome stomp in time for chanting Seize the Day

Jack was about to spit shake and then he realized it was the governor and just stammered before shaking his hand

Davey tried to whack Jack on the chest after he ran back to Davey after talking to the Governor and Davey looked really confused like he wasn't sure if he was doing casual pats right siaifaj

Davey shakes his head and starts speaking like he isn't going to leave Jack until Kath goes to get him and Katherine held his hand when he was freaking out

Jack gestures to his heart and waves and smiles at them before they exit

He had a super deep mocking voice and for the "compromise we can all live with"

Davey swung Les around in the air when they'd heard they won

Race took his hat off in respect for the Governor when he entered like "your majesty"

Davey blew a raspberry from across the Square and did the weird thumb on nose finger wiggle thing Jeremy Jordan does in Live at Jacobi's making fun of Snyder after they see he's arrested

Davey jumped like a foot in the air in joy when he saw that Crutchie was back with the happiest expression ever

Davey looked so proud after Crutchie sent Snyder away

Crutchie blew a raspberry in Snyder's face after cuffing him and hit him with Snyder's back with his crutch on the exit

Davey ran to Crutchie as soon as he could and hugged him really tight and even when they pulled back they were grinning and stayed really close and kept holding onto each other

It was beautiful

They were just giggly and excited and chattering when Jack comes down the stairs

Davey's face just dropped when Jack started talking about leaving for Santa Fe

He looked so in love with both of them all the time okay

Davey did say "Sand storms" and Jack chuckled a little and it was precious

Crutchie and Davey were like on either side with Kath like in the middle behind Jack if I remember correctly and Crutchie just looked so in love

Jack finally ran and pulled Crutchie into a hug after "we're a family" and didn't let him go for probably longer than a solid minute

Crutchie and Davey went off together to get their papes and they were so dorky and playful

Davey barely stops touching Crutchie

Crutchie didn't care how badly his leg dragged when he was excited to get places and I just... Adored him

Les slowly side-walked towards Jack and Katherine when they're talking at the finale gaping at them and it was HYSTERICAL

Davey!! Was so good! He showed so much emotion and growth and I loved seeing him go from the smallest little expressions to how engaged and goofy he was in King of New York and how ecstatic and tactile he was when he was with Jack and Crutchie again

They hugged so many times and my heart died

Jack just lit up the stage every second he was on

I absolutely adored their Crutchie beyond words

Crutchie was the best thing ever and I would die for him

He was so great

Davey always seemed confused

I have said it before and I will say it again

All Davey Jacobs are Confused Davey Jacobs

This one was no different and he did SO WELL

Crutchie was always expressive and sweet

He leaned in to check on one of the boys in the wagon

His expressions never ceased to bring joy in the entire show

My friend thought Les fell into the live orchestra for a minute bc he vanished

I don't think he did

I hope

The ensemble and swings

I have no words

They did so many incredible flips and spins and dance moves

Davey did a high kick at the end!

One of the dancers dropped their cap and rolled it up their arm and it was INCREDIBLE

I don't know if it was planned or not but I absolutely adored it

All of them deserve appreciation and I'm so sad I couldn't watch all of them individually

All the boys did so many precious little gestures

They all did so great

I don’t have words for how much I adored having the chance to see this it was incredible

[incorrectmlpquotes]

My Thoughts on Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks

Or: Are we sure this didn’t come out in 2004 rather than 2014? Because the “battle of the bands”  story line feels super dated for some reason. I feel like almost every early 2000s cartoon had some sort of music contest episode, and I never liked them. I blame American Idol for making those popular.

Some History:

I’m under the impression that everything in this movie I dislike is a completely subjective thing that wouldn’t bother someone else. I know that, from a movie standpoint, this is much better than the first, but I just don’t like it as much. Everything that warrants complaint comes from a personal hangup that I have (such as: my lack of any musical ability causes me to not care at all whether their band is successful), so if you disagree, I completely understand. These are all my opinions, and I’m aware that this is probably the best of the four movies. (As stated on a previous post, I haven’t watched any of the shorts from 2017 or 2018 as of this entry)  

There were a series of promotional shorts released before the movie debuted that explains how the members of the Main 5 came to play their instruments in Rainbow Dash’s band, and some other random stuff. Here’s the link to the playlist on youtube. Here’s a quick rundown of what I think:

Music to My Ears : meh

Guitar Centered : funny, but kind of mean spirited

Hamstocalypse Now : Hilarious.

Pinkie on the One : exactly what you’d expect it to be

Player Piano: a masterpiece

A Case for the Bass: Applejack is one word, why would she have AJ embroidered on the strap? I know people call her that but those aren’t her initials

Life is a Runway: There’s a reason they didn’t let Rarity write the songs

Shake Your Tale: Bad.

This was a pretty clever way to establish some musical background within the group without taking up time in the movie. It also is some sneaky foreshadowing with Trixie, which I appreciate.

In the actual movie: My nitpicks are going to be less Why is no one in class? Why is doesn’t anyone have homework? Because I realize this is a movie and depicting high school as it actually is would be boring to watch. Besides, there are plenty of other things to complain about.

We open on a scene of this film’s villains. And yes I am going to refer to them as villains instead of antagonists because 1) they are actually a threat and we see them doing bad things, and 2) other people will serve as antagonists. A villain is different from an antagonist, even though the terms are often used interchangeably. 

The Dazzlings are so cool, they make a cameo four years later. Either this is some really deep foreshadowing, or by season seven the writers were so desperate for an ongoing arc, they looked to other properties. But we now know that the guardians banished them over 1,000 years ago. So they really are ancient magic. And now they have to go to high school. Talk about eternal torment… 

Way to take all the credit, Starswirl

We are shown how they are a sort of siren, who feed off of people’s negativity and discord and use their beautiful enchanted voices to cause mayhem. Kind of like a mix between Ursula the sea witch and Spectra from Danny Phantom. Oh my gosh, this is the second one of these reviews that I’ve brought up Danny Phantom. Maybe this is why Butch thinks he’s so popular.

The Dazzlings, we can infer, have been exiled to the EQG-verse from Equestria. So apparently this universe is like the pony version of colonial Australia, where they send all their criminals and miscreants. A solid plan that couldn’t have any negative repercussions. The sirens see a beam of light that must be the one from the last movie. This is good news for them, but bad news for me because now I have no idea how much time has passed the two films. Has it been a couple days? Weeks? Moons? This will make a difference in regards to why people still don’t trust Sunset. But why waste time setting up the story when we can get right into the remix title card?

At this point, I can only assume that principal Celestia threatened to expel students if they told the news or the FBI about the magical winged demon that attacked the school, because no one seems too concerned about that incident.

But they have plenty of time to hurt my baby’s feelings

I’m going to be honest, when I first watched EQG I thought that Sunset was faking her remorseful act after being defeated. As cool as that would have been, she makes a much better reformed bad guy than an antagonist, because she really wasn’t in the last movie that much.

List of “evil” things Sunset Shimmer has done: send fraudulent text messages and emails that honestly could have been pretty easily disproved, made fun of Fluttershy, made fun of the steamers in the gym, somehow divided the school into cliques, ran a mostly unsuccessful smear campaign against Twilight’s bid for dance princess, threatened to destroy the portal to Equestria, transformed into a demon to hypnotize the students, and she dissed the Apple cider. 

Ok, that last one is pretty evil. But what really makes this and all subsequent movies great is that we get to see her learn and grow and change from the experience into a real friend.

I am glad to see that the Main 5 have forgiven her, but no one is quite ready to absolve her of guilt. Like, I might not think she did all that much bad junk, but the students of Canterlot High seem to think she was one tier below Mussolini  in terms of maniacal dictators, so I don’t blame them for being cautious. It takes a lot to earn back trust.

Back in Equestria proper, the Mane six plus Spike are sitting around waiting for the plot to affect them. They kindly provide some exposition and once again setup the fact that only Twilight can go through the portal, because the others can’t interact with themselves. So we think. I will be bringing this up when we get to The Friendship Games.

Back through the portal, Twilight  gets looped into the fact that Sunset has changed her ways. It’s fair to be a little apprehensive to trust someone who, the last time you saw them, was an actual literal demon. (Don’t worry though, Twi, you’ve still got two more unicorns to reform. It’s kind of your thing.)

Don’t reject her love Twilight, it’s all I have to live for

And now it’s time to discuss the small blue elephant in the room. I feel like I really need to explain why I dislike the addition of Flash to any of the plots. He’s kind of a waste of a potential. You want to add a male character: fine. But make them an actual real fleshed-out character. The show has proven that they can do it and do it well. Sunburst and Thorax are great characters who feel like a good addition to the story. And we got a real sense of who they were in one or two twenty minute episodes. I have no clue what this guy’s purpose is except to be a love interest, and this is not the show to do that with. With very few exceptions, the main characters of MLP have not sought out romantic partners, Twilight included. Why would she choose to do so now? I mean, I get why he’s into Twilight: she’s taken the form of a cute teenage girl. But he’s a species that doesn’t even exist in Equestria. She just fell through a portal and instantly got the hots for some weird otherworldly creature…

Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. Perhaps this isn’t compulsory heterosexuality. Perhaps Twilight Sparkle is just a Monster Lover™. I can respect that.

Moving on.

It was so very smart of the writers to have the Dazzlings brainwash the principals in order to get away with this scheme. That makes so much more sense and covers any plot holes that could arise (such as, someone claiming to be a new student despite having no transcript, no grades, and no knowledge of how to hold a pen).

Does time work differently between these two universes? Has it been months in Equestria but only a week in this world? (It really threw me off that the first four season of MLP took place over one year, and these movies don’t help that). And the sad thing is, this could be easily hand-waved away by a single throw away line, but it isn’t.

The Dazzlings are already better villains than Sunset, even from a character standpoint. We know their powers, we know their motivation, and we know they are capable of bringing about an actually believable rift between friends.

Then the best song, best montage, and possibly best scene in any of these films happen: the Dazzling come into the lunchroom and hypnotize everyone. This song is beautiful and eerie and exactly what you would expect a magic spell to sound like. I also enjoy the visual representation of the bands competing (and not just because I didn’t want to hear any of them perform) that we’ll see later. To give credit where credit is due, this movies has some great visual sequences.

Give ‘em the o’l razzle dazzle

At first I thought it was unrealistic that this many kids had bands, but I realized it was probably an effect of the spell. But I might not be the best judge: I think I know maybe three people, plus myself, who don’t play an instrument. I’ll just assume that the Disney channel exists in this universe, and all these children just really want to be famous.

It’s worth sitting through this movie just to see everyone’s pajamas. That’s not weird, right? No really, the scene of them all having a big slumber party is everything I ever wanted from this series. They managed to capture everyone’s personality from an article of clothing. Now THAT’s good character design.

I get the distinct impression that the writers of this don’t like Rainbow Dash.

Oh good, references to technology that couldn’t possibly date this movie in the slightest. Wait… this is Pinkie’s house. Aren’t the Pies supposed to be like Amish or resembling Amish-type folk? What is the human equivalent of rock farmers? Not actual farmers because those exist in the pony-verse. This really confuses me, but Maude’s cameo is fantastic.

The scene with Twilight and Sunset is one of those really well-done moments that reminds me why I love the show so much. It feels really genuine, and supports my argument that it was worth having Sunset as a crappy villain just to reform her.

Ah yes, the sweet, lingering glances that totally platonic female friends share with each other late at night. I know them well.

Our girl Twily seems to be having trouble writing a spell that can double as a catchy pop song (She’s no Lana Del Rey), so they go with an old set list. How long has this band been operational? Weren’t they in a huge feud for several years?

Mac is a close second for best cameo

So we get to watch the band audition, and it goes about as well an actual high school talent show. The CMC are in the outfits from Showstoppers (which is hilarious) and Snips and Snails rap (which is disturbing). In order to keep my goblin brain from exploding while trying to figure out the ages of everyone, I’m just going to assume that this is a combination Middle School and High School. So, if Sunset won fall dance princess four years in a row, she would be in the tenth grade now, so they would be about 15-16. The Equestria Girls Holiday Comic shows Rarity driving a car, so that could be a possibility.

A. Daft. Punk. Reference. Wow. Just wow. (Note: this was more shocking before season five, when there was a character that was basically Lady Gaga. And by basically, I mean very obviously Lady Gaga. Remember when the pop culture references in this show were subtle?)

Dash’s song is quite possibly the most cringeworthy thing I have ever heard. The only defense is it does sound like something a high schooler would write.

On that note, why is Rainbow Dash the lead singer of the group? I mean, I know why, but WHY? (and yes, I am aware that her voice actress is a singer. But Ashleigh Ball uses her normal voice when she performs. Think back to all the songs RD has sung in the previous four seasons before this aired. There are not a lot of solos or high notes. When she sings as Applejack, it is beautiful, but Dash’s voice is grating sometimes)

Really? A battle of the bands is the greatest thing you’ve done at the school? That whole “stopping an actual demon with magic” was just a regular Friday for you? I’ll chalk that up to the brainwashing, otherwise I might go full on rage and throw my laptop out a window.

I guess our merry band of protagonists weren’t paying attention to big cafeteria scene, because they just now figured something suspicious is going on.

Still haven’t fixed the lights in that dim corner of lockers. Fortunately, there are many dramatic confrontations to be had.

I think we’re supposed to see Rarity’s obsession with the outfits as a ridiculous thing, but I think it’s important to distinguish this universe from the one with the professional seamstress who has unicorn magic at her disposal. This is a teenager who has school, extracurriculars, and parents to contend with. If I went through the trouble to hand-make seven costumes for my friends, then found out no one would wear them, I’d be pretty ticked off as well.

Now this is how you montage. We get to play a fun game of “guess which characters are in which band,” and seeing their “humanized” designs. Lotta bootcut pants in this show.

I’m just going to leave this here...

This is some actually effective villainy. The whole school has turned against each other. Maybe they need to learn about the magic of friendship. Unfortunately, the gang is too busy squabbling over band stuff, and Twilight is too distracted to give an overly emotional speech.

No one in the rule book does it say magically turning into a pony is grounds for disqualification...I would assume.

If we’re being honest here, the Dazzlings are better performers than the Rainbooms.

And we’ve come to the crux of things. The scene where they’re locked under the stage is the perfect example of my biggest issue with this movie. I do not like to see Mane 6 fight. I don’t like Trade Ya, I don’t like Putting Your Hoof Down, and I despise Look Before You Sleep. Seeing this otherwise close group of friends constantly have petty arguments, even if it’s for completely valid plot reasons, make me want to turn the movie off. This isn’t a criticism of the screenwriting, it is just a reason why I personally dislike Rainbow Rocks more than the other films.

Of course, they make up because this is about the magic of friendship and what not, but notice how no one actually apologizes for their behavior. No, “I’m sorry that I minimized your contribution to the group or made fun of something you were passionate about.” I realize they were under the influence of magic, but they also knew that! They knew the Dazzlings had the power to turn people against each other! An apology is just a preamble to fundamental behavior change, and if they don’t realize why they were being bad friends, how can they learn from anything?

And the real kicker is, they knew what the Dazzlings were capable of. Twilight read a book about them immediately before going through the portal. It’s not they they just learned that they spread chaos. Why are we fighting? Gee, I don’t know.

DJ-ex-machina. I’m ok with this.

To the movie’s credit, the finale really has one of the best song of the movie. And by that, I of course mean Trixie’s song. Trixie is the most fun addition to the cast. She makes for a fun antagonist, on her own and as a Pawn to the Dazzlings.

Fight scene! Fight scene! We’re gonna have a fight scene!

Now that they’ve put their petty squabbles behind them, it’s time for a big music battle. The Dazzlings pony up harness the energy of the audience to project their Equestrian selves to...I don’t know. Take over the world or something.

This isn’t even their final form

Oh. This design looked better in book form

Sunset is Magic. That’s the show.

So the stones auto-tuned them, and that made everyone mindlessly antagonistic. I’m sure there’s some clever commentary there.

T’was the magic of friendship that killed the beast.

No, you don’t get to just rejoin the plot

Thank you, Trixie.

The real story here is how Principal Celestia will pay off the press.

Thus Twilight goes back to the land of horses, Starlight has been truly forgiven, and my Netflix suggestions will never been the same again.

I want to give a big shout out to the person who put all the captions on the image gallery for this movie’s wikia page. They are funnier than I could ever hope to be.

Some general thoughts:

The scene of Twilight awkwardly yelling “Friendship is magic!” to a room of confused teenagers is the cringiest thing I’ve ever seen, but it got a good laugh out of me. Look at the Dazzlings faces in this scene. “Ok, we legitimately didn’t see that coming.”

One of the reasons that I am so drawn to the show is that they are able to create conflict and drama without being mean-spirited. I have to deal with that kind of nonsense so much in my daily life, I just don’t want to subject myself to eighty minutes of it. But i get it: from a narrative standpoint, this is the most cohesive. There’s some good set up and pay off, and an actually intimidating villain who is actually present in the plot.

I love Trixie so much, I should be dead. She really is the star of the show. I forgot how little we saw of her before season six.

The stinger, oh the stinger. Forget what I said about the pajama party; it was worth sitting through this for the promise of an interesting sequel.

We’ll get to you soon, you marvelous lesbian disaster.

Starlight’s redemption is the best part of this franchise, and it’s worth all the nonsense to hear Rebecca Shoichet’s angelic voice.

From a purely film standpoint, this is probably the best one of the bunch. It has a clear structure, everyone’s motivations check out, there’s an actual climax that feels earned. I just don’t enjoy it. There are worse ways to spend eighty minutes 3.7/5

The worst thing to come from this, however, is the terrifying merchandise:

What Fresh Hell is This?

[broken-clover]

ACC Day 2- Stimming

Back I come! Hopefully I can get my timing a bit earlier from hereon in, tuesdays are just a wonky day for me in general. But still, have a fic! This one made me happy to write, so I hope it makes you happy, too!

Today’s has more ESRB-verse, with some Bedman!

While the ultimate goal was just to have fun and pass the time, Elphelt, Sin, Ramlethal, and Bedman liked to take turns picking locations to go to for their frequent adventures. It was still something that everyone could enjoy in their own way, but if someone caught sight of a park that they’d yet to visit or an event going on downtown that caught their eye, the group would set a course for their new destination as soon as possible, taking turns each time.

Well, that was how it was supposed to go. In between Sin’s forest hikes, Ram’s lunch suggestions, and El’s marketplace trips, it was rare that Bedman would slip in his own idea. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity- his friends made it very clear that he was more than welcome to suggest something he’d like to do. But every time the discussion came up, the boy shot it down, claiming that his interests would be too dull for anyone else to enjoy it.

After more than a few attempts, Sin took it upon himself to try something that he thought his friend would like. It only seemed fair for him to be able to do things that interested him. After mentioning his plans to Elphelt and Ramlethal, the half-Gear grabbed as many newspapers as he could find lying around and retreated to the dining room table with a thick red marker.

A local football game? Eh...

Camping? He definitely wouldn’t like that.

A new winery opening up? Legally speaking, none of them were old enough to drink.

“Sin?” Ky’s voice grabbed his attention. “What are you working on?”

“Trying to think of something fun to do today.” He propped himself up on his arms. “But I can’t think of anything that Bedman would like. We never get to do stuff he likes.”

“Hmm…” Ky sat down nearby him, placing a stack of paperwork on the table. “Let’s see. I see your friend in the library quite often. He’s very interested in the sciences, correct?”

Sin perked up, just a little. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Let me take a look at that paper.” After being handed the bundle, Ky started flipping through. His eyes skimmed the pages rapidly, quickly settling on an article somewhere within it and tapping it with a finger. “I thought so. The museum of science over in the east district is opening a new exhibit on magical engineering. Lots of old airship frames and train prototypes, that kind of thing. Maybe that would be a good idea?”

“Engineering?” Sin took the paper back, now marked with a red circle. The article at least made it sound interesting. Plus, it was something sciency, so there was a pretty good chance Bedman would at least find the concept interesting.

Worth a shot, right?

++++++

“Sin, where are we going?”

Midday travels weren’t really out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t as common that nobody would say where they were headed off to. Even after spending ten minutes trudging downtown, Bedman hadn’t even manage to decipher whose sort of idea it was to go out in the first place.

“It’s a surprise!” Replied Sin, the closest thing to an answer he had gotten thus far.

“I don’t like surprises, Sin. Can you please just tell me where we’re going?”

“Hmph. Fine.” The other boy pouted. “We’re going to a museum. But that’s all I’m telling you!”

Despite the vagueness, Bedman perked up considerably. “Oh. I will admit, that is a rather pleasant surprise.”

“See, Sin? I told you it was a good idea!” Elphelt added with a smile. “We picked it special!”

“Sin picked it.” Said Ramlethal. “We just agreed.”

The person in question raised a hand, waving it to get their attention. “Hey, I think I found it! Right down this corner…”

“G’morning, kiddos!” A smiley attendant greeted the group at the front booth as they entered. “Welcome to the Illyria Museum of Science! Four adolescent tickets?”

“Yep!” Sin slapped down a stack of cash that Ky had given him. “You guys have all the engines and stuff, right?”

The woman blinked mutely for a moment. “Ah. Yes, the transportation engineering exhibit is up and running.” She handed him a map and pointed to a spot on it, marked with a little star. “It’s on the first floor, in the blue wing. There’s arrows at most of the corners if you lose track of where you are.”

“Cool, thanks!” After grabbing the tickets and the map, Sin spun around. “Everyone alright? Ready to go?”

“I think so.” Elphelt replied. “You guys ready?”

“I’m prepared to go.” Ram nodded.

“I’m ready.” Oddly, Bedman seemed at full attention, and his hands almost seemed to be twitching.

Elphelt turned to him. “Something wrong?”

“No, no.” His hands slowed, gripping the hem of his gown to keep them from moving again. “Just got a bit overexcited.”

“Well, don’t stop yourself on our account!” Sin beamed back. “We came here because we thought you’d like it! Go nuts if you want!”

Though his hands stayed still, Bedman all but ran ahead of the group as they started towards the exhibit. He kept slowing himself down as his friends looked over little displays on the way to the blue wings, bouncing restlessly on his heels until they could start moving again.

The narrow hallway dumped out into a massive room, with a vaulted ceiling spanning overhead at least thirty feet up. The room was filled with giant displays, many with full-sized engines or twining bundles of cable and machinery. An inert train snaked across the center, trailed by a dozen passenger cars.

“Ah…” Without even appearing to notice, Bedman started bouncing on his heels again, hands twitching and tapping against the air.

“C’mon, we said you could go ahead!” Sin was quick to remind him. “No need to wait for us!”

The boy didn’t seem to need any more prompting. In a flash of lavender, he was leaning towards one of the glass-walled sections displaying a set of rusty train wheels and pistons. “Ahh! I’ve only seen these in books! I don’t think they’ve used this type of metal since the 2070’s!”

“Solid steel?” Ramlethal managed to glide up next to him, and peered at the little descriptor card. “It seems that would be remarkably heavy.”

“Absolutely! And it was, that’s why they got rid of that kind. But they pulled these off of a real prewar train!”

Apparently satisfied with that short explanation, he moved onto the section next to it, leaving the other three for once scrambling after him, instead of the other way around.

“The Stendrive outboard propulsion system? They used these for boats! Engineers sometimes called them ‘fishtail engines’ because of the big fins at the end of it!”

It was such a bizarre sight to witness, but it brought a warm feeling with it. Bedman was running back and forth between displays, eyes shining while he wore the biggest smile any of them had ever seen on him. All the while, he kept bouncing in place, hands swishing back and forth by his sides. Every time he stopped in front of a new engine or propeller, he raised his hands up and started moving them like he was trying to shake off water. Puzzling, but there was something endearing about his eagerness.

“The Hercules Engine!” He half shouted, immediately scooting over to the next pane of glass.

“The model M-89 airship!” Bounce-flap-flap.

“The Wiseau Magi-tech converter!” Bounce-flap-flap.

“You really like engineering stuff, huh?” Sin laughed, trying to keep pace.

“Oh, I don’t like engineering as much as I like language and literature.” Bedman slowed for a second. “But this is incredibly fascinating, too! I like learning about how society and industry move around. It’s just so intriguing to consider all the technologies that lead us to where we are now!”

Before he could reply, Sin found himself left behind once more. When he managed to find Bedman again, he was hanging off the end of the giant train on display.

“Hey, Sin! Sin! The sign says you can get on the train! Get on the train!”

“No need to tell me twice. Guys! Check this thing out! Wanna see the inside?”

Internally, he jotted down a few notes. Engineering, language, and literature. Even if Sin didn’t know much about any of them, he was certainly going to have to now. He wasn’t used to seeing his friend so earnestly happy.

He was going to have to find a way to make him light up like that again.

[goindanswingin]

Les Amis Webshows - Reviews!

So! There’s been a whole two new Amis webshows premiering this January! However, I’ve noticed not that many people are actually talking about them! New content, and we’re not yelling??

So, I’ve decided to give short reviews on their debut pilot episodes, as well as the first episodes of some other Les Amis webshows (I probably missed so many, feel free to add more if you know of them!) in order to maybe spread the word about some cool creators online as well as give y’all a lil more content to consume that isn’t just grim BBC Les Mis discourse atm

(I’ve reviewed them in the order they premiered)

1. Stories From Les Amies

This is a vlog story of the les amis with all the genders purposefully changed! Now this one has an awful lot of content to make up its plot, having premiered in 2013 and wrapped up with an HOUR LENGTH FILM at the end of 2014, so there’s a hell of a lot to digest here! The Enjolras behind this is actually also the author of TextingEnjolras/EnjolrasRising so the plot does bear some resemblance to that also! (Another piece of content I’d highly recommend if you’ve not read yet).

But, to keep it fair, I’m going to stick with just the pilot episode! It’s set up like a big group skype call with our amis introducing themselves, where we are first introduced to their personalities, mostly led by Enjolras although Combeferre acts a beautifully sarcastic arbiter. The video quality isn’t excellent, but surprisingly, the audio quality is pretty great (for every character except Marius), with almost no background noise or fuzz.

Enjolras: All of us make up a society that we call the Friends of the ABC

Enjolras: *awkwardly nods and grins*

Enjolras: Which is actually a pun, because... ABC pronounced together sounds like the word abaissés, which means “lowly” or “abased...

Enjolras: So... it’s... it’s a pun.

I know I’m only reviewing pilot episodes to keep it fair, but I will say yes, the quality of the series absolutely does improve over time, and I would highly recommend giving it a go if you’ve never seen it before! You can find the whole series here.

2. Official Les Amis Vlog

Premiering at almost exactly the same time as number 2 on this list, the Les Amis Vlog is similar in terms of quality but different in style. This is as it says - a vlog channel, with divided playlists for each character in the Amis. Every character uploaded vlogs between 2013 and 2015 introducing themselves, answering questions, and making content on certain themes. 

This one took me by surprise - I was very much underwhelmed by the camera quality and lack of plot, but once I started watching, I realised why the Les Amis vlog doesn’t have plot - it’s because instead of making up political issues and action, they actually discuss real politics - in the pilot episode, Enjolras actually talks about a real news article from Reuters and then goes on into an impassioned rant on public surveillance  - it’s kind of amazing.

Enjolras: I mean, you wanna hide your face for whatever reason? Well, congratulations! You’re now a potential t*rror*st for having stood in the way of the observational machine!

Obviously this one is much more about the characters than it is any sort of plot like we’ll see in some of our later series, but... these characters are by far some of the most convincing Les Amis I’ve seen! Particularly Enjolars - wow. So if that sounds like your kinda thing, check it out here!

3. Vines de l'ABC

A multimedia webseries that ran from 2016-2018, but mostly confined to Vines, this one in essence is similar to the Les Amis Vlog in that it is more character driven than plot driven - the different characters were all cast and then separately uploaded Vines (and occasionally YouTube videos) as well as answering questions to the main blog.

The first “episode” is, as common for these webseries, a video of our Enjolras introducing Les Amis and his character, then being interrupted by a phone call. The quality is webcam quality, the sound pretty fuzzy, but I do think Dorian here makes a great Enjolras... more on that shortly! Overall, the quality of this first episode isn’t super relevant to the rest of the series though, because as is obvious by the name, it’s mostly comprised of amusing little vines.

*Tik Tok by Ke$ha plays*

Enjolras: Hello? Did you change my ring tone again? ...Again? Well, I mean, I'm trying to do the video... No, I mean, I'm actually in the middle of doing the video right now, you're on camera... No, no I don't know how to edit it out... I mean, does he have a concussion, or..? *sighs* ...How did I know he had a concussion.

Obviously vine is dead, but everything is available here - if this sounds like your kind of thing, definitely go check it out! There is TONS of content for your consumption here.

4. Barricade Boys

Next up is a comedy/parody show from NyxRising, an already established group of YouTube cosplayers who’ve made lots of similar shows previously. This means, for a start, that the production quality here is some of the best you’ll see - great audio and video quality, basic but good set design, great costumes.

Now, let’s make it clear: if you’re looking for a brick accurate show, this is not the one for you. It’s a pretty ludicrous parody, with an unbelievably arsehole Enjolras with no notion of personal space, a Grantaire with weird sideburns and a crush so obvious it’s hilarious, a Marius so dumb he thinks he’s joining a “lonely hearts club” and a Courfeyrac so OOC that I don’t even know where to begin. 

But god damn, did this make me laugh out loud a good few times.

Enjolras: You do you, Grantaire. Nobody else will.

This one has a couple episodes out already, and I’d highly recommend if you want some laughs! You can find it here.

5. The Downtrodden

Aaaand... onto our January debuts! I’m super excited to give a review of the pilot episode of Shadow of the Tor’s “The Downtrodden”! 

One thing that stuck out to me immediately is that this might be the most diverse cast yet - we have multiple POC, and also a trans Enjolras - in both cases, there’s no self-congratulatory back-patting, but it’s made very clear and very casual, and it’s wonderful. Another point worth mentioning is that our Enjolras is the same Enjolras seen in Vines de l’ABC - and as I mentioned, I think Dorian is great at the role.

The Downtrodden seems to be going for an enjoyable line between plotty and humorous, and so far I’m super excited to see where they take it. The audio and video quality is outstanding, though the cafe background noises could do with being toned down just a tiny bit (as there are occasionally character lines in the background that are a little drowned out), but overall it’s by far the most professional looking alongside Barricade Boys (which had to contend with far less characters!). One comment I will make, though nitpicky, is that unlike Barricade Boys, which moves extremely swiftly through its jokes, The Downtrodden is edited just a pace too slow in one or two scenes, meaning the comic timing falls a little off and the jokes don’t quite get the reaction they really deserve.

Grantaire: You get free coffee refills here if you’re part of a student group. I gotta make that loan last.

Cosette: Do you consider yourself a politically motivated person?

R: I barely even consider myself a person.

C: Oh. Are you alright?

R: Is anyone?

Surprisingly, one of my favourite characters in the pilot episode was Marius! I often find he’s overplayed to death, but in this he appears a little dim but genuinely charming, and he got some of the best laughs out of me. I’d be interested to know how well all the jokes landed with someone who isn’t a Brit, however, since I’m super sold on all these characters being British uni students (student poverty aesthetic and Oxfam shopping bags, goddamn!), and also love Courfeyrac for the same reason - he seems like your typical friendly but laddish uni type, which works perfectly for his character. Also, I own that mug he has.

One of the strongest points, and a very common issue I have with Les Amis webshows (and the 2012 movie NOT GONNA LIE), is losing track of who is supposed to be who - I had no such problem with The Downtrodden - everyone is introduced naturally, gets at LEAST a line or two, and is beautifully acted - go check out the pilot here!

6. The Les Amis Webshow

The last one on our list - the Les Amis Webshow premiered on the last day of January!

First impressions of this webshow are: the most enticing hook yet straight from the beginning, and some of the worst sound quality.

After the introduction - structured as Marius speaking to us from the future - the pilot episode actually centers around a random film student coming up to Marius and asking if they can film him. Is this Cosette? Will we ever find out? Who knows, but for some reason Marius just takes it in his stride and lets this person follow him around, in what I can’t decide is a very weird move, or a very Marius move.

Jehan: Are you wearing your lanyard?

Marius: Yeah. Why? That’s what it’s for.

Jehan: (laughing) You simple little freshman!

Marius: *long pause*

Also Marius: We’re gonna get along great!

The editing is actually fun and a few shots seem to be going for something quite adventurous - I just wish the audio quality were better.

I like Enjolras so far - he seems very confident in himself and a little bit of a rich boy, and I’m really interested to see what they do with Marius, since this is the only webshow so far where Marius has been front and center instead of Enjolras - in that snippet at the start, he seems very anxious and weary - it’s very Empty Chairs at Empty Tables! Overall, this has the most “plot-y” vibe to its initial episode so far, and reminds me a lot of Stories from Les Amies, honestly. I’m very excited to see what they do with it, and am also euphoric at a REGULAR UPLOAD SCHEDULE unlike the other two which are currently running - Barricade Boys and The Downtrodden. Keep up with it every Thursday here!

Thank you so much to @starberry-cupcake for helping me compile this list!

highlight reel: @/SFLA who the fuck makes a feature length movie oh my god, the sheer levels of gay in BB, Marius’ super poshboy accent in TD (sorry if thats just how u speak Ethan), and best of all the German flag taking centre stage in tLAW - the european cynic in me is desperate to know why its there and hopes that you didn’t just mix up French and German flags lmao

[thesarcasticside]

Anything-$00000DDE

NAME Devin Flores ID 11 28 b 4 54 97 ALIENRACE Sororia OCCUPATION Botanist

Chapter Warnings mind control, manipulation, amnesia, cybernetics Chapter Characters Janus, Patton, Logan, Shorts Dad character (mentioned)

HINT 3: MESSAGE START (Might want a pen and paper)

AO3  Chapter 1  Next Chapter

Dee wearily watched the students, donning shades of blue and green, camping outside the university in celebration of some sport he was unfamiliar with. He was dressed in simple black jeans and a black coat. In the sea of young adults, he was a funeral at the beach.

He passed by, walking in the shade, crossing the perimeter of the center field to the entrance of the engineering building.

The walk droned on, and he wondered briefly if he was a construct. If perhaps he had no life before this, and he was created in Lab C from scratch. That thought did not feel right, but nothing seemed to feel right. In the mirror this morning, even looking at his own face, he distantly had not recognized himself. His life was a lie. He was deceit given a soul.

He slowed his pace just enough to trail another student also entering the building, who held the door for him.

He found himself at a table, where students normally gathered to study. He pulled out the decoy laptop from his bag. Had he ever done this before? Studied at a desk? Stayed up all night fueled by caffeine and willpower? He looked at his real human hand, rubbing his fingers together. He did not look out of place at all.

The doors lined up against the wall. He waited until they erupted with people, classes ending and starting again. He watched for him.

PATTON skipped out of the door, his silvery skin dark in the artificial light, chatting amicably with his hands to Logan. Dee put his laptop away and walked in a direction to intercept them.

“Hey! Wait, you’re Logan, right?” Dee put on a voice that jumped along in the air, light, with an undertone of eagerness.

PATTON skidded to a halt, tilting his head to the side. Logan stopped a second later.

“That is me. What do you want?”

“I am a recruiter from DRACANA visiting campus today. I saw you had already applied and thought to interview you for the internship during the career fair today. Sorry for the late notice—your application got through the approval process after I arrived here. I figured I could spot you out of a crowd and tell you in person.” Dee’s pitch had repeated itself ruthlessly through his mind all day leading up to this. He heard nothing come out of his mouth.

“Oh, uh, lead the way then. I was already on my way to the career fair.”

Prior to this, his team already ‘buttered up’ the graduate student, Logan.

He was new, working under Dr. Dade on project PATTON.

It would be simple to mine the confidential information off of him. Hire him as an intern; strike up a conversation; a simple slip up is all Dei’dra needed. A little mistake made by a fresh-faced, trusting college kid. Little things. Small talk. Excited ramblings about past projects. Pointed questions.

A long-term source of information and labor. What else were internships for?

All they had to do was cut off every other avenue he had. Then, give him the suggestion to apply to DRACANA. Show up to the career fair—how convenient—and give him an interview and hire him on the spot.

He’d think it was a miracle.

Dee did not remember the interview.

Dee wondered if someone at headquarters had done it remotely. He felt a haze, leading Logan through his trap, and then he was blinking and telling Logan goodbye. He left the career fair, dodging people and sliding between booths to search for the real reason for his campus visit.

Logan had another class to attend in a few minutes. He was separated from PATTON, so it is expected that the android would return to Dr. Dade’s lab. A map of the campus was pulled up before Dee’s eye automatically.

It was a short walk, but there was something exhausting about that interview, and it unnerved Dee that he did not know why he was so tired. That his feet struck the ground like pulses of thunder, and that his arms swung at his sides, his shoulders pinching around his neck, and his real eye—he had to blink to remember which one it was—was twitching out of his control.

He was standing under a birch tree, the soft yellow-green leaves shivering together like waves on the ocean, shifting white tuffs of foam sorting through the sand on the surface, and—

—with the rumbling of clouds, a pulse of fire shocked its way through his body. He blinked rapidly, chemicals rushing through his blood. Through the verdant fields of glass and pavement simmering in the spring sun, the faces of every student or professor in the vicinity were clear and recognizable. Information trailed off and hit the back of his forehead as the data pounded through his skull.

He could not feel his arms, his shoulders, his feet. If he did not know any better, he would be shaking.

He pushed through the blades of grass and stepped onto the sidewalk and turned right into the engineering building, cutting through the never-ending hallway that left students circling the building multiple times to find their classes for the first and last times. He found his way to a basement hallway and in the middle, not far from a set of stairs, was Dr. Dade’s lab

Dr. Richard Dade.

Dei’dra wanted information from him.

His research on affective computing, artificial skin coating matrixes, and emotional processing integration were valuable.

He was the type who, while renowned in his field, made no headlines. He had published many articles and papers, but it was all surface level.

Dei’dra saw something there. Some trade secret hiding.

She was searching for something, and she thought Dr. Dade had it.

She could not wait decades for his research to surface, to enter the public domain, or the private sector, or to die an untimely death in a filing cabinet somewhere—its potential unseen.

The bells that signaled afternoon shook Dee out of his fervor. Dr. Dade would be out at lunch. PATTON “ate” at the lab. He repeated in his mind his orders, PATTON’s in the lab, to himself, reassuring himself that he was in the right place because if he wasn’t—

—He pounded at the door of the lab. He didn’t have access to the lab either. But PATTON, sure enough, PATTON bounced to open the door for him.

$DEE had a different face this time. For a second, Dee panicked, thinking that there was a hint of recognition on PATTON’s face, but he had already shifted forms without thinking. Or his form was already shifted for him. He could vaguely recall the remnants of a user called “ANX,” ordering the shift for him.

“Ah, hello there! Dr. Dade is at lunch now, did ya need something?”

“Afternoon, I wanted to ask him a couple questions regarding affective computing. May I come in and wait?”

“Oh, sure, no problem. Come on in!”

The equipment and tables were a cool, medium grey. PATTON almost blended in. They walked together for a moment. The door shut behind Dee.

The sunlight peered through the blinds as the duo stood in front of the window, casting lines on their faces, as if they were a drawing on notebook paper.

“Oh! I haven’t introduced myself, my name is,” And Dee could not remember the fake name he used, but he held out his hand for PATTON to shake.

The moment he took his hand, the data transfer began. A technology borrowed from somewhere, he was sure, built into his artificial arm.

And PATTON was frozen, suspended, data paused. And Dee’s hand was reaching inside his chest, into his RAM, into his CPU, into his HEART, and tugged and pulled and scattered bits about until Dei’dra found all the MEMORY he needed.

And $DEE could read through the voltage highs and voltage lows and Dee was none the wiser to the HEART uploading into his hardware—not that Dee needed one: even though his mind was ashes, blood still poured down his body, and he could feel each stitch and incision.

But for a brief feeling, Dee was sickly vulnerable; and so was Patton, and he could see into him, and it was painful.

And Dee left. No questions asked. He could not remember leaving the lab, but he was gone before he knew it; his memory dashing through the halls and leaving the building; and he was about to burst because he held so much information in his hand; and $DEE was erupting and—

—and then he activated the MIRROR, and he was him. He was anything. He was him. He was PATTON. As he peered out through his eyes, his vision was his consciousness. Of all the things in the world, this was not him.

[tongluculture]

How to use a vibrator if you don’t know where to start

Let's be true: you may not have learned how to use a vibrator while growing up in sex education. Fortunately for you, this is not exactly rocket science, and the learning curve is enjoyable. In addition, there is no correct way to use a vibrator. This is one of the items you can pick up at any time and personalize it to your liking. But this does not mean that there are no tips and tricks you might want to know about making your experience as safe and enjoyable as possible. Have! Whether you want to masturbate or use it with your partner, a vibrator can be anything, from the occasional fun accessory to an important part of your sex life. This is all you need to know about getting the benefits (and vibration). How to use a vibrator depends on what type of vibrator it is, so this is a good starting point. The world of vibrators is a vast and diverse world-so much so that many vibrator beginners feel at a loss when choosing the first one. Maybe you are reading this article to learn more about the vibrator you already own, or you are still deciding which one to buy. Either way, here are the main categories of vibrators you must choose for vaginal patients (vibration toys for penis also exist, but this is a separate article!): This is any specially designed vibrator, you guessed it, can stimulate you from the outside. People usually use them on the clitoris, but as long as they are located outside of your body, any sexy area is a fair game. Just like there are generally many different types of vibrators, there are also various external vibrators available.  Bullet vibrators are a popular external choice because they are small, discreet, and sometimes considered less intimidating. If you want to start from there, try Mantric Rechargeable Bullet Vibrator  Finger vibrators such as Dame Fin  can give you better control and feel closer to the hand-skin contact.

There are also some unique external  Zumio X ($150, Lovehoney) is a targeted clitoral toy designed to imitate circular finger movements. These are vibrators that you can insert into your vagina or anus. It is worth noting that many internal vibrators can also be used externally, but external vibrators usually cannot double as internal toys. Therefore, if you want something more flexible, the internal vibrator can provide you with options. Internal vibrators usually vary in size and shape. Some are curved or have bulbous ends to stimulate the G-spot, such as the Lovehoney G-Slim G-Spot vibrator There are also many different types of vibrating anal toys, including plugs, dildos, beads, and prostate massagers. However, all anal toys have a flared base or ring to prevent them from getting stuck in your body. Safety first! You may also know that they are rabbit vibrators. Designed to stimulate both the inside and the outside, some people think that the rabbit vibrator is the best of both worlds. They are essentially insertable vibrators with outer arms, designed to hit your clitoris when it is inside your body. Whether a rabbit vibrator is right for you depends to a large extent on whether a particular product is suitable for your personal structure. You may find that in order to arrange it on the outside, it will not reach the position you want on the inside, and vice versa.  However, if you feel nervous, professional tip: Apart from freeing up a hand, there is nothing that a rabbit vibrator cannot do, and it cannot be done with separate internal and external vibrators. What material your vibrator is made of affects many things, such as its physical feel, what kind of lubricant you can use, and how best to clean it. Ideally, you should first consider the materials when choosing a toy, but it doesn't matter if you skip this step. You can still understand the material now (and double check if it is safe). Silicone vibrators are the most common, and for good reason, sexologist and sex educator Goody Howard, MSW, MPH, told SELF. In addition to being good to the touch, silicone is non-porous, making it safe and easy to clean. SELF previously reported that, on the other hand, porous toys can absorb and retain bacteria even if you clean them. This doesn’t mean you can’t use porous toys-but if you want to disinfect toys easily, stick to non-porous toys. Another popular and more affordable non-porous option is acrylonitrile butadiene styrene (ABS) plastic, which is a hard plastic. Other non-porous sex toy materials such as metal and glass are less common in vibrators than in dildos, but they do exist. An important rule: In any case, the general consensus among experts is that your toys should be phthalate-free, Howard said. Phthalates are a group of chemical plasticizers that are commonly used to make plastics softer, so you will usually find them in jelly-like toys. Phthalates have come under fire for their potential to affect human health (according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, a scientific jury has not yet been determined), but in the name of "safer than regret", you can easily find sex The toy does not contain phthalates. In fact, according to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, certain types of phthalates are prohibited in children's toys. People always skip this step, but they shouldn't! Most likely, your vibrator will come with a booklet that includes instructions for use and other important safety and maintenance information. At least, reading the instructions will give you a brief understanding of the controls. Believe me, before playing it, you want to know how to turn on and off the vibrator, and how to switch between various vibration modes (if your toy has this feature). You may know from experience that even when masturbating, you must be in the mood, especially if you want to have an orgasm or two. In addition, it doesn't hurt to relax and get some natural lubrication. Howard suggested setting the right atmosphere. "I value both emotionally and sexually," she said. "Light a candle, spread the sheets with beautiful sheets, and play some music. It really stimulates all your senses." Even if you don't want to go all out every time you want to use a vibrator, a little foreplay can do a lot. "Explore your body with a vibrator," Howard suggested. "Try to use it around the inner and outer labia and the vaginal opening without actually inserting the entire area." First of all, there is nothing wrong with needing lubricating oil. Many things can cause vaginal dryness. Even if you do not have the problem of vaginal dryness, lubricating oil can still improve your sexual experience. "Needing lube is not a comment on your sexual ability," Howard said. In addition, sex toys in particular may make you feel a little dry. "Vibrators have moving parts and motors, and they tend to get hot. That can evaporate your natural moisture." You may think that lubricant is only for penetration, but even if you only use sensation on the clitoris, lubricant is a good idea. The skin of the clitoris is very sensitive, and dry irritation—such as rumbling, unlubricated vibration—may irritate it. When it comes to lubricants, you have three main options: water-based, silicon-based, and oil-based. Howard said that when pairing lubricants with toys, the most important thing is to remember whether the lubricant is compatible with the toy. For silicone toys, you should avoid using silicone lubricants because it will corrode the material. If you use condoms on toys (more on that later), stay away from oil-based lubricants, as this will wear down the condom and reduce its effectiveness. When in doubt, water-based lubricants are a good choice. The point of sex toys may be to experience something completely different from what you can do on your own, which is also cool. However, if you feel overwhelmed in terms of technology and you already know other forms of masturbation that you like, then it might help to start there. "Think about how you can masturbate without toys," Howard said. What kind of stimulation do you like? Inward or outward, gentle or firm, fast or slow...you know. "From there, you can measure what you will enjoy from sex toys." By the way, Howard said, this is also a good way to pick sex toys in the first place. "You can basically reverse engineer the previous fun to determine what kind of toys you should be looking for," she said. If you plan to use a vibrator for penetration, don't be afraid to slow down, especially if you are not used to it. In addition to using a lot of lubricant and taking time for foreplay, you can also insert your fingers first to accommodate the penetration before using the vibrator. This is double for the anus, which requires you to "effort". For more information on how to use toys or other ways to prepare for anal sex, check out this article. Many vibrators have multiple settings that allow you to adjust the intensity of the vibration. Although it may be tempting to keep your toy high, if you gradually increase the intensity, you may get a more enjoyable experience.

"The highest setting may be too strong for you," Howard said. "Or as long as you work your way. Either way, it's better to start low and build your own fun instead of jumping from zero to five." Oh, if you want to know, no, no matter how strong vibrations you use, you will not damage your nerve endings. In other words, it is possible to overstimulate yourself temporarily, which may mean that you will lose some feeling in a short period of time. But don't worry about any lasting damage. When it comes to strong vibrations, some people are more sensitive than others and may feel that even the lowest setting is too much. In this case, Howard recommended a simple technique to weaken this feeling. “My client actually wears underwear and uses a vibrator on it while masturbating because the vibration is too strong,” she said. Towels are also fine. Please be careful not to stimulate the clitoris through excessive dry friction as we discussed above. As previously reported by SELF, sex toys can also transmit sexually transmitted infections (STI) when used with other people, so safer sex can be applied here. If you plan to use sex toys outside of monogamy, please use condoms on your toys. Also, if you are looking for more tips on how to use vibrators with partners, check this post. Even if you are masturbating, condoms can help in various situations. If you have a porous toy that is difficult to clean, condoms are an easy way to keep things clean and tidy every time you use them. If you want to use the toy for vaginal and anal play (as long as the toy is anal safe, you can do so), condoms are also useful. To avoid transferring bacteria from the anus to the vagina or urethra (and risking vaginal infections, such as bacterial vaginosis or urinary tract infections, as previously reported by SELF), use a new condom every time the hole is changed . This may seem obvious, but many people give up proper sex toy care, especially if they only use it for masturbation. But it doesn't matter if you are the only person using the toy-if it is happening or in your body, it should be clean. Howard said: "Because you are the only one who uses it, not cleaning it is like eating it with the same fork for a month without washing it." "Of course, it's just you spitting, but would you do it? No? ." How to best clean and store your vibrator depends on what type of vibrator it is, but fortunately, this article provides all the information you need to know about cleaning and storing toys. After all, as long as you pay attention to best safety practices and communicate with anyone who might use toys with you, use a vibrator just to find something that feels good, and then... do it. have fun! Read the full article

[deanmiles13]

GONE GAMBLIN’ A NIGHT IN LAS VEGAS WITH THE SUPERSUCKERS

This was to be some weekend…. 

It started with a road trip up to Seattle to see The Hellacopters/Quadra Jets at the Showbox. That was a barn burner, recorded and later released on the live Sub Pop album. 

I had seen them in Portland, and I don’t think they had a great time at E.J.’s. This time they opted to just do Seattle. 

Road Trip….

Great show with surprise guest Scott Morgan joining the Copters for two Sonic’s Rendezvous songs. 

Afterwards I was whisked away to SeaTac Airport by good friend, Lisa Z and was on the next flight that morning to Las Vegas. Getting into Las Vegas, hungover and dead from the night before, the sun SEEMED like a refreshing thing… NOT!!!

I remember I could see my hotel, from the airport, but it was advised that I would probably die if I had tried to walk to it.

So, I got a cab, and this is before cell phones and got to the hotel. We had made plans to meet at the pool. 

It was sweltering hot and I had to get in. 

But first, had to meet my people, and then get the key to go up to the room, to change, to come back down to the pool. Las Vegas is huge….

We were at Mandalay Bay which was awesome. A fake beach and lazy river to relax in with drinks. Pretty awesome. Getting day drunk in the heat was kinda nasty, but what the heck, I was ALL IN this weekend. The show that night was X with The Supersuckers opening up. We had an inside contact with the suckers and had passes waiting etc. I had a camera and was shooting a lot of bands at the time, so was permitted a photo pass. NICE….

We pretty much got to the show and the boys were on stage. I started shooting out in front of the stage and was immediately shut down and told I could only shoot from the stage. 

Alrighty then. NO problem. 

Up to side stage I went and started to shoot. “Act like you’ve been there before” is my motto and I slid with it. 

Suckers are doing their Devil Rock and Roll thing and we see them off the stage and X is up next.  I still had to be on the side of the stage to shoot. NO problem.

Especially since Jane Wiedlin was there as well, watching her old pals in X. 

The only thing was, I had NO IDEA it was her. She had on a Cleopatra wig. 

So, I kicked her drink over. 

Hey, it was sitting on the floor. I mean I apologized right away, and offered her another drink. But, she was more than cool about it. We were going Cool Places. 

As I’m standing there taking pictures of X, a band that I was introduced to from Decline of the Western Civilization, and had been a huge fan of, and here I am standing ON STAGE basically with them. WTF indeed. 

I owe this all to Ron apparently who had given us the passes. I’m standing by Billy Zoom and he had just returned to the band making this an early version of their “Reunion”. 

The band finishes their set and we make our way back to the Suckers dressing room. I got my camera with me, but we are on a smoke brake at the moment and talking about their album that just got shelved. They were gonna write a whole batch of new stuff and Eddie mentioned they were going to write about Tucson. 

Jan. 87 Tucson AZ article on the house I lived in. OZ House. Eddie is quoted in the article. Here is a picture of their singer Eric, who went on to be in the Black Supersucker. Then immortalized in the song Marie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1hl5Pou6k8

See…. I had come to Portland from Tucson and they traded the desert for the rain around the same time. 1988. I believe we may have been “running from” the same sorta of situation in Tucson. Kids lived beyond their years down there and you found yourself knee deep in adult  situations real quick. 

Anyway, as I’m listening to Gone Gamblin the song, it totally brings me back to the story at hand…

We were backstage and they are gonna rewrite the album etc. and Eddie says “Hey that was pretty cool that Jane Wiedlin was there tonite!” I said WHAT?!?! WHERE?!?! 

He said “Standing right by you the whole nite!!!” It suddenly hit me, it was my favorite fucking band growing up-THE GO GO’S- guitarist that I had kicked her drink. OH THE HORROR. 

My mother had driven us as kids to see them with Flock of Seagulls at Purdue University on the Vacation Tour. I LOVED THE GO GO’S.

Then all the sudden someone comes in and says “Their ready for you!” 

Eddie grabs me and says “You’re our photographer.” 

We go down the hall a little and Billy Zoom is standing there with John Doe. Ron makes small talk with Billy and there is a bench along the wall. I jump up on the bench and Billy Zoom just looked right at the camera and did that million dollar smile. I snapped the pic, and jumped down and kept moving. Thanking Billy, we make our way into the room proper. 

It is full of various people, but Exene is starting to stand up from this really cool chair with flames around it. Out of nowhere I ask her “Exene?!?! Would you mind sitting back down so I can get a picture of you in that cool chair?” 

She totally complied and I got up on a coffee table and shot the picture like I was from fucking Rolling Stone or something. So I’m out of my mind and again, playing it like I’ve been there before. 

We then make our way to the bathroom they had there in the dressing room. And it’s popping off!!! I saw NO DRUGS. That is 100% honest. Straight up…

But man, it was just alive. Ron kinda seemed in the center and the action and they were all in the shower goofing off with the shower head. Acting like it was a mic and singing into it. All of the sudden the disposable camera’s came out. Told you, this was pre cell phones. 

Danny Bland was their manager and he started to hand them to me in an orderly fashion. As the Supersuckers posed with Exene and Jane, I snapped away. INCREDIBLE. Luckily I have the photo’s to prove it:)

So…. From there we make our way to the MGM Grand, which was where they all seemed to be staying. We get there and it’s packed. At 2:30am!!! 

We get in line and make small talk about what we wanna do etc. and then all of the sudden the automatic doors come open and it’s Jane with some guy who is pulling himself on the ground all the way through the lobby. I mean, like he fell out of a wheelchair and had to make his way inside somehow! 

Well, everyone is wondering WTF is going on, and is this guy ok? Jane is kinda cheering him on.. “Come on, you can do it!” Then all of the sudden, he pops up to his feet and acts as if nothing has happened. 

WTF indeed. Mommy look at me?!?!

Anyway, we make out way up to their rooms while I take a fair amount of ribbing from that hard case of the band MR. DAN BOLTON AGE ?

Trying to represent the Turbonegro, decked out in denim, Dan comes at me with “Look at this guy trying to look like Corey Hart!” 

Which was a pretty good line. I laughed.. But then again, I can laugh at myself. 

Ron, being a little cooler, was making small talk with me and I told him I just flew in from seeing the Hellacopters last nite. He gushed about how much he liked them, so I hooked him up with some extra stickers I scored. He was very gracious. 

We smoked some more weed and then proceeded to pile into a rickshaw thing that carried a load of people. I felt bad for the dude… 

But we made our way down to Binions Horseshoe to play craps. I was familiar but unfamiliar so Eddie was very patient and kind of explained the basics and I have to tell ya, I was hooked on dice for a bit.

Anyways, we said our goodbyes by the time we got to the penny slots. 

They probably got in their van, on the dusty old road to give you two friendly beeps on that horn.

Meanwhile we were looking for that van behind CIRCUS CIRCUS that had sold us some blow earlier that night! 

Into the wayward wind I keep on traveling

I’ve gone gamblin.

[originaljediinjeans]

MCU Rewatch: Iron Man 3 (2013)

This movie should have been called either The Pepperony Movie or The Fire Nation Attacks.

I’ve heard people say this is either the best or the worst Iron Man movie. I have re-watched the first two Iron Man films very recently so I can make a somewhat fair comparison. This one is actually the best and I think it’s officially my favorite now. My mom says it’s her favorite and I think I’ve figured out why. You will see the reasons why below.

The absence of Coulson, SHIELD, and Fury or even a lot of other references to the greater MCU really changes the tone--makes it darker, even, I don’t know how but it does. Which may be why I’ve only seen this movie all the way through twice.

In fact, since the last time I watched it I’ve forgotten about 30% of what actually happens

But I knew all the spoilers by the first viewing (October 2013 on a friend’s XBox) because I did a term paper on A Christmas Carol for a summer college class in 2013 and I found an article about how Iron Man 3 (which came out in May 2013) is actually based on A Christmas Carol which is why it’s set during the holidays--A Christmas Carol is more than about just Christmas and Iron Man 3 is more than about just Iron Man.

This is TONY’s best movie, this is PEPPER’s best movie, this is JARVIS’s best movie, this is RHODEY’s best movie.

Also Happy Hogan was great for the first 15 minutes. HAPPY HOGAN DOES NOT GET NEARLY ENOUGH LOVE AND APPRECIATION.

Happy as head of Stark Industries security is under a lot of stress. Has he been like this since he got the job or since the Aliens attacked New York or both? 

Happy got hurt but he started the hunt for the real villain. Also Happy was really fortunate to be as far from the center of the blast as he was.

Also it was beyond convenient that Harley was carrying around the surprise for bullies when he was

I would love to have an elegant Edwardian Tea Party with Happy Hogan

The Prologue: The laptop in the hotel room glitched because it was Y2K--am I the only one who remembers that? Also OH MY GOSH HAPPY WHO LET YOU DO YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT? Oh, look, there’s Yensin. Oh, look, Tony totally brushed him off. Oh Look,Tony totally forgot about the night of Y2K and look what happened 

Moral of the story: just don’t drink alcohol because there will be Consequences(TM)

Aldrich Killian is what happens to nerds/geeks when they go Bad

Tony Stark can create a complicated science formula while he’s drunk that’s how smart he is

(Or do I just underestimate how “drunk” you have to be to be really not-functional?)

Anyway, in his past life Tony left behind a long trails of lies and disappointment. Doesn’t make him a bad person. In fact he’s a better person now. And now he’s an even better person because he dealt with the problems that he started. 

Tony using implanted computer chips to summon the parts of the Mark 42 is actually pretty cool, kinda like magic, he should figure out something like that to show Doctor Strange--not that Strange would be remotely impressed but the point is Tony does Magic

But gosh Tony is just petty sometimes to people who don’t need it. That’s how other people treat him, I get it. 

Tony programmed JARVIS to be sarcastic and it is flawless. JARVIS is even sarcastic at Tony. JARVIS is really an extension of Tony himself but maybe at this point there’s still some bugs to work out, even for the World’s Finest AI Ever.

The suit putting itself on Tony while Tony is climbing through the wreckage as his house is collapsing around him is incredible

The heart-wrenching scream when Pepper calls for him

I’ve heard that in the comics that The Mandarin was an actual supervillain and people hate this movie because they got played. I haven’t read the comics so that doesn’t affect me. 

Trevor Slatterly is actually pretty entertaining in the scenes he has with Tony and Rhodey. He’s kind of like Jack Sparrow. But he is total trash and he knows it. Sir Laurence Obliviae indeed.

I get the whole White Capitalist Conspiracy theory and there’s no use arguing against it

Was the piano Maria Stark’s? 

Also the Extremis hot chick grabbed a weapon from a civilian who was trying to defend himself, that says volumes about the people who wrote this movie

But AIM is really just REALLY evil because they are targeting vulnerable people. Trevor by his own admission was a drug addict they picked up on the street. Their experiments are run on veterans with lost limbs and probably PTSD in the mix. And deep down that makes me so mad. Partly because Steve and Bucky and Sam. But I have an uncle in the Army and I lived with his family for a school year so it’s personal.

Gary and Harley’s wildest dreams coming true am I right?

POTUS Mills kind of came across as a pansy the first two times I saw this movie. But this time he’s not. He was going to call the hotline to save the dude’s life he had a man at his elbow telling him not to but he was going to do it. He doesn’t even really cower after he gets kidnapped. In fact he’s kind of mad. He has more than a spine than you’d think.

It’s the “Mandarin” who has the deep righteous voice that you would associate with a POTUS.

Maya Hansen. Just wow. 

Hell froze over and Tony went to Hickville, Tenessee

Tony Stark in an Iron Man Suit is great but Tony Stark with weapons he built himself from stuff he bought at Home Depot and constructed in a cheap motel room is a Force to be Reckoned With

Just Tony and Rhodey having great fight scenes without their suits on why does nobody talk about that?

Also Tony and Rhodey are huge dorks 

The scene where Tony threatens the AIM security guards while he’s zip-tied to a bed frame is the most hilarious thing ever, officially my favorite Tony scene of all time

One of my worst fears is being strapped to an operating table and injected with heck knows what, maybe even being turned into a monster. Tony saw an image of that happening to Pepper and he saw that but he also saw the love of his life probably dying. *insert the This is Fine meme here*

and then  P E P P E R     D I D      T  H  A  T

Was Pepper even mortal to begin with?

Tony was not afraid to touch Pepper while she was on Extremis even though she hated having it in herself

The scene in the epilogue where the Vice Creep is escorted away and Rhodey is watching: there’s a portrait of George Washington on the wall behind Rhodey and talk about History having its Eyes on You, did Lin-Manuel Miranda see this when he was writing Hamilton? cuz wow. I could write a whole essay on that shot alone.

Iron Man 2 and all three Cap films are political but Iron Man Three is somehow even more political than all of them put together?

Does Pepper have PTSD from this? Yes but unlike Tony (at least up until Spider-man Homecoming) she went to actual counseling

Pepper wants a normal life for her and Tony but she’s never going to get it. Tony tells her as much at the very ending. But then he blows up his suits and takes out his arc reactor so they have the illusion of closure. That illusion only lasts as long as the rest of the MCU doesn’t go to crap and it will quickly. Even if Tony survives Endgame they’ll still have the past to deal with, but at least they’ll be able to heal together.

The entire thing is just Tony talking to Bruce but Bruce falls asleep right at the beginning. It’s funny but this is why Science Bros is a thing: Tony told Bruce everything even without knowing that Bruce wasn’t listening. I don’t think Tony is ever that upfront with the rest of the Avengers combined. 

[agl03]

Oh-no, snowpocolypes, were having a coldpocolypes were I live (-25C). What are you're high hopes for the LMD arc? Do you think we might get f-ed over again like we kind of were with some of the hive science stuff? After the hype from comic con and pre season about FS both as a couple and separately I guess I just feeling a little gun shy in getting my hopes up. Like Ghost Rider was cool any everything but A just felt hollow in a lot of ways as well as rushed.

Hi Anon!

Stay warm.  We are in negatives here too and my house now looks like Elsa made it her ice palace.  But we are hunkered down and well supplied.  

My hopes for the LMD Arc is they its as good as I know it can be and that at least one of my theories are correct on the matter (AIM, Machine Teen, or Super Adaptoid)  I really hope we don’t wind up with tons of doubles running around as it just over does it.  And I hope that they let the Science Team have the lead on this story.

Because they were cut out of the Hive story….well the Hive story as a whole took a big left turn on me and then had lots of plot points get dropped/go no where.   

I was okay with the Ghost Rider story, honestly it struck a better balance for me than I thought it would  And I had thought I had prepared myself going in for Fitzsimmons to take a back seat in the story, I even predicted it.  I just never imagined it would be THAT bad, I really thought we’d get more  I thought we would see more of Fitzsimmons working on the science side of Ghost Rider and trying to explain him.

I don’t blame anyone for being gun shy about everything right now.  As I keep saying I am managing my expectations carefully.  I’ve been waiting for this Mad Science/LMD story for a long time.  I’ve been waiting for a good Fitzsimmons centered arc for a long time.  I’m excited about the little set up we’ve had so far and I’m excited about the Fitz/Radcliffe relationship they have started to build (even though I know a kick in the feels is coming with it).   Its hard to fathom them cutting Fitzsimmons out of the Mad Science but it can easily be done.  We saw it with Hive.  

For the record, I don’t think that will happen, at least not to the degree they were with Hive.  And all  the stories Nadeer/Watchdogs/Inhuman, Mace, and LMD/Mad Science will converge around 14 and the Mysterious Benefactor/Big Baddie is revealed.  

For me the biggest danger will be a shift later in B going into C.  When I expect Robbie to come back and AIDA has made some serious progress with the Darkhold.  This is where they story could shift back to Ghost RIders court.  

I have been feeling good about Fitzsimmons here the last little bit.  There are spoilers for them again, they are getting articles again.  The Collider ones are especially encouraging when you look at the pairs.  Clark/Jason (Clark will be a big part of Mace’s story), Ming and Mallory (the LMD’s and as her captive May has likely spent a fair amount of time filming with Mallory), and Lil and Iain.  I know they won’t be together all the time but I do think we will at least see a bit more of the domestic side of their relationship…though I’m to the point where I will be thrilled to see them in the same room for an extended period of time.  

One last bit, we have John Hannah, they wrote the role of Radcliffe for John.  You don’t do that if you are going to not give him a good proper run with it.  Fitz has become close to Radcliffe, Iain saying they have a father-esque relationship.   So again kind of hard to but him out of that.