045 ♕ [written/voice]

[loisfuckinglane]

[Filtered away from those who would wish harm to the bride and groom]

The Honor of Your Presence
is Requested at the Marriage of

Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Saturday, the Fourteenth of April

With Reception to Follow.

Please RSVP below.

[Voice, Same Filter]

Smallville and I figured it was long past time we set a date, so this is making it officially official. ... That is, assuming that the castle manages to put itself back together again by April, because if this is going to be the new standard around here? We might need to think about relocating the ceremony somewhere where the cake won't abruptly turn into a feral tiger. I mean, nothing against tigers, but this wedding? Is going to be circus animal free.

But for now, I'm going to go ahead and assume this is just one of the castle's usual bouts of temporary insanity and it'll allll blow over by tomorrow.  Or... next week.  

... At least by April.  Right, Paradisa?

Right.

[... ???]

... [Uhhhhh. What. The. What. After a second, she adds uncertainly:] ... Hello...?

Comments

/insert way worse, because Molotov is classless

[molotov]

[With poor Brock and Clark trying to separate them.]

I would love to see you try. I wonder how easy that is to do when one has a bullet lodged in their skull.

McBitchenstein

[loisfuckinglane]

Maybe what you need is a good old fashioned grenade in the garter.

Miss GETFUCKED

[molotov]

Say that again after I have put one in your mouth.

[loisfuckinglane]

Say that again after I put one right up your-- [It's... probably around this time that Clark is going to yank her away from the book after he walks in on her yelling at it. 8| ]

[molotov]

[Molotov just stabs her cigarette out on the page. Maybe it would be a good idea to double-check your locks, Lois.]

[supes]

[No kidding. He's playing with an elephant one minute and hearing his wife yelling the next.

He'll just be appearing out of nowhere, and putting a hand over the journal, as if that would really block out the sound.

Have a concerned look.]

Is there a problem here...?

[loisfuckinglane]

Someone's not happy with our choice of wedding date.

[supes]

[he picks up the journal. Good thing part of that isn't filtered.]

Molotov?

[loisfuckinglane]

... She started it.

[supes]

But someone escalated it.

[To journal:]

Molotov, are you still there?

[molotov]

[Molotov now sounds a little bored and far-away, and there's the distinct sound of revolver chambers being popped in and out.]

Da.

[supes]

[He sounds a little unimpressed. Girl, he thought you were better than that :(]

Can we leave this at an argument and some harsh words, please?

[molotov]

[Really, he did? YOUR JUDGEMENT IS POOR, KENT.

But really, she's just cleaning.]

Oh... nyet. I think not. But do not worry. Your selfish little bride-to-be is safe for now.

[supes]

[He thinks everyone is better than this.]

It's the "for now" that worries me.

[molotov]

Why? She will resurrect in two weeks.

[supes]

[SUPER disapproving.]

Molotov, don't even think about it.

[molotov]

Too late.

[supes]

This is a huge overreaction.

[molotov]

Well, she's a huge pizda.

[supes]

[He switches to Russian. He's got an accent, but he's definitely fluent.]

Really? I'm not going to listen to you call my fiancée names, nor am I going to tolerate threats against her. If you try to hurt her, Molotov, I'm going to intervene, and you won't like it.

[molotov]

[Ughhhhhh Molotov hates speaking Russian in Paradisa, because it's not as effortless as she feels like it should be. But whatever, she'll do it.]

If you do not want her to be called names, then perhaps you should reign her in. And if you do not want her hurt, then perhaps you should both stop being such greedy swine.

[supes]

I'm asking you to not pick fights and insult others. I will be asking Lois to do the same. And while I get the frustration of having to share a month, I do think it's absurd to threaten lives over it. There's no reason there can't be two April weddings.

[molotov]

[There's actually an element of confusion present when Molotov speaks again.] I am not going to kill her because she stole my wedding date. I am going to kill her because she begged me to do it, with her gluttonous little American mouth.

[supes]

[He can't hear or see half the conversation, okay :(]

Excuse me?

[molotov]

That is what utterly unbridled greed gets everyone, eventually. A bullet between the eyes. Well, at least if one is lucky enough to get a traditionalist such as myself.

Perhaps your bride-to-be should have learned that excess never pays off.