#you good? do you need a manic pixie girl to come lift you up and heal your misogyny? cause this aint happening. grow up

[pendragora]

Sometimes tumblr recommends me things that are out of my orbit, and today it was a post about my favourite comics character being ruined by female fan base

Dude

Buddy

Precious

He is only still relevant because of his female fan base

It is sending me when men complain women read comics when the numbers say that it is mostly women who read comics now

[ratmonky]

Blockbuster

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: dub-con, obsession

AO3 Link

“This week’s movie is…” you paused for the dramatic effect and met each one of your club members’ eyes before pulling out the DVD case from your bag. “Sweet Blossoms!”

Everyone groaned.

“Hey!” you laughed, putting the movie down on the desk. A gorgeous smile tugged at your lips. “It’s my turn so I get to choose!”

“You always choose the worst ones,” your classmate mumbled. “I’m sick of watching romantic comedies. Besides, this is one of the last times we’ll watch a movie in our club.”

Yeah, the graduation was close.

You pouted, giving one person, in particular, the puppy eyes. “Junpei,” you said. “Tell them something, you’re the president.”

Junpei chuckled nervously when you put him on the spot like that. “Haha, I… We made a promise to let one of us choose a movie each week, we should keep our promise.”

“I’m not watching that,” the other club member said. “We’re here to watch movies we appreciate, not whatever dumpster trash you like.”

Although the other two members were being mean, they were right.

“Guys,” Junpei was unsure to say something. He could see how your smile vanished, your shoulders slackened as you flipped the DVD to its back so you wouldn’t need to see the cover title. “It’s her turn to choose.”

“Nevermind,” you uttered, putting the DVD back in your bag. “They’re right. I was being selfish. You can skip my turn.”

“But-”

“Great! I rented Pulp Fiction yesterday and brought it with me.” Your classmate dove his hand inside his bag to fish out the DVD.

Junpei noticed the way your lower lip trembled and you pressing your lips together to hide it. When your gaze met him, you forced a smile on your face, mouthing that it was alright.

You were just like him.

He got up from his seat to sit next to you as your classmate put the movie in the DVD player. It was nothing unusual, most of you sat together to make small comments during a movie.

You pushed your stuff on the desk to the side so he could have some space to put his bag.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the movie had already started.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” you softly stated, leaning closer to keep your voice down and not disturb the movie. “It was my fault.”

“Still, we gather here to watch movies our members enjoyed. We’re not actual film critics or anything.” He was trying not to lower his gaze to your chest. One of the buttons had come undone on your shirt, he could see your bra. “Next week is my turn, I can rent the movie you wanted to watch so we can watch it. They won’t complain then.”

Your eyes widened and he could swear that he saw them sparkle. A second later, you dropped your gaze to your lap to fidget with your fingers. “Nevermind, it’ll cause trouble. It’s passive-aggressive and I don’t wanna cause trouble for anyone. Nobody wanna watch the movie I chose anyway.”

“I do,” he whispered, cheeks flushing. While you weren’t looking he had gotten a chance to peek inside your shirt.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him with the prettiest and the most genuine smile he had ever seen. “Really?”

He nodded in affirmation, “We can watch it together after school if y-you wanna.”

“Shh!” The oldest club member turned and pointed two fingers at you and then to his eyes. “No flirting in the losers club.”

Both of you got quiet and it took you a long moment before leaning closer to tell Junpei something.

“So, where will we watch the movie?”

That was how he ended up bringing you to his place. You awkwardly sat on his bed and he tried to stop his shaking hands.

“I wish I had a television in my room too,” you said, starting a conversation to ease the mood. “You’re so lucky, Jun!”

Calling him nicknames like that… you were trying to make him delirious. “I-it’s nothing, it’s some old thing I got from second hand.”

“Still!”

He heard a rustling sound. Once he was done with putting the movie in the DVD player, he whipped his head around to check what you were doing.

His breathing almost stopped when he saw you laying on his bed and checking your phone. You were moving your legs up on the air as you scrolled down some social media platform. Your skirt wasn’t long enough to cover the supple flesh of your thighs, they were squished together and because you were laying on your chest, the skirt’s fabric was relaxed on your ass, leaving not much to the imagination.

Junpei gulped audibly and averted his gaze. “The movie.” That was all he managed to say.

You hummed and sat up on his bed as he took a place next to you. He couldn’t understand why you were so careless, didn’t you think of him as a man?

No, you were purely naive. Not at all aware of the real dangers of the world. Not at all aware of what kind of thoughts about you went through his mind every single day.

The movie opened with the female lead who from her first appearance stated that she was the manic pixie dream girl getting some flowers from a secret admirer despite having a boyfriend.

It was simply trash. That was the only way he could describe the storyline or the mood of the movie.  On his own, under any condition, Junpei wouldn’t pick this garbage up and sit through it but since you wanted to watch it… he had to endure it.

You, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the movie. Hands on your lap, gasping every now and then when the male lead encouraged the female lead to dump her boyfriend with his shitty compliments.

He found it kind of amusing to watch you react to the movie rather than watch it himself. Soon enough his gaze dropped to your lap. Under the skirt were your bare legs and you were sitting on his bed. Your ass was placed on his bed. The thought of your panties touching the sheets of his bed made his thoughts go south. If you got wet right now, you could soak his sheets.

Slowly, you shifted on his bed, getting in a more comfortable position to watch the movie. Unbeknownst to you, he had a better view of your cleavage now, it was only natural that he couldn’t look away. As vulnerable you were, he was still a man and like any other man, Junpei couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing.

What color panties were you wearing? If he lifted your skirt up to check, would you be surprised? You wouldn’t push him away, that was for sure. You came here all on your own after all, laying on his bed like that and looking like this… There was no doubt you were basically inviting him to fuck you.

The credits rolled sooner than he would have wanted.

You stretched your arms over your head and let out a soft groan. “Thank you, Jun.”

“For what?” He got up from his bed to take the DVD out from the player.

“For watching this with me. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you!” A friend, huh? He thought of you more than a friend but you were probably playing hard to get. The two of you were the same, you just had to be embarrassed to admit your feelings for him. Yeah, that had to be it.

“I liked the movie.” Liar. He didn’t watch it.

Silence.

“I should get going,” you sighed, retrieving your bag and jacket from the floor.

By the time you stood up, Junpei was holding the DVD case towards you. “I hope you had fun.”

“I did.” You smiled, taking it from him. “Thank you again.”

Junpei was languidly nodding, lost in his own thoughts.

As soon as you left his room and apartment, Junpei hurried back to his room. Getting on his knees, he pressed his face into the exact spot you sat on for two full hours. He took a deep inhale, filling his lungs to their limit.

So this was your scent.

Unbuckling his belt, he kept inhaling the smell of your pussy absorbed on his sheets. He was already impossibly hard, if it weren’t for the way he was slouching when you were beside him, you would definitely notice.

His hand wrapped around his cock and he stroked it from the base to the tip, using your smell and his own fantasies about you as his material for today.

Oh, how he wished he could smell you directly.

~~~

The next day, he couldn’t look you in the eye during the club meeting to talk about the movie everyone watched yesterday.

While you were debating with the two other members about how although the cinematography and the dialogue were great you didn’t enjoy the excessive amount of cursing.

“You just don’t understand cinema,” one of them grumbled.

“Couldn’t agree more, I mean… Do you even watch anything other than your weird romance movies?” The other one grinned.

“Let’s not take it too far,” Junpei mumbled, his words went unheard.

“I didn’t say anything bad about the movie,” you argued. “It was well written but the dialogue was too vulgar for my taste.”

“And since when do you have taste?”

Laughter.

“Yeah, she’s such a scatterbrained normie.”

“Guys.” Junpei stood up on his seat to stop the hassle.

“At least I’m not a pathetic loser.” It slipped. As if you had been wanting to say it out loud for so long. “You know that this is why nobody likes any of you, right?”

It became silent.

Junpei sat back on his chair and the other two who had been grinning from ear to ear as they were teasing you frowned.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, realizing what you had said but the deed was done.

“Sorry.” Mumbling, you gathered your stuff and left the clubroom.

~~~

Getting bullied wasn’t the worst part. It was the way other people treated him because he was getting bullied.

People looked at him with pity, sometimes talked to him because they wanted to include him. They were all doing these things to feel better about themselves. It was never about him.

He could let the cigarette burns, all the times he got beaten and the countless lies others spread about him slip but not the fake kindness.

He hated the fakes.

~~~

It was two days after the incident when you finally decided to approach Junpei before he exited the school garden.

“Hey, Jun.”

A shiver rose up his spine and he stopped walking momentarily. “(name), good to see you.” He turned around to face you but you were looking down onto the pavement. You didn’t want to look him in the face.

“Yeah...” You took a deep breath to calm your senses before speaking. “I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn’t mean any of the things I said.”

He said nothing.

“I’m really sorry about it, I was being bitter because of the way they talked to me but I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

He proceeded to stay quiet, though you had a lot to say to him, it was impossible to find the courage or the words to speak when he was being like this. However, you came prepared for anything.

Reaching inside your bag, you pulled out a DVD case with a movie title Junpei had been looking forward to watching. You had heard him talk about it nonstop for months until it got released recently. He couldn’t get his hands on the DVD itself because of how the movie was always rented out but now, you were holding it.

“Wanna watch it together? My treat.”

How could he possibly say no?

“Okay.”

Your nerves eased when he put on a smile.

Thankfully, the walk to his place was short. In his room, you took off your jacket and grabbed the DVD case to put it on yourself. “I tipped the cashier a couple of extra bucks to get my hands on this,” you giggled and turned on his television with the remote control, the player lit up instantly.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, it’s just my way of apologizing, don’t sweat it!” Pressing the button for the disc slot, you opened the case to grab the CD. “Besides, I wanted to watch this for a long time too.”

He could tell you were lying but he wasn’t sure if you were trying to be nice to him out of pity or not. Gradually, he realized he couldn’t put you in a box. You two were alike. Exactly like him, you didn’t know where you fit in but he started to get an idea about where might fit in just fine.

As you were standing with the remote control in your hands and waiting for the movie title to show up on the screen, a set of hands were placed on your hips, making you flinch.

“Jun?”

Junpei couldn’t help but press himself against you, his hands on your hips moved to your stomach, and grabbed the remote control out of your grasp. He threw the device to the side.

“Jun?” you tried calling him again, not realizing he needed a hug this badly. “Are-are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, you felt him bury his face into your hair and heard him take a sniff. His hands moved in different ways. One slid up to cup your breast over your shirt and the other slid down your stomach.

“Um, if you wanna hug me, I can face you. This position is… weird....” You merely comprehended that he wasn’t hugging you when his hand soothed the fabric of your skirt and went under it to grab you by your pussy.

Your thighs pressed together at the same time a surprised gasp left your lips. His hand was pushing you towards him as he was pressing against you, urging you to feel everything.

“Wait,” you tried to say, but when his hips snapped forward it broke into another gasp. A finger pressed on your slit over the fabric of your panties, he dragged it up while his hand harshly groped your breast.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Junpei nosed some hair out of his way and placed his lips on your nape, grazing his lips on the sensitive skin before moving to kiss your neck. “I thought you were here to spend time with me.” His teeth nibbled on the thin flesh and your legs turned to jelly.

“B-but the movie.”

Hooking a finger under the elastic on the edge of your panties, he pulled them to the side and let his middle finger slip inside.

“We can watch it later.”

“Jun, wait.” You squirmed and tried to move away from his fingers but you were trapped. If you moved backward you were going to press harder against his erection and moving forward meant his finger going deeper inside you. The latter was the worst option, so you moved your hips away from his hand.

What you hadn’t calculated was the way you were rocking back on forth with Junpei as he was grinding his clothed cock against the soft flesh of your ass. When you pressed yourself against him harder, it didn’t leave any more space for you to move away from his fingers.

Thanks to your dumb decision, Junpei had you right where he wanted.

“You’re so cute, always trying to act smarter than you actually are,” he whispered, lips brushing against your neck. “When you left that day after we watched your stupid movie, I jerked off to you.”

His hand on your breast moved between your bodies and placed on the front of his pants. He tugged them down while drawing small circles on your neck with his tongue and two of his fingers thrust inside your slick heat.

“I shoved my nose into the exact spot you sat to inhale your scent.”

The revelation of what he did after you left made you tremble. His hot and wet tongue pressed flat against the side of your neck and his fingers moving in a scissoring motion distracted you from his free hand guiding his cock between your legs.

“From the moment we met, I knew we were made for each other, (name).”

Nevertheless the awkward positioning, he slipped his fingers out of you and moved to grab your leg from the back of your knee. He lifted your leg until his cock had enough space to move and his hips surged forward.

A panicked sound left your lips when his cock moved between your folds rather than going inside like he had planned.

Before you could struggle, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, angling his hips in the right direction. This time, it was a success.

Both of you moaned in unison.

Junpei buried his face into your neck and groaned loudly to the sensation of your warm cunt. Your gummy walls were sucking him right in. He couldn’t help slamming his hips into your pussy with a little too much force. You shook in his arms, nearly losing your balance “J-Jun,” you breathed, tone faint. “T-the movie.”

“Is that what you really want right now?” he whispered into your ear, thrusting in your cunt agitatedly.

You wanted to say something and shove him away so the two of you could focus on the movie that was playing on the screen instead but his cock stroked a sweet spot inside made you melt in his hold. You moaned instead, giving him the answer he wanted to hear.

He picked up a pace to fuck into you in a smooth motion and roughly pound into your pussy to steal cute little moans out of you. He was too lost in pleasure to be able to think. All he wanted was to feel your pussy clench around his cock.

His kisses on your neck turned into biting and you felt him lift your leg higher, launching both of you forward when you lost your balance. You managed to hold onto the TV stand while Junpei didn’t let the small accident interrupt him.

Letting go of your leg, he placed his hand on your back and pushed until you arched your back.

Now, he could thrust deeper inside you. Almost frantically, he started hammering his cock into your pussy. The impact caused you to place both hands on the furniture in front of you and hold onto it for dear life. Your clenching walls around him felt heavenly, he couldn’t stop moving his hips.

A shaky moan escaped your lips when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. Your hands gripped the furniture and your toes curled at the sensation. At some point, your attention suddenly averted to Junpei’s wandering hands pulling your back flush against his chest as every thrust of his hips left you shaking and begging for more.

“J-Jun,” you whined.

He knew exactly what it meant. If he couldn’t tell from the neediness in your voice, he could tell it from the way your gummy walls started pulsating around his cock. Instead of picking up his pace and fucking you like an animal in heat like you thought he would do, Junpei tried to thrust deeper, stroking your sensitive spot with his cock until your vision turned white and you started rocking yourself back on Junpei’s cock. Only then his thrusts became harder, almost as if he wanted to claim you as his only.

“Can I do it inside?” Junpei didn’t need an answer but you gave him one anyway.

“Y-yeah.”

His pace suddenly slackened, he was close to his own orgasm. He pushed his cock in your pussy down to the base and you felt the slight twitch of his balls on your ass as thick spurts of seed filled your womb.

He lowly grunted, continuing to move his hips and fucking his seed into you with disgustingly wet sounds. Your legs started to shake under you, his hands on your hips were the only things keeping you standing up but once he let go of you, the support disappeared. You dropped on the floor, his cum oozed out of you and stained the carpet.

None of you said anything. Not when you were catching your breaths or when you were fixing your clothes.

It took you a full minute before you asked something so utterly idiotic. “Should I go home?”

At that exact moment, he understood why people enjoyed bullying others who were weaker than them.

“I thought you came here to watch the movie with me.” He dared to say.

You stared at him blankly, your gaze slowly turned to the movie that had been playing the whole time and a faint smile tugged at your lips as you reached for the remote control on the other side of the carpet to restart the movie.

~~~

In the next club meeting, Junpei brought the movie you had wanted to watch last week.

Although the other two groaned in unison, they sat through the entire movie once Junpei told them they owed you this.

As for you, watching the movie you had already seen a week ago was boring but the anticipation to watch another new release you had rented with Junpei after school was enough to keep you on the edge.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip. 

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier. 

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted. 

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

This is something I’ve been planning for a long time and I hope you all enjoy this story.

Also, what do you think of title of the fic? Should I change the title or is it good?

Prologue

Thana, all of two years old and already so smart, laid awake at night, every night, listening to her mother pry open her bedroom window and slip out into the night. Thana, a spry little slip of a girl, would lie awake all night waiting for her mother to come home.

Thana took several naps during the day, knowing she’d need to be awake to listen for her mom.

---

Thana, all of three years old, stared up into the blue eyes of the man her mother claimed was her father. She took in his features, seeing only slight similarities between his face and her own. She saw her mother’s tense form hanging in the doorway, observing the interaction. She focused all of her attention on the man, Tetch. She narrowed her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you’ve been doing to my mom.”

Tetch’s face broke out in a face-splitting grin. “She’s definitely mine. Oh my dearest Alice,” he turned his attention to Thana's mother and made to take a step towards her but was stopped by Thana, “she’s just like you but just like me.”

Thana stared at the blue eyed man and continued to glare at him. “No I’m not. I’m my own person.”

---

Thana, a few months past her third birthday, refused to let the tears fall over her rapidly bruising cheek. She held her head high, feeling blood trickle down over her lips, as she bared her teeth to the man who called himself her father. “You can hit me as many times as you want, you will not break my spirit. You will not make me into one of your Alices.”

Jervis Tetch’s face split into a manic grin. “Perfect.” His voice was full of a dark glee and would have sent shivers down Thana’s spine if she hadn’t already desensitized herself to his particular brand of dark glee.

---

Thana, a few months shy of four years old, stood behind their apartment’s door her hand still raised to wave her mother off. Thana felt Tetch’s hand land on her shoulder, his grip tightening to an almost bruising hold.

---

Thana, barely four years old, picked up her mother’s cell phone in her shaky, blood covered hands. She dialled the number for the GCPD and waited anxiously for someone to pick up the phone.

“Gotham City Police Department. This is Stacy. How may I direct your call?”

“My mommy’s dead. I don’t know, I didn’t know who else to call?”

“Oh sweetheart. Give me one second. Can you stay on the line while I connect your call to one of our detectives?”

Thana nodded before remembering that she was on the phone. “Yes ma’am.” Thana waited all of maybe a minute before a second voice sounded from the phone.

“Hi. I’m Detective Donald Peak. Can you tell me your name?”

“My mommy’s dead. Can you help?”

“Sweetheart, what’s your address?”

Thana rattled off her address, something her mother had made her memorize in case of any situation.

---

Thana, a month past her fourth birthday, packed her belongings into a backpack she found in the back of her mother’s closet before she climbed out of her bedroom window. She clung to the side of her building as she slid her window closed before looking down at the alley under her feet.

Thana let go of the building and successfully landed in the, thankfully, full dumpster that had, conveniently, been left open. She scrambled out of the dumpster and flung herself at the pavement beside the dumpster. Thana glanced back up at her bedroom, remembering all of the days she spent playing with her mother in her bedroom, before she turned around and dashed into the night.

---

Thana, eyes wide to what goes on in the world, knew there was someone following her as she ducked in and out of alleyways. Thana shrunk back into the shadows and waited for him to get close enough for her to control the situation.

The boy, because he couldn’t be too much older than she was, ducked into the alleyway she was hiding in and walked right in front of her. She stuck out one of her legs and tripped him, because he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Why have you been following me?” Thana planted her foot in the middle of his chest, fully aware that he could break out of her hold.

“You’re so small. How old are you?” He looked up at her with his eyes searching her face in the limited light streaming into the alley from an oddly placed window.

“Why. Have You. Been. Following. Me?” Thana growled out before her body froze and she hauled the boy to his feet and pushed him back into the shadows. Thana turned to glare at the boy when he made a noise.

“Oh Alice! My little Alice! Come out come out wherever you are! Daddy wants to play!” Tetch’s voice bounced around the alley, causing Thana to sink back deeper into the shadows, and unconsciously into the boy’s arms. “Wherever did my little Alice run off to?!”

Thana waited until she couldn’t hear his voice anymore before she grabbed the boy’s hand and ran out of the alley in the opposite direction that Tetch had walked in.

They ran the length of three city blocks before Thana turned and dragged them into a different alley.

Thana slumped against a wall beside a dumpster, pulling her knees up to her chest and forgetting the boy was there for a moment, until he opened his mouth.

“Your name is Alice?” The boy asked as he crouched in front of Thana. “And Mad Hatter is your dad?”

“My name is Thana, and Jervis Tetch is just the man who knocked up my mother.”

---

The boy, who Thana learned was named Jason, stuck around and helped her with her homework. He even shared his last name with her, Todd, and said he was okay with her using it as her own.

Thana walked the streets of Gotham unafraid with her brother at her side.

---

Thana smiled up at her big brother, happier than she’d been in a long time. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling him wrap his own arms, encased in the red sleeves of his hoodie, around her in return.

“I love you Jay-Jay.”

“I love you too Pixie.” Jason smiled and pulled back from his sister. He pulled out a bag from some hidey-hole and his smile grew as he handed the bag to his sister.

“Is this?” Thana opened the bag and looked up at her brother with tear-filled eyes. She gently lifted the red hoodie out of the bag and pressed it against her chest. “Jay-Jay?”

“Surprise.”

---

Thana walked out of the elementary building late one night, and was surprised when she didn’t find her brother. She simply shrugged, he had been missing the day before too, but startled when a boy in a cape landed beside her.

“A little birdie told me that you would need my assistance.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, my brother usually walks with me but I’m not sure where he- you’re not Robin. Who’re you?”

The boy in the cape awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with his green glove covered hand. “I’m Robin, just not the original. He decided to go out on his own.” He held out his hand and in the faint star light exposed the red sleeves covering his arms.

Thana looked from the red sleeves up into the face of the boy in th- Robin. “Jay-Jay?”

Robin’s eyes widened and he quickly looked around. “Pixie. You’re not supposed to be able to tell who I am.”

Thana smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Only Jay-Jay knows that I trust people in red sleeves more willingly than people in sleeves of any other colour.”

---

Thana screamed and cried, punching and kicking the adults dragging her away from her brother.

“We’ve found a relative of your mother’s! Isn’t that exciting?!” The lady was overly cheerful, ignoring the heart-wrenching sobs pouring out of Thana’s tiny body.

“No! I want to stay with my brother!”

---

Thana stared up at the Asain woman who had introduced herself as Sabine Cheng, a cousin of her mother.

“My husband, Tom, and I run a bakery in Paris. We’d like you to come live with us. We’d like to take care of you.”

“I don’t get an option here, do I?” Thana looked from the Asain woman to her husband, a large man with a mustache. “Why’d you even drag me down here if you weren’t going to give me an option?”

---

Thana, now called Marinette by her French family, adjusted the straps on her book bag as she looked at herself in the mirror. Thana, dressed in clothes her new parents approved of, tried to smile. “Hi. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Thana let the false smile fall from her face and shook out of her hands.

Thana walked down the stairs, a smile on her face to appease her new parents, and grabbed the box of macarons Tom made so she could impress her new classmates. “Thanks.”

Thana walked out of the bakery, the box of macarons held in her arms like a precious package. She walked to the school and counted the sidewalk blocks as she walked. She let out a breath as she reached the entrance of the l’école élémentaire Tom and Sabine had enrolled her in.

Thana’s first impression of the school was that it was too big and scary. Her second impression of the school was that she was terrified that she was starting a new school and her brother wasn’t at her side.

“My name is Marinette now. I need to stop referring to myself as Thana.” Marinette thought to herself as she walked into the courtyard. She glanced around the courtyard, saw all of the kids, and felt her fear return full force. She gathered up her courage and walked into the courtyard and instantly felt all of the students’ eyes on her.

Marinette let it wash over her, pushing her fear back as far as it will go, and straightened her shoulders. She strode through the courtyard and into the building, hoping to find the principal’s office without having to ask anyone.

Marinette strode into the principal’s office and smiled at the man. “Hello. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I believe my parents Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng called you and enrolled me in your school?”

---

Marinette didn’t make a lot of friends while enrolled in the l’école élémentaire, but the ones she did make were ones she was planning on keeping.

The first friend she made was a boy named Lê Chiến Kim. She only befriended him because he wore red sleeves and reminded her of her big brother.

The second friend was a boy named Nino Lahiffe. He played music that reminded her of home, the street music in Gotham was very similar to the music Nino played.

The third, and final, friend she made was a girl named Chloé Bourgeois. Chloé reminded Marinette of Robin, her brother’s alter ego, with the way she commanded respect.

---

The four ten year olds pushed through the glares directed at them by the other students, they didn’t care. They had each other and that was enough.

---

Marinette’s eleventh birthday came and went, and for the second year in a row she didn’t receive anything from her brother in Gotham. She put a smile on her face for the sake of her new parents and her new friends, despite the fact that she felt like she was dying.

---

Marinette had just turned thirteen, Jay-Jay was sixteen, and she searched the internet looking for anything that would let her know what her brother had been up to. Marinette shut down when the biggest trending news story was the death of “Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s sixteen year old son”, no one could get her out of her depressive state.

---

Chloé, Nino and Kim helped Marinette through it all, the arrival of Lila Rossi and the appearance of tiny gods called Kwamis.

It was the strength of that friendship which allowed the four of them to succeed in everything they set their minds to, the strength of the love they shared that allowed them to tackle any situation in front of them.

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss

[clericofthebalance]

Life Needs Things to Live, Chapter Three

Class was going to be less of a struggle for Percy today.  Percy settled into his seat in his MW Lit class, one of his final core classes until he could fully focus on what he needed to graduate.  This was the only class he absolutely had to take at the university, something he couldn’t sub with community college classes for a much cheaper rate.

Only one thing made this class tolerable given the 8 AM start time and boring material.  He glued his eyes to the door, sipping his thermos of coffee, waiting patiently.  Finally, she floated in.

Long dark hair captured in a braid, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, warm eyes that brought flames and autumn and the forest to mind.  She had a sharp and wickedly clever look to her face, joy radiating off every movement and gesture, unique to her very bones.  He adored how she wore blue feathers woven in her hair, how piercings lined her ears, how she emphasized her expressive eyes with perfect eyeliner, how she always had a giant zoology book under her arm.  She was beautiful and clever and just shone in the depressing classroom.

Fuck, he was pathetic and weird.  He really needed to get over his crush and focus on his life, not idolize some poor woman like she was his manic pixie dream girl.  Ugh.

Percy focused on his book, thinking about the two applications he had handed off yesterday. One to Gilmore, to work the counter in his coffee shop, the other to Keyleth for the apartment.  Hopefully, good things would come of it.  They both hinted that he would be accepted.

Maybe Asum could come visit soon, see Beau again.  It would be nice to see his old friend and savior.  To have something to celebrate rather than to mourn.

“Alright, class, we’re going to do a project instead of a final paper.  You’ll be working in assigned pairs to create a presentation and paper on a modern version of any classic novel and how it compares to the source material.  Your initial proposal is due to me in one week.  I’ll call out your assigned pairs now.”

Percy grimaced, praying he’d get someone tolerable that would do their share.  He couldn’t handle working with a freshman who left everything to him again.  He would commit murder.

“Percival and Vex’Ahlia.”

Wait, what?  He stared at Professor Shura blankly and she pointed to the back.  At his crush. Oh, shit fuck.  He was going to humiliate himself.

***

Vex stared at her notes, blanking out.  She hated core classes.  This English class was her absolute last one and it was a misery.  She wished she was out at the zoo or in a lab.  She only wanted to read what she wanted to read. Not this shit.  She sighed.

“Um, excuse me?”

She started and looked up, flushing at the quizzical brow and brilliant eyes on her.  The guy standing over her was hot.  White hair in a messy undercut, heavy brows, a strong yet elegant jaw.  It was the eyes that got her, though, blue as a winter sky and shining with intelligence. Vex easily mustered her most charming, most flirty smile for such a pretty guy.

“Yes, Darling?  How can I help you?”

The questioning frown lifted into a slight smirk, cocky and charming and matching his posh accent, one full and pale eyebrow going up, “Well, we’re partners on our final project according to the professor.”

“Project?”

“Oh, you checked out, too? Apparently we have to do a presentation comparing a classic novel to a modern adaptation while analyzing universal themes,” he rolled his eyes.  His unfairly pretty blue eyes, “And we have to work in pairs.”

“Shit!  I have labs to do! I thought this would just be a paper I could bullshit.”

“I was hoping for that as well,” he dropped into the seat next to her, looking unfairly comfortable in his formal slacks, a neat button up, and a tailored vest in royal blue. No tie, but he did have a black turtleneck underneath.  A little odd for a college student and very high class goth, but whatever.  He was still hot as shit.

“Vex’ahlia, but you can call me Vex.”

He tilted his head, chuckling, her knees going weak as the earrings up his ears sparkled in the fluorescent light of the classroom, “Percival de Rolo, Percy.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Percy Dear.”

“An even greater pleasure to meet you, Miss Vex’Ahlia,” he leaned forward with a charming smile, “So, exchange work and class schedules?  Find a time that works?”

“Schedules? You are a fancy one.”

“I have to plan every minute or I would crumble under the load,” she laughed as he pulled out an honest-to-goodness planner, “Yes, it’s color coordinated.  I was not joking about my life.”

“Okay, okay,” she giggled, grinning, “I get it.  Your girlfriend must keep you busy.”

“Oh-I-Uh-No,” Percy’s pale skin flushed and she noticed some light scarring around his eyes.  It almost looked like droplets, light pink against the lovely red of his cheeks, “I don’t have a girlfriend.  I just work two jobs, a double major with a minor, and a lot of responsibilities.”

“No girlfriend? Really?”

“N-no.  Oh, my phone is ringing!”

She barely held in her laughter at the Star Wars theme coming out of his backpack.  Vex ran her eyes over his profile, appreciating the fine jaw and strong nose, the disheveled hair and two-day scruff, the delicate metallic glasses that gave him a distinguished look only emphasized by his elegant outfit.  An outfit she could tell had seen quite a bit of wear judging by the precisely stitched repairs and fabric fade.  His phone was also an older model, older even than her three generations behind smart phone. So, he was posh but maybe not rich. Just particular about his clothing.

Damn, but he was a fine specimen of a man, his voice soft and refined and lovely.  She wanted to pin him down and see how far that lovely blush went.

“Oh, shit,” he sighed, looking absolutely devastated at whatever the person on the line was saying, “Well, good thing I put in a few applications.  It’s fine, ma’am, you don’t have the time to keep the place open anymore.  I had a feeling this was coming.  Take care and keep me updated.  I’ll be just fine.  You know me.”

He hung up and rubbed his temples, pushing the glasses up, “Sorry about that.  Former job.”

“That’s fine.  Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. This doesn’t even make the top ten of worst things to happen to me,” Percy smiled, but still looked strained, “So, free days?”

“Wednesday after 3 and all weekend except for Saturday morning.  Me and my housemates are interviewing a potential new renter.”

“Oh?  I’m inter-wait, do you live with Kiki?  Keyleth?”

“Yeah, I do!  Are you her Percy?”  Vex lit up at the prospect of getting to spend more time with him and leaned over to look at the organized but packed schedule.  Shit, he wasn’t kidding, “That’s an insane coincidence. She’s told us all about you and Beau. I work at a café just down the street from the house, Laina’s.  We could study there or at the house.  And you could bring Beau and Pepper along.”

“Honestly, that would be great.  I actually just put in an application at Laina’s,” Percy smiled back, “I really appreciate the offer.  You sure you don’t mind?”

“Only if you don’t mind my dog.”

“Deal,” he offered his hand with a wink, beaming, “I-Thanks.”

“Not a problem, handsome,” he flushed to his ears, those spots standing out once more against the red, blushing at her new nickname for him, “So, we can meet up around 4 at Laina’s and I’ll see you Saturday?  I see you’re free from 4 to 7 tonight.”

“I’ll be the one with the black Zemian Shepherd and small child.”

“Sounds great,” she winked, gathering her things, “I’ll see you then.  I need to get to my next class.”

“B-bye,” Percy was frozen, flushed, and staring at her like she was the most gorgeous thing in the world. She strode off with a confident swing to her hips, head held high, and a triumphant grin.  A study date with a handsome man and his babies.  Hopefully, she and Beau would get along.  Kids usually liked her.  Then, she could hunt down that sexy shy bastard.

But first…

She dialed Vax as soon as she was outside the building, knowing his first class wasn’t until noon and he was off this morning, biting her lip.

“What’s up, Stubby?”

“Morning, shitbird.  I met the potential roomie today.  He’s apparently in my lit class and we got assigned a project together.”

“You sound entirely too chipper for this early.”

“Well, he’s absolutely gorgeous and looks like a good guy.  He got fired while we were talking and didn’t even react.  Was just as pleasant as before the call.  I liked him,” Vax made a disbelieving snort, “Really! He color-coordinates his schedule. It’s absolutely adorable.”

“Are you thinking with your head?”

“Yes!  I promise, you’ll like him.  His phone is older than mine and he has definitely patched his clothes a few times.”

“Fine.  I’ll go a bit easier on him.”

“On that note, I’ll be studying at Laina’s tonight.  With him. While you’re working.  I’ll get Grog to walk me home.”

“Wait, what?”

She hung up with a smug smirk.  That would drive him crazy all day.

[ashalaughs]

An Annotated List of Men’s Tinder Profiles part 9

Well friends, I figured we could all use a little joy during this bizarre time. So here we are, the next installment of annotated tinder. As always, ranked from mildly confusing to capital YIKES.

I am a person with certain capacities or attributes such as reason, morality, consciousness or self-consciousness, and being a part of a culturally established form of social relations. I love to get to know people.: Definitely not the profile of an alien sent to earth to study the human race.

Want buy an omlette for five dollars?: Not gonna lie, reading this one made me laugh out loud.

A Mercedes in the streets but a Jeep in the bed.: Can a car person explain this one to me?

Congratulations you stumbled across my profile which means you have excellent taste and you’re going to meet your future husband, but it won’t be me, why because I’m the one before the one. We’ll exchange some texts and go on a few great dates and then Bam you’ll meet your future husband.: This is the profile equivalent of a chain letter, right?

Be the GOAT or live like a goat: I mean, goats have pretty good lives.  

If you read this far please don’t hesitate to say hi. Some of the greatest achievements in human history might not have been done if those who endeavoured just shrugged and moved on with Thier lives: I love that this guy is comparing swiping right on him with the, like, discovering insulin.  

Don’t make fun of my distinguished way of walking. I can’t help that! I too have been shamed for walking to much like a fancy gentleman.

Well I could bedazzle you with how amazing I am. But would you believe it??: Believe that you’ve used an ‘80s novelty toy to cover me in rhinestones?  

I play guitar and ukelele (and I might use it on one of our dates): Is that a threat?

If you don’t love a dog back, it wont burn you in hell!: That’s...not something I was worried about?

Smoke weed so I don’t cry.: Get 👏some 👏therapy👏

If I like you. You have to follow my policy.: I’m gonna need some details here, chief.  

“Trump got a pet dog, guess what is it called?” Trumpet.: This is such a mind-boggingly incompetent joke.  

If we happen to match and you have a cat picture then you have a great ass or boobs or both, I mean smile!: We’ve got a wit on our hands, ladies and gentlemen.  

Looking to try being a fuckboy for a while.: Admirably honest if almost certainly ineffective.

Trust is a two-way street, and I ride the subway.: I just can’t parse this metaphor. You are below trust? You only go one way at a time?

My friends call me Rimjob for obvious reasons.: What are those friendships like even?

I’m open to dating and making friends but one day find the one. She who sends shockwaves and soul. Explores my temptations and traces my constellations. Reminding me of the star I’ve always been.: Was “in search of manic pixie dream girl” too succinct for you?

Tinder. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villany. We must be cautious.: Cool, yeah, very chill.  

I’m somewhere between too ugly to date and just hot enough to fuck.: Uh, yikes.  

You can be a honkey. And still be hung like a donkey.: Defending his people through the time honoured practice of poetry.  

I’m 6’4 and I like to lift weights drunk. My skull has a colossal 24” circumference at the browridge. You wish to have sex with me indeed.: Clearly this guy is joking but in a way that makes him seem like an old timey eugenicist?  

Unionists swipe left: This guy does not want to unite with any of the workers of the world and that is his loss.

My beliefs are of my own construct; There is no good or evil. Only one thing to abide by which is to die naturally. I guess it is good to have manageable goals.  

I’m an aspiring white person who dabbles I’m being a foody: File that under saddest profile I’ve read in a good while, please.

I do amateur standup comedy. Just looking to talk about it and maybe get a handjob. Literally, a nightmare.

I just know it straight - the reason of joining Tinder is to keep myself warm by giving maximum pleasure to the hole I will be serving.: What an unnecessarily gross way to phrase that.

F**k it. Being polite and honest only has prostitutes/escorts matching me. Time to be an a**hole.: Somehow I don’t think your politeness (your genteel self-censorship notwithstanding) is the thing that’s holding you back, my dude.

Where have all the woman gone that just wanna suck dick and call it a night?: To a dinner party with the Loch Ness monster and Big Foot.

Finally, this is a long one but it was too wild to pass up: I’ve kissed Lust’s forbidden lips and got drunk with the fountain of youth...I shall show you many things. And once you do, you’ll come to me, again and again. Whether you go right or wrong is of no consequence; I’m here for those that crave what lies beyond the cave of illusions. Who else deserves to have her legs tremble while her eyes fade into white?: Truly, the “grandiose yet douchey” genre is as popular as ever. Somehow I can’t imagine that Plato would appreciate you claiming you can sex people into enlightenment.

[robot-unicorn-attack]

CHAPTER 01 - FLOWER

(written by @bebemoon)

… CHAPTER 01. 

“Oh- god, I think I’m going to be sick-” 

Aura had just barely managed to shoulder her way between the pair of stylists crowding her apartment before throwing herself into the tiny lavatory to be sick. 

“Pretty,” one- the blonde- muttered to the other, but not so quietly that Aura couldn’t hear. “If she throws up on that outfit, we’ll have to put her in something else- and we’re already behind schedule.”

“I don’t have a backup outfit,” said the other- a bony lavender-headed woman. “Her people told me not to put her in the black dress- it doesn’t work with the ‘pixie-whatever’ image.”   

The blonde sighed, irritated. 

Aura sat back against the wall and leaned her head back, waiting for the nausea to pass. The glistering, crystal bodysuit they had her fitted into was needling her skin, causing her some annoyance. She really didn’t feel up to clubbing at the moment, least of all as the fresh and always-lively “Flower”. 

Death first. 

“Are you just going to sit there?”  

Aura lifted her head from the wall. The two women were standing together outside the lavatory with their arms folded- waiting. 

If only she had managed to puke on the diamond catsuit. Those two would’ve been fired for sending her to the Demon in the wrong outfit (or naked), and she might’ve never seen them again.

“Get her up, Xera. Check the suit,” the blonde commanded. “We don’t have time for this !” 

Lavender-locks rolled her eyes but stepped into the lavatory all the same. She got Aura to her feet and gave the suit a good once-over, turning Aura all the way around twice to be sure. 

Satisfied, she gestured for the blonde to hand her the billowy, pale green gown that went over the silver suit. It really was just the thing a clubbing cyber sprite would wear- the gown’s bottom was hemmed with big, yellow blossoms and gossamer “wings” sprouted from the shoulder blades to stream after her like double trains. 

Aura loved the dress, but the prickly catsuit was for the birds.

The stylist, Xera, fastened Aura into the feather-light dress and stood back to get the full effect alongside her blonde companion. Her face almost instantly fell into a look of disappointment, then: “Get the holo-veil. She looks like a corpse in a fairy costume.” 

The blonde scurried off in search of the veil, and Xera stepped forward to adjust the fall of the dress. Quietly, she asked, “What’s with you anyway? Are you pregnant?”

Aura choked on a humourless laugh. Her overwracked nerves were causing her to lose things- sleep, meals, her mind possibly what with all the isolation she felt. Most of all, her patience was wearing thin- her tolerance level for having words tactlessly flung at her was dropping so rapidly she foresaw herself causing violence by the end of the night. 

“I’m due next month,” Aura said dryly- too dryly for someone wearing such dazzling clothes. “Don’t tell anyone. Could you help me with my shoes?”    

-

  “Flower”, haloed in fluttering holo-butterflies, blossomed into existence the exact moment Aura crossed the The Neon Demon’s threshold in a would-be Cinderella moment were it not for J.J., her totally-tatted babysitter, towing her along in his wake as he cut a swath through the enormous, pink-lit crowd of club-goers. 

She felt a few people touch her shoulder- perhaps to get her attention- but J.J. was focused on ushering her to the back of the club where a raised dais was roped-off for the exclusive use of RURs and their entourages. He didn’t even bother bringing Aura up the steps- he simply lifted her up onto the dais by the waist and shouted over the throbbing electro-music that he had to “piss” before disappearing back into the chaos of glowing bodies. 

Aura was already starting to feel light-headed as she took in her surroundings. The dias was littered with people- not all of them racers, but Aura was the only one who was on her own. Luckily, though, she didn’t see either of her teammates- Supernova or Sunbeam. Playing court jester to the Queen and Princess of Sky World would’ve been far too much for her already-frayed nerves. 

As she stood unsure of what to do with herself other than look blithe and “Flower-like” for anyone watching her, someone on the dais said her name- her real name- in a sultry tone. 

“Aura.” A tall figure with glowing eyes slipped between a pair of industry suits and was making her way over.  

“Sol?” Suddenly, Aura was transported to a dimly-lit discotheque a few days before her very first race.  

The other girl grinned devilishly and swept an errant lock of long, dark hair over her bare shoulder- the other was bristling with spikes. “Been a while,” she sang low on a golden wink. “You’re finally back.”

Aura released a laugh that she hoped sounded genuine instead of manic, like she felt. “God, right?” she expelled, as she briefly embraced her old friend. “Finally. We need to catch up.”

Sol’s eyes seemed to flicker like little flames as her grin deepened. She had yet to drop her hand from Aura’s waist. “I’d really like that.”  

Aura was suddenly acutely aware of the attention she and Sol were garnering. Really, racers from different agencies were discouraged from socialising publicly with one another. RUR fans liked drama and rivalries, not warmth and friendships. Amicableness between racers was not good for business.    

Across the dais, a suit was wildly gesturing to get Sol’s attention. When she finally decided to notice him, she rolled her molten eyes. “I told him I was coming over here to try to make you cry,” she whispered. “I’ll just tell him you worked some of your fairy magic on me, and now I’m nice.” She turned and jabbed her taloned fingers into her cheeks to make dimples at the man, who dropped his arms and gave her a withering look back. 

“Your fans would have my head,” Aura replied and pinched the other girls arm. 

“You’re right, I’m much happier being hated. I’ll see you later, Flower,” she said, and pointed a gold-tipped finger at Aura. “This time, on Lava turf.” 

The trademark wicked grin returned briefly just before she spun around and headed back to the other end of the dais.

At that moment, towards the front of the Demon, people were pressing together at the entrance, and Aura’s immediate thought was that it was one of her teammates causing a commotion with their arrival. So, she decided to retreat to a curved sofa area that was semi-obscured behind some crystally curtains that bi-sected the dais. There, a table was set with pyramids of glowing drinks, and though it was tempting, Aura imagined if J.J. caught her, she wouldn’t hear the end of it all night. Not worth it. 

She set herself at one of the “c”-shaped sofas in a pool of blue lighting, and while she was in the middle of wondering just how long it takes to piss, a man appeared with two glasses in one hand. A suit, by the looks of him, but not anyone from RISE. 

The man, slick-looking but clearly wrecked, propped his elbow on the back of the sofa Aura was occupying only to have it slide off. He stumbled backwards and sloshed some of the glowing alcohol on his- where were his shoes? 

He blinked, opened his mouth- closed it. 

“Er-” Aura began, but he cut her off with something she translated as vulgar. 

The suit was getting uncomfortably close, and Aura was quickly trying to figure how much trouble she would get in for kicking some industry lush in the chest- but before she could do anything, a pale hand closed over the man’s shoulder, pulling him aside. 

Snow- the Snow, appeared from behind the guy wearing a glimmering, diamond-encrusted headdress and took hold of his collar with two fingers as if it were a tissue containing a dead spider. 

She said, “Hey, Aindrew. How’s your wife?” 

The man- Aindrew- rolled his eyes and snorted, but didn’t reply otherwise. 

Snow nodded knowingly- then glanced over at Aura. 

Aura couldn’t have made up a wilder scenario in her dreams. Even through the holo-veil, she was sure that Snow could tell her eyes were actually the size of saucers. 

The other girl turned away, and though Aura couldn’t hear well over the music, she seemed to be delivering some harsh words to the suit whose eyes drifted up to the weighty headpiece. He swallowed and put up his hands. 

Snow released Aindrew’s collar, and he almost tripped over himself to get away from her. And once he was clear from their sights, Snow carefully lowered herself onto the sofa beside Aura. 

“Your bodyguard goes on break and the wolves descend,” she said, a single silvery eyebrow lifted- almost chidingly.   

Aura was almost too gobsmacked to make words- Aura-words or Flower-words. She just replied, “Thank you for that.” 

Snow laughed softly, toying with the veritable chandelier of diamonds cascading from her ear. “Of course.” She offered her heavily-jeweled hand. “Hi there, I’m-” 

“Snow- !” Aura burst. “Oh my god, I know. I’m a huge fan of yours.” 

“‘Marivana’, I was going to say- but thank you,” she replied, dropping her hand, and then cast a look over her shoulder at the end of the dais. “Do you know Nyx well?” 

Aura blinked. She had been wondering if she should tell Snow- Marivana about the little S.C. figurine she had on her nightstand when she first started out in the industry- just to prove her huge fan status. She hadn’t been expecting a question about Nyx. 

“We’ve spoken before,” Aura replied, following the other girl’s diamond gaze to a tall figure posing for a photo. “Danced, also, but that was years ago.” 

“I see...” Marivana turned her attention back to Aura. “I’m sorry, your name has slipped my mind.” 

Made sense- why would someone like the Snow remember her name. “Flower.” 

“No, I-” Marivana paused to laugh. “I know your nickname. I meant your actual name.” 

“Oh- Aura. Aura Philyra.” 

A woman with an earpiece came over with a flute of something icy blue and gave it to Marivana before walking off again. Marivana took a dainty sip and asked, “And where are you from?” 

“Ice World.” 

This seemed to surprise the other girl- her eyebrows shot up. “Really?” she said, a note of incredulousness in her tone. “You don’t strike me as someone from Ice World.”

Aura felt like an idiot, but there was no way she was telling her long-time idol that she was from some unknown moon. “Oh. No?” 

“No. I buy it as much as I buy the little fairy story your management made up for you.” 

“Ah, well. I’m actually embarrassed now,” Aura murmured. She fought the inclination to drop her forehead onto the table in front of them.  

Marivana shook her blonde head, sending her dazzling earrings into action. “Don’t be. Every racer has a gimmick.” 

“Yeah, but mine is-” Aura searched for a word. “-stupider than most. But at least the clothes are pretty.” 

Marivana’s eyes flitted over Aura’s clothes and she took another sip of her drink before remarking, “They certainly are.” 

Is she- Aura could feel her cheeks reddening. -wait, wait, wait...no. She’s being nice because she feels sorry for the Sky World halfwit who almost got puked on by a married, shoeless man. 

“So, you’ll be racing this week?” Marivana went on.  

Aura bit back a knee-jerk “Aura” comment along the lines of: “Yes, and I want to die.” Instead, she said, “Yes. I can’t stop trembling. Everyone keeps telling me how important this race is- like I need to be told.” 

Oops, that was too much… 

Marivana’s lips twitched upwards into a small, sympathetic smile. She placed the empty flute on the table and said, “Give me your hand.” 

Aura instantly obliged, and watched, transfixed, as Marivana ran her middlemost finger gingerly over the centre of her palm, before wrapping her pale, shimmery fingers completely around her hand. 

All she could really think was that Marivana’s hands were much warmer than she had expected them to be.

“Powdered chalk,” the blonde said, looking as if she was trying very hard to stifle a smile. “For your nerves. You’ll want a light coat of it over your hands, to keep them from getting clammy while holding onto your reins-”

Just then, J.J. appeared, evidently done pissing. He cast the crystal curtains aside and divided a bewildered look between the two girls who were still holding hands.

“What-” 

But Marivana cut him off before he could say anything more. “I’ll see you soon, Aura. I’m sure,” she said, and only then did she let go of Aura’s hand. 

Completely ignoring J.J., who had to move to avoid being hit with the headdress, Marivana stood and walked back through the tinkling crystals. 

J.J. dropped himself across from Aura and spread his hands, palms up, over the table. “And what were you two talking about?” he asked. “You know Korvan doesn’t like you girls talking to racers from other agencies.” 

Aura folded her arms and sat back. “How was your piss? Took a while. Maybe you should see a physician.” 

“Okay, whatever,” he sighed and ran his hands over his bald head. “I don’t even care enough to report it.” 

“Aw,” she crooned, lifting her shoulders adorably the way Flower would.  

Given that she had almost certainly been hit on by her long-time idol, Aura was starting to feel much better about the evening- her nerves about the upcoming race were settling somewhat... 

However, in the name of balance, Supernova and her retinue passed by on the other side of the crystal curtains a few minutes later, and Supernova actually paused to acknowledge Aura.

And, when she did, Aura spit sparkling water all over the front of her clothes.

[filmandthefemalegaze]

Interview with Hayley Cox

For this project, I decided to conduct an interview with my friend, Hayley Cox, a current Film and Directing student, to help understand what it is like to create film through a female perspective as well as highlight her experiences in a male-dominated major. 

Maddi Young: Hello! Would you please introduce yourself? 

Hayley Cox: Hi! Hi! I’m Hayley Cox, pronouns are she/her. I’m a student at the University of Central Florida currently majoring in Film and Directing. 

MY: First of all I want to thank you for taking some time and answering my questions. I really appreciate it. To begin, could you explain what drew you to pursuing a career in film?

HC: Yeah! Growing up I never got tired of watching movies. I would watch them all day if I could.When I learned about the amount of people it took to make a film and the fact I could be one of them, I sort of knew right then that it was what I wanted to do. People love to be entertained and there are so many stories left to tell. I want to be one of those people, telling stories that I’ve held in my head and heart since I was a child. 

MY: How has your path been, studying this in college and being on sets? 

HC: I have loved most of my classes and I like learning about different ways to tell a story. But, it hasn’t always been easy. I recall my final project my freshman year. My partner was a guy and we were co-directing our short film we had spent the semester writing. I had written most of the script. He would give me his ideas and I would write it. I did the storyboards and the shot list prior to filming, while he did the call sheet and found actors. On the day of production, I was basically running around like an assistant. Making copies, setting up the snacks, and organizing the props. He kind of took over as the director but then I noticed how badly the takes/shots were. Boom mics and lights could be seen in the shot, which would only make post production more difficult. So I kindly stepped in and pointed out what we needed to be careful about. For the rest of the day it was more equal amongst the both of us on filming, but I couldn’t help but feel like I overstepped. Which is completely ridiculous since we were partners, and in reality I had done most of the work. After we wrapped and started editing, we only had to turn in one copy for our production class. When it came time to decide whose we would turn it, we had only watched mine before he said to turn in mine. I’m proud of the work and I’m glad he liked it, but the effort wasn’t equal in the slightest. I felt like he got to receive credit for my hard work, and he was happy to do so. 

MY: So, would you say that he took advantage of his identity as a man to make you do the heavy-lifting? And expect you to do so?

HC: Yeah, I think so. Back then, all I cared about was doing my best. I didn’t notice the extent of it, that I was putting in all the effort and he was reaping the benefits. 

MY: This leads into my next question regarding men’s place in film and the “male gaze”. Have you heard of this term before? 

HC: I have. Honestly, though, I couldn’t explain to you exactly what it is. 

MY: That’s okay! It’s still a relatively new phrase and/or concept. The male gaze is essentially the way men, whether that be the director, the audience, or the character in the film, view women. It’s typically objectifying, seeing women as sexual beings, or, well, objects. 

HC: Yes! That’s what I was thinking. 

MY: Yeah! So, do any films come to mind when you think of the male gaze? 

HC: Uhm...now that I think of it, it feels like a lot of movies would fit that description. Like, Marvel movies for instance. I love Marvel, but Black Widow is always shown in a sexual way. Including unnecessary shots of her body that I guess are supposed to appeal to the male viewer. Even her, and some other female characters’, costumes are sexualized for no reason. The fact that Scarlet Witch wears a corset in battle is insane. 

MY: Right? The objectification happens so passively sometimes that we don’t even think twice anymore. But, the more we talk about it and the more we demand for better from these directors, the issue will begin to lessen. 

HC: I agree. 

MY: Now that we’ve talked about the male gaze, have you heard of the term, “female gaze”?

HC: No, I haven’t. I’m guessing it’s kind of like the male gaze, just through a woman’s eyes instead?

MY: Yeah, kinda! It’s a little different though. In the way that the male gaze is objectifying, the female gaze typically personifies. And since men are the oppressor in society and women are the oppressed, the female gaze cannot be an equal to the male gaze. 

HC: That makes sense. So like, women characters for instance. They aren’t written to objectify the male characters, they're written to see the male as a person. 

MY: Exactly. 

HC: I feel like that also explains the motivation of characters, in respect to the director as well. Like, why female characters shot or written by women see a male counterpart and romanticize it, making them a person even when they don’t know them. And male characters [shot by men] see the female characters as sexual beings or as devices to further their story. 

MY: That completely makes sense. It reminds me of the “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” trope. 

HC: *laughing* Oh my god, yes. 

MY: So, now that you’re familiar with the term, can you think of any movies you think exhibit the female gaze? 

HC: Let me think for a moment. 

HC: Portrait of a Lady on Fire comes to mind. 

MY: Could you elaborate on why? 

HC: One of the main characters is a female painter, and she’s commissioned to paint another woman, but she can’t reveal that she’s there to paint her. She has to secretly observe the other woman and her body, since it’s like the 1800s or something and they can’t take pictures. So the movie is basically about how a woman is perceived through another woman’s view. 

MY: I love that movie. It’s directed by a woman, too. 

HC: Yeah, so that adds a whole other layer. How a woman chooses to shoot a woman versus how a man would. 

MY: Kind of on that same wave length, when women shoot films the idea of making it “feminist” is always looming overhead. What do you think makes a feminist film?

HC: I think a “feminist” film is one that gets the audience thinking about the role of women in real life, not just in the movie. It enlightens the audience on what it could be like being a woman and how women are treated by society or others. There’s more to it, of course, but that’s initially what I think of. 

MY: I think that’s a good explanation. Now, since you are a women entering the film industry, do you feel pressured to create movies that qualify as “feminist”? 

HC: Hmm. Yes and no? I mean, I just want to tell stories, like I said before. But being a feminist is a part of who I am and how I view things, so I think that they’ll be feminist whether intentional or not. But men never have to be asked that question, you know? They just get to create. And I don’t know, maybe they should be asked it. 

MY: True. 

HC:  I do feel a pressure sometimes, though. As a woman in directing. We’re still the minority in the field, so every time a woman succeeds- or fails- everyone knows. 

MY: Also true. But I think you’re doing a wonderful job. 

HC: Thank you so much. 

MY: I just have one more question. Do you have any advice for other women, or young girls, wanting to pursue a career in film?

HC: Yes. Your gender should not hinder your success in the industry, no matter what anyone says. Out of the many jobs in the film industry, find the one you love and do it. 

MY: I love it. Thank you again, Hayley. It has been so fun to talk about this with you. 

HC: Same! I feel like now I’m going to be noticing the “gazes” when I watch movies now. So thanks for that. *laughs*

MY: Oh, you are so welcome. 

_______________________________________

[dhufearchived]

@rosedha​   SAID   :   ❛ quiet reflection is next to impossible if your mental landscape is one long scream. ❜

quiet    reflection    is    next    to    impossible...    that's    a    rich    girl    problem.    consider    this    :    a    scream    stuck    in    the    chest    for    six    months,    under    the    ribs,    aching    to    be    let    out,    begging    to    echo,    to    become    tangible,    to    be    recognized.    a    voice    in    her    head    pleading    to    be    relieved    of    the    weight,    of    the    violence,    of    the    claws    digging    into    her    bones.    quiet    reflection    is    all    she    gets,    all    she    has,    all    she    can    afford.    if    sadness    was    a    currency,    ishtar    would    have    to    go    through    all    of    her    pockets    to    find    the    needed    dollars.    if    sadness    was    a    currency,    ishtar    would    have    given    it    all    to    her    robbers    already.    she    calls    it    love,    but    it    feels    a    lot    like    betrayal    or    violence,    your    mind    &    body    turned    into    something    out    of    your    control.    her    keeping    jimbo    company,    kissing    his    forehead    before    he    falls    asleep,    trying    to    remember    that    it    isn't    about    her,    that    it    won't    be    about    her    if    she    sleeps    and    he    ends    up    like    rosie,    a    long    line    of    vibrating    static,    convulsing    and    then    dead,    waiting    to    be    taken    out    of    life,    incapable    of    doing    that    on    his    own    either.    quiet    reflection    is    for    those    who    can't    scream,    and    ishtar    cannot,    ishtar    doesn't    have    the    right,    ishtar    has    to    smile    through    gritted    teeth    because    she    is    sure    that    if    she    ever    tried    to    let    it    out,    she    would    never    be    able    to    stop.

she    pictures    it.    pictures    herself    letting    go.

in    this    fantasy,    she    is    doing    what    she    does    every    night,    abandoning    a    dazed    jj    in    her    bed,    a    sight    for    sore    eyes    or    a    sore    sight    for    eyes,    she    is    uncertain...    to    be    honest,    she    is    just    glad    to    see    him    alive    even    if    he    barely    looks    like    he    is    living.    she    pictures    herself    getting    in    her    car    and    drowning    the    oppressive    beats    of    her    hearts    with    the    radio,    which    immediately    starts    spitting    out    GREEN    LIGHT    by    lorde.    she    sings    along,    of    course    she    does,    she    sings    along    so    loudly    the    sounds    reverberate    through    the    empty    car,    her    voice    getting    back    at    her,    𝙸    𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆    𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝙳𝙸𝙳    𝙰𝙽𝙳    𝙸    𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰    𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼    𝚃𝙷𝙴    𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙷.    but    when    comes    the    time    to    turn    on    the    right,    she    doesn't.    the    car    keeps    slashing    the    night    in    two    with    its    headlights,    catching    nothing    but    empty    streets    and    cold    asphalt.    it    is    a    beautiful    night,    she    pictures    it    clearly,    full    of    promises    &    indecent    proposals.    ishtar    doesn't    look    pretty    in    this    scenario    because    it    is    her    mind    furnishing    the    tools,    she    doesn't    look    like    anything,    not    even    herself.    she's    a    random    silhouette    in    a    random    pickup    black    truck,    singing    a    random    radio    song    as    if    her    life    depended    on    it.    it    feels    good,    though,    it    feels    so    good,    better    than    getting    high    with    friends    on    a    couch    owned    by    someone    you    don't    know,    better    than    fucking    that    one    guitarist    who    really    knows    how    to    follow    directions.    it    feels    so    good    she    thinks    of    herself    as    rosie,    getting    obsessed    with    the    feeling,    chasing    it    to    the    ends    of    life.    addicted    to    the    ectasy    of    that    moment,    addicted    to    the    slightly    vibrating    steering    wheel.    addicted    to    never    leaving    that    car    but    to    be    always    leaving    places    and    people    behind.    (fuck,    to    be    the    one    leaving    for    once)    addicted    to    this,    forever    leaving,    never    home    and    not    needing    one,    being    her    own    home,    being    enough,    being    free.    

𝙳𝙸𝙳    𝙸𝚃    𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝙽    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝙷𝙾𝚆    𝚆𝙴    𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳    𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽    𝚆𝙴    𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴𝙳    𝙾𝙽    𝚃𝙷𝙴    𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃    𝚄𝙿    𝙵𝙻𝙾𝙾𝚁    ?    she    pictures    herself,    still    singing    at    the    top    of    her    lungs,    making    so    much    noise    it    is    getting    absurd.    opened    windows,    fresh    air    freezing    her    to    the    bones,    but    it    doesn't    matter,    it    really    doesn't.    nothing    does    in    this    fantasy,    not    when    you    are    driving    on    the    highway    at    night.    it    is    the    road    &    the    moon    &    you.    she    is    free,    has    never    been    freer,    free    because    in    that    moment    she    has    no    handcuffs    keeping    her    in    one    place,    or    tied    to    anyone.    she    just    belongs,    she    is    a    lost    note    in    a    sea    of    noise,    a    dusty    spot    in    an    old    abandoned    church,    a    blade    of    grass    in    a    field    during    spring.    she    is    herself.    she    is    nothing.    and    while    she    pictures    that    particular    feeling,    that    particular    image,    she    wonders    if    there    was    really    any    difference    between    the    two.    was    she    ever    more    ?    she    doesn't    remember.    rosie    &    jj    asleep    in    those    beds    that    aren't    theirs,    beds    they've    taken    for    granted,    beds    they    think    they    can    resent    just    because    they    wish    they    would    be    elsewhere.    sometimes    it    feels    like    they've    taken    all    the    pieces    of    herself    for    themselves,    like    they    wanted    to    fix    the    broken    gears    of    their    own    minds    and    forgot    that    she    might    need    them    to    function.    broken    pretty    doll,    stuck    on    the    same    song,    over    &    over    again.    𝙸'𝙻𝙻    𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴    𝙶𝙴𝚃    𝙼𝚈    𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂    𝙱𝚄𝚃    𝙸    𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃    𝙻𝙴𝚃    𝙶𝙾.    they've    taken    so    much    without    meaning    to,    so    much    she    does    not    know    how    to    get    it    back.    

sometimes    ishtar    thinks    about    the    day    she    saw    rosie    awake    for    the    first    time.    the    way    she    looked    at    her,    barely    fifty    hours    after    opening    her    eyes,    still    so    full    of    anger    and    resentment    and    something    sticky    __    like    well-rehearsed    sadness,    or    muddy,    like    dark    dirt    that    you're    preparing    yourself    to    throw    over    a    freshly    dug    grave.    she    looked    so    unhappy    to    be    alive,    to    be    awake,    to    be    there.    that    had    hurt    so    much    more    than    finding    her    on    the    bathroom    floor.    she    remembers    that    day    too    but    she    tries    not    to    think    about    it    too    much.    it    comes    back    in    flashes,    like    the    horizon    when    you're    driving    at    night    ;    little    moments    coming    back    to    you    as    stolen    sights    of    forbidden    memories.    she    sees    herself    asking    milot    if    she    can    stay    at    his    house    for    the    night,    and    he    says    yes,    doesn't    even    really    reply,    just    lifts    his    eyes    from    rosie's    body    and    extends    a    hand    with    his    keys    in    it.    she    remembers    not    wanting    to    go    but    going    anyway,    because    someone    has    to    clean    up    rosie's    mess    __    the    few    thrown-up    pills,    mostly,    but    also    the    water    on    the    ground    from    when    she    left    the    sink    open    and    couldnt    get    up    to    close    it.    ishtar    remembers    cleaning    the    bathroom,    remembers    not    wanting    milot    to    have    to    do    it,    not    when    it    was    his    kid    convulsing    on    the    tiles.    it    took    a    long    time,    but    not    enough    to    waste    away    the    night,    so    she    has    to    find    something    else    to    do,    something    else    to    clean    __    and    that    something    has    to    be    her.    she    pictures    herself    getting    in    that    tub    but    doesn't    really    remember    doing    it.    she    sits    there    for    a    while,    eyes    lost    in    the    white    tiles,    lost    in    an    ocean    of    white    noise    from    her    head.    each    thought    shot    the    second    it    is    expressed    as    a    coping    mechanism    :    you    can't    panic    if    you're    not    thinking    straight,    and    ishtar    in    that    moment    is    all    spirals.    melting    hot    water    gets    freezing    cold    too    soon,    but    she    doesn't    move,    she    lets    herself    feel    it    ;    the    nothingness,    the    emptiness    of    it.    all    she    is    then    is    shudders,    pain    dulled    by    chattering    teeth,    her    body    trying    to    shake    her    awake,    to    put    her    into    motion.    a    soft,    terrible    electrocution    of    the    machine    trying    to    remember    what    action    she    is    supposed    to    be    performing.    the    last    thing    she    remembers    about    that    night    is    her    face    in    the    mirror,    the    mauve    lips    and    the    ruined    bun,    the    mascara    down    her    cheeks    because    she    forgot    to    clean    it    off    before    showering.    she    distinctly    remembers    looking    at    herself    and    seeing    nothing.    

𝙱𝚄𝚃    𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚈    𝙸'𝙻𝙻    𝙱𝙴    𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙸𝙽'    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽    𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈    𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙳,    fever    dream    ishtar    is    singing,    a    fantasy    ___    while    the    real    one    is    staring    at    rosie,    her    fists    clenched    as    she    slowly    but    surely    looks    up.    rosie    doesn't    have    her    shades    on,    which    somehow    makes    it    worse.    dead-end    eyes    and    no    smiling    lips    ;    rosie    in    her    worst,    darkened    glory.    ishtar    hates    every    part    of    it.    «        so    what    ?        »    she    demands,    too    aggressive,    voice    impossibly    higher    than    the    gentle    drawl    she    usually    rasps    with    affection.    doll    seen    in    a    broken    mirror    ;    no    longer    the    manic    pixie    dream    girl    but    her    horror    counterpart,    a    ghost    of    someone    too    bright,    tarnished    by    months    of    unseeing.    𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳    𝚈𝙾𝚄    𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳    𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂    𝙱𝙴    𝙸𝙽    𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴    ___    the    fantasy    is    singing,    and    it's    a    lament,    it's    a    refrain,    it's    an    accusation.    it's    ishtar    blaming    rosie    for    feelings    blossoming    in    her    chest,    blaming    rosie    for    the    ruined    garden,    blaming    rosie    because    it's    easier    than    blaming    herself.    the    fantasy    is    screaming    but    it    is    not    enough    to    reach    reality    :    «        so    fuckin'    what,    uh    ?    you    ain't    gonna    change,    's    that    it    ?    yer    just    gonna.    stare    at    a    wall    and    complain    about    how    ya    can't,    think,    and    how    ya    can't    scream    ?        »    it's    a    fire    set,    a    girl    ignited    ;    she    moves    forward    and    rosie    can    either    back    down    or    meet    her    in    the    middle,    but    it    will    end    the    same    way    __    both    of    them    too    close    &    still    not    close    enough.    never    close    enough    again,    rosie    made    sure    of    that.    𝙱𝚄𝚃    𝚈𝙾𝚄'𝚁𝙴    𝙽𝙾𝚃    𝙸𝙽    𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴    𝙽𝙾    𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴,    the    fantasy    breathes    it    softly    into    the    night,    as    the    real    breathing    girl    wonders    if    she    decided    to    touch    the    raw,    broken    edges    of    rosie,    would    she    cut    herself    ?    would    she    need    stitches    ?    would    it    be    enough    to    bleed    out    ?    ;    but    that's    a    goddamn    stupid    thought    to    have    when    you're    already    a    bruised    mess    from    all    the    banging    on    a    closed    door.    she's    been    bleeding    out    for    months    now,    it's    a    miracle    she    still    has    anything    left    to    give.    «        well    guess    what,    princess.    we're    all    on    the    same    fuckin'    bull,    okay,    trynna    stay    upright.    you    ain't    special.    so    you    either    get    over    it,    or    you    don't    half-ass    the    job    of    killin'    yerself    this    time.        »    

here's    your    one    fucking    long    scream    at    its    peak. somewhere    else,    far    away    from    the    mess    they    made,    her    fantasy    sings    softly:    𝙾𝙷,    𝙸    𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷    𝙸    𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳    𝙶𝙴𝚃    𝙼𝚈    𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂    𝙰𝙽𝙳    𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃    𝙻𝙴𝚃    𝙶𝙾.    a    wish    whispered    into    the    night,    like    a    shooting    star,    burning    bright.

[sunlitroom]

Gotham s4e04 -  The Demon’s Head

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

Jim took some stupid pills, and decided that going to Falcone for help in dethroning Oswald was a good idea.  His visit was seized on by Falcone’s daughter – Sofia – who just might have something to prove to her father, and ideas of revenge for Mario.  She manic-pixie-dream-girled Jim, then showed up at GCPD.  Ra’s al Ghul wants his magic knife back.  Bruce wins it at auction.  Ed is defrosted, but seems to have dropped several IQ points.  Barbara and Ra’s kissed.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

At a museum, the magical knife is being examined by a Dr Winthrop.  Bruce says he wants to know as much about it as possible, and Alfred says he should have considered that before spending quite so much money on it. A boy around the same age as Bruce enters the room.  He’s much more childish than Bruce (not in a bad way, in an age-appropriate way), and very knowledgeable – given his analysis of the knife.

Alfred draws Bruce away and points out involving an ‘old geezer’ is one thing, but he’d also be endangering a young boy.  Bruce doesn’t care, though, and simply asks them both to keep this business secret.

(An aside – old people, apparently OK as collateral damage)

We move now to  a room in some abandoned warehouse  - upside down – which is reflective of the mental state of its inhabitant, Ed, who is labouring painfully over some riddles.  He’s frustrated and dishevelled.  He’s also constructed a revenge wall for Oswald. There’s a seeming lightbulb moment – and he pulls out a knife, stabbing a picture of Oswald.  

Tomorrow night is the night you die

(An aside – that’s a great picture of Oswald.  No wonder the citizens are all a bit taken with the dapper gangster who says that he alone can clean up the city).

 Back at the museum, Dr Winthrop has decoded some important information

He who rises from the waters, death shall not touch. With this sacred blade, final savage destiny earth quake, bloods flow, demons head, all tremble,  dogs and cats living together, etc etc.

Dr Winthrop and Alex talk about the knife, and the legend of a man who couldn't die: Ra's al Ghul. Apparently he was a warlord.  Winthrop says that the stories might just be stories, but that people are willing to kill for them, and that Bruce stumbled on something more dangerous than he imagined.

As they talk – we see R’as approaching the room

There’s a knock at the door and Winthrop sends Alex into the office with the knife and tells him to stay quiet.

Ra’s enters the room and smoothly introduces himself.  

(Just an aside at the point – his dialogue and manner of delivery are both so much better in this episode, I think.  It’s much lighter and more casual but – if anything – it makes him seem more dangerous. I think the slightly more overblown ‘fantasy’ style just seems daft.  Plus Ra’s has been a man of the world for a long time.  He knows how to adapt.)

Winthrop is suspicious. Ra's is making no effort to conceal himself, and shows off his age and knowledge. He says he's looking for a knife.  Winthrop claims that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  Ra’s smiles.

You know, the best liar I ever met ran a brothel in Shanghai. You knew she was lying but, you didn't care – you so badly wanted to believe her.

Glancing over Winthrop’s desk he sees a picture of Alex – and lifts his school hat.

The fire alarm rings suddenly – which also means the police will arrive.  Ra’s asks again about the knife – but getting no further, breaks Winthrop’s neck.  As he leaves the room, we pull away too – and see Alex hiding behind the doorframe, crying.

Back at the museum, we open on Winthrop’s corpse – cold and blue.  Jim is there.  Harper arrives.  Jim asks brusquely where Bullock is, and is told he’s taking a sabbatical.

(An aside – that’s odd that Jim didn’t know that – no?)

Jim’s assiness intensifies and he asks Harper if she’s babysitting him.  She asks him if he needs babysitting.  Apparently so – given that snit he just threw.

Glancing over the visitor logbook – Harper is about to tell us the last visitor was Bruce Wayne, when Jim beats her to it, spotting Bruce approaching over her shoulder.  

Bruce asks what happened, staring wide-eyed at the corpse.  Hayfever, Bruce.  A fatal attack.  What do you think happened?

Jim stops him approaching further and asks if they’d met.  Bruce seems a little discombobulated – but can still answer. He asks when he was killed, and also mentions Alex.  Harper says no-one mentioned a boy being here.  

Bruce quickly starts obsessing over the knife again.  Jim asks him what the knife is.  Bruce doesn’t answer, but says that he’ll come to GCPD as soon as possible.  Jim tells him that a man is dead, a child potentially missing, and this is no time to play detective. What does he know?

Bruce lies and says it’s a very old knife that he paid a lot of money for and wanted to know about, and mentions Barbara bidding on it.  Jim looks troubled.  He tells Harper to find Alex and tells Bruce to go home – he’ll deal with Barbara.

 Barbara's house.  She is looking at something we can’t see – apparently less than happy.  As Ra’s arrives, she needles him for being late.  He apologises, but smiles – pleased to see that his guests have arrived. Barbara doesn’t like them – but Ra’s points out they wouldn’t have been necessary if she’d got the knife.

He approaches the raised platform where Barbara displays guns, and we see a small Sandor Clegane lookalike, and someone Ra’s refers to as a dog – Anubis – but who actually turns out to be a man on a leash.  Ra’s tells him that he’ll let him kill the boy, and pets him like a dog.  That’s quite a lot of nope right there.

At the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald sits at his desk and stares at Ed’s bowler hat. It’s looking in good nick for being stored in ice.

Victor strolls in

Boss

Oswald shuts his eyes in irritation, and reminds him about the conversation they had about knocking. I’d happily trade any other storyline this season to see domestic life at the Iceberg Lounge.

Victor is completely unbothered by this.

Uh huh

It’s essentially like scolding a cat.  

He tells Oswald that ‘she’ is here.

Sofia enters the room. She’s not wearing the gangster get-up she wore to GCPD.  Instead, she’d gone for a much more demure and traditionally feminine outfit – a long-ish dress with a flared skirt.  The long gloves are just weird, though.  

Oswald smilingly welcomes her to Gotham – but he’s just about buzzing with repressed energy in that way that lets us know he’s on the edge of being very, very angry.

Sofia smiles innocently, and says that she learned from her father that when the King of Gotham summons you, then you go as requested.

Oswald asks after Carmine – but Sofia says they should address the elephant in the room.  She claims she’s here to administer to Falcone charities.  Oswald, however, is sceptical and hostile – and says he doesn’t see why these have to be handled in person.

Sofia says his concern is unfounded.  Oswald rises from his chair.  He tells her that her father taught him many things – one of which was a healthy paranoia. Some of Falcone’s old capos went underground.  They may have vanished, or may want a Falcone back.  He laughs

Who knows, but I hear your father’s voice whispering

He leans in close

Be careful now

He tells Sofia that is he finds this is a fool’s errand to reinstate her father then – he nods over to Victor, who quietly says

I'll stab you

Sofia rises and takes a few steps away.  She tells Oswald exactly what she told Jim about being sent away because Gotham was too dangerous, but feeling that it is her true home.  Her eyes have filled with tears.

Is that enough?

Oswald blinks and walks towards her.

Gotham -  mother to us all

He stands close behind her and looks at her side-on.  She can’t see him without turning round, and we see her eyes flickering – wondering if he’s convinced.

Oswald’s face clears

I think we have nothing to worry about.  Give my father your best

He does look after her as she leaves, though.

(Hmmm – ambiguity everywhere.  Oswald seemed reasonably convinced, but the look after her as she left would suggest that he’s not actually settled in his mind.  Sofia recycles the story she told Jim – which might just mean it’s the truth, much better to use the truth when possible if trying to deceive - but hearing it twice, worded identically, does mean the story now seems suspicious, too rehearsed, part of an act. Was she telling Jim the truth in the first place?)

Jim is at Barbara’s house. When he enters, there are lots of punk rockers hanging about, and White Rabbit is playing. 

Seated at her desk, Barbara is calmly playing patience.  She greets him in cool, measured tones.

Jim – what a lovely surprise

Jim gives his usual wary look of suspicion where Barbara is concerned, and comments that she seems to have landed on her feet as usual.

(An aside.  The only time I can think of Barbara seeming to have landed on her feet – would be when she opened Sirens with Tabitha.  Even then, I’m assuming that took work.  The rest of the time, she’s lurched from one disaster and one captor to the next.  Does Jim just try not to think about her attempted suicide or something?)

She smiles, and tells him that a woman has to stay busy.  Jim frowns, and says she seems different.

Do you like this me better?

Jim moves to safer territory and asks about the knife.  Barbara raises a wry brow – but says she was here with witnesses, and asks if they’re done. Jim bristles a little, and says they aren’t.  He wants to know who's bankrolling her.  She’s says it’s a client – but that, while tempting, she can’t give a name.

Bruce appears from nowhere, and mentions Ra’s name.  Barbara has her back to Bruce and Jim, but we see her eyes widen, and there’s a slightly wobble in her composure.  

Jim looks generally unsettled and hauls Bruce out

(An aside – there’s much more in this episode of Jim treating Bruce like a child. I think it works well.  Bruce is a child.  Alfred is way too acquiescent with him. Jim being willing to actually step up and tell him off adds something to their relationship.  It reminds us, too, that Bruce is a child – and lets Jim do something other than just being angry all the time).

Meanwhile, the music plays out, and Barbara turns over the King of Hearts.

(Another aside – I like Barbara’s newfound calmness.  I know some of it comes from Ra’s training/brainwashing/whatever – but I’d guess that Barbara’s upbringing and education must sure have drilled some of that cool composure into her?  The icy Betty Draper thing suits her well.  I know that type of demeanour is often represented as restrictive and repressed – but there’s a power in being able to embody it).

In the alley outside – Jim tells Bruce off for following him.  Bruce insists that he should have let him come with him.  Again, his tone and wording reminds us of his age.  Jim is angry – and asks Bruce who Ra’s is. Bruce starts a lie – but Jim sees through it and tells him to stop.  Bruce spills the beans.  

Jim asks why the knife is so important.  His phone rings – and Harper tells him that they can’t find the boy.  He tells her, meantime, to search for Ra’s.  Jim tells Bruce no-one saw Alex – he must be hiding and scared.  He tells Bruce if he wanted to play detective so bad – then he can help.  What was he wearing, what did he say – there must be something Bruce can give him?

(An aside – and again, much, much better characterisation for Jim here – reminding us that he is an actual detective.  He likes puzzles, he wants to solve things, he thinks.  Can we please have more of this Jim?)

Bruce remembers the room Alex said he was using at the library.  Jim says if he’s hiding, then he may not trust the police.  He takes Bruce with him to put Alex at ease. (Again – actual thought from Jim instead of just barrelling in.  I’m begging – please – more of this)

Oswald is seated at his desk, scowling at two men – sent by Ed – who are about to rap a riddle at him. Everyone saw this clip repeatedly – so I can spare my wrists.  Long story short: Ed’s riddle is dreadful, and Oswald resolves to go meet him and have him frozen again.  Victor is hot throughout.

Jim and Bruce are at the library looking for Alex.  Bruce convinces him to open the door to the private room – but he panics when he spots Jim. Bruce tells him that he can trust Jim, though.  

When we enter the room, we can see that Alex is pale and shaky and still plainly in shock.  He looks at Bruce.

It was the knife - did you know it was dangerous?

Bruce lies – and said that he didn’t.  Jim glances at him – plainly not very pleased – but doesn’t say anything.  

Jim promises he’ll protect Alex, but he says that the man (Ra’s) won't stop until he gets the knife. Bruce asks if he has the knife, but Alex says he hid it.

There’s sound of a commotion.  Jim tells Bruce to take Alex to the station.  As they run off, Jim walks through the library slowly, gun drawn. He’s pounced on suddenly by Anubis and Clegane.  He manages to fight the dog off.  He asks who sent them.  Clegane delivers a very long name.

Thanks for clearing that up.

Meantime, Anubis grabs and bites Alex – but is recused by Bruce.  Bruce – however – is nearly killed by Clegane – but Jim topples the bookcases and flattens him – at least temporarily, and yells at Bruce to run.

When Jim gets back to GCPD, though there’s no Bruce – and Harper can find no trace of Ra’s.  Just as she’s saying that, Ra’s himself shows up looking damn fine.  He claims to be the cultural attache to a small country (missed the name).  Jim has heard of this country, much to Ra’s surprise – and he invites him politely to speak in the Captain’s office, all discreet and smooth.

(Again – a broken record, but so much better.  I feel like any other week, Jim would have just growled at him and maybe swung a punch.  He’s not supposed to be a stupid man.  Please let him be smart more often)

When Ra’s enters the office, Jim quietly tells Harper that Barbara must have talked to Ra’s, and Ra’s now presumably thinking Alex gave Jim the knife.  He tells her to call Alfred to try and find Bruce and Alex.

In an abandoned something or other, Bruce is trying to treat Alex’s wound.  Alex is ashamed of being afraid, and of freezing when he was attacked. He wants to know how Bruce stops being scared.  Bruce says fear is normal, and that he froze when he saw his parents killed.  There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, and once you recognise it’s normal you can put it in its place – and then act and fight back.

Alex sits on a step and Bruce sits beside him.  He tells Bruce that he felt bad for Bruce when his parents died – and that all the kids talked about him.  Bruce asked what they said.  Alex said that he lives alone in a big mansion and doesn’t go to school, and flies around in a jet.  They made him sound weird.

Bruce looks sad and tired.

Maybe I am

Alex disagrees and tells him that he’s cool – and says that he (Alex) is weird.  He pauses, and then comments that Bruce is maybe a little weird too, he guesses.

Bruce smiles

Alex smiles too, and adds weirdly cool

They sit quiet for a moment, and then Alex says he’ll take Bruce to the knife.

 GCPD, where Jim offers Ra’s coffee.  Ra’s comments that they both know why he’s here.  He spins a nice story about how the knife is part of his country’s cultural heritage, but is politically loaded and sought-after – hence the discreet bidding. Unfortunately, Barbara failed to obtain it.

Jim listens.

Ra’s says that he understands there’s been a murder.  Jim, still watchful, tells him that it was the museum’s curator

That's awful

Ra’s says he will press a claim to the knife on behalf of his government.  Jim asks why the knife is so important.  Ra’s recounts the tale of the man who could not die, who committed terrible acts and raised a kingdom – but then vanished, promising to return when he had this knife.  He says it’s justa story – but meaningful to his people.

Jim frowns.  Ra’s smiles -and says he hopes this satisfies his curiosity.

Jim looks at him carefully and begins to speak.  He doesn’t bother hiding that he knows who Ra’s is -he’s trying to make a discreet deal/test Ra’s:

My chief concern is that the grandson of curator being hunted – maybe for the knife, or because the killer thinks he saw something

Ra’s smiles slightly

Did he?

Jim says no.  Ra’s sighs in mock relief

Well then - he's safe

Jim plays clever. He’d want assurance before releasing the knife.  Ra’s plays back – he wants to see the knife first.

Uh oh - here comes Alfred. He barges in yelling about Bruce and punches Ra’s as soon as he spots him.  Jim hauls him out of the room.  Alfred tells him that he doesn’t know what he has there.  Jim tells him he’s beginning to – but he needs time, and he needs time. Unfortunately, though, Harper calls his attention to the fact that Ra’s has already searched the bag and left. Jim tells Alfred they need to find Bruce.

The Falcone mansion, where three men – presumably the capos Oswald mentioned – are greeting Donna Falcone. She tells them she doesn’t want to be called that or hear from them.  They persist.  They want Falcone’s return, which they assume is coming now that she’s back.  They want to ‘put Penguin in his place’.  She tells them ‘this is Penguin’s city’ – just as Oswald arrives with Victor in tow.  He smiles – and asks Victor how many graves he dug

Two…but they’re roomy.

 Oswald and Sofia are alone in the room.  We see her flinch and tear up at the gunshots – presumably for show – as Oswald is watching her.  He smiles

There we are - paranoia put to rest

Sofia puts on a little act about being used – but if she’s as smart as she seems – then it’s likely she suspected Oswald would do this.  She says she was the worm on his hook

With one difference, my dear – the worm is usually eaten

She asks if he trusts her now, and he observes that she’s alive, isn’t she?  He advises she plant roses to cover the smell.  As he leaves, she makes an attempt to reel him back in. She says her father wouldn’t have killed those men.  If he’d been in Oswald’s shoes – then he’d have taken her to dinner, had them seen in public – show that he had old order support and then those men would have pledged loyalty – but now…they’re fertiliser.  Her father built on a strength of others.

Oswald watches her. It’s hard to say how much he’s just digesting this information, and how much he is also reassessing her.

Oswald smiles brightly

New city, new methods

And leaves

Sofia smiles slightly, seemingly satisfied, a tear rolling down her face.

Bruce and Alex back at the museum, where Alex hid the knife in plain sight.  He tells Bruce about the legend, and says that terrible things happen because of this knife – and says the man that killed him can’t have it. Bruce promises he won’t let him take it. They hear breaking glass and run.

It’s Clegane-lite and Anubis, hunting them down.

You know, Anubis is actually pretty slow – on account of the fact that we’re not designed to run about on all fours.  I can’t help but feel that an actual Doberman (which looks pretty Anubis-y) would have been better.

Back at GCPD, Jim can’t get through to the consulate and there’s still nothing from Bruce.  Alfred asks why Bruce was tagging along anyway. It’s a fair question – but a bit rich, given what Alfred has been allowing to go on lately.

Jim says Alfred doesn't get to lecture him on honesty.  Alfred weakly says it’s Bruce’s decision to tell – but Jim, rightly, points out that Alfred is Bruce’s guardian – he can violate privacy for safety. Alfred blusters about sticking to the point and asking what he’s doing to find Bruce.

They argue a bit more before somehow searching Alex’s bag again and figuring out where he likely is. Alfred is going to come, but Jim refuses:

The access I gave you depended on trust – you’ve not been honest with me.

He tells Harper that if Alfred tries to leave she should arrest him.  Alfred asks on what ground – and Jim says she’ll think of something.

 At the museum, Bruce and Alex are still hiding.  Bruce is sweating

Oswald is sitting in a booth at the club.  Ed didn’t show at the pier, and has sent another rap riddle.  It’s dreadful again

Honestly, that could be anything

Victor asks if they can’t just please torture them for information

Why not?

Oswald knocks back a stiff drink.

 Back at the museum, where dropping the knife alerts Anubis and Clegane-lite to Bruce and Alex’s location. They run – but Anubis has Bruce. Alex stops and looks back.  Jim arrives in the nick of time, though, and shoots – telling Bruce and Alex to run.

Jim takes on Clegane and Anubis and beats both, tossing a bone out the window for Anubis, and stabbing Clegane with a tusk, I think.

Bruce is still on the ground, coughing and rubbing his throat.  Jim looks at him

It’s time to tell me what going on

Excellent question, Detective

Ra’s approaches – and he has Alex, with a knife to his throat.

He tells Bruce to give him the knife and he’ll release Alex.  He grins mockingly down at him

You'd like that

Alex cries silently. Jim reaches out a hand to Bruce

Bruce - hand me the knife

Bruce doesn’t move. Jim repeats it.

Bruce - hand me the knife

Bruce still doesn’t do it – and Jim stares incredulously.  Bruce blurts out about Ra’s killing Alfred and bringing him back to life – and says that he can’t give it to him.  Jim tells him to hand it over now so Alex will be safe – that’s all that matters.

I can’t

Ra’s smiles – well-pleased by his refusal.

Well done, Bruce. You’re finally beginning to see things clearly.  The question is – are you strong enough?

He slits Alex’s throat. Bruce screams and rushes towards him, sobbing no.  (Not sure what you expected here, Bruce – the terms were pretty clear).

Ra’s lets his knife (the non-magical one) fall and drops to his knees.

Arrest me.

At GCPD, Bruce is seated by a table, crying.  Jim sits down alongside him and gently tells him Ra’s is at Blackgate.  He adds that he is a psychopath, and Bruce is not responsible for his actions.  Jim says he wants to help – but he needs something he can believe, not all the stuff with people coming back from the dead.

(An aside – has Jim forgotten Theo?)

Alfred snidely says perhaps Jim now understands why they held back.  Bruce doesn’t care, though.  He says it doesn't matter what they say – it’s all his fault.  Alex is dead because of him.

I killed him

Ed barges into a seemingly empty Iceberg Lounge, yelling that he waited again, but Oswald didn’t show. He must be a coward.  

Oswald walks into the room

I’m here.  I may be many things, but I’m not a coward.

(An aside – I do love Oswald.  He fucks up, and he does terrible things – but he’s more reflective than most, and open about who he is.)

He tells Ed his riddles suck – quoting one for good measure and telling him it simply describes a range of human behaviour.

(A random aside – Oswald’s limp looks particularly pronounced here.  But then, it seems he’s been particularly busy – so presumably it’s worse when he’s tired)

Ed flails – but Oswald says that he can't make riddles to save his ass anymore.  Myrtle was clearly right-  there’s something wrong with him.  He’s not smart anymore.

Ed says he is too smart: he’s the Riddler.  Oswald rolls his eyes, and asks how long it took him to come up with those riddles – which turns out to be an embarrassing 6 hours.  Oswald is incredulous – and asks if that sounds anything like the old him. Ed points out the damage might be due to being frozen in a block of ice.  Does he want an apology, or something?  He can whistle for that.

He aims a gun at Oswald as he walks away, and tells him he’s going to shoot him.  Oswald tells him he can never truly have revenge on him – because he’s not the man he froze at the pier anymore, only some diminished version. That Ed would have killed himself before writing those riddles.  In fact – he’s barely even Ed Nygma, because he’d have noticed something....

Ed frowns, confused

Doesn't it feel kind of chilly?

Victor Fries shoots the gun from Ed’s hand.  Oswald asks if he’d forgotten

My other Victor

(Hoarding all the hot Victors is greedy, Oswald)

Oswald says he’s going to put him on ice again.  Victor asks if he wants the same pose.  Ed puts his hands up defensively.

Got it  - same pose.

Ed hangs his head.

OK - Oswald.  I'm not the Riddler.  Just do it.

Oswald looks at him, considering.

I've changed my mind. I'm not going to freeze you.  I’d only be freezing Ed Nygma, who cares about that? Better revenge is having you live knowing you’re not him -  and never will be again.  

He smiles, settled.  

Goodbye Ed.

He walks away without a backward glance.

Ed’s been spared – but is still in turmoil – back to the question that continually gnaws at him, but worse now, with the loss of a crucial part of his identity.

Who am I?

Sofia is standing in front of the fireplace in an evening gown.  She’s recounting another tale about her father.  There’s a deliberate parallel here with how she played Oswald earlier that introduces a note of doubt into her interactions with Jim.  Is Oswald the only one she’s fooling?

She was 7 or 8 when she saw her father stab a man in the neck in this room who had been on his knees before him, begging for forgiveness.  The next morning, all the blood was gone, and they had breakfast at this table as though nothing had happened.

(An aside – I don’t know how they’ll develop the character, but given that she must have seen more than one terrible thing, there’s scope to make her an awful lot more unstable than she appears right now.)

She smiles.

You'd think I want to stay far away

But no – this house and the city are both in her veins.  This is her home.  

Jim comments that three of her father’s former associates have gone missing.  She says that Oswald used her as bait (although if Sofia is as smart as she claims, then she presumably knew this was what he was up to from the outset).

Jim is still keen to dish out more blame, though

And you let him

Sofia doesn’t let Jim away with his usual bullshit projecting, though.

Don't act the innocent, Jim.  You came to Carmine Falcone for help: you knew it was never going to be bloodless

Jim frowns.  He says she’s presumably going to get close to Oswald, gain his confidence, but….

What then?  I need to know what you're going to do

(An aside – This is the first time we see Jim seem uncertain about his scheme – seemingly squeamish about what Sofia’s eventual plans might be for Oswald.  He’s been rash and thoughtless, and the lesson Bruce learned earlier might just be scratching at the back of his head.  Oswald’s not an innocent by any stretch of the imagination – but Jim seemingly can’t actually bring himself to voice or accept the next logical step in Sofia’s plan – obvious as it might be: Oswald’s death.)

Sofia tells him that he doesn’t need to know.  If he wants the city back from Oswald, then she can give him that – but he has to trust her.

(An aside – and exactly how dumb is Jim if he thinks that Sofia’s going to meekly hand Gotham back to him and trot off back home after this?  This is just asinine).

For some reason, this motivates Jim to smash a glass and then push Sofia down onto the couch.  

(An aside – I’m… kind of mystified by that bit.  Was he just tense and angry and looking for a release?  Was it an assertion of control?  Was it a ploy to keep her unsure as to what he’ll do next – try and retain some power?  The reason I’m asking is because there just wasn’t really enough heat or chemistry there to justify the sudden sex.  If they’d been eyeing each other, and a definite indication of tension, then fair enough – but even Sofia looked startled by the sudden move.

 Ra's is being led into Blackgate.  He looks disgruntled until he gets close, and then we see him smile.

General Observations

 A strong episode – especially after last week’s mish-mash of storylines.

Bruce has been arrogant of late, rushing headfirst into dangerous situations, and not really caring too much who got hurt in the process. He hasn’t seemed to mind about worrying Alfred, and he glibly implicated Selina in his rooftop escapades.

That all came screeching to a halt this week, though.  He knowingly endangered both Alex and his grandfather in his need to learn more about the knife.  Even seeing the Dr Winthrop cold and blue on the museum floor wasn’t enough to deter him. Jim can try to make him feel better by saying that Ra’s is responsible for what happened – but that’s cold comfort to Bruce, because he knows he made the conscious choice that the knife was more important than Alex’s life.

Hard to say where he’ll go from this point.  He’ll presumably carry on – now feeling a sense of mission, that he owes it to Alex and his grandfather – but probably a bit more chastened and conscious of repercussions.

Jim is due a similar chastening.  When he and Sofia talk at the end of the episode, the blame for the death of Falcone’s three associates might be variously assigned to Oswald or Sofia – but it’s really Jim who has blood on his hands.  Sofia essentially says as much: Jim knew what he was going to get when he went to see Falcone, and he doesn’t get to act the innocent here.  

Jim assumes that Sofia is going to win Oswald’s confidence, but wants to know what will happen next. The logical answer, of course, is that she would kill Oswald and take power.  The fact that Jim is asking at all – I think – points to his first real misgivings.  His confrontations with Oswald so far have been noticeably childish, squabbling over who is seen as the protector of the city.  I don’t think that quite translates to wanting him dead, and I think that might prove to be a sticking point later on.

Or maybe I’m just a hopeless shipper….. :D

Sofia’s hard to read.  We’re in on the fact that she’s playing Oswald.  We’re not quite so clear as to what extent she’s playing Jim.  She told them both exactly the same thing: she belongs in Gotham, it’s her home, in her blood.  She gave them both little anecdotes about her father.  Both ended up letting her off the hook – albeit temporarily.

It’s interesting to wonder what shape her revenge might take – if that’s what she wants.  I’d say that getting Jim to do what Falcone couldn’t – put a bullet in Oswald’s head and become her GCPD stooge - might be a fair shout, but we’ll see.

I’m also interested to see exactly how stable she is.  Who knows exactly what she witnessed growing up.  

Oswald’s most important storyline this week was really his first interaction with Sofia.  His interactions with Ed were more about drawing a line under that aspect of their storyline. It was mostly played for laughs, and was drained of a lot of the angst and noise of s3.  

Not putting Ed back on ice really served two purposes.  First, yes – it is a much more perfect revenge.  Ed’s sense of who he is is something that troubles him at the best of times.  Now that he’s lost his defining characteristic – his distress and confusion is acute.  Secondly – it provides closure.  Keeping him on ice was metaphorical as well as literal: a state of endless limbo.  Oswald doesn’t need that anymore, and it was interesting that he walked away without even a backward glance.

As for his conversations with Sofia – it’s hard to tell how successful her many ruses are.  There are a few moments where he looks at her very hard. I suspect she’ll gain the upper hand, mostly because ‘Oswald fails due to hubris’ basically seems to be a pattern now – but hopefully they’ll try to keep it even-handed and ambiguous up until that point.  Partly because it’s entertaining, but also because – come on – Oswald worked for Fish Mooney.  I’m not buying that he’d fall hook, line and sinker for this. He’s smarter than that.

Thoughts?

[boyf-canons]

HEY so i loved your soulmates au thing with evan and reader, do you think you could do that kinda thing with the boyf riends? that'd be super cool!! thank you!!!

Hey anon!! Sorry this took a couple of days to write, I wanted to get home and do this on my desktop first. It’s a different kind of soulmate AU because Jeremy and Michael have already known each other for quite a while! This is the one where every person has a clock that counts down to meeting their soulmate :3c Thanks for requesting!! ~Mod V☆

Word count: 1,335

tw: none

Jeremy Heere was terrible at math.

It’s not that he didn’t try,it’s just that the numbers never…clicked. Not the way that fighter game combosand convoluted anime plotlines did. However, even though he was bad at math,that didn’t mean he couldn’t count. Just because he had a low D in his Trigonometryclass didn’t mean that he couldn’t see the blue numbers on the small clock onhis wall, still slowly ticking down, day after day. Jeremy’s was gettinguncomfortably close, only a month left. He still couldn’t believe he wassupposed to meet his soulmate this early, when he was just seventeen!

He could remember the day he had received his clock in themail; each person got their soulmate clock when they turned six years old, theyear they started school. Six-year-old Jeremy had been so excited to get his—afterall, his parents had theirs hanging in the living room, times showing 00:00:00 in his parents’ favoritecolors.

Of course, that didn’t always mean the soulmates would staytogether. His father’s clock now sat, still glowing a faint orange, in theattic, the space where it had previously hung in the living room now just aglaring, bare spot.

Jeremy shook the thought out of his head as he pulled hisblue backpack with Rich’s “BOYF” still written on the back onto his shoulders.He glanced at his actual clock. “Shit!”he murmured, quickly pulling his converse on and rushing down the stairs. Hisdad sat on the couch, eyes red and puffy, trying not to stare at the blank spoton the wall.

“Um…Dad, I’m going to Michael’s,” Jeremy said, not surewhether he should be concerned. His father gave a muffled sound in reply, andJeremy just…sorta slinked out of the room and out the front door. He startedoff down the street—Michael lived a short fifteen minute walk away. His phonebuzzed in his pocket 

Player 1:

dude where tf u at

Jeremy rolled his eyes and replied.

Player 2:

You make me cringesometimes. I’m on my way. 

A moment later:

Player 1:

u kno u luv mejere-bear >;3c

Player 2:

You wish >:P

Jeremy shut his phone off and grabbed the keychain off of hisbackpack, using it to unlock Michael’s front door. It had been a gift for hisfourteenth birthday, when Jeremy had practically lived at the Mell’s whiletrying to avoid his parents’ constant fighting.

“Michael! I’m here!” Jeremy shouted into the empty house. Heheard a muffled “Down here!” from the basement, and Jeremy raced downstairs. 

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Michael said, spinning around in hisdesk chair. Faint bass beats echoed from his computer speakers.

“Not much. Think we can crack Level 8 today?” Jeremy asked,plopping down in one of Michael’s beanbag chairs and placing his backpack besidehim. Michael sat down next to him quickly.

“Those zombies won’t know what hit ‘em!” Michael exclaimed,smiling as he gave Jeremy a high-five.

As they proceeded through Apocalypse of the Damned, Level 8:The Haunted Record Store, Jeremy kept glancing around Michael’s room. Theever-present ticking of Jeremy’s clock on the wall hadn’t gone unnoticed; hewas starting to get nervous about it. It kind of disappointing, knowing thathis favorite person in the world could never even possibly be his soulmate—after all, his clock was still ticking.But Michael’s…? In their twelve years of being best friends, Michael had neveronce talked about his soulmate clock. Jeremy had never even seen it.

Suddenly, the sound of Jeremy’s character dying broke himout of his thoughts. Michael let out a groan. “Ugh, Jeremy! You’ve gotta quitspacing out on me like that, or we’ll never get through this level,” Michaelsaid, pouting at him. Normally, Jeremy would have laughed, hit him lightly onthe shoulder, and gone back to playing his game, but Michael’s face,illuminated in the soft blue glow of the game’s pause menu, was absolutelygorgeous. His dark eyes were gleaming, and he was worrying his bottom lip withhis teeth, something he only did when he was nervous.

Jeremy felt his face get hot. Not right now, gay thoughts. “I-I, um, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“Jer, are you okay?” Michael asked, a concerned look on hisface as he sat down his controller and scooted closer. Jeremy gulped.

“Michael, have you ever thought…about your soulmate?”

Jeremy looked into Michael’s eyes, not expecting him toclench his jaw and look at the space beside Jeremy’s head, almost like he was holdinghimself back.

“No. Never.”

“Not even once?” 

“Look, Jer,” Michael said, looking him straight in the eyesagain. “I don’t need a soulmate to be happy. I have my music, I have my weed,and, well, I have you.” He said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in asmile. “What else do I need?”

Jeremy felt his face flush, and his chest bubble up with—something,he didn’t know what. He just knew that it was a warm, fluttery feeling. Andthen, he did something incredibly stupid. He leaned across the beanbags and grabbedMichael’s face in his hands.

And then, he kissed him 

It was rushed and sloppy, a spur-of-the-moment move thatleft Michael stunned. Jeremy pulled away slowly, not realizing his eyes hadfluttered shut until he had to open them again. When he did, he saw Michaelstaring back at him, eyes wide with disbelief. He immediately started reeling.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t—I mean, I did mean to, it’s just—“

Michael cut him off, grabbing Jeremy’s face this time andpressing their lips together. They winced as their teeth clacked together (Jeremywas just glad Michael had gotten his braces off before this), but it felt toogood to stop, too…right. Jeremy didn’t have the words to describe the feeling;all he knew as he climbed into Michael’s lap was that he wanted more of it.

Michael’s soft hands were on his hips now, holding him steadyas Jeremy straddled his thighs, his own hands looped around Michael’s neck.Michael pulled away this time, gasping for air.

“J-Jeremy,” he gasped as Jeremy pressed wet kisses on hischeek, his jaw, the space behind his ear. Jeremy just hummed in response,making a shiver run through the boy.

He wanted to see him, feelhim do that again.

Hours later, hair ruffled and clothes rumpled from makingout, the two laid in Michael’s bed. Michael traced patterns on Jeremy’s barechest—his shirt had come off veryquickly as soon as Michael realized how easily Jeremy’s pale skin bruised—as Jeremyhummed contentedly, his arms around Michael and his head on his shoulder.

“Jeremy,” Michael murmured into his ear. The boy in questionraised his eyebrows in response, and felt Michael take a large, shaky breath. “Youasked about my soulmate, right?”

“Mhm?” Jeremy replied.

“…I broke it.”

“You what?” Jeremysaid, sitting up slightly. He’d never heard of someone breaking their clock on purpose; it sometimes happened byaccident, but never on purpose.

“I did. I broke it. Smashed it against the floor until thenumbers stopped.” Michael said. Jeremy’s mouth stayed open, a little “o” shape.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Jeremy asked, taking Michael’s hand softly and running histhumb over his knuckles. Michael gently lifted his chin up so they made eyecontact.

“Because that was the day that I realized that I wasn’tgoing to be in love with some manic pixie dream girl that the universe pickedout for me,” Michael said. “I was in love with you.”

Jeremy’s breath hitched. He wrapped his arms around Michael’smiddle, snuggling into him again, murmuring an “I love you” against his chestand feeling it convulse with gentle laughter as Michael kissed the top of hishead.

Unbeknownst to Jeremy, the blue numbers on his wall stopped,frozen at 32:38:10. They blinked fora moment, then read out 00:00:00.