#& the thrilling saga of her fucked up family

[squirrelwrangler]

For the writing meme, what happens in the future of the “pray for elrond y’all” fics?

pray for elrond y'all aka the saga of Helcerían and Seregeithon has a couple of tentative sequels which may or may not get written, especially as they have linked up in my head with the other OC slowburn multi-chapter romance epic, Release from Bondage's Faron and Faelindis.

But for a quick rundown: Helce and Sereg return to Alqualondë to touch base with their families. Helce conceived on that boatride over, so she's getting some very awkward and stern side-eye from people like her aunt and the queen. Seregeithon goes to his adopted father, Albethor, for an equally awkward family reunion. On the list of reunions that might happen here are Annael and his husband, Tuor, and Elwing. They don't stay in Valinor, however, but return to Gil-galad's court in Lindon.

First son is born; Helcerían soon pregnant with first daughter. (The placeholder names because of the Final Fantasy deep root inspiration are Ricard and Rydia, btw). During this period is when Gil-galad sends the letter inviting Faron to visit him at Lindon. Faron and Faelindis (along with Cuddles the Therapy Dog aka Former Warg) arrive and have some reunions and conversations about homecomings and growing away from family shadows healthily with Gil. Also Faelindis gets mad jealous at the very visibly pregnant Helcerían and Hiswalagawen the Giant Swan Maia notices Cuddles and has that awkward "we knew each other from High School, heard you fucked up your life bitch but I see you're doing better/wow your sister is so much more successful than you that's got to sting" catty conversation solely through averted eye contact.

During the war against Sauron Seregeithon fights alongside Elrond and is one of the key military commanders. Helcerían and kids also live in Imladris. When Elrond marries Celebrían, Sereg and Helce stand in for Elrond's parents. Their younger kids are the playmates for Elrohir and Elladan.

there's more than three kids. not a full seven, but definitely five and maybe six

Elrond isn't surprised. Not thrilled, but not surprised.

...Seregeithon is probably one of Celebrían's guards that gets killed when she is captured by orcs. Or 'Ricard'. Whichever one dies, the other will join the revenge spree alongside the twins. Most of the family goes with Celebrían to Valinor. Whoever doesn't will go with Elrond

[hylianane]

Fuck it, fuck, here’s my pitch. Brook is Kotaro, for once the necromancer instead of the necromanced, and I’m thinking of maybe changing the setting from directly Saga to maybe some fictional place, cause otherwise I cannot justify him importing corpses from around the world like he does with two of them. Regardless, when he resolved to reanimate a group of legendary performers gone too early, in order to SAVE THE WORLD, this is the one he assembled.

Luffy: No one knows jackshit about who Luffy used to be, as he never ‘awakened’ to the point of being capable of speech, and Brook in all his riddles won’t tell them where the hell he found him. From the way he dresses, and the dead tamagotchi with ‘Merry’ written in marker strapped to his hip, you’d think he was more of an old school delinquent instead of an idol. At first glance, he is the most like a zombie, the most likely to bite at people’s flesh and to have his own body contort till it falls apart. But despite all this, he’s strangely aware and intelligent. His eyes seem to see right through you sometimes, and with them he can communicate effortlessly without word. He was certainly capable of making it clear that HE and only HE is allowed to be the Captain of the idol group, and though he cant yet sing, he’s proven to be the best dancer out of all of them. 

Zoro: By far the oldest corpse that Brook dug up. He was born around the very end of the Edo era, and once reanimated found himself kind of offended at Brook’s reasoning for bringing him back to life. Yes, he spent a big chunk of his life performing as a Kabuki actor, and he was highly sought after by the higher class for his grace in dance. But even if that was actually comparable to this idea of an ‘idol’, it’s not like he even considers himself a real preformer. Instead, at only 21 years old he was already a seasoned samurai, at a time were the samurai class was close to being abolished. His job as a kabuki actor was only a cover while he and his family made preparations to rebel. Dying during this rebellion only to be reborn in the future to a Japan that smore modernized than he could have ever imagined, is kind of his nightmare. He doesn’t know what the hell they’re expecting of him. But, at least the company in Brook’s manor isn’t so bad. 

Nami: During the late 1950s she went from a European sensation to receiving world-wide fame, talented beyond words but mostly acclaimed for her beauty. She who loved singing and performing but hated the men watching her every move. Her manager, Arlong, was extremely predatory and would often steal her hard-earned money from right under her nose. When awakened as a Zombie, she is ecstatic to be given a second chance at her career in freedom, but not to thrilled to be placed in a band mostly comprised of boys. Though after a few failed escape attempts and a few heart-to-hearts with them, not only does she warm up to the idea, but eventually becomes the group’s shadow leader behind the scenes.

Usopp: Stands out amongst the group as the only one who never performed live while he was still��alive-  and he is being sooo brave about it guys. He was a rising star in the US during the late-70s, during the birth of the art of the music video. Videos that, along with the music, took the viewer by the hand and told them a story. Before his untimely death, Usopp’s work played frequently on television, earning him nation-wide popularity from the safety of behind the camera. Though, he doesn’t think that’s gonna fly this second time around… but surely there must be a way for him to overcome his stage fright. Maybe a new persona? Maybe one with a mask? 🤔

Sanji: The kid living in the 2020s who never got a chance to actually become an idol himself. His dad forced him and his siblings into training when they were just 12 years old, and though Sanji wanted nothing more than to make him proud, he would often end up passed out from exhaustion long before the day was even over. The day his father decided to give up on him and disown him, his heart shattered. Sanji resolved to run away from home- only to accidentally get hit by a truck the second he set foot on the street. When he woke up again in Brook’s basement, he for some reason was the only awakened Zombie in their group to have lost his memories of his past life. Still, all of Brook’s training seems to come naturally to him, like muscle memory. So, maybe he can trust that it’s a good thing that he’s here, to ‘save the world’, and have his second chance at life. 

Vivi: She was once the leader of her own girl group, now she’s the only zombie with actual experience in performing as a team. Once upon a time, she would perform with her girls Shirahoshi, Rebecca, Mansherry, and her dear Matroy sisters. Vivi herself was only 15 at the time of their debut, but through sheer determination and hard work managed to launch her group into stardom. At the height of their popularity in the early 2010s, they had become basically royalty. Vivi, in particular, had the pressure to keep her group afloat weighing on her like a crown. She’d become someone most girls (and one particular boy named Sanji) aspired to be. Which made it all the more tragic when she died on stage, after insisting on performing through a thunderstorm. Oh, well. The show most go on. After waking up as a zombie a few years later, she finds her group had replaced her with a new leader- one Vinsmoke Reiju. 

Robin is the journalists that takes an interest in the group and near-instantly puts their secret together. Though, she doesn’t seem too inclined to do anything with this information except make Brook sweat. Jinbe and Franky are pending BUT I also think that Zeff would play a role as the only good father figure from Sanji’s past and somehow the only person to recognize him when he sees him on stage. He’d play a huge rule on jugging his memory. And Tashigi would be the weird doppelgänger of someone Zoro met in the Meiji era (maybe she can be a new member of Vivi’s group, brought onboard by Reiju?). But yeah. Moving on.

And if I said I was seriously brainstorming a Zombieland Saga-inspired au for OP would y’all call me a madman

[mxdotpng]

addie's daughter is officially named arabeau & i think my favorite fact abt her is that she is 8 years old and keeps accidentally setting estinien on fire

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

The Thrilling Saga of Connie paying real life money for the Worst Sonic TV Show

Let’s begin with the simple fact that me and my sister, @birdsareblooming​ “Cori”, have both been hyperfixating on Sonic the Hedgehog since last March. During this hyperfixation, I was on Sonic Wiki to copy-paste song lyrics onto my stolen mp3s, and I called my sister in and pointed at the template at the bottom. 

“What is this Sonic Underground thing?” I asked. “It has one shit billion songs.” 

So we clicked on the page to read about it, and each sentence we read was a punch in the gut and this quickly became the funniest thing we’d ever read. Highlights include:

It looks like this:

“Sonic[...] is known to be a prince” 

Sonic has two siblings who actually have good characterization but their names are literally just Sonia and Manic. Like. Sonic split into two names. jesus christ 

Also Sonic and his siblings all share a voice actor. honestly Jaleel White does his best with it but 

“The three siblings possess enchanted medallions that transform not only into musical instruments, but also into weapons.”

“Some fans consider Sonia to be a clone of Amy Rose, minus the attraction Amy feels for Sonic.” YEAH I SURE HOPE IT DOES

“Manic is the most often captured of the siblings” himbo king 

Knuckles shows up, and for the first, like, two sentences his description is very similar to the game, and then you get immediately pulverized by “He has a pet Dinosaur called Chomps.”

Literally so many sentences on Sonic Wiki are lowkey salty about this show. The page features lines such as “Sonic Underground bears little relation to the often complex Sonic universe (including previous animated series, as well as Sonic comics and games), and shares only three established characters” and “many of the characters in the Freedom Fighter group that were in Sonic the Hedgehog are completely left out (including Tails).”

“The show met with mostly negative reviews.”

*checks air dates* It only lasted two goddamn months

So after seeing this we thought it was the funniest thing and we showed our older sister, @patema-introverted​ “North.” To our surprise, our at the time “knew nothing about this sonic bullshit” sister recognized the show. Turns out she’d seen trailers for it as a child and that was her sole exposure to Sonic canon. 

We were in quarantine at the time, so we ended up finding it on YouTube and binge-watching it all together as a sibling bonding activity. It was just as hilarious as we thought it would be- some stuff was legitimately good, like the sibling dialogue for instance, but good lord were the character designs ugly, the plot all over the place, and pretty much every song, um, not great. Also there was one episode that we skipped because it got, um, I think “stereotypical” is the nicest word I can use here. 

But the point is, we had a jolly good time watching it, and afterwards we binged all the other Sonic shows and bonded as a family. 

After quarantine, North and I go back to college. My roommate gets groceries at Walmart, while I get them elsewhere, so while she and North collect food I wander the DVD aisle to look at the cool movies and also dumpster-dive in the bargain bin for Cats (2019). I am also short as fuck, so the top shelf of movies I cannot see, I can only read the labels. 

So one day I was browsing the DVDs, and glancing over at the labels for the top shelf. I read over the final one before the shelves end. 

And then I stop, do a double take, and have a heart attack, because there is a label that reads “SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74″

I immediately climb the shelf but there aren’t any DVDs atop the shelf. However, the label is still there. I excitedly tell my sister and roommates, freak out with them a bit, and then give myself a mission statement:

I will buy the $4 Sonic Underground DVD from Walmart

I did not want it as a gift, I did not want to find it online. I wanted to walk into a store, pick up the Worst Sonic Show on DVD, walk it straight to the checkout, and in front of the cashier and God, pay for it with my own money. I did not care if it was the whole series or two episodes; I needed to do this for my own serotonin.

We would go to Walmart about once a week. Every time, I would go to the DVD aisle, and go right to the end of the shelves. I would stare at the label SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74 and empty space above it and wonder who the fuck was buying this other than me. I would occasionally ask employees if they had any copies in storage. I would build a shrine to Manic in my room. Okay, no I didn’t, but only because my RA would have murdered me. 

Christmas break comes, and we have to go home. We have a nice Christmas, and Cori and I infodump at each other about how we would make Sonic Underground a good show (note: we’re both galaxy braining) and also play Bendy and the Ink Machine. Fun times. 

When we finally get back to College, it’s late January- long story short we have a very long winter break. My roommate who gets food at Walmart got food without us the first week cause she showed up first, so we take her out to Walmart the first time in the year of our lord 2021 on January 29. 

I wander the Valentine’s aisle, immediately grabbing a sequin puppy. I go to the DVDs and see Animaniacs Season One, also grab that. 

And then.

There it is.

The Holy Grail. 

Above the label SONIC UNDERGROUND $3.74, is one DVD left. 

Already I am losing my mind. It’s roughly seven hours of episodes- I couldn’t find an episode list, but I think that’s half the show, for $4! And the cover is amazing. 

That’s a png of Sonic from Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) with a medallion badly photoshopped over it. The medallion is too small. 

Manic is shoved into the corner. He doesn’t have his medallion at all. 

Sonia isn’t even pictured on the front cover, probably because they realized she was the worst designed of the bunch. I’m not ragging on her though, because she’s still one of the better designed characters of the show. Those background characters make me cry 

So you bet your ass I finally paid my hard-earned $4 for this shit. Upon getting home, I discovered that there was even wilder shit with this DVD than I thought. 

For starters: the bonus features listed are as follows:

Original Concept Art - did not expect that these character designs were the final draft

Storyboard-to-screen - did not expect they bothered to storyboard this 

Music Video Jukebox - that’s cute, they thought we liked the music 

Interviews with original screenwriter & executive producer - I fully expect the only questions to be “why.” 

On the left of this list are screenshots from the show, where people can finally see Sonia, who we Know™ is a girl because she is pink and has hair and also an actual body shape instead of just circles like her brothers. 

But wait... what’s that in the lefthand corner? 

That looks like some kind of robot. But it’s not a robot from Sonic Underground! That didn’t appear once. Why is it here? 

The mystery continues upon opening the DVD case: inside are advertisements for other collections, including other Sonic DVDs: two volumes of Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog (1993) and the final episodes of Sonic the Hedgehog “SatAM” (1993)

First of all, the first volume of AOSTH has the exact same PNG of Sonic as the Underground Volume 1. Not even trying to hide it. But second... the second volume of AOSTH also has this robot on its cover. 

And THIS ROBOT IS ALSO DECORATING THE THIRD DISC IN THE SET?

So you may be asking, who is this robot? Is it from AOSTH or Underground?

IT’S FROM FUCKING SATAM. The one show that doesn’t have it decorating the DVD covers.

Also, not only is it from SatAM, it only appears in one fucking episode. Not a major character! AND IT HAS A DIFFERENT DESIGN ON THE PROMO ART, WITH HAIR AND FANGS.

Why is it showing up everywhere? What is going on? 

I have not yet had the opportunity to watch this glorious piece of animation, but I am so glad at the confusion I have felt upon receiving it. 

But before I go, I must share with you the best part of this DVD purchase. And it was flipping to the back, scanning the details, and discovering the exact runtime of the episode collection. 

Guys, gals, and enby pals, friends and enemies, Nintendo and Sega, the first Volume of Sonic Underground has a runtime of...

420 MINUTES.

Maybe I’m wrong and this IS the best Sonic show. 

[quantumlocked310]

Everything Ever! Includes Fics, Moodboards for my own stuff and other people’s stuff, and links to everything.

Requests are closed for Moodboards! Hit me up if you have an idea, or peep below and tell me you’re exited for my WIPs.

Kindness is the only rule!

Sorry friends! I had to get rid of the moodboard images in my Masterlist. Tumblr wasn’t happy with me. BUT! They are all still linked. I promise. Check them out below!

In the Bed of Love Masterlist - Hercules!Hvitserk x Gorgon F!Reader [Ongoing]

Ratings & word count will be posted on the individual chapters

Summary: Hvitserk burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings: greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn

Pour Overs and Pastries - Hvitserk x F!Reader (G - 662w) [Complete]

Summary: You're a new resident in Denmark, and this is your first time heading to work in the morning. Maybe the coffee shop around the corner will be your new regular spot. The cute barista certainly hopes so.

Warnings: None. Complete.

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

On Tumblr. On AO3.

Order Up! - Hvitserk x F!Reader (NSFW - 4,380w) [Complete]

Double Tall Hvitserk Cappuccino for @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom on the bar!

Click either Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: You finally run into the cute barista from your favorite coffee shop when he’s not working. Will he be charming enough to lure you into bed? Or are you confident enough to invite him in yourself?

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Slow Burn, SMUT, NSFW, 18+, Hvitserk “White Boy Texting,” Gratuitous use of Claire Saffitz

Part 1 on Tumblr. Part 2 on Tumblr. Full Fic on AO3.

Bjørnekram - Bjorn x Plus Size F!Reader (M - 2,298w) [Complete]

Written based on @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie‘s post asking for fluffy Bjorn.

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: A summons from Kattegat takes your family back to where you grew up and played with the young sons of Ragnar. What awaits you in the city is a gift from the gods.

Warnings: Heavy petting, bear hugs, fluff, ignoring the entire Vikings plot

On Tumblr. On AO3.

Sushi Go! - Hvitserk X Pregnant F!Reader (T - 1,430w) [Complete]

Based on @jadelynlace‘s post saying:

This thought I just had: Hvitserk uses his wife’s pregnancy as a reason to eat more than he already does because, “pregnancy cravings happen to the father too!”

Click here to see the Moodboard!

Warnings: I have not ever been pregnant, so I am playing fast and loose with reality here, friends. Sex is alluded to, but not described specifically.

On Tumblr. On AO3. 

The Wrath of Thor and the Beauty of Freya - Hvitserk x F!Reader (T - 3,147w) [Complete]

Requested by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie who asked for fluffy Hvitserk comforting Reader from a scary thunderstorm.

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: As children, you and Hvitserk didn’t get along. But after reconciling as young adults he’s now your closest confidant. What happens when he sees you at your most vulnerable? Will your fresh friendship be irrevocably changed? For better, or for worse?

Warnings: parental death, traumatic experience relating to storms & thunder, descriptions of violence, heavy petting, tooth rotting fluff, random friend OFC

On Tumblr. On AO3.

You’re Promised to Me! - Hvitserk x Plus Size! Latina! Reader (NSFW - 4,100w) [Complete]

Collaboration between @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie and myself. I wrote the smut and did the moodboard, she did everything else. It’s part 3 of her series.

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to the epic saga of Hvitserk and Reader being way too close as friends, and way too stubborn to fuck start dating. Will they ever get over themselves? Who will make the first move? How fluffy will we really get? Read more to find out.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, Fluff, second languages, Hvitserk being annoyingly perceptive, going commando, hungry hungry Hvitserk

On Tumblr. On AO3.

Wild in You - Modern!Ivar x Nurse F!Reader (NSFW - 4,000w) [Complete]

@alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom requested “a modern Ivar and a nurse as friends with benefits”

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: It’s just smut. Pure kinky smut with zero plot. Reader and Ivar blowing off steam from Med School onward.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, under negotiated kink, mutual masturbation, d/s, orgasm denial, public sex, playing fast and loose with the medical field/medical school

Part 1 On Tumblr. Part 2 on Tumblr. Full Fic on AO3.

Cruor and Conquests - Bloody!Hvitserk x F!Reader (NSFW - 3,030w) [Complete]

I was inspired by this post about seeing men with blood on their faces. BONUS! Moodboard at the end too.

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: You and your love, Hvitserk, rejoice together in the throws of passion after a gory and glorious battle.

Warnings: description of battle, blood, SMUT, viking inaccuracies, NSFW, established relationship

On Tumblr. On AO3.

A Witcher’s Favorite - Eskel x F!Reader (M - 379w) [Complete]

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard by @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​!

Summary: A little drabble fantasy with Eskel and your life together.

Warnings: some sexual content, a bit sad, fluff, harassment

On Tumblr. On AO3.

A Game of Cat and Mouse - Batman!Billy Russo x Catwoman!Reader (M - 2,820w) [Complete]

Click the Tumblr link to see the Moodboard!

Summary: A little tale of two people in opposite worlds and how they come together.

Warnings: heavy petting, smol violence, smol blood, ooc probably

On Tumblr. On AO3.

Her Eyes Moodboard for @waiting4inspiration

The Witcher: Geralt x Dragon Born!Reader Moodboard

His Muse Moodboards for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Painter!Hvitserk x Muse!Reader - Part 1 Moodboard

Vikings: Painter!Hvitserk x Muse!Reader - Part 2 Moodboard

The Mechanic Moodboards for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Mechanic!Hvitserk x F!Reader Moodboard

Bedroom Hymns Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Dark!Hvitserk x Nun!Reader Mossy Moodboard

Feverish Love Moodboards for @ritual-unions-gotme

Vikings: Ubbe x F!Reader x Torvi (and sometimes Hvitserk) Moodboards

Winter Wonderland Moodboard for @flowers-in-your-hayr

Vikings: Hvitserk x Plus Size F!Reader Moodboard

Fox Tails and Wolf Howls Moodboard for @vikingstrash

Vikings: Werewolf!Ubbe x F!Reader with Fox Shifter!Hvitserk Platonic Moodboard

Sated Hunger and Regret Moodboard for @vikingstrash

Vikings: Werewolf! Ubbe / Icubus! Hvitserk Moodboard

I also posted some drafts!

Supernatural!Vikings Series Masterlist [Complete]

A series inspired by this super long post. I will be updating the Masterlist with mine and other users work as I get them. More details in the linked post above.

Ink Drinker Inspired Moodboards [Complete]

A series inspired by Ink Drinker from @jadelynlace. Check out her masterlist for the Modern! Ivar x Reader Universe!

Ivarello Banner and Moodboards for @youbloodymadgenius

Vikings: Cinderella! Ivar x F! Reader Banner and Moodboard. Check out the Masterlist for the banner, and each chapter for the Moodboards (mine are only chapters 1-4, not the prologues).

A Little Unruly Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

MCU: Modern! Bucky x Plus Size! Reader Moodboard

Chasing You Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Soft! Hvitserk x Plus Size! Reader Moodboard

Keep It Between Us Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Hvitserk x Reader Moodboard

Not Before I Taste You Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Modern!Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

He Likes Me? for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Vikings: Ubbe x You x Hvitserk

Across Time for @fandomficsnstuff​

Vikings x Harry Potter Crossover: Ivar x Magical!Reader

Halo for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Vikings: Angel!Hviitserk x Plus Size!Reader

A Chance Encounter for @fandomficsnstuff​

LOTR x Skyrim Crossover: Legolas x OFC

Quote Inspired Moodboard for @for-bebbanburg 250 Followers Celebration

Untitled - Medici The Magnificent: Lorenzo de Medici x Nun!OFC Moodboard + Drabble

Five Senses (Sight - Bubbles) Inspired Moodboard for @mrsalwayswrite 350 Followers Celebration

The Siren Call of the Ocean - Vikings: Hvitserk x Mermaid!Reader Moodboard + Fic

Moodboard Inspired Fic for @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 Followers Celebration

True Delights - Vikings: Modern!Sigurd x F!Reader Fic [General - 1,000w]

Quote Inspired Moodboard for @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 Followers Celebration

My Dearest Eliza, - Bridgerton: Anthony Bridgerton x Jazz Musician!OFC Moodboard + Drabble

Inspired by Hadestown - Bridgerton: Anthony Bridgerton x OFC at Mardi Gras Moodboard

The Little Match Girl Inspired Moodboard & Fic for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Celebration

Summon Up Remembrance  - Vikings: Hvitserk P.O.V. [Teen - 1,300w]

On AO3.

Snowball Fight Inspired Moodboard & Drabble for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Winter Birthday Challenge

Winter Theme - Vikings: Modern!Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Vikings Big Bang 2022 as hosted by @vikingsbigbang​

​Everything I created for their first event

Song Inspired Fic for @doctorwhoandfairytaillover​ 600 Follower Celebration

Missing You - Vikings: Modern!Hvitserk x Plus Size!F!Reader (T - 1,983w) Inspired by Missing You by All Time Low On AO3.

Quote Inspired Drabble for @vikingstrash​ 333 Follower Celebration

“The Sounds You Make” - Vikings: Alfred x Ubbe (T - 122w)

Hvitserk Moodboard for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie (nerdy boi below)

Hvitserk X Vet!Reader with inspo from @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 

Pirate!Hvitserk X F!Reader for me myself and I

Hvitserk Love Guru Fic with @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Hercules!Hvitserk X Gorgon!Reader for just me [in process of posting]

Billy Russo x Mechanic! Reader for me myself and I

Short and sweet fic for @doctorwhoandfairytaillover 700 follower challenge

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Whole Cake Island

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano

sanji is such a self-sacrificial idiot. and i know that’s not exactly a ground-breaking statement, but it does define the entire first half of whole cake island, so it may as well be reiterated here: sanji does not value his own life as much as he should, and fails to grasp that other people care about him outside of what he can offer them, which is why he’s so surprised when luffy later comes charging headlong into big mom’s territory.

zou is a really good little arc, and it also mirrors the themes of whole cake island in miniature. the minks collectively make a massive sacrifice and risk absolutely everything to protect raizou, and wci is essentially all about loyalty and sacrifice, whether its sanji giving himself up to protect the strawhats and zeff or luffy and the strawhats facing impossible odds to rescue him to pedro giving up his life to get them all out of there safe.

huge fan of this panel partly just because it’s cute and partly because it’s a great visualization of just how dysfunctional the heights are in one piece.

zou is one of my favorite settings in one piece just for the sheer creativity of it. zunesha is so massive and so mysterious and so strange. and she really looks unspeakably old just from how she’s drawn, looming over everyone and everything, eyes hollow and empty, an entire forest and an entire people growing on her back that have been there for thousands of years. it’s just so neat and so wildly inventive.

this applies to zou as a whole, but i think it’s really cool how all the little threads that will become important during wano are set up so effectively even before whole cake island starts. we get this shot here of kidd beat to shit and then forget it because so much happens between here and when he shows up again in wano, but then oda punks us into caring about him and killer so much and this retroactively becomes very important.

ever since his introduction sanji’s always been a character basically defined by his adherence to his principles: always feeding the hungry, never wasting food, never hurting women, never using his hands in combat. he’s probably the most firmly principled person on the crew, and that’s more obvious in whole cake island than in any other arc except maybe baratie.

sanji is very stubbornly good, which puts him in acute contrast to his siblings and their general cruel apathy. it’s something i really like about him.

i’m a huge fan of big mom’s introduction, which is also our introduction to tottoland in general. it’s cutesy and colorful and musical while simultaneously being deeply creepy, with lyrics about killing people for ingredients and making jam out of blood, which is a great summary of the core of big mom’s character. she’s an old lady all in pink who lives in a cartoon fairy-tale land- but she’s also a deranged cannibal, and all those singing trees and flowers are animated by the life she steals from her citizens as tax.

whole cake island draws on a lot of fairy tale motifs (especially with brulee), and the contrast that saccharine appearance creates with how fucked up the actual content is is super effective and memorable, i think.

honestly i find most of the content of sanji with the vinsmokes just plain upsetting, which i’m sure is intentional, so i’m not going to go into it a lot here, but i am including this panel of him kicking niji in the face.

sad as this scene turns out, luffy’s absolute thrill at finding sanji and the corresponding bafflement of the vinsmokes as to how the fuck he even got there always kinda makes me grin.

i always love seeing people’s underestimations about luffy get thrown right the hell out the window- because let’s be honest, he’s easy to underestimate, he’s like a five and a half foot tall rubber teenager and not very physically intimidating and all, and then he goes and pulls off the impossible without blinking.

the thing that makes luffy unique as a captain has always been his willingness to rely on his crew, and his willingness to openly admit that reliance, like he did all the way back in arlong park. most of the other contenders for the pirate king’s crown we’ve seen- big mom, kaidou, crocodile once upon a time- have been stubbornly individualistic people who explicitly shown not to care for their crew and allies, generally seeing them as disposable.

luffy is the opposite of all of them, because his crew are everything to him, to the point of being willing to sacrifice his dream for them. and the loyalty he wins from them in return is unmatched, as opposed to big mom and kaidou, who both get cheerfully betrayed not just by their own crewmates but by their own children.

brook is really cool in whole cake island, and honestly it comes at just the right time for him as a character. ever since his introductory arc in thriller bark until this point he hasn’t gotten a ton of focus, so it’s great that he gets to be the mvp here and demonstrate exactly why he’s a strawhat pirate and how much he’s grown over the timeskip.

oda is generally really good at introducing and handling characters contained to a single arc/saga, but i do think he absolutely knocked it out of the park with pedro. he has an interesting backstory, compelling motivations, and basically an entire sub-arc ending in his death that never distracts from the main plot, but only ever adds to it.

pedro really feels like a fully realized character who’s had a whole life offscreen, who we just happened to catch at the very end of his story. i think that’s super impressive.

i really love this moment, because for me, this is the moment where whole cake island becomes a tremendous arc, and where the tides begin to turn and the dominoes begin to fall, one after the other. this is sanji hitting absolute rock bottom. the one ray of light he pinned all his hopes on was a lie, and he can’t even light a fucking cigarette.

but one piece is, very often, a story about picking yourself up even when you feel like you can’t.

i think there’s something lovely about how much one piece emphasizes the value of honestly asking for help. luffy waits for nami to ask for help, and for robin to say she wants to live, and for sanji to admit he just wants to go home, and then says, “okay, i’ll make that happen.”

it just makes me so happy how happy the stawhats are to know sanji’s back with them. it reminds me a lot of how they all brush off robin’s thanks after enies lobby. sure, they’re going to have to crash the wedding and confront big mom directly and might all die, but who cares? they’ve got sanji back. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, i love how much they love each other.

i think the gangster outfits are super fun, and i love that oda is committed enough to his aesthetics to come up with an excuse to put them all in formalwear. it pays off, they all look extremely snappy.

i know i just said it in the dressrosa posts but i’m reiterating it here because this is my favorite example of it by far: i love when oda does this split-screen thing with his panels. the contrast between the two halves of pudding is so severe and yet they’re so clearly the same person i honestly just find this pair of panels fascinating to look at.

this panel also kind of gets at my favorite thing about pudding as a character, really. i know she’s a little controversial in fandom, but i’ve always found her entertaining (at least post-reveal), especially in the contrast between her unhinged evil side and her genuinely sweet romantic side and her post-wedding tendency to randomly ping-pong between the two.

i just always like reminding people that sanji is fast enough and his observation haki good enough to dodge a surprise attack, while thoroughly distracted, from katakuri.

sanji in this arc tends to get shit from a certain side of fandom for being ‘useless’ since he doesn’t have a big climactic fight despite being the focus of the arc, which i think is thoroughly missing the point. sanji is still plenty capable in combat, as demonstrated both here and later, with chiffon and oven. it just happens that his strength isn’t what saves the day ultimately, because combat ability isn’t everything, which is the entire point of the vinsmoke backstory/subplot. sanji saves the day just by being kind.

i’ll admit big mom’s flashback isn’t one of my favorites, taken in isolation- there are some parts of it that kind of unresolved (at least as of now- i still suspect they’ll be followed up eventually), and in general, although there is a tragedy to it, it doesn’t quite hit the way many of the other more effective flashbacks do. that said, i do think it does a really good job of succinctly explaining why big mom is the way she is in the present: she’s a child who was never told no, who never grew or matured past the disappearance of her adopted mother. that’s it, and that’s enough.

i’ve always been a little bit in love with how seriously and consistently one piece handles its themes of found family, and sanji outright disowning judge in whole cake island is maybe the most outright they ever get: family is found, not made. you owe nothing to your blood and are never beholden to your abusers.

and i just like that a whole lot.

i do think the tamatebako is one of the best uses of chekov’s gun i’ve ever seen. we’re first shown it at the end of fishman island, it’s revealed it got sent off to big mom rigged with explosives which is a minor “oh fuck” moment, and then it gets forgotten about, because the entirety of punk hazard and dressrosa happens in between! which is a lot!

i remember when i reached the moment in whole cake island where we’re reminded that that bomb still exists and is still waiting to explode, i just started laughing hysterically out loud, because i’d completely forgotten, and now that i remembered i was just delighted to know it was going to definitely go off at some point, almost certainly in a very satisfying way.

pedro is, if i remember right, the first time the imagery of the coming dawn that will become quite important in wano really has attention drawn to it in-text- the recurring motif is there before this, of course, dating all the way back to the names of the first chapter (romance dawn) and first island (dawn island), but this is the first time it’s actively addressed in-story.

in doing so, oda essentially presents a fresh mystery for us, but one that has been set up so consistently ever since chapter one that it feels like it fits perfectly into the world and story.

luffy’s been punching way above his weight class ever since crocodile all the way back in alabasta, fighting enemies who clearly outmatch him but always managing to win anyways, but his fight with katakuri is maybe the clearest the sheer differential in strength ever gets, because katakuri’s powers are similar enough to luffy’s that he can pull off pretty much all of luffy’s techniques, but better. so luffy has to fall back on the two things that have always been his greatest strengths, again all the way back to crocodile in alabasta: innovation and sheer fucking stubbornness.

one thing i love about one piece is how no character is immune to being clowned on. absolutely nobody. everybody looks like an idiot sometimes, and it makes everything so much more fun than if the series took itself more seriously. katakuri basically actively tries to avert this by building up a fearsome, flawless, and utterly no-nonsense persona, but it winds up failing hard because it actually only makes the contrast and surprise of his actual personality and vices that much funnier.

i’ve always loved this one panel of carrot going sulong, because she just looks so monstrous, like a true werewolf. the same goes for the shift in big mom’s design when she starts going truly mad with starvation and gets even more threatening-looking (below). i just think oda should let women be monstrously scary more often.

i do really love that the entire climax of whole cake island hinges on the degree of trust and faith the strawhats, and sanji and luffy specifically, have in each other. they’re all facing massive challenges that would seem insurmountable to an outsider- luffy facing down a yonkou’s commander with a bounty of over a billion and sanji remaking a massive cake that took months to plan and make in just a few hours, the others evading big mom’s full forces and big mom herself for a full night- but none of them have even a shred of doubt that the others can manage it.

i wrote a meta post awhile back about one piece’s concept of ‘honor in a pirates’ fight, and what it came down to is this: honor can never be expected between pirates, but the best of them will show it anyways, and it can be a very telling judge of character. nobody would expect katakuri to do this, and luffy even calls him an idiot for it, but he has enough respect for luffy as a strong opponent to do it anyways, and that’s how we know for absolute certain that even though he’s an antagonist, he’s also a good, honorable person.

i really like the gesture of luffy leaving his hat over katakuri’s mouth, especially because until this point, we’re never even given any indication that he’s really noticed it, let alone that katakuri is insecure about it. he never reacts to or comments on it (which is in itself kind of unusual from someone who tends to nickname opponents by their appearances as often as luffy does) one way or another.

and then he does this, confirming all at once that he did fully notice and understand, he just doesn’t care. which i think sums up one of the more under-appreciated aspects of luffy’s character- he’s generally way more observant than people give him credit for, especially when it comes to people, it’s just that he has a very different sense of what’s important and what’s not than your average person.

i love the sheer contrast between big mom’s delighted, rapturous singing as she devours the wedding cake against the violence taking place on screen as her army rains fire and hell down on the thousand sunny. it parallels her initial introduction at the start of the arc perfectly, and is just an excellent way to close out the arc with a bang.

i said it earlier but it bears repeating here, for a different reason: luffy is not very physically intimidating. he’s shorter than most of the other main characters, he’s a lanky teenager, he dresses casually and his most identifiable accessory is a farm hat.

but then there are times when he looks like a captain, like a future pirate king, and it just looks so natural on him. i can never get over it.

i really like that, after spending a whole arc demonstrating just how different (and how much better) sanji is than the vinsmokes, it ends like this- showing us just how similar he’s grown up to the man he’s chosen as his real family, and just how proud zeff would be of him.

[straight-into-the-animus]

The thrilling conclusion to the saga of these posts

Explanations under the cut:

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad - Belle

They’re not “cocky” or “conceited”, they convinced. But truly, they were the innovators of their times. Just as Belle brought the new generation of Disney Princesses, Altair brought the franchise in and we honestly respect that. Also? Book smart and an innovator enough to make the great Leonardo da Vinci have to work for it? Amazing. New generation to make people think. Love it.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze - Cinderella

Often thought of and pictured as the leader of the Princesses despite coming out much later and you all forget about Snow White but ANYWAYS, there is something to be said about both of them. They were both rich and high up until the death of their fathers/families, and quickly become lower class citizens/have to get down and dirty. But! They never lose their innate goodness or become overly bitter and honestly? Good for them.

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway - Merida

They got parent issues. Lordy. They want to stick it to the man! Connor with his dad and Merida with her mum, they aren’t gonna listen and do what is expected, they have their own code. Also, no love interest at all in their respective game/movie? We stan independent people! And they’re both pretty big and handy with the bows, and that is. Hot?

Edward Kenway - Tinker Bell

These two little blond/e shits can and will piss everyone off while heading off in their own self-interests. Tinker Bell wasn’t always this nice pure fairy! Vindictive! Angry! Edward could definitely, I think, have it in him to go wild just the same. And they’re also drama queens who def need applause and attention all the time.

Shay Cormac - Elsa

They both do well in the cold, it seems. Also, Shay leaves where he in unappreciated and against everything he’s been taught to be ‘free’? Don’t like it. But gotta admire it. 

Arno Victor Dorian - Megara

He’s a damsel, he’s in distress, he can handle this. But also, they are snarky and have been burned in love, but still can do it. So soft under the tough exteriors, and just wanting to be loved by a strong, sweet man individual? Get me my tissues, please-

Jacob Frye - Alice

They mean well, they’re just in their own little worlds and don’t really listen to everyone else. Truly, a life aspired for. Tho they do both get into trouble tho so bad for them. They do learn at the end! Just takes a wee bitta time.

Bayek of Siwa - Mulan

What about....... Being another groundbreaker? And being a warrior fighting against injustice? And for family? AND THEN he pretty much fucks off and does what he wants on his own terms instead of listening to the people in charge afterbeing betrayed (re:Cleopatra) just like Mulan does when she forgoes being part of the army and does things her way with the Hun? No choice but to stan.

Alexios - Moana

They got the Boats. And also have to travel a long way, deal with supernatural shit, and just?? want to get home/get with the fam?? validity. Also the red color scheme and the hair? All of it so epic. I love it.

[eeveecryptid]

※ SHIT YOUR LOCAL ENBY HAS HEARD: FRIENDS & FAM EDITION

a thrilling saga of shit i’ve heard over the years from friends and family, as well as some dumb shit i’ve said, myself. may include nsfw material. feel free to change names/pronouns/etc.!  more ‘shit i heard/said’ starters!

" just casually spills all your shit." "your hair is autumn, you bleed pumpkin spice." "i can’t believe you're sexually attracted to plankton." "i'm an adult, i'm the oldest person in this house.” "---yeah, you're a dinosaur.” "don't make me shake my fist at you!" "oH NO, IT WAS MORE EFFECTIVE THAN I THOUGHT!” "you wound me right in the baratiddies." "you can't threaten me, i'm not looking!" "oh no, it's jammed --- and peanut buttered!" "they know how to get to his/her heart and his/her pants." "try and keep a low profile now that you've, like-- murdered a bunch of people while protecting my food." "is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" "I DONT CONTROL THE DICE." “i dO N' T CO N TR OL TH E E G G S.” "gIVE ME THE CLUES, BITCH." "(name), GET OUT OF MY ASS!” "don't you face at me in that tone of voice." "joey mac/(name) has a jawline for days that could cut glass." "i got possessed by (name) because i saw (name) and went ‘oh that’s a dADDY’." "don't grow up, guys, don't do it, it's not worth it.” "i don't have college, i have depression!!" "bandit and cinders snatched my heart, odd snatched my uwus, aND YELLOW AND RIVER SNATCHED MY ASS, CAN I GET AN AMEN--" "who needs pants when you're drunk as a skunk?" "cause of death: pussy." "does 'sharkboy and lavagirl' exist in the twilight universe, and if so, does everyone just look from sharkboy to jacob and just be like ‘bruh what the fuck’?” "dID YOU DRAW A D I C K ON YOUR PASTRY--" "we all need a lap to sit on, and a shoulder to cry on." "i read the second one as 'i don't steal sluts'.” "no-one's dead, nothing broke, iT'S F I NE!” "IT'S OVER ANAKIN, I HAVE THE THIGH GROUND.” “give a man a fire, and he’ll be warm for a day. set a man on fire, and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.” "if you're not at least a lil’ bit gay for your friends when they get a haircut, are you really friends, though?" "that shit hURTED." "this is harder than my dick!” "songs that get white people - and (name) - turnt." "technically speaking, another term for 'sugar daddy' could be 'glucose father'.” "it's not that your mom doesn't love you, it's just that she's kind of a bitch.” "i don't like that my first thought upon pulling these dayquil pills out of the package was just 'ah yes, big and juicy'.” ". . . i heard 'big and goosey'.” "the hills are not alive with the sound of music, they're dead with the sound of me wheezing while walking uphill in the cold.” "i would've kissed bill directly on his eye mouth thing.” "hate is a special kind of love you give to people who suck.” "make sure you hang up your stocking so cupid can leave heart-shaped candy and pieces of cardstock with pictures of Cars 2(TM) characters.” "the joke flew over his/her head just like everything else because s/he's tiny." "i've had this poster for like, sixteen years--" "that's longer than i've been mentally stable." "sir, are you aware that you're a rat?" "aladdin is the real tiger king." "(name), i am begging you, you dumb fuck---" “oh god, chucky’s indian--” "hard times for covo the clown, he's just on the corner selling face masks, balloons, and crack-- oh and meth." "it's fine to eat if you're nOT A COWARD-- SALMONELLA WHOMST?" "i just want to pee, you monster, leT ME PEE!!" "don't trash the highways, trash Canada instead." "it took me almost a year, but i now know (name)’s love for graham crackers and i can exploit it." "my words go fast to make up for the fact that my tiny legs cannot." “i hate how, in my head, it just sounded like hank hill was possessed or voiced by matthew mcconaughey.” "gross encounters of the third kind, if you will."

[yakuzadumpingground]

Well since I'm feeling contrarian I'm gonna rank all of the yakuza games I've played (which is everything except the original 1 and 2, Dead Souls, and the Japan only games) which is guaranteed to piss someone off. Starting with the best-

1. Yakuza 0

Ok, not a controversial choice. I'm sorry. But the general consensus is correct. On top of having one of the best stories in the series, a really fun combat system (albeit not very challenging, but it's not like i play yakuza for challenge), and some of the most memorable sidestories, the setting really gives this game a certain style that nothing else in the series has. Also, one of the few yakuza games that's decently paced. Honestly, most of my complaints about this game are nitpicks (such as how grindy maxing out your character is) it's just a kind of boringly perfect game, really.

2. Yakuza: Like a Dragon

"BuT iT's TuRn-BaSeD" ok cool guess you're just gonna miss out on a fantastic fucking game. I gotta say, it was a real hard choice between "I wanna see the side stories" and "I GOTTA know what happens next in the story" sometimes. I don't know else I can say about this game: great story, great characters, just a great time. Admittedly, as an RPG it.... needs work. The encounter rate is WAAAY too high and the job class system is pretty busted. Even still, the genre change is a breath of fresh air and honestly pretty charming at times. Play this, goddamn

3. Yakuza Kiwami 2

It was a real toss up between Kiwami 2 and the game in the 4th slot, but in the end, Kiwami 2 wins by being more consistently enjoyable. Unlike the first two games on this list I can't say Kiwami 2 had a good story exactly, but I can say it's an entertaining one. I was rarely bored playing this, and in terms of sheer fun, Kiwami 2 wins that crown. I was *howling* at the ending, my God.

4. Yakuza 5

I'm of two minds when it comes to this game. On the one hand, some of my favorite stuff is in this game. The intro is very unusual but hit me in a weird way that really stuck with me. It finally made Saejima likable. Playable Haruka. Shinada, my beloved. On the other hand, while Yakuza games having pacing problems is pretty much the norm, whoo boy does yakuza 5 test your patience. Sloths move at the speed of fleas on meth compared to this game. Also, the actual overarching story is pretty weak and uninteresting. It's really best viewed as a collection of loosely connected stories. This game definitely has it's flaws, but the high points more than make up for them

5. Yakuza 6

Someone's gonna get mad that this game isn't lower, I'm sure. Yeah, it's flawed. It's not best send off for Kiryu. It's lacking in content. The ending is fucking terrible. But there's still plenty here to love. I love Onomichi, it's honestly one of my favorite locations in this series, even if there's nothing to do in it. It's just wonderful to look at and walk around in. I like the Onomichi cast. Beat Takeshi is there. Having Kiryu's saga cap off with a game about family is a great idea, and until this game's awful fucking ending it's a touching exploration of that theme. But fuck this game's ending. Seriously.

6. Yakuza 3

This is... a weird one. I can both see why the fanbase rejected it at the time and why fan appraisal has gotten so much kinder to this game. Like y6 (honestly y6 is really an unofficial remake of this game) it's a game about family. That being said, I rank it lower than 6 because of the relatively lower stakes and weak plot. It takes a long time for the main plot to actually start, and honestly it can take it's dear sweet time. Whenever I was going main story quests all I can think was about how much I'd rather be dinking around doing mundane shit for the kids. But I can't say this game isn't charming as hell. It's really one of the few times you really see Kiryu as just a... guy. Raising his kids, just living his life. For a series all about high octane melodrama, slice of life is a welcome change of pace

7. Judgment

Ooh, HERE'S the controversial take! Yeah, I didn't really care for Judgment. Judgment is the opposite of y3, where instead the main plot is actually very interesting but we spend. So. Much. Time. On. Bullshit. It's not a short game either. I spent so much of this game wondering when we're getting to the goddamn fireworks factory. Putting the pacing problems aside, the characters are fun but apart from Yagami and arguably Sugiura they don't get much in the way of meaningful development (it feels like Higashi's character arc is almost entirely off screen). The "detective" gameplay is meaningless fluff and adds nothing (note to game developers: tailing missions always suck. They sucked in Assassin's Creed and they suck here) and the attempt to bring back style changing is half-baked. I didn't hate my time with this game, but it left me underwhelmed

8. Yakuza Kiwami

This was actually my first yakuza game. And thank goodness Kiryu is hot because this game is... rough. First off, the story is just not very good. It spends a lot of time with tedious red herrings and extraneous shit with characters we don't care about. I honest to God had a hard time following the plot on my first playthrough because the cast is like 90% unmemorable middle aged Japanese men that show up like once in the first hour and then once in the last (but you're expected to remember them). It doesn't fare any better gameplay wise. It does make one good decision, bringing back style changing, but then for some reason they decided to make every boss fight an awful chore by having them regenerate their hp several times a fight (unless you happen to have the heat to do a heat action, and even then they regen hp so fast it may not help that much). What. The fuck. This snowballs into the Majima Everywhere which... look. I know. Goromi. But this system is still one where you have to fight a boss over and over and over again (in a game where fighting bosses is a chore). I've seen people slide off the series after going from 0 to kiwami, and that sucks. Maybe it was best i started here; if I liked this game, I'll probably like the rest

But there's one game I'd say that'd worse

9. Yakuza 4

When I played Yakuza 4 the first time, it was the ps3 version and I hadn't played 3 yet (it was more expensive.) So when I replayed 4 it was after playing 3, and honestly I was appreciating the game a lot more. After the slog of 3 it was nice to have a game with a snappier pace. And Akiyama was a fun change of pace. Him and Hana have a fun dynamic. I remembered not liking this game; was I too harsh? Could I have appreciated 4 more if I could see the improvements from 3? Then I got to Saejima's section then I remembered why I don't like this game. Honestly, I could go ON about how much Saejima's part sucks, it is easily the worst time I've had playing a yakuza game. I'll spare you that novel for now tho. And from here, the game never really recovers. We move on to Tanimura, the worst yakuza protagonist by the sheer virtue of how boring he is. By the time Kiryu shows up again I was so damned thrilled to see him. But he doesn't really save this game. Yakuza plots are usually convoluted and sometimes hard to follow, but 4's just gets exhausting to keep up with. By the time you get to your 28th betrayal you just can't care anymore. And it all caps off with a lazy fucking ending and the absolute worst final boss fight in the series. Oh Curryman. You deserve a better game.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the somewhere not here, Vinland Saga zine! I’m hoping for a season two and some more Ylva content, how can we not get anymore of her?

…

…

…

…

i. Daybreak

“Get up already,” Ylva barked. Thorfinn didn’t need to see her face to picture her annoyed expression, the slow roll of her eyes when he didn’t move, her hand on her hip as she counted to ten. Mom had told her to be more patient and every morning was an exercise of restraint before she finally snapped. Fabric rustled as she pulled aside the curtains to the window, letting in sunlight.

 “Ten more minutes,” he mumbled, rolling over on his side to block out the light. And maybe to stop her from splashing water on his face. It wouldn’t be the first time she used cold water to jerk him awake.

 She snorted. “Ten minutes isn’t going to help.” He could hear her pacing around the room, her fur boots muffling the sound of her footsteps. “We have to check the sheep and shovel the snow off the roof and that’s before lunch.”

Chores, chores, and more chores. There wasn’t a single day that Thorfinn didn’t wake up to a mountain of tasks that only seemed to get harder when winter rolled around. “Mom doesn’t want me on the roof,” he muttered. If he played his cards right, he could go practice fighting with the other kids and just skip the housework entirely. Ylva would kill him, but that was given either way.

 “Oh no no no,” she answered quickly and he had pushed too far, she wasn’t going to try patience anymore. “I am not doing all of this alone.”

 “It’s not like you do it all by yourself in the first place,” he pointed out, squeezing his eyes tighter as though he could reclaim some sleep that way.

 There was a long silence, a pause where he couldn’t hear anything, and for a brief moment Thorfinn wondered if Ylva had left the room. Then, her voice impossibly soft, his sister sighed, “But now I have to.” There was no anger in her tone, no reprimand, just a resigned regret. “You’re not coming home, are you?”

 Thorfinn’s eyes shot open and he wasn’t in his room, wasn’t in his house, wasn’t even in Iceland. He was in a muddy ditch and he rolled out of it, remembering just where he was. Every bone in his body ached and he lay flat on the ground, staring up at the blue sky. Nearby, a fire crackled. Looking over at him, Bjorn laughed, “So you’re still alive! Thought you died after that last battle.”

 Died. Death. His father. Thorfinn closed his eyes, pushing his sister out of his mind. It was getting easier to do that, to take every thought of her and Iceland and shove it into a locked box. To get rid of every temptation to steal a boat and go home. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up. “I’m not,” he spat out. “Not until I kill him.”

 He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Bjorn or Ylva. He didn’t want to know.

   ii. Dusk

Pressed against a barn door, Thorfinn quickly glanced around. Fortunately, now that the sun had set, the lights at the nearby house were out, the occupants asleep. They wouldn’t come here until the early morning, and by that point, he should be out and on his way. Stealing inside, he quietly made his way to a pile of hay in the back. A horse stirred at the sound of his footsteps, giving a small whicker before ignoring him.

 Good thing this family didn’t have a dog. Thorfinn gave one last look at the dozing barn animals before plopping onto the hay with a wince. His hand automatically went to his sore side. It was wet. An actual injury then. Fuck. Thorfinn gritted his teeth as he touched the bloody spot, his fingers pressing against his skin as he tried to assess the injury. Now that he was laying still, all he could feel were dagger-like prickles from where he touched.

 He needed to bandage it. Maybe he could find rags in the barn, staunch the injury long enough for him to make it back to the base camp.

 Thorfinn needed to do all that but his eyes were heavy and his limbs refused to move and a short nap wouldn’t kill anyone. Closing his eyes, he burrowed into the itchy hay. A familiar, cool hand pressed against his forehead and he could hear a sad sigh before she gently brushed away his dirty bangs. Her touch was tender and his heart ached more than his injury did.

 Mom.

 Mother.

 He remembered calling her each of those words, remembered this touch that was once more familiar than the cold steel of a blade. Her hands ghosted over his skin, examining each injury and sighing. She was saying something and he couldn’t hear the voice, couldn’t remember what she sounded like. Everything but her touch had faded away by this point.

 He wished that fact hurt more.

   iii. Midnight

 Sitting on the forward prow of the ship, Thorfinn scanned the calm waters for any enemies. In the distance, Askeladd and his crew were drunkenly laughing and carousing, celebrating yet another victory over the English. He clicked his teeth as he glanced at their direction, at the brightly lit fires and sounds that seemed to echo in the night air. It was like they wanted to be caught.

 If it weren’t for the fact that he still had to kill Askeladd, he’d let them.

 “You still could,” Thors said, the boat creaking as he took a seat next to Thorfinn. “You don’t have to stay here.”

 Thorfinn wasn’t sure what it said that he was used to this now, to the ghosts of his family haunting him at every waking step. Keeping his eyes glued on the water, he grunted, “I haven’t avenged you yet.”

 “Still going on about that, huh?” His father sighed, exasperated, sounding just like he did when Thorfinn had been little and he’d done something bad. “I’d rather you go home than do this.”

 “He killed you.” Thorfinn gritted his teeth, barely restraining his anger as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at Askeladd’s direction. The murderer’s laughter was the loudest of the bunch, grating his ears.

 “And I am dead, you don’t have to join me here.”

 He chuckled darkly. “I won’t be the one joining you.”

 “Or perhaps you both will. This isn’t the path to happiness.” His father paused. In a softer, lower voice, he asked, “You won’t go home, will you?”

 Thorfinn closed his eyes. “No, not yet.”

 “I see.” Thors laughed sadly. “I wish you didn’t take after me so much. You were always following me around, trying to copy me, but you didn’t have to copy my mistakes.” He reached over ruffling Thorfinn’s hair. “But you’re almost a man now, and you have to make your own decisions. If this is your choice, see it through and find out if it was worth it in the end.”

 Thorfinn leaned into his father’s touch. It’d break his resolve, if he looked at his father. It’d soften him.

 He opened his eyes and tried not to be disappointed when no one was there.

   iv. Daybreak

 Birds chirped as Thorfinn woke up, their sweet thrilling heralding the dawn. He lay on the fur blankets, his eyes closed, waiting for the usual morning reprimand. The waves rocked his boat back and forth, water slapping gently against the hull.

 Beyond that, pure and utter silence. Ylva wasn’t there, complaining. Thorfinn’s eyes flew open and he scanned his surroundings and saw nothing but water and a row of huts. Even the crew hadn’t woken up yet. Squeezing his eyes shut, Thorfinn strained his ears for even the tiniest sound but still, he couldn’t hear his sister’s voice.

 She was gone. Then again, she had never been there in the first place. Nor had his mother or father and this was the way it should have been all along. It was a relief, really, to finally be alone. To not have an irritated voice, pushing him out of bed, or gentle hands massaging his sore muscles.

 Or the worst of it, his father’s sad eyes watching him, asking him to take a different path.

 No, it was a good thing to finally be alone.

 It was a relief. It should have been a relief.

 His chest ached and he tried not to think about what that meant, the implications of it all.

[thesunwillshineonusagain757]

Reasons why I don’t like Beward/ Bedward/ Bellward

Not my gifs

Disclaimer: My intentions with this post are to expose what I thing about this ship . In no way, shape , or form do I intend to offend those who ship it . If you like it , who am I to tell you that you are a bad person for it , right ? But I wanted to put out there some of my thought so here it goes . ( and sorry this is a giant of a post )

He is old and she is underaged :

I know what you are going to say . But she isn’t underaged for the whole saga . But still he fell in love with a high schooler and he is safely more than 80, seeing that he says that Carlisle transformed him when he had got Spanish flu, and let me tell you . Spanish flu had three major waves , and the three of them were during the First World War so he was probably 20 when he was turned and he was turned in between 1914-1918 , that makes him at least 110 years old , and he is in love with an underaged school girl ... Let’s just say if he looked his age people would assume he had far different intentions with her .

Bella emotionally toys with both of the guys :

Then we will enter in this part of the conversation, Bella is a girl who literally has two supernatural beings at her feet, two men who claim themselves to be attracted to her, and Bella clearly decides very early on in being with one of the guys by the end of the first book, however, several times during the narrative of the series, she oscillates between the two even going so far as to ask that the other romantic interest kisses her when she is clearly in a serious relationship with the other man. I font know about you but for me she is coming across as quite shady and not in the good way .

Edwars is always jealous:

It is no secret that half of the conflicts in the twilight series revolve around the love triangle, and the ultra-ciumese attitudes of vampire Edward. If I had to count the amount of times Edward expresses his extreme jealousy towards Bella because of her relationship with her friends , but specially mister Jacob the wolfboy , I wouldn’t have enough hands . In my opinion a good relationship is based on trust you trust your partner , you must trust the people you love . “If you love it set I free”. But that is quite the opposite what mister Cullen does . He is overbearing and seems to not know th definition of boundaries. You may thing it’s him just being old school but for someone who has been around for so long , he might have to change his mind a bit. You also may justify that by saying it’s just because he love her , but let me tell you many of the approaches he takes to ensure her “ safety” are very in line with the actions of abusers .

The lack of respect :

Edward stalks Bella, he breaks into her room unbeknownst to her and follows her to the city when she goes out shopping, clearly not respecting her personal space or respecting her privacy. His justification is that she is so hopeless that she cannot look after herself, showing that he doesn’t even respect her judgement as poor as it may be, he literally treats her as if her brains of made of gummy bears. True, he ends up saving her from being assaulted but that doesn’t justify the stalking in the first place. If anyone breaks into your house to watch you sleep, you fucking call the cops! That’s not romantic, it’s creepy as hell and motherfucking terrifying.

Edward makes decision Bella just tags along:

Talking about gummy bear brain , Edward makes some big ass decision without even consulting Bella first . For example he end their relationship , without an explanation , and totally ghosts her after that . But not limiting himself to that he also shoved her into a car on the first movie and drove away with her because he put her in danger in the first place . She couldn’t tell her family where she was , she couldn’t go home because he would let her and she was scared . That is some major red flangs you don’t do that because you love someone you do that because you see them as your property.

The need they have for each other :

Listen healthy relationships are based on the affection that you have for someone , but that affection cannot be as crippling as the one they have . That is not love it’s callled obsession and is as far from healthy as it could be . The line where he says “ you are my life now” just comes to show that those two do not have a healthy relationship where they can distinguish themself from their significant other. Where they have a personally that is fully developed and being in love with each other is not personally trait .

It is the perfect example of a toxic relationship being disguised as a romance story:

Let’s face the music , this relationship has to many signs and red flags , to be considered anything but a toxic relationship . Bella, the main character, displays three characteristics common to victims of violent relationships. The first and perhaps most obvious trait is her consistent low self-esteem. Bella constantly reminds herself that she's uncoordinated, unsocial, and unattractive, is that she is particularly attracted to men who are forbidden, she is thus drawn to the “ bad boy” , and third, and most unfortunately, Bella is simply excited by violence, aggression, and danger; she finds it all thrilling. Bella's attraction to anything dangerous is clear in many cases through her human life. She rides a motorcycle because of the danger. When Edward tells Bella that he'll literally kill anyone who tries to hurt her, she get’s attracted to the violent nature he has. She is exactly the type of person a abused or even worst a sexual predator would look for and as we already noted that Edward’s does not help his case , I kind of see a pattern here .

In conclusion :

I used to like this paring as a young , naive teen but as I grew old I came to see the treacherous nature of this type of relationships where , so many red flangs are so apparent. I’m not saying you are a bad person for shipping it , I ask that you try to read into the subtext and the clear and alarming signs, of this ship . I’m not asking for you to stop shipping it , only asking that you have more of a critical mind when you read , watch and dive into fandom .

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

The Progress of Arthur Morgan | Chapter 3

A/N: I’m sooo sorry I forgot to post yesterday! I got too caught up playing TLOU for idk, the 5th or 6th time because I’m a dirty rat and would totally suck Joel’s dick? Anyways, here’s the conclusion to this thrilling saga, by yours truly! As always, please, give the feedback! Thanks for reading in advance!

Playlist

Word Count: 8,200 words oof

Chapters: 1 | 2

Arthur had started greeting you with a kiss on the cheek about two or three sessions ago, and you were taken aback by the sudden change in behavior — usually he’d stick to the trivial nod of head, maybe a shake of hands, but this was a bit over the top.

You had blinked at him, flustered at the sudden easiness in which he seemed to touch you. With a sudden wave of uneasiness, you took in the small details, his trimmed hair and carefully shaven face, clothing on the nicer side of his wardrobe and a terribly good smelling sandalwood cologne.

Over the past weeks, he had made considerable improvements on his self-image and body language, seemingly more at ease with himself at each session, his behavior growing more flirtatious and teasing with time. It made you happy, to see Arthur progressing like that, but that last bit worried you. It wasn’t unusual for patients to feel attracted to their therapists, but it was rare for them to actively pursued it.

It took half a heartbeat for you to realize that you were most likely in deep shit.

“How are we doing this week, Arthur?,” you had asked him with a tight smile, ignoring the flutter of your stomach at the way he smiled at you, as if aware of the effect he had over you.

“All good, I s’ppose,” he shrugged lightly, apparently not too keen on highlighting any moment of his week, “same old, same old.”

“Same old would be a lie,” you laughed at his offhanded comment, moving to take a seat at your armchair, all too aware of the way Arthur was watching you. “We’ve come a long way since your first session and you seem far better, from my point of view.”

Arthur scoffed, averting his gaze with a flustered look. He soon chuckled, smile widening at your words. “Geez, doc— you can’t go ‘round blurtin’ out stuff like that.”

Was he blushing?

Crap.

“I’m just saying the obvious,” you tried to contour the situation, feeling the twist of emotion in your stomach. “I mean, you’re clearly taking better care of yourself, dressing better—“

At this, he smirked, fixing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Arthur shrugged again, as nonchalant as he could be. “S’ppose I have, don’t have to mean anythin’.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you said in a secretive voice, curiosity dripping from your words, “don’t you dare shit me.”

He laughed warmly, the light of it making the corner of his eyes crinkle, no longer hiding behind his hand. Arthur was charming. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before. “Let’s say there’s someone,” he started, seeming to be examining you for a reaction, “would you look down on me ‘cause of it?”

“Why would I do such a thing?,” you inquired, wary of the nature of the conversation.

The man huffed out a breath, leaning forwards in his seat in an intimate way as if to tell you a particularly nasty piece of gossip. “Well, all things considered, I just got out of a sinkin’ marriage, doc,” his eyebrows shot up, as if stating the obvious. “Sure sounds weird, me suddenly goin’ ‘round with someone else after barely a couple months, ain’t that so?”

You mouth suddenly felt dry, but you nodded nevertheless. “Each has their own time to heal, I suppose… but if you need to hear it, I wouldn’t look down or think less of you because of that.”

He seemed satisfied, a sheepish little smile blossoming on his full lips. The man seemed almost boyish with the way his eyes fixated on you, the warmth in it threatening to smother you. “Ain’t sure if she likes me yet,” Arthur said quizzically, smile broadening at your nodding answer, “but I sure am tryin’ to catch her eye.”

“It’s good to see that you’re allowing yourself room to grow,” you spoke gently, fighting the urge to prod on the subject, “it makes me proud knowing you’re reaching out for the things you want, Arthur.”

The man cocked his head to the side, an enigmatic little smile playing on his lips as he watched and you could swear his eyes dallied a second too long on your left hand. “Yer told me you’ve divorced too” he started casually, a teasing lilt in his voice as he leaned back, “never told me how that went down for you.”

“Ah,” you gasped out as your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard, “I don’t think— I mean,” you smiled nervously, fixing your hair, “it’s— it was okay for me.”

Arthur laughed softly, amused at how he had been able to knock you off your feet. “Don’t tell me I’ve ruffled your feathers, doc,” he teased, “why did you divorce?”

Because my husband was a lying piece of garbage who had been fucking the desk attendant, of all people, behind my back as I worked my ass off sounded a bit too extreme, you decided. With a placid smile, you answered:

“I suppose we couldn’t see eye to eye anymore,” your hands tightened on your lap and you trained your gaze on some point above Arthur’s shoulder, “eventually, other people came around and we grew distant.”

He watched you, as if absorbing that piece of information and deciding if he should ask more on it. “Did he cheat on you?,” Arthur asked, all the amusement and jeering gone from his voice, replaced by genuine worry. You had a hard time trying to remember if you’ve seen him this serious.

You turned your head to the side, running away from the question. “I believe we should be talking about you, Arthur—“

“I’m tired of talking ‘bout myself,” Arthur interrupted in a soft voice, “we been seein’ each other once a week, for months now. Figured I should get to know yer a little more, ‘s all.”

With a steadying breath, you rubbed your lips together, tasting the sweetness of your lipgloss. What was he trying to do, cornering you like that? “I don’t think—“

“Don’t give me the ethics talk,” Arthur complained, sighing wearily, “think we’re well past that. ‘sides, I just asked yer a question,” his eyebrows jutted up, a soft smile playing on his full lips. “What’s wrong with that?”

You flirting with me is everything that’s wrong with it¸ you thought to yourself, trying not to seem too closed off, and the worst part is that I want to flirt back.

“I see your point,” you spoke up, in your best nonchalant voice. “I suppose that’s fair.

“Well?,” Arthur probed further, gently. “Don’t have to tell me if I’m pushin’ too hard, doc. I’m just curious ‘bout you, ‘s all.”

“He cheated on me,” came your quiet confession, gaze resting on his eyes, so blue now you swore you could drown in them. You wanted to cry. “With one of our front desk attendants, about 2 years ago.”

Arthur nodded comprehensively, wary not to abuse his already stretched thin luck. You swallowed thickly, trying hard not to seem too sensitive over it. “We divorced and split the money, I got the house and he took the car, nothing new there. I’m okay with it.”

What an awful liar.                            

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to upset yer, doc.”

“It’s okay,” you turned your attention to him now, forcing a smile, “it’s behind me.”

Arthur blinked, letting the silence settle in until you squirmed. And then, suddenly, he reached forwards, slowly, offering you his upturned palm. “Thanks for tellin’ me, doc.”

You hesitated, the few centimeters between you both diminishing by half. Your own hand moved, brushing his fingers before gently allowing him to hold it. Arthur’s hand squeezed yours and you noticed how warm his touch was, almost comforting, like a long waited embrace. You gasped out quietly, allowing the tears to pool in your eyes before wiping at them.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, listening the thunderous beating of your heart, hoping it wouldn’t give you away. “It’s okay, Arthur.”

He squinted at you, smiling so softly it made your heart clench — and you had to restrain yourself not to pull away in distress. “It’ll be.”

You pushed the entrance door open, the well known jingle of the bell ringing over your head.

The café you usually went to wasn’t a busy one — a small little thing, a family business with an incredibly sweet Italian cappuccino, just the way you liked it, with an adorably white-and caramel themed decoration —, and today wasn’t any different. With a pleasant smile, took a deep breath in, the smell of coffee and delicacies filling the air as you scanned a good spot to sit down at and maybe update your logbook.

You refused to actively address the issue at hand, opting for avoidance rather direct confrontation.

Arthur had been a recurring subject on your mind for the past few weeks, and what with after the little display a couple days ago, the presence of his character only intensified itself — much to your despair. His hands had felt so incredibly warm against the cool tips of your fingers, gentle and steady, much like his very presence and overall disposition whenever he walked into the listening room lately.

You were satisfied for him, really, proud of the path he had taken towards self-improvement and acceptance — Arthur was far better than when he came to you all those months ago, the curling satisfaction in your chest doing all the more to have you feel like an important part of it. Arthur needed reassurance, a little bit of recognition to realize his own self-worth, resourcing to it every once in a while, which you were all too happy to provide. The look in his eyes whenever you said something kind to him made your heart beat faster — the warmth there, the satisfaction on top of the inherent need to have someone to simply listen.

Scouting a place to sit was easy enough, your gaze sweeping through the few occupied tables to find a quiet and secluded spot for yourself, where you could possibly dissect your feelings revolving Arthur—

Until you found him sitting at the corner of the shop.

Arthur had his chin resting on his hand, holding a pencil as he scribbled something away in the journal you had gifted him — and your heart swelled with affection for him, tinged with a little bit of satisfaction by having him actually enjoy something you had given to him. There was half an empty cup of coffee at his table, beside a plate with half of a sandwich and you figured he must’ve arrived not too long ago.

He didn’t seem to have noticed you, too focused on the task at hand to actually pay much mind to whatever was happening around him. The thought had you smiling with fondness, for some reason.

Your hand tightened around the strap of your shoulderbag. You wanted to sit with him, you realized with a shocking realization; maybe have a coffee and chat a little. Arthur was by no means a bad company, he was funny and witty, having an air of caring disposal to his personality that made you enjoy every minute you could get with him.

It was just a chat, a little voice at the back of your mind reasoned. Just a casual conversation. There would be no harm in that. You were simply being amicable, weren’t you? Friendly, just plain and simple. With a steadying breath, you moved towards him, smile automatically broadening as you got closer.

You were in deep shit.

“How are we doing today, Arthur?,” you asked in your therapeutic voice and Arthur perked up immediately.

He turned to you, setting the pencil down as soon as soon as his eyes caught yours and you could tell he was surprised, but wasted no time on getting to his feet. “Hey, doc,” he spoke casually, bending down to press a polite kiss to the side of your face like he’d done a thousand times. You felt your face burn up just a little. “didn’t expect to run into you here.”

You nodded, absolutely not regretting it. “It’s a small place, yes; I confess that’s the main reason why I like coming here. Also, it has a really good cappuccino.”

Arthur chuckled, the sound of it familiar and comforting to you at this point. “Yeah, well, just got here myself. Was workin’ at the journal and I have to admit, you were right ‘bout it. It’s quite calmin’.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve enjoyed it, really,” you offered gently, feeling brave enough to risk a fleeting brush to his shoulder. You marveled at the way he always seemed to feel so warm and solid every time you touched him. “Like I said, it’s a good way to voice your feelings, quite soothing.”

He smiled softly at you. “Yeah, good excuse to practice my watercolor too,” Arthur motioned towards the leather bound journal, obviously at ease, “good pages for it, too. I’m surprised you knew.”

You shrugged lightly, quickly avoiding your gaze before looking at him again. “I just had a hunch, I think.”

Arthur breathed out a laugh, sitting back sideways on the white cushioned chair in order to face you. “Wanna take a look at it?”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the offer. It was innocent enough, but it still made your heartbeat raise a little, and you hesitated. “Oh, you don’t have to show it to me—“

“Nonsense,” Arthur waved his hand dismissively, motioning for you to sit across from him at the beige colored sofa-booth right beside the window, “wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want ya to take a peek, ‘sides you’re yet to see some art by me, right?” He smiled softly, in an inviting way, “tell me what you think.”

It’s okay, you told yourself, just take a look at it, maybe have a coffee and—

Who said anything about coffee?!

With a mortified sense of self-awareness, you made your way to the sofa-booth. It was an intimate way to sit with someone, especially with the small table and warmth emanating from everywhere around you. Arthur picked up the menu, passing it to you with a sweet smile.

“Order somethin’ for yourself, doc,” he drawled, in voice that could only be classified as teasing, as if he knew the effect he had on you. “Now yer obligated to spend some time with me.”

Laughing, you took the menu from him and set it down. “I guess you caught me in your trap, Mr. Morgan. How rude of you.”

Arthur hummed, trying to look smug. “I’m smarter than I look like.”

“Quite,” you agreed, smiling at the flustered look that passed through his features for a split second. “Won’t you order me something, since you’re so smart?”

He watched you for a moment, almost surprised, before deciding on it and picking up the discarded menu. “Let’s see,” his gaze lingered on your face, flicking every so often downwards, “you seem like the kind who goes by somethin’ sweet,” he spoke more to himself and you couldn’t help but laugh at it.

“So does you,” you motioned towards the half drained mocha coffee sitting by his hand, “although I’d never have guessed. You seemed like the type to take it straight to me.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, a light chuckle at the back of his throat. “Good to know I can still surprise you somehow, doc.”

Oh, he had no idea.

“What do you have in mind, then?,” you asked, trying to peek at the menu, only to have Arthur pull it more closely to him with an amused laugh.

“I’ll say either Italian cappuccino or mochaccino,” he announced with finality, putting the little booklet aside and moving to his own cup of half finished coffee. “I’ll let you pick which, cuz whatever you’re having, I’ll want one too; if you don’t mind.”

You tried to hide your smile, looking over to one of the waitresses and signaling for her to come over and take the order. Arthur stayed silent, watching you somewhat fondly, until the waitress left, taking the empty cup and the plate in which only a small portion of his sandwich remained after he had said he wouldn’t be finishing it.

“Are you going to show me your journal,” you started casually, pointing to it, “or was it just a way to trick me into having a coffee with you?”

Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender before speaking up. “Maybe a lil’ bit of both, I’ll admit. Just hope you don’t mind much.”

You sighed, cocking your head to the side with a sense of familiarity. A tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind that you were taking things too far; but you preferred to ignore it in order to have Arthur looking at you the way he did now. “Very well then,” you acquiesced gently, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “let’s see what you have.”

“Ain’t much writing,” he explained, picking it up and passing it to you “just drawings n’ such, few watercolors, ‘s all.”

His fingers brushed yours when you touched the leather cover, which made you startle slightly, coughing a bit to diffuse the tension. With a little surprise, you noticed that Arthur had nearly used half of the pages already. “You sure liked the idea, don’t know why you never took to it before.”

Arthur shrugged, watching you open the journal and examine a particularly skillful work of a riverbank forestline, the goldish-orange hue of it making it clear which season it was. “Just needed the right push, s’ppose.”

“That’s…,” you ran your hands over the picture, turning to see a pencil sketch of a bird on the next page, beside what you thought was the perfect representation of a tree leaf on the other side. He was skilled, definitely. “Arthur, that’s so beautiful…”

The man scoffed a little, clearly embarrassed. “Ain’t much, but thank you—“

“No,” you interjected softly, turning to the next page for a particularly good-looking representation of blue flowers, which you recognized to be a clump of forget-me-nots, their name written below in neat calligraphy with Arthur’s signature beside. “I mean it, they’re really beautiful.”

“Ah,” he gasped, standing up and quickly moving to your side and you unthinkingly made room for him to sit beside you. “I forgot to give this one to you,” Arthur pointed to it, “thought you deserved a little thank you for… well, you know, didn’t have to buy the journal, but since you did—“

You turned to look at him, the realization and embarrassment slowly creeping in and covering your cheeks in a pinkish hue. “Oh, please, you don’t have to—“

“Aw, c’mon, doc,” he gently pulled the journal from your hands, steadying the pages to rip off the one with the watercolor meant for you, “it’s the least I could do.”

He passed it you, feigning nonchalance, but you noticed how nervous he was; so you took it in your hands, marveling once more at how beautiful it was. “I don’t know what to say, it really is beautiful, Arthur,” you glanced up at him, smiling, “thank you so much.”

“s nothin’,” he half muttered, with a sheepish little smile, pushing the leather bound book back to you, but he didn’t move to go back to his chair across from you. “Just thought you’d like it, ‘s all.”

Trying to repress your own smile, you averted your gaze and set it aside to keep it from crumpling or staining, turning your attention once more to the journal. This was a red light, a big red light — and you tried to play it off as a gentleness, nothing more than that, just Arthur being kind to you. He was an artist, you reminded yourself, and he painted things all the time. It was okay.

You turned the pages idly, examining animal studies and plants, coupled with a few other watercolors — from childhood memories, a few other landscapes, a perky looking brownish dog which Arthur explained to be the one he owned when younger.

“Hosea and Dutch took me to the animal shelter, couple weeks after I came ‘round. Love at first sight, I say,” Arthur chuckled, scratching at his chin, “he was one mad pup, always had his snout where it shouldn’t be.”

“You never mentioned you had a dog,” you commented idly, turning to look at him with a pleasant smile, “I didn’t think you were a dog person.”

Arthur snickered, resting his elbow on the table and leaning into it a little. “Never got the opportunity to mention, ‘s all.”

You watched him for a second, taking in the soft smile on his lips and the warmth of his eyes; so incredibly open you could barely believe how clamped up he had seemed to be when you first met. The coffee had come and was gone now, with how entranced you were by the conversation — and so was Arthur, to your absolute glee —, and you were entertaining the idea of ordering another one just to not have to leave.

Politely skipping Arthur’s writings, you preferred not to pry on his thoughts, instead focusing on his artwork — which were, once more, breathtaking. He paid close attention to details, you noticed. There was a myriad of subjects, but it was clear that Arthur had, indeed, a keen interest in nature. You didn’t know why, but it made you smile. As much as he was willing to share things with you, there was still a lot to discover.

“I wonder where you picked up drawing from,” you whispered outloud, caressing the page of a watercolor of the silhouette of a hare standing out against the sun as it set.

“From Hosea,” Arthur said, leaning closer to the book in order to examine the art himself. Christ, he smelled perfect. “He taught me most of it, but I just got better with time, y’know.”

You nodded, smiling. All you wanted was to lean sideways and rest your head on his shoulder, but you held back, instead turning the page.

And at that, you cocked your head to the side.

It wasn’t the recreation of a budding flower or a bird spreading its wings ready to fly, there was no landscape or careful study of animal anatomy; no leaves

Instead, you looked at a picture of yourself.

You were standing, about half of your torso in it, next to the desk you kept at the listening room; a serene, yet focused expression on your face as you read through the stack of papers there, the profile of your face highlighted beautifully in Arthur’s skills. The colors he had picked for you were soft, pastel-like, putting together an overall dreamy picture and you could see everything, you noticed; the tiny strands of hair, the glimmer of your eyes, the gentle way that your shoulders slouched a bit. Your lips were pulled up slightly, in a quirky smile and there was an overall soft pink hue to your cheeks.

It was simply beautiful.

Turning to look at Arthur, you found yourself out of words. You tried to say something — anything! —, but you could simply look at him, either in shock or realization, you couldn’t really tell. His eyes drifted to yours and he smiled sheepishly, looking way softer than he had ever in the whole time you had known him. His presence now was nerve-wracking, every inch of your body responding to him as if to electricity.

Arthur leaned closer to you, his breathing fanning warmly against your face at his proximity and it felt almost surreal as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. His hand touched yours, cradling it in his touch as he took the opportunity to brush his nose gently against the sensitive skin. You unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes.

It was sweet, achingly so, the way he touched you; almost as if you were made of spun glass, a precious treasure to keep. His fingers tangled with yours and he sighed, pulling back to look at you with half-lidded eyes. The same smile was still there, only softer this time, more of admiration and tenderness than anything else.

With a pinkish hue creeping to your cheeks, you noticed the way which Arthur’s gaze dipped ever so slightly to your lips, coming back up a couple times. He wanted to kiss you, came the realization. You reached out, touching his warm cheek with the tips of your fingers, running them around to the back of his neck, making Arthur close his eyes.

There was a pause as you took in the softness in his expression, the way which he leaned into your touch like a something he’d craved for a long time; his free hand coming up to wrap on your wrist. With a flutter in you stomach, you finally caved, leaning towards him for a kiss.

The kiss was so gentle, the soft press of his lips to yours smooth and perfect. Arthur sighed into it, squeezing your hand fondly as he coached you to open your mouth and give him entrance; a request you could never deny. He was surrounding you, the warmth of his touch on your hand and the sweetness of the cappuccino on his tongue a constant reminder.

Your fingers tightened on his hand, unwilling to let go.

You were fucked, you realized instantly.

You brushed your hair slowly, pensively at the vanity of your bedroom. The moon was high in the sky as you stared at your own reflection. Had you committed the worst mistake in your profession? Allowed yourself to catch feelings for your patient, as well as captivating them in him? There was no way of knowing for certain.

Nevertheless, the treatment had seemed to be nearing the end. You’d close off Arthur Morgan’s file and hopefully drown your feelings in an unholy amount of ice cream and vodka, like any divorced woman would.

He was handsome, you reasoned with yourself, and so unbelievably sweet. Such a good kisser, too, gentle and loving. Even with his tendency to clamp up, Arthur was willing to let people in if they cared enough to stick around for him. It made you wonder if he really was so bad that his ex-wife had wanted to divorce him, but…

Did you even know Arthur?

Well, you felt like you did. People never lied in therapy and it was easy to follow things through and the diagnosis would come together and you figured out where to work, plus you had the reference contacts. It all matched. Sometimes people just wanted to talk and it was easier without the judgment of someone they knew — hence the reason why there couldn’t be a prior contact between patients and therapists aside from the listening room.

You set the brush down, watching yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you had made a mistake. You were still recovering from your own failed marriage, your ex-husband having been a poor excuse for a companion for the past 8 years of your life. You were confused, Arthur was caring and you got carried away. That was it.

If he had been anything like Arthur, a tiny voice whispered at the back of your mind, you’d probably still be married. Maybe even with children.

“What the fuck,” you whispered at yourself, “what the actual fuck—“

You started entertaining the idea of referring him to someone else, a colleague maybe, someone who wouldn’t catch feelings for him but then—

Arthur has trust issues, you reminded yourself angrily, if you refer him to someone else, especially after that long of therapy, he’ll feel dejected. We’re speaking of lives, here. You know the prognosis. You can’t.

Even if you wanted to.

“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling the start of a migraine building up. You paced in an antsy manner in your bedroom before deciding to storm towards the office. You needed the files.

The room was clear, with hues of soft blues and white furnishing to keep your books and logs into shelves. Tying your hair back into a loose knot, you fished Arthur’s logbook from between a disarray of books that looked the same for anyone else asides from you, flicking the pages quickly until you found his entry. You felt as if you were intruding, checking at his logbook like that, even though you were his therapist. You were supposed to accompany his case and make sure he was progressing, not risking your career as a whole because of an infatuation—

You put your reading glasses on with an annoyed sound at the back of your throat.

-> Patient seems to have become less intolerant towards his emotions, displays more willingness to talk about them occasionally + improved verbalization and recognition;

-> Has stopped shying away from family topics; speaks blandly about early childhood;

-> Settled divorce has caused relief, patient has started to develop more self-confidence + vocalization of his wants;

-> Has shown a willingness for connection with others;

-> Patient has shown uneasiness about the ending of treatment; possible codependency?

-> Difficulty when it comes to reaching out for things he wants + unbelieving of self-worth on certain situations (needs work); strives for reassurance every now and then.

Frowning you set the logbook down, with a shivering sigh. Just a couple months more, until the end of the six months period and you’d be able to breath properly — maybe even talk to a colleague about your situation.

When it came to Arthur Morgan, all the years of experience dried up as if an empty well.

With a sickening drop of your stomach, you sat down on your office desk, pulling out a clean paper branded with your name and wrote down a patient referral letter alongside a clean copy of Arthur’s logbook. You decided to keep the flirty behavior and professional boundaries crossed aside, not wanting to get in trouble, alleging that you felt like you could no longer help your client. The moonlight filtering through the window seemed to be the only witness of your deeds, silent and judging.

There was no way you could keep seeing Arthur, you told yourself with a painfully tight tinge of pain in your chest, not when he messed with your head like that, the way you had kissed; and with you willing to bend the rules and blur the lines between your relationship just to indulge him, the memory of the kiss still fresh on your mind. You were no rookie, no fresh-out-of-a-classroom therapist, with only theories to guide you.

You were a seasoned therapist. You had experience and an outlined career path, with good mentors, of a decent formation. You’ve always had a good way with people, always been told you were a good listener. It’s not supposed to happen like this, you kept telling yourself as the letter came to be. It simply isn’t.

You signed it off with a flourish, like a death sentence. You’d make sure to find a colleague who’d suit his needs, better than you ever possibly could — and to call his referral contact, Hosea, later tomorrow. It’s for the best, you told yourself.

Freud had once said that psychoanalysis is, in its essence, a cure through love. It was healing, pure and nurturing, but the love in which he referred to had nothing to do with developing affairs with your patients. You were supposed to listen to Arthur, help him realize his own inner strength and send him off back on his way; and you had done it a thousand times before, with countless clients.

Your eyes welled up with tears of frustration and you leaned forwards to press your forehead against the sealed off envelope on your desk, as if hoping it’d give you the answers you needed.

>

The day dragged slowly, with you delivering the letter to one of your colleagues of a different clinic, who had experience around the same area as you — he was polite enough not to ask about your sudden decision, looking suspicious, but took the document nevertheless. You passed along details regarding referral contacts and little conjectures on diagnosis and approaches for Arthur — how he seemed to be fond of humor when nervous, his eye contact avoidance when uncomfortable and etc.

Your colleague took notes slowly, fixing you with the look of someone who wanted to ask more, but decided against it.

After getting the worst part of it done, you left the clinic, walking out in the brisk autumn air towards your car, sighing loudly once the door was shut. “Fuck,” you muttered in the deafening silence.

Might as well get it done with. You fished out your cellphone, quickly finding Hosea’s number and dialing to explain the situation for him, doing your best to sound calm once he his voice came up from the other side of the line. “Hello?,” there was a clattering of dishes in the background and you supposed he was in the kitchen.

“Hello, Mr. Matthews,” you said softly, trying to avoid a tremor in your voice, “it’s Arthur’s therapist, I was wondering if you had some time to talk?”

“Ah, yes,” he replied promptly and you heard a door being closed and shuffling, someone asking about the call. Maybe he had gone to the garden? “Has something happened? Is Arthur okay?”

“No need to worry,” you bit your lip, closing your eyes, “Arthur is completely fine. I’m just calling to let you know that unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay with him for the remaining sessions of our treatment—“

“He hasn’t offended you, has he?,” the man asked suddenly, sounding worried, “boy has a poor filter, but his heart is right.”

“No, he…,” you gulped, shaking your head as more tears welled up, “he’s a good patient, but I do believe that your son would be in more capable hands with another therapist.” Hosea hummed thoughtfully, considering your words. “I took the liberty of putting together a referral letter, with all his documentation and information and passed it along to a few colleagues and fortunately one of them replied to me,” you pushed your hair back, trying to keep the tremor off of your voice, “I just left his office, actually.”

“I see…” Hosea sounded surprised, even though he agreed, “that’s a bit sudden, though. I thought you were getting along nicely, weren’t you?”

Perhaps too nicely, you wanted to reply.

“We are, I’ve built a strong bond with Arthur, but I feel like his situation is now beyond my capability as a professional, unfortunately.”

The man hummed, considering your words. “Huh,” he sounded wary, as if not entirely pleased, but understanding. “Will you pass me the information on your colleague then?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you sighed out thankfully, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, “do you have paper?”

It was wasn’t until a month later that you heard of Arthur, mind constantly wandering off to conjure him in the empty seat of the listening room. The brown throw-pillow of the loveseat seemed far too neat for your liking now, and you picked it up slowly. You missed him, you realized with a sudden wave of emotion. Was it possible to mourn a romance that never came to be? Did he miss you too? You couldn’t possibly know, nor shouldn’t. It was for the best if you severed ties with him.

As if on cue, your phone started ringing, snapping you out of your daydream. Frowning, you recognized the name as the one of your colleague which you had referred Arthur to, and you flopped down on the loveseat with your arms wrapped protectively around the cushion, like Arthur used to do before picking up.

“Hey,” the man greeted you lightly, “do you have some time? I was hoping to ask you a few questions, could be over the phone if you’re in a hurry.”

“Sure thing,” you agreed promptly, “I’m between breaks now, but I can talk. What’s the matter?”

“It’s about the patient you’ve referred me to, some…,” he paused for a moment, as if reading a file, “Arthur Morgan, I believe.”

Your throat tightened and you felt the cold pinpricks of needles at the back of your neck. “Yes, Arthur. What do you need to know, then?”

“I was just wondering if he had the habit of skipping sessions,” your heart dropped at it, “it’s been a month now and he hasn’t showed up for about… six sessions I think, with the reschedules of course.”

“He never skipped with me,” you said in a levelled voice, devoid of any emotion, “maybe he’s having a hard time readjusting with the change?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I called the referral contact, his father I believe? Hosea Matthews?”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Matthews,” you agreed.

“Well, I called and he said he couldn’t convince Arthur to finish the remaining time in therapy. The patient seems reluctant, apparently, he says that he doesn’t need it anymore and I grew worried because according to the information you passed me along—“

Your mind zoomed out, the words falling on deafened ears. Fuck.

What would be of Arthur now, with an incomplete treatment? What if you had left him scarred for life, breaking his trust like that, without so much as a warning? Your stomach twisted painfully at the memory of the kiss, the growing anxiety creeping around you and seeping into your bones.

All because you were too scared to access your feelings, choosing to play on the safer side and pushing him away. There were ways to make it work, you knew — loopholes and technicalities —, but you clamped up at the prospect of letting him get any closer. You felt your eyes burn with the warmth of unshed tears, reaching for the tissue paper to keep your emotions from ruining the light makeup of the day.

Someone calling your name snapped you out of your haze.

“Are you still there?,” your colleague asked, as if expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I kinda spaced out here,” you said, fighting against the waver in your voice, “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“I asked if you could come in contact with the patient or his referral, just to be sure. I don’t think they trust me enough to handle it.”

“Sure,” you muttered out with a dry mouth, “I’ll try to reach him, do you want me to get back to you—“

“With all due honesty,” your colleague spoke softly, making you want to cry even more. Had he heard the silent despair in your voice? “I do believe that you should figure out what you really want before anything else.

Silence stretched for a few seconds before you recovered. “I don’t know—“

“I won’t tell,” he said gently, “I can vouch for that.”

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to gather there. It wasn’t unknown to most of your profession colleagues about the nasty breakout with your ex-husband and your self-induced behavior of isolation. You took a deep breath before speaking again. “Thank you.”

You parked the car in front of an apartment complex, in a nice little residential neighborhood. The building was somewhat stocky, with only eight floors, with white and dark blue tiling. Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you started to fidget anxiously.

You had rushed to your desk, fingers running through patient files until you found Arthur’s — complete with contact, address and etc. With a resolute sort of conviction, you set out, asking your front desk attendant to reschedule any appointments you were to have later that day. Tucking the file below your arm, you took the car and set the GPS to the address.

Now, standing at the final destination, according to your cellphone, you looked up at the building. Coming closer to the intercom, you searched for the right name, reading the freshly scribbled “Morgan” in pen and paper, in contrast to the others, which were clean slates.

“Okay,” you pressed the button, listening to the telltale buzz of the call being ensued, “right.”

It rung until it didn’t anymore, your anxiety growing by the minute. With some sense of impatience, you pressed the button again and the faint sound started once more. You pressed your hands together, shivering at the cool wind blowing through the street. The afternoon was clear, but you had forgotten to grab your coat on your way out of the clinic and the autumn chill was exerting its power.

“Who’s it?,” came Arthur’s annoyed voice from the intercom, sounding annoyed. “Ain’t got no time—“

“Arthur,” you said his name gently and he quieted down. It was uncomfortable, you had to admit. “Arthur, I need to—“

“What do you want?,” he muttered out, sounding defensive.

“Can you buzz me in, please?,” you asked with a tight knot in your throat, “I need to see you.”

You heard him huff from the other side of the line, unbelieving. “Do ya, now?”

“I know,” you acquiesced, feeling your desperation growing by the minute, “I know, but we need to talk, please?”

He stayed quiet for a while, your heart pounding in your chest at his silence. “I’m not… sure if I want to see you, doc.”

“Arthur,” you pleaded, “I’m not here as your therapist, that’s not who I am,” your voice wavered as you pressed your hand to your lips to keep check of your own emotions. You had missed his voice so much. “I’m here as your friend, please.”

Arthur sighed and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He seemed unwilling to say anything else.

“I just need to see you,” you whispered to the intercom, voice cracking at the emotion of everything, “I just— please, Arthur,” you breathed out shakily, “please.“ The gate buzzed and you startled, before pushing it open hesitantly. Your hands felt clammy despite the cold.

Gathering the little courage you had left, you walked into the building with a growing sense of dread, your heart fluttering in your chest like a caged bird. Did he really want to see you now? Arthur wouldn’t have let you in, if he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t. You felt as if your legs might give out.

There were some people walking about the hall, some chatting casually at the common area, but no one paid much mind to your presence. Fidgeting with the sleeve of your blouse as you walked towards the elevator, you turned your gaze down to your phone where the number to Arthur’s apartment appeared in the notepad — 302. Swallowing down your anxiety, you pressed the number three and watched as the doors closed.

You weren’t sure what to say to Arthur. Should you confess? Was that too cliché? You should tell him the truth, though. That’s what he deserved, after wall, the reason why you had come all this way. The elevator was taking a long way up, thankfully, and you were left to your own thoughts.

No way in hell you were ready for what was to come. There was nothing about it in the books back when you studied — and even if there were, you’d have brushed it off as some hypothetical situation that could never happen to you because you were too disciplined. A pretty little tale spun for those who were romantic at heart, but not you. You knew how to behave, or at least thought you did.

It hurt your head to think.

The elevator came to a stuttering halt, the doors hissing as it opened and you stepped out into the equally well-lit hall.

“Three o’ two…,” you muttered, rubbing your hands together as your head turned from one side to another, squinting slightly and moving towards it once you located the door.

You stood there, for maybe a few seconds, before knocking gently at the door; once, twice. There was silence from the inside, but soon enough you heard it unlock and Arthur appeared in front of you, worse than you had ever seen him. There were dark bags under his eyes, a day or two beard sprouting on his face with a greasy mess of curls on top of that. He looked tired, in a simple grey tee and some sweatpants in the middle of the summer. Far too tired. Had he just woken up?

With a tight press of your lips, you felt your eyes watering. Had you done this to him? “Arthur,” you choked out his name, raising both your hands to the lower half of your face, “I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the surprise in his demeanor before sighing tiredly and averting his gaze to the floor. “You never told me anythin’…”

“I know,” you cut in with a teary voice, wiping away the stubborn tears that insisted on streaking down your cheeks, “I just didn’t know what do when you— when we… I got scared that you—“

The man reached out, one calloused hand curling around your forearm in a gentle motion as you allowed yourself to be drawn in by his presence, warm and solid. Arthur made a noise at the back of his throat, something choked with emotion, when you threw yourself into his embrace, clutching to his tee with all the might you could muster up. “I was so scared, I thought it was my fault—“

Arthur shook his head slightly, staggering out a shaky breath himself. “’s okay, doc…”

“Please,” you hugged him tighter and you still could smell the sandalwood cologne on his skin, subtle but definitely there, “I never meant to…,” you trailed off, shaking your head, “I like you, Arthur. More than I probably should, but…”

“I want you to stay,” Arthur whispered suddenly and you were highly aware of your own lack of words after it. He circled your waist, fingers digging gently into your back as he took a steadying breath. “I need to know, I need to know if I can love you, so please— I don’t wanna do this if you’re not… I gotta know if you’ll stay with me. I need to.”

You pulled back from him, eyes watering and searching into his teal colored ones and this time you allowed yourself to take in just how handsome Arthur really was, as your hands cupped the sculpted marble of his face. He shuddered at it, closing his eyes and leaning forwards to press his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh of someone who’d been denied for far too long.

“Let me kiss you again,” Arthur pleaded in a whisper, calmly and too benevolent for you not make a sweet sound at the back of your throat, “please.”

You closed your eyes, taking a steadying hold of his neck. “Next time,” you whispered back, thumb caressing the sensitive skin under his eye, gently wiping away the dampness that had gathered there, “you don’t have to ask.”

He took a gentle hold of your hand, pressing his chapped lips to your palm like a caress, his demeanor sweet and reverent; and with a twinge, you realized that Arthur was far too good for his own good. “I want you to stay,” he said again, moving on to your forehead and pressing another kiss there. You shivered, tilting your face to allow him better access. “Wanna be with you,” a press of lips to the space between your eyes, “make yer happy.”

At this, you hummed lightly, breathing out shakily. Arthur cupped your face, bringing you closer to him, if that was even possible. His lips caressed your cheek and the subtle curve of your jawline before finally pressing to your own. When it came, the kiss was sweet, so frail and light you could almost believe it wasn’t happening, even if the pressure of Arthur’s hand on the base of your neck was enough proof to you. He muttered your name, trying to pull you more closely against his body, and you gave in with a sigh.

There was a shy prod of tongue against your lips and you complied promptly because oh, it just felt so right — the moment, with him, right then and there. The voice at the back of your mind quieted down immediately, its last murmurs of protests dying out in face of Arthur sweet humming. He pulled you backwards with him, into his apartment, and you pushed the door closed before he could press your back to it with a desperate little gasp.

“Stay with me,” Arthur whispered and God, consequences be damned, you wanted to. His nose brushed against yours, so intimately you could swear you were dreaming, “don’t go.”

You answered by pushing back the soft tresses of his hair, pulling away and making Arthur close his eyes with a soft complaint at the back of his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.” His breathing quickened as he pressed his head to the crook of your neck and you were somewhat amused, fond of the sweetness of the act. “I’ll stay here.”

[myevilmouse]

In Defense of The Rise of Skywalker

Or...how I learned to stop hating and enjoy a movie

Spoilers and random thoughts below the cut.

I hate the abomination that was/is The Last Jedi.  Let’s get that out of the way.  I’ve already explained the hundreds of reasons why, the biggest and most unforgivable being the character assassination of Luke “I call him Jake” Skywalker and the invalidation of every victory of the OT.  I resent this making people lump me into a “gatekeeper” sect, or accuse me of racism (Rose was annoying and ruined Finn’s heroism, jeopardizing hundreds of lives for her own selfish reasons without building up a convincing romance and blah blah etc).  It has nothing to do with her gender, race, or anything.  It has to do with poor character development and inconsistent motivations/messages. 

I’m also not a huge fan of The Force Awakens, mainly for its lack of originality and the treatment of Han/Leia, but otherwise I thought it was OK.  I liked Finn, wanted him to become a Jedi, found Poe to be a worthy heir to our antihero mold.  Rey left me indifferent and Kylo Ren was a temper-tantrum throwing teenager, but anyway...

Let’s keep that as background/context and not get bogged down.

Since they announced the title of this movie, I have been livid with rage. How dare they use my man’s name to sell their disgusting imitation of a beloved universe?  I was certain, ever since it was announced, that Rey would take Luke’s surname, despite having treated him so horribly in TLJ, despite having done nothing to earn it, despite having spent far more time with Leia, so if anything a Solo/Organa family name would make more sense.  It was just to sell tickets and I was furious.

I read all the spoilers.  Worst fears:  confirmed.  I looked at leaked photos.  I raged over the inanity of the plot and the sad conclusion to the Skywalker Saga, which in my mind will always end with ROTJ.

Still, I love Mark Hamill, and I decided to treat this film as a MH film. The completist in me required theatrical viewing.  Rare to get our man in a cinematic release.  So I went, ready to hate watch, prepared to dull the bitterness and betrayal with wine.

But….JJ Abrams directed a fix it fic.  And it’s good.  This film not just address the real injustices and horrible story decisions of TLJ, but also addresses some of the major problems of TFA too. 

I tried to go in with an open mind, but obviously I had many preconceived notions, and already knew almost every single story point and character beat.  I was ready to roll around in my hate and slam the abomination.  I want to emphasize that I am one of those people that was COMPLETELY prepared to hate EVERYTHING about this.

There are flaws. 

But there is so much that is great. 

I really really liked it. 

No one is more shocked than I at my own reaction.  I was ready/willing/wanting/primed to hate everything about this.  Please keep that in mind.  Hahah and no one is paying me to write this post 😉

I decided to write this because I also read all the negative critical reviews online from the pro critics yelling FAN SERVICE.  And I’m like…damn straight?  Ever since George Lucas made Han shoot second, fandom has understood that we understand this franchise better than film executives.  We aren’t concerned with adding an extra dewback or improving special effects.  We love these films the way we first experienced them, and they cannot and should not be “improved” to the ultimate detriment of the brand.

I’m here to tell you that the critics are not being fair.  The spoilers on reddit were true, but the movie works. Let’s accept, before we go further, that Abrams couldn’t entirely rewrite the mess that he stepped into/helped create. So I can’t defend the fact that Finn isn’t a Jedi yet or the mess that is the new Rebellion/failure of the old. I, like many fans, wish we had been given a different/better story from the beginning.  Sadly, we were not.

That is something we don’t have to accept (I certainly don’t consider these films “canon” in my mind—Mara Jade forever!) but let’s approach this film in the spirit it seems to be intended:  An attempt to address the very valid criticisms loudly voiced about the others in the trilogy, with the caveat that we are stuck with TFA and TLJ no matter how much we hate them.

First, the music is amazing, as we all knew it would be.  The acting is stellar.

Some of the things Abrams “fixed:”

“Rey is perfect/Mary Sue/good at everything”.  There is a conscious effort in this film to show her training, with Leia as her Master.  There is a good scene foreshadowing her final struggle, where she strains to hear the voices of Jedi past and fails.  There are several signs that she is not a Jedi yet, including how Palpatine talks about her, and perhaps my favorite, when she tells Leia she hasn’t earned Luke’s lightsaber.

Me: Damn straight you haven’t.

And Leia AGREES, keeping Luke’s weapon because Rey isn’t ready for it. She’s still learning.

Further proof of her non-Jedi status, when Rey is killed, she doesn’t join the Force.  She is a corpse.  On the other hand, Ben Solo, once redeemed, disappears as we would expect a good Jedi to do.  A clear distinction between the two of them.

And speaking of Leia:

Leia’s character:  TFA and TLJ Leia is weak and sends other people to fight, whereas our brave Princess from the OT is volunteering for suicide missions, grabbing weapons from the hands of her rescuers, and running into danger for a good cause.  It always bothered me that she didn’t go after Kylo herself (or with Han).  In this, we see her as a Jedi Master, training Rey, with her own lightsaber.  Leia is once more a badass, true to her character.  A legitimate Jedi who also joins the Force (although not sure why it took her so long post-mortem, that was weird).

Luke’s character:  Hello, I am A LUKE FANATIC.  The biggest sin of TFA and especially TLJ was this idea of Luke hiding out and becoming the disgusting, pessimistic coward he was shown to be.  Abrams ignores this pretty much entirely, starting with the revelation that Luke was actually going on missions with Lando to hunt for a Sith artifact to help the Rebellion.  Luke kept notes, he was busy and ACTIVE.  He wasn’t giving up; he was leaving a trail to help anyone who followed.  The best ‘fuck you’ in the whole movie was Luke catching Anakin’s lightsaber when Rey throws it away.  The ultimate rejection of his TLJ characterization.  

Luke’s conversation with Rey echoes very much the ROTJ “you must confront Vader” conversation.  There are many echoes of ROTJ but given the restrictions on what we are working with, I accepted this parallel.  Much like Luke had to face his unfortunate inheritance, so must Rey.  It’s not terribly original, but these films aren’t.

I also loved the simple line “I was wrong” when Rey asks why he did what he did in TLJ.  This to me is simply “Rian Johnson was wrong/The Last Jedi was wrong.”  There is no excuse that is acceptable, but this is a filmmaker acknowledging an injustice, and I appreciated it.  (Did I mention these films are not canon for me? They aren’t, just giving credit for this attempt.)

Han’s character:  I hated SO MUCH how they turned Han into a failure in TFA.  A buffoon, not even a good smuggler anymore, a failure as a father, a husband.  When I heard he was going to be in this I was like HUH?  But this “memory” of his father that Kylo Ren sees after Rey heals him and departs, after he’s lost his mother, is another attempt to redeem the injustice to Han’s character.  Han is the one in the movie who brings Kylo Ren back to the Light, not Rey.  It is a very short scene, but effective.  The acting is poignant, with the “Dad” working for me.  Maybe I’m a softie.  But I appreciated this brief proof that Han Solo, in the end, didn’t suck as a father, and ultimately, even as a hallucination, inspired the love that saved his son.

Chewbacca got a medal:  I said Abrams was fixing things in the sequels, but I admit I was choked up to see this fixit from A New Hope.  Finally Chewie gets the medal he is LONG overdue.

Team dynamic with the new characters:  Finally we understand why these people care about each other.  They go on shared adventures, they have banter (and some good jokes, not the stupid bathos of TLJ), and there is finally some sense of camaraderie that was discarded in TLJ.  There are several references to Rey’s “new family,” clearly referring to this band of Rebels, and it was far more compelling than in earlier films.

Finn’s Force Sensitivity:  I, like many, desperately wanted Finn to be a Jedi.  Since TFA, it seemed inevitable!  I loved how he used the lightsaber, how he seemed to have Force abilities (that were never really explored).  TLJ ignored that potential completely, sidelining him on that stupid Canto Bight quest and pulling him away from Rey.  There are so many signs that he is destined to be a Jedi in this film, I was thrilled to see them.  Knowing things without explanation, doing amazing things, sensing things, trusting his feelings, it’s another ‘fuck you’ in my opinion, to RJ for ignoring this former stormtrooper’s destiny in favor of overblown set pieces and pointless CGI theatrics.  When he says, towards the end “I can feel it,” I wanted to fist pump.  YOU GO BE A JEDI FINN!  THE FORCE IS WITH YOU.  Personally, I would have loved for Finn to be the main protagonist of all three films, but I appreciate us getting what we got, since we can’t get what we want.

Stuff that worked:

The Wedge cameo:  Yeah.

Lando:  Wonderful. His dialogue, especially at the beginning, does a lot to fix our view of Luke.

Kylo’s redemption:  See above re: Han.  I’ve seen a lot of criticism about the kiss.  I get the whole “female character’s purpose is to validate the evolution of the male” criticism, but I want to point out a couple things about this. First of all, it’s not a “Reylo” kiss. Kylo is gone.  This is well after Kylo is redeemed.  He’s been of the Light for a while before this, it’s clearly Ben at this point.  It’s also obvious Rey knows that, and like Luke forgave Vader for his abuse, she forgives Ben Solo for his.  So I understand also the criticism that is making people puke about Rey kissing her abuser, but again, Luke sheds tears for the father he loves, who maimed and traumatized him.  Star Wars is about redemption and forgiveness that accompanies it, and I don’t have the same issue with this.  If she kissed KYLO without him being redeemed before he died, for example, I would be disgusted.  This is not that.

The cinematography/pacing/story:  So many critics and the spoilers made it sound like this was a convoluted mess.  I went to see it with a non-native English speaker and neither of us had any trouble following the plot.  Yeah, a lot happens, but it all is linear and consistent within the film.

The humor/dialogue:  Felt way more Star Wars-y and better placed than the last two films.

The Jedi Helping Rey:  As much as I thought I would hate this, it was really well done, largely, I think, due to the foreshadowing during her earlier training.  When Palpatine says all the Sith live in him and we know what she’s gonna say but it still works SO WELL.  I was rooting for her and I’ve never been a huge fan.  But at that climactic moment, I was a believer.

Major flaws

Of course there are some.  For me the most major:

A Jedi Strikes Not In Anger: In every single lightsaber battle (pretty sure, I only saw the film once), Rey is the first to strike.  She always seems to be fighting from anger and with negative emotion.  This is not at all Jedi-esque and I found it particularly jarring in her duels with Kylo Ren.  This bothered me more than almost anything else in the film because it is never addressed.  She fights ANGRY and she fights FEARFUL and then somehow when she’s supposed to strike down Palpatine, she has it in her to resist.  This, above all else, makes me not like her as the “heir to the Jedi”.  I thought it was a real problem, and makes her ultimate evolution at the finale less convincing.

Rey Skywalker:  I get why they did it, but I stand by my earlier thoughts regarding taking the Solo or Organa name.  I have nothing against adopted families.  And I found it SLIGHTLY more palpable because since the Emperor refers to Ben as “the last Skywalker” and then since he transfers his entire life force into her, you can argue that she has “Skywalker” literally in her spirit now.  OK fine.  But I still don’t really think she earned it.  She came CLOSER than I thought she would and I didn’t ultimately want to burn down the cinema as I expected I would want to.

Force Resurrection:  No. Just no.  This changes so much and makes so much of the earlier films moot. Why wouldn’t Anakin just resurrect Padme?  Don’t get me started.

Other random new Force things:  Like Force Ghosts touching shit.  Yeah I know Obi Wan sat on the tree in Dagobah, I know, but we keep learning new and more powerful Force shit each film.  Teleportation of objects (that lightsaber?!), astral projection, rapid healing, and now playing catch with your ghost friends.  I get they are important to the story but it feels lazy.  But my exception here was Luke catching the saber because FUCK YOU RJ. 😊

Redemption=Death:  I wanted Kylo Ren to die for his sins too, but I recognize this strange thing we have going on in the GFFA that if a baddie goes good they die.  It’s the equivalent of the horror movie “fuck and the killer gets you” trope.  I didn’t necessarily mind Ben dying, but it seemed … lazy.

The final shot:  It was a mistake to even touch this iconic moment.  It wasn’t earned.  Make your own legend/iconic moment and leave my farmboy his.

Something no one can fix:  The sucky destinies of Luke Jake, Han, and Leia.  They didn’t live happy lives, they didn’t see the end of tyranny, they all died with only the hope of success.  I will never forgive the attempted destruction of the legacy of the OT (attempted cause it’s still how it all ends in my world), this disregard of the triumph of the Rebellion over the Empire, and I will never believe that the New Republic failed so completely and miserably.  Bring on the EU/Legends and forget this shit.

Final thought:  I went to this expecting the cinematic equivalent of a back alley abortion and instead I got what felt like an apology.  An entertaining and polished and sincere apology.  We deserved better, and I think the people who made this film realized that and did their best.  TROS had to wrap up something that was divisive and imperfect and misguided, and tried as hard as it could, in my opinion, given what they were working with.

It was a good movie.  Ambitious, with flaws, but I am glad I saw it, and I hope you will be too. <3  May the Force be with you.

[youmightaswell]

Die!

What I did during my pandemic non-vacation

Right before the pandemic hit, my work was slow. My client stable was dwindling and so I set  the goal of finally compiling all my personal essays from the last 20 years into a book I'd call "The Unbearable Heaviness of Being". And then, serendipitously a  more literal unbearable heaviness of being hit.

Still, one would think a pandemic would be the ideal time to start that book. Maybe even start the "Letters from the Inside" book about my serial killer writing project for the last 10 years, or even my own memoir. I had nothing but time. I had to stay inside anyway. Nothing else was pressing, and I am usually especially creative during times of stress and hardship.

But lo!  I am also a procrastinator when it comes to a writing assignment -- even a self-inflicted one.  

So over the last three months I found every excuse not to write those long-form pieces. It seems like all I did was bathe, eat, eat some more, and lay around in bed, most often talking to the dog in guise of actually talking to myself. I spent an inordinate amount to time figuring out how to handle my grooming at home now that my external fleet of professionals were no longer available. Day after day I wore sweats or pjs (careful to change from day ones to night ones once the nightly New Year’s Eve-type cheering started, a new type of closing bell.) The one day I felt invigorated and optimistic enough to put on jeans I had to peel them off by mid-day unsure of how I ever wore such a tortuous garment. 

I felt comfort when I saw reassuring messages on Instagram -- which along with Facebook and Twitter, I spent an inordinate amount of time on -- saying that it was just fine not to produce anything during this quarantine. That is was an unprecedented time and one that was highly stressful so it is fine to do whatever you want to keep calm and keep on...  I did just that, or at least it seemed so. I felt like a sloth, eating carbs and sugar -- things for the last two years I carefully avoided. I texted exes, fought with feral Trump supporters, washed dry-clean only clothes. You know, indulged in the wildest of vices.

The shelter-in-place mandate will come to a close soon. Being in NYC, probably it will take longer than most areas to dissolve, but still the streets are getting a bit more crowded, and people seem to be back in my NYC apartment building, once again, hogging the dryers (which I then have to neurotically wipe down with disinfectant wipes.)

So I initially felt a bit down at what a failure I've been to do something productive during this time.

As a result, I decided to take inventory of my last three months. ***

- I applied for PPP (dealing with Chase bank for two months having  to re-apply three different times at their ever-changing directives, only to be told they couldn't verify my income and therefore I was turned down). I applied for EIDL,got $1000 payment and then was told that because inadvertently answered a question wrong -- these applications are super hard--I was denied and now they were only allowing re-applications of agricultural industry workers. Then I applied for freelancer unemployment, twice, only to not be able to get through, not be able to revise my PUA application and am still waiting to hear something, anything.  As such with  EIDL, PPP, SBA, WHO and all other pandemic-related acronyms, I now have a great fear -- PTSD, if you will -- of acronyms in general. No good can come from them. 

- I washed my hands -- and my dog’s paws -- a billion times. I also did way too much laundry because in times of stress and lack of control, my OCD (another scary acronym!) gets rampant and doing finite tasks makes me feel more in charge. I saged my apartment weekly, casting out negative energy and viruses and calling upon all good things to enter instead. The only entrance was made by my super who yelled at me for mentioning him in an article I wrote about my doorman who passed away from Covid-19. Still, I disinfected doorknobs, elevator buttons, and even the container of wipes, multiple times as if trying to free a genie in a bottle, to no avail.

- I tended to all sorts of medical tests for myself and my dog, culminating in standing a long line to get the Covid-19 antibody tests. (Sadly I was negative.) 

-I binged watched (Dead to Me) and cringe watched (White Lines), valuing a good hate-watch more than quality programming. 

- I read about 10 books, a few that have stayed with me in the best way possible, such as "My Dark Vanessa" and "Excavation".

- I listened to the full true-horror podcast "Let's Not Meet" - because sometimes the only way to quell true-horror is with true-horror. Hair of the dog sort of thing.

- I tracked down ARCs (one of the nicer acronyms) of books that will come out later this year so I could read them without any preconceived notions about them. 

- I finally watched the backlog of hoarded movies I had borrowed from the NYPL: The best of which was "Giant", a classic 3.5 hour saga.

- I read countless magazines and most things I read were drivel, but then I curated the best essays and realized they all seemingly dealt with food, which makes total sense during a pandemic when we all reverted back into hunter gatherers.    “Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over,” the NYT’s written by restaurant owner/chef of Prune, and the essay by art critic Jerry Saltz about his peculiar eating habits were the best.  While they all seemingly dealt with food and eating, they really don't deal with that at all.  They definitely appeased my appetite for touching writing.  

- And I did some touching writing of my own. I wrote an essay about the death by Covid-19 of my favorite doorman to much notice. It was the article I’ve written that has gotten shared the most online, I think, ever! More importantly, it touched his family in a way that seems significant, his daughter reaching out to me with this message: 

- Related: I organized a GoFundMe for the aforementioned late doorman’s family and raised over $7,000 in just one week! I got our whole complex and neighborhood to participate, and I believe it helped us collectively mourn. 

- Related, I helped a dear friend with dealing with heartbreaking news that her elderly mother had contracted Covid-19. She called me the night she found out to weigh options. Sadly her mother passed. I had a tree planted in her mother’s honor. 

- I signed up with Postcrossing and sent postcards to people all over the world and have gotten a ton back. In times of isolation it helps to feel connected in some way. 

- In that same vein, I participated Oregon Humanities’ “Dear Stranger” project - in which one writes a letter to a stranger and sends it to the organization and they exchange it with other stranger’s letter and mail that one to you. Interestingly I wrote my letter on an old map. The letter I got in return was by a female freelance writer of my same age, also written on an old map. More serendipity! More connection without ever leaving the apartment. 

- I saw a segment on NY1 talking about how this pandemic and isolation is taking its toll on seniors and one NYC nursing home that was requesting cards and letters to cheer them up. It was the catalyst for me to start a new project I call: “Letters from the Inside... of the Senior Center” - in which I researched and compiled a list of nursing homes around the country who accept letters of cheer to their seniors. I now have a list of about 800 names. I’ve sent about 75 cards/postcards myself so far, and have enlisted friends, neighbors, and others to send cards as well. My goal is to get each senior at least one card or letter. 

- I had a milestone birthday with little fanfare. My dog, Biggie, turned three. 

- I finally finished annotating each chapter of “Blind Eye,” the best-selling book about serial killer Michael Swango, who I have written to for 10+ years as part of the aforementioned “Letters from the Inside” project I created. I sent him questions on each chapter. 

- Related: After 10 long years of corresponding, on my birthday we started what has now turned out to be weekly calls. His prison has finally allowed them. Last call I told him that he has not answered my last few letters. He told me to yell at him, remind him, and push him to get on it. I quipped that it was probably not in my best interest to antagonize someone who murdered 60+ people. True horror, indeed. 

- The CNN docu-series about him in which I appear as an expert was postponed but will air later this summer. 

- Speaking of true horrors, I had a woman threaten to spit on me when I requested she leash her dog -- who had tried to attack Biggie. (Odd foreshadowing for the recent Amy Cooper debacle.) 

- I lost my long-time nurse (I get immuno-therapy infusions twice a month and have for years for an immune disorder) because she was fired by her nursing company. After having to deal with an inadequate string of nurses I lobbied to get my nurse hired at my pharmacy’s nursing division so now she can be my nurse again. She is thrilled she has a job; I am thrilled I have my old friend back each month. 

- I feel in love with Cuomo.

***

After sitting down and taking this inventory, I am amazed at how much I have actually done in such a short period of time. It seems insane that I was feeling so bad and slothlike for being so unproductive, when in retrospect, I actually accomplished a lot. 

I guess what I can take away from this long stretch of isolation is this: We can’t see how far we are traveling without looking back on our journey. While something -- particularly traumatic or stressful -- is happening, it is easy to feel static, frozen and worse, uncreative. But feelings aren’t facts. 

Just because I didn’t write my book, I did lots of creative things with my time. I was tangibly helpful to others without even noticing it when I was doing it. I felt like I was faltering and failing, but in looking back at that list above, I really wasn’t. I may have even excelled. 

And now, I think I need to lay down. 

[oldmilfenjoyer]

time to rewrite tma eps based off celeb goss I guess.

please don’t take this seriously I didn’t touch t*yl*r sw*ft goss for a reason

mag 6 squirm: as the only horny tma ep it gets the timothee chalamet/sprouse twins/eddie redmayne chlamydia saga 

mag 7 the piper: mitskis dad is a cia agent and probs def a war criminal

mag 32 hive: obviously the jameela jamil bee story

mag 34 anatomy class: this isn’t gossip. please look at a time lapse of ariana grandes eyebrows WHERES she putting her forehead.

mag 50 foundations: george clooney married amal clooney to get a leg up in eventually running for president. also they’re lowkey divorced.

mag 53 crusader: angelina jolie being v vocal about pegging her bf

mag 58 trail rations: the catering of the new power rangers movie being just “a pile of coke w a little spoon” to quote

mag 69 thought for the day: shakira evading spanish taxes.

may 77 the kind mother: whatever tf yolanda hadid is doing w gigi and bella in like general.

mag 84 possessive: this isn’t a conspiracy the queen definitely orchestrated princess diana’s death. also meghan and harry leaving the royal family for a netflix or amazon deal that’s going to get them $$$$$$$$$.

mag 97 we all ignore the pit: the jameela jamil munchausen theories (I’m so sorry miss jamil please know I love you pero also like the cancer thing)

mag 102 nesting instinct: jessica biel’s gay and specifically the photo of a woman grabbing jessica biel’s ass while justin timberlake is standing next to her but not looking

mag 112 thrill of the chase: ok…did john hamm haze a dude to death. did lady Gaga kill that chick and steal her identity. how involved were the Olsen twins (coke dealer) in heath ledger dying in Mary Kate’s apartment. Jonny depp absolutely killed joaquin phoenixs brother.

mag 113 breathing room: beyonce and jay z had separate security teams in the met gala 2014 elevator

mag 118 masquerade: brie larson staging whole foods paparazzi pics w her (fake) bf. honestly anyone staging whole foods/ trader joes pap pics.

mag 124 left hanging: bella thorne getting carded when she didn’t have her ID, asking the bartender “don’t you recognize me”, him saying no, her exiting stage left

mag 134 time of revelation: the influencer who’s dog shit on her bed before a party and instead of cleaning it up she put the sheets in her OVEN. idk who u r but Caroline Calloway u have the money for laundry detergent.

mag 136 the puppeteer: I lied I’m bringing Taylor in. I’m not a swiftie and I refuse to get involved w swift discourse. but taylor in 50 years will be remembered for being The Beard for fake dating closeted gay celebs (ex tom hiddleston, joe alwyn, joe jonas, I cant remember who else) and also for giving everyone involved hella publicity

mag 153 love bombing: so many celebs have lyme disease despite not living on the east coast but we’re specifying yolanda + bella + anwar hadid bc yolanda wrote a whole ass book abt it. also j biebs.

mag 159 the last: billie eilish’s parents were gentrifiers and got fucked up by the 2008 housing crisis HA (also they helped commit money laundry)

mag 160 the eye opens: please I just want to know what’s going on with the danai gurira/lupita nyongo/tessa thompson/janelle monae love quadrangle

posted in celebration of Megan Fox leaving her husband good for her!!!!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Gray Out

Switch AU

Another entry in the thrilling saga of the AU I never meant to make. An important one, too! Because so far all the boys have separate bits and pieces of the story, but they need to put them together. Also there’s some stuff with Jackie’s family in the beginning because we haven’t seen too much of them but I think they’re neat. ^-^ Enjoy!

More of this AU found here

Weekday mornings were always a bit of a rush for Jackie. But at least it was the same routine most days. Wake up, get ready, make breakfast for Michelle, help her get ready, drive her to school, come back home to make sure he had everything for work, and then drive to work. Some days his shift started later, some days Michelle had to be early for a field trip, but the routine varied very little. In all honesty, Jackie kind of liked it that way. Which might be why he ignored the first phone call, rationing it away as probably being a spam number. But by the third call, it was obvious it wasn’t just spam.

After making sure Michelle was munching happily on her toast for breakfast, Jackie finally picked up the phone to check the ID, and was immediately overwhelmed by an emotion that was combination annoyance, exasperation, and a little worry. “You ever notice how you’re the one who always calls people?” He commented upon answering the phone. “Why don’t people ever call you?”

“What?” Schneep was clearly not expecting that answer. “Never mind. Jackie, we need to talk.”

Jackie glanced over toward the dining room table where Michelle was sitting. “Well, make this quick, I have to take Michelle to school.”

“No, I mean in person. And I mean we all need to talk.”

Jackie blinked. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

“You, me, Anti, and JJ and Marvin,” Schneep clarified. “It’s very important. Can you meet up with us soon?”

“I—I just told you I need to take my daughter to school. And then after that I work until two today.”

“We can do it in the evening.”

“Henrik,” Jackie sighed. “You work this evening, remember? You said you traded your shift yesterday for one today.”

“Fuck, I forgot.”

“You forgot...about your job.”

“To be fair, last night was eventful,” Schneep said defensively.

“Did. Did you go to sleep at all last night?” Jackie thought he already knew the answer, so he continued anyway. “Dude. Take a nap or something before you work. Even if you don’t fall asleep and instead just lie there, it’ll do you good.”

“Ah, whatever, whatever,” Schneep said dismissively. “So we have to meet tomorrow. Do you work then, too?”

“Yeah, until two again.”

On the other side of the line, Schneep’s voice became momentarily muffled like he was covering the receiver with his hand and talking to someone else. Jackie waited patiently, tapping his fingers against the dining room table with a satisfying clacking pattern.

“Daaaad!” Michelle called, even though she was just on the other side of the table. “I finished.”

Jackie glanced over. “You have to eat the crusts, Michelle.”

“Awwwww!” Michelle set her head on the table and groaned. “Ren lets me skip the crusts.”

“Well, you can skip then when I’m not here, then.” Jackie smiled a bit. “But I hear bread crusts make your hair curly.”

Michelle’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“It’s what I hear.”

Michelle looked down at the bread crusts on her plate and began shoving them in her mouth.

“Hey slow down, you might choke!” Jackie warned.

“What?” Schneep’s voice on the phone returned.

“No, I’m talking to Michelle, Schneep, not you,” Jackie said.

“Ah, I see. Anyway, we are now planning to meet at my apartment tomorrow at four. Would that work?”

“Well, that depends. What’s this even about?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Schneep laughed nervously. “It...remember the window incident a while ago?”

“How could I forget?” Jackie shivered internally. He still couldn’t quite believed that happened.

“Yes, well. It is about that. The creature that did that...it...all the rest of us have seen it too. And we need to talk about it.”

Jackie went suddenly cold, as if a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his head. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you then.” And then he hung up. He stared blankly at the phone for a bit longer.

“Dad?” Michelle asked. “Are you okay? You lost all your color.”

Jackie shook his head. He smiled at his daughter. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you finished?”

“Mm-hmm.” Michelle played with the ends of her hair. “Is it curly now?”

“Well, it doesn’t work instantly, but I think it is a little wavier. Now come on.” Jackie walked over to stand next to her while she hopped off the chair. “Let’s finish up and get you to school.”

——————— 

Jackie couldn’t concentrate the rest of the day. His work at the hospital slipped up enough for his coworkers to notice something was wrong, but he denied anything, just saying he was tired. If any of them noticed he was avoiding the second floor, they didn’t say anything. He’d never told them he nearly got pulled out a window. Because honestly, if one of them told him that a strange creature nearly killed him and that they couldn’t even really remember what the creature looked like, he would probably recommend they see a therapist.

He got off work at two like usual, then just as usual he drove over to the school to pick up Michelle at two-thirty. Upon coming home, he immediately excused himself to his room, where he lied down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the door to the bedroom burst open. “Jackie if I wanted to stab someone in the stomach area how quickly would they have to be rescued?!”

Jackie burst out laughing; he couldn’t help it. A question like that would be suspect, if it wasn’t coming from Rama, who was a crime fiction writer and also Jackie’s spouse. “Hi to you too. I’m home.”

“Yep, I heard you and Michelle come in.” Rama walked over and sat down on the mattress next to Jackie. Their black shoulder-length hair was tucked under their red beanie, and Jackie noticed they were wearing one of their favorite shirts: it had a picture of Shakespeare with sunglasses on with the caption ‘It’s hard to be the Bard.’ “Soooo?” They poked his arm. “Stomach stab wound?”

“Well I mean, it depends on where it happened and how deep it was. There are, like, organs in your torso.”

“Oh I didn’t think of that. Uhhh...it’s like, this-ish area I guess?” Rama made a circle with their fingers around a spot a little bit left of their belly button. “And pretty deep, I dunno, a switchblade went all the way in there.”

“Uh, okay, there aren’t any organs that are too dangerous to hit there. But if it’s a switchblade going all the way in...” Jackie scrunched his eyes closed as he thought. ��That’s probably still going to puncture something, not to mention the blood loss. Maybe between one to three hours?” If Jackie was being honest, he was partially drawing on experience of having to patch up Schneep’s wounds after a fight, which happened way too often.

“Alright, that’s enough time,” Rama nodded.

“Are you going to stab Alice again?” Jackie asked, referencing the main character of Rama’s short stories.

“No, I’m stabbing her brother.”

“Noooooo!” Jackie whined. “You put him in danger too much, give him a break!”

Rama grinned. “Neverrr!” Their grin faded when Jackie only smiled lightly, and proceeded to drop the subject. “Hey. You okay, Jackieboy?” they asked.

“...I don’t know,” Jackie admitted. “I feel a bit...I don’t know.”

Rama stood up, walked over to the dresser, picked something up, then returned to their spot on the bed, handing the item to Jackie. It was a black-and-red fidget cube. Jackie took it and began idly pressing the buttons. “You have any idea what could be causing that?” Rama asked.

He did have an idea. Because he kept thinking about the window incident, and every thought tied to it was accompanied by a worm of anxiety in his stomach. “...yeah,” he said, and didn’t elaborate.

“Hmm.” Rama pursed their lips. “Well, you don’t have to talk about it. Anything I can do to help?”

Jackie shrugged awkwardly, still lying down. He traced the patterns in the ceiling with his eyes.

“How about we watch a movie? I’m gonna get my laptop, we’re gonna power it up, and find something that can distract you.”

“...yeah, that sounds good.”

The rest of the night was spent curled up on the bed watching Disney animated movies on Netflix. Michelle joined at one point, squeezing in between her two parents. And Jackie started to feel better, surrounded by his family. When night fell, it wasn’t too hard to fall asleep.

———————

And then the next morning dawned and it started again as he had to go through another shift at the hospital where he had to suffer through repeated instances of anxious thoughts assaulting him. What even was that creature? What did it want with him and the others? Was it going to kill them? Why were so many details about it fuzzy? Did it somehow affect your mind? That prospect caused Jackie to shudder every time he imagined it.

When four o’clock finally rolled around, Jackie had managed to calm down again. They were lacking in information, but if they all pooled their knowledge, they had to come up with something. They had to. Didn’t they?

Jackie texted Schneep when he was outside the front door of the apartment building. About a minute later, Schneep opened the door. “Jackie!” He brightened. “Come in, come in, you are the last to arrive, we were waiting for you.”

“Well, thanks for waiting, then,” Jackie smiled. He followed Schneep down the hall and up a single flight of stairs to the second floor. He’d been here many times before, to the point where he didn’t even have to look at the apartment numbers to know which one was Schneep’s.

The layout of the apartment was familiar as well. It was a simple studio apartment, with an attached bathroom and a single wall separating the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment. A corner of the floor was taken up with a kitchenette, while the rest was a combination living/working/dining area. There was a section for the dining table and chairs. There was a section taken up with a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and a TV. And there was a desk with a computer shoved against a wall, next to a bunch of shelves overflowing with various stuff. Other than the shelves, everything in the apartment was very neat and clean, modern-style furniture in shades of blue. There were also a couple potted plants that Jackie knew from experience not to touch unless he wanted Schneep to freak out on him.

Currently, the other three of the group were scattered about the apartment. Anti was sprawled on the couch, eyes closed and probably half-asleep. JJ was looking about the kitchen section, opening cabinets, though he looked embarrassed about it when Schneep and Jackie appeared. Marvin was sitting in the desk chair, playing with the computer but honestly looking like he had no idea what he was doing.

“Alright, everyone is here!” Schneep said. He was trying to sound enthusiastic, but it fell flat. “Now we can start.”

“Well, where do we start?” Jackie asked, sitting down in the nearest chair, not relaxing.

JJ approached the living area, choosing to sit in the other chair. “Well, I guess we should put all our cards on the table. We don’t know much about whatever this...person is, but I bet that if we shared all our encounters, we’re bound to figure something out.”

Anti opened his eyes. “Well, then I think you and Marvin should go first. You saw him first, right?”

“You did?” Jackie asked, surprised. “When was this?”

“Oh. Well, you remember that night I texted you because Marvin was acting strange and wandered off?” JJ looked over at Marvin, who remained silent, over by the desk.

“Yeah?”

JJ kept looking at Marvin, raising an eyebrow. But when Marvin didn’t say anything, he sighed and stopped. “Well, most of what I told you was true. Marvin did disappear, and I did find him in an entirely different part of town. And everything that you said might be dissociation, that happened too, but—”

“I’m still not quite sure what happen’d,” Marvin said suddenly. “I t’ink at some point I...I’m not sure, but...I remember seeing a man dressed in gray, whose eyes were bleedin’.” He looked down, as if worried they might not believe him.

Jackie cleared his throat. “I know who—or what—you’re talking about. I saw it, not too long after you.”

As the minutes passed, the pieces were puzzled together. Marvin and JJ’s unplanned walk that night, Jackie’s encounter at the window, and Anti’s recent stint of nightmares and sleepwalking.

“I’ve been running into this...person,” Schneep said. At some point, he’d moved to sit on the couch, forcibly pushing Anti’s legs out of the way. “Not very often, perhaps once a week, but it has occurred enough. He has tried to kill me.”

“What? Does he, like, stab you or something?” Anti asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no.” Schneep shook his head. “It is...really whatever is available. The first time I saw him, we were in a construction site, I almost got impaled on that steel rebar. Then again, we were on a high building, and he tricked me into stepping off. I was lucky no bones were broken.”

Jackie furrowed his brow. “Wait, was that the night you broke into my house looking like you’d been hit by a car?”

“Ah...no?” Schneep said unconvincingly.

“How do you just step off a building?” Anti mumble-asked.

“Well, I did not know the edge of the building was so close!” Schneep snapped. He folded his arms. “It was like a hallucination, an illusion. It looked like I was in the middle of the roof, but I was on the edge, and I did not know.”

“So, this thing can create illusions, hypnotize people, and give them nightmares that make them try to kill themselves,” JJ summarized. “And he doesn’t seem to get hurt, if he can fall out a second story window and walk away.”

“It’s like a brain demon,” Jackie said, playing with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah, it messes with your mind,” Anti agreed. “But here’s the thing I’m wondering: can I stab it?”

“Anti!” Jackie gasped. “Is this the time?” Meanwhile, Schneep sighed.

“No, really, this is relevant. Because how the fuck are we supposed to get rid of it?” Anti scowled. “If it falls out a window and skips off afterward, how do we kill it?”

“Maybe we don’t need to,” JJ said. “Maybe we can ward it off, somehow.”

“What, with like garlic or something?”

“Maybe, we don’t know,” JJ shrugged. “I’ve never heard of a creature like this, but there has to be some sort of records of something like it. If not, I could probably set up some sort of protection spells.”

Anti blinked. “Oh yeah, I forgot you could do that.”

“It’s fine, to be fair you did only find out yesterday,” JJ smiled.

“But can you even set up protection from this thing?” Jackie said, looking down at his lap and pulling his fingers. “What if it just slips through your defenses? If it can make illusions, what if it can make you think you set something up, but you didn’t?”

“Well, there has to be a way to double-check,” Schneep said casually.

“And besides, wouldn’t we, like, see him nearby whenever he showed up to trick us?” Anti asked. “So we could like, stab on sight. Arm ourselves, you can all borrow my knives.”

Marvin, who’d been mostly silent this whole conversation, suddenly spoke up. “T’is might sound strange, but bear with me for a moment.” He waited until he was sure the others were paying attention before continuing. “T’is...t’ing t’at’s been following us...what color is his hair?”

Anti rolled his eyes. “What does this have to do with—”

“Answer. The question.” The others had never seen Marvin so serious.

Jackie responded first. “Well, okay, it’s...” He blinked. “It’s...” He frowned, scrunching his eyes closed as he tried to picture the gray man in his mind. “...I...don’t remember.” He could clearly see the man in his mind, yet somehow...that detail was not part of the image. Jackie opened his eyes. “Volt? What about you?”

Schneep crossed his arms, brows furrowing. Gradually, his look of concentration turned to one of discomfort. “I-I do not know. I do not know, how is that possible?”

“Alrigh’,” Marvin stood up, walking from the desk to the living area with the others. “How about how tall he is? Does anyone r’member how tall he is?”

“He’s...” Jackie trailed off. Anti stood up straight, making gestures with his hand like he was measuring someone’s height. Jameson shook his head, baffled. Schneep made an odd choking sound and covered his mouth, eyes wide.

“No, we don’,” Marvin said. “None of us know anyt’ing about what he looks like. Oh, sure, we got the monstrous swathes of it, but we cannae r’member the details. Now, Jackie.” Marvin turned to look at him. “How did t’is man get into your hospital, looking as odd as he does, and have no one even mention it?”

“That...I don’t know,” Jackie said slowly.

“Exactly!” Marvin threw his hand in the air.

“Wait, Marvin, are you saying that this...sort of illusion-casting this person can do,” JJ asked, “could possibly mean he can...make it seem like he’s not there at all? Like, maybe like the Silence from Doctor Who?”

Marvin frowned. “I don’ know what t’at is.”

“Oh. Right. That’s on me, remind me to show you that some time.” JJ laughed nervously. “Anyway, the Silence are...well, they’re sort of supernatural creatures that make it so that, while you’re looking directly at them, you know they’re there and what they are. But when you look away, you forget all about them.”

“Ah. T’en yes, t’ats what I’m tryin’ t’say. He migh’ be able to do somet’ing to t’at effect.”

Schneep visibly paled. “Well, what would we do in that situation? If that was true, then...mein Gott, then he could be anywhere. And we would not even know.”

“But...that doesn’t mean it would be anywhere, right?” Anti’s eyes darted back and forth between the others’ faces.

Everyone was silent.

And then they heard the laughing.

Everyone who’d been sitting down shot to their feet. Anti reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun. Schneep leapt into a defensive stance, hands half-raised in front of him. Jameson’s eyes changed color to a brighter blue than usual.

“Lock the doors and close the blinds, we’re going for a ride!”

“What the fuck?!” Jackie was the first to see him, and practically tripped over himself in an effort to put the chair between himself and the gray man—who was just casually sitting on top of the dining table, one leg folded over the other, as if it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

Schneep stepped forward. “How did you get into my apartment?” he demanded.

“You mean you didn’t notice?” The man pressed a hand to his chest as if he was offended. The attempt at expression was ruined by the grin on his face. “I was right behind you the entire time, Zaps.”

“Jesus,” Marvin muttered, inching closer to the rest of the group.

“Yeah, okay, that’s nice to hear,” Anti growled. “But you know what? I don’t care. You are going to get out of here or there’s going to suddenly be a new hole in your head.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I beat you to the punch there.” Even though the smile never wavered, the man’s tone suddenly became a lot colder. “So your threats are poor excuses for threats, just like how you’re a poor excuse of a person. Works out perfectly, you know?”

Anti took a step back. For a moment, true hurt flashed across his face.

“You have no right to say such things!” Jameson suddenly shouted. “Not when you are just as poor. You’re not even human, why do you have such authority to speak on others? And why should we listen to a distorter of minds?”

The man sat up straight. “A distorter of minds? I love it, I’m going to use that from now on.”

“Good try, Jems, but don’t encourage him,” Marvin hissed.

“Aw, I’m hurt, Marvin!” The man—Distorter—seemed to smile wider at the way Marvin jumped when he said his name. “I wouldn’t expect such dismissive words from you!”

“Wh—” Marvin visibly flinched, stepping back. “What do you...?”

“Oh well. Guess nothing lasts forever. Unless you make it.” Distorter stood up. He raised one blackened hand and snapped his fingers, tilting his head to the side. “Smile for me.”

Something clattered to the floor. Everyone sharply turned to look over at Marvin—Marvin, who had dropped his cane. He’d suddenly gone limp, posture slacking and a blank expression on his face. His eyes were empty.

“That’s better.”

“Marvin?” Jameson was by his side before he even knew it, shaking him gently, trying to get a response. To no avail. “Marvin, wh...what...?”

“What...what did you do?!” Jackie was emboldened by the sight of his friend in distress, forgetting all previous fears about Distorter’s unnatural powers. He rushed to Marvin’s side as well, immediately jumping into assessment mode.

“He’s fine,” Distorter dismissed. “If anything, this is better. You don’t have to worry about anything if you can’t feel anything.”

“Okay, that is it.” Schneep’s expression was more than stormy—it was outright thunderous. He quickly closed the distance between him and Distorter and grabbed the gray man by the shirt. “I am getting you out of here if you will not leave yourself.”

Distorter seemed untroubled by being grabbed, though maybe that was just his unchanging smile. “Oh, come on.” He wrapped a hand around Schneep’s wrist, nails digging into skin. “The fun part’s just about to start.”

Everyone tensed. Jameson and Jackie were momentarily distracted by the statement, looking away from Marvin for just a moment. Anti did the opposite: he happened to glance toward Marvin at the exact time the other two looked away. And because of that, he saw when Marvin stiffened, a flash of something—something not exactly friendly—entering his eyes. “Watch out!” Anti cried, suddenly lunging across the room.

The following sequence of events happened very quickly. Marvin bent over, grabbing his cane from where it had fallen to the floor. At the same time, Schneep shrieked and stumbled back, the sleeve of his shirt now shredded as long slices leaked blood through the fabric. Distorter laughed, the nails of his hand dripping red. Immediately after, Marvin stood up and swung his cane until the topper connected solidly with the side of Jameson’s head, who cried out and staggered backwards, falling against the nearest chair. Marvin wound up for another swing at Jackie, but Anti arrived just in time, grabbing the cane and attempting to wrench it out of Marvin’s hands.

Marvin’s head whipped toward Anti. His eyes were unusually wide, and thin streams of blood began to drip from them. He hissed, and instead of trying to pull the cane back toward him, pushed with a surprising amount of force. Anti was shocked enough at the movement to lose his footing, and next thing he knew his head hit the ground and he was lying on the floor. Marvin pressed his advantage—quite literally. He knelt on the floor and began pushing the cane down on Anti’s throat, the length immediately cutting off air supply. Anti made a choked sort of gasp, and tried to push the cane away, but Marvin showed no sign of letting up.

“No!” Jackie sprung into action, grabbing Marvin around the torso and trying to pull him away. Marvin resisted, continuing to press down, but Jackie wasn’t about to give up, and was slowly winning.

Jameson climbed to his feet, pressing a hand to his head where the topper had hit it. There was a bit of warm liquid soaking his hair, but this wasn’t the time to focus on that. He was about to help Jackie, when he heard a cry of pain. He spun around to see Schneep on the floor in the dining area, scrambling backwards and clutching his bleeding arm. He looked unhurt apart from that arm injury, but his head was turning wildly on a swivel, seeming to latch onto things that weren’t there at all. Distorter approached him slowly, his grin wider than ever.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jameson muttered to himself. He cupped his hand and let the magic flow down his arm, until he was holding a handful of swimming blue light. He tossed the light, and it scattered into droplets. The drops arced across the room until they hit Distorter, each drop making a surprisingly solid impact that made him reel back, until he was finally knocked over. Jameson ran to Schneep as soon as Distorter was out of the way, murmuring vague reassurances as he patted him down for further sign of injuries.

Schneep shook his head like he was clearing it of ghosts. “What..?” He blinked several times, looking around.

Distorter stood up in one single motion, flicking away remaining drops of blue magic. “And here I thought you might be alright, magic man.”

Jameson threw an arm in front of Schneep, shielding him. “To you? No, I’m afraid not while you’re trying to kill my friends.”

“Who said I was going to kill all of them?” Distorter spread his arms. “What would that do for me, hmm?”

Jameson’s hand curled into a fist, streams of magic responding to the motion. “Then what do you want?”

For a moment, Distorter’s smile shrank. “I just want companionship. Friends. Well, and to get rid of anyone who’s going to stop me from getting that. Which, unfortunately, includes some of your—”

Bang!

Distorter staggered back, looking down at the sudden red staining his shirt, the vivid crimson standing out against the gray. Jameson blinked, then looked over to were the other three had been scuffling in the living area. Jackie had his arms wrapped tight around Marvin, who was squirming and struggling to get free. Anti was half-standing, half-kneeling, his hand extended and pointing his handgun directly at Distorter. “There’s more where that came from,” he said.

Distorter stared at him. And then he began laughing again. “Weren’t you paying attention earlier?! I told you that wouldn’t do anything! Or did you not bother to check?” His head turned to the side, farther than it should’ve been able to, with a crack. Everyone in the room was able to see that which none of them had, somehow, never noticed before. A neat hole in the side of Distorter’s head, going all the way through and dripping thick red blood.

Everyone stared; they couldn’t help it. It was like a car wreck. Some things you just couldn’t tear your eyes from, no matter how gruesome it was. “...how?” Jackie finally whispered.

“You can’t kill what’s already dead.” Distorter chuckled. “But I’ll give you points for trying.This has been fun, hasn’t it? Hasn’t this been fun? I can’t wait until next time.”

None of them could say what happened next. All they knew was that one moment Distorter was there, the next their heads were filled with fuzz, and he was gone.

Anti was the first to recover. “What...was that?” He scrambled to his feet. “Where did he go?!”

“That...really happened, yes?” Schneep asked.

“Yes, it did,” JJ said, nodding. “I’m not sure where he—”

A scream. Marvin pushed Jackie away, practically falling over himself in trying to get away. He ended up crawling over to the nearest chair and pressing his back to it, wiping at the trails of blood on his face and breathing quickly.

“Marvin!” JJ grabbed Schneep by the hand and pulled him to his feet before running over to where Marvin was and kneeling next to him. “Are you okay?”

“No! What? No, what? T'at wasn’—no!” Marvin was pulling at his hair with one hand, while using the other to grab for his cane. He was shaking his head.

“Hey, I know it’s a lot, but it’s going to be okay,” JJ said in a gentle voice. “Do you need anything right now? Anything I can get you?”

A strange sort of half-whimper half-yell escaped Marvin’s throat. He was holding the cane close to his body, running his fingers along the designs in the topper. “I-I dunna—I dunnae. I-I dun...t’at didn’ feel...good.”

Jackie had appeared at one point, leaning over JJ’s shoulder. He pursed his lips. “Hang on a second, let me try...” He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small black cube with various attachments in red. He handed it to Marvin. “Here, just look at the for a bit, okay?”

Marvin seemed doubtful, but he took it anyway. Within only a few moments he was engrossed in the various parts of the cube. He seemed to especially like the switches and the rolling ball. JJ looked at Jackie and gave him a smile, which Jackie returned before standing up to go look at Schneep’s injured arm.

———————

It took a few minutes, but eventually they all settled down. They were all back in the living area, with Jackie and Schneep on the couch, Anti in one of the chairs and Marvin in the other, JJ standing nearby Marvin’s chair. Jackie had found Schneep’s first aid kit in one of the kitchen cabinets, and managed to bandage up the cuts on Schneep’s arm.

“I’m going to say it: I’m super paranoid that he’s just...somewhere.” Anti looked around the apartment.

“I think he left,” JJ said. “Otherwise why would he make that comment about ‘next time’?”

Anti nodded. “Good point. Still...maybe he’s always there. Always watching.”

“Please don’,” Marvin muttered. JJ and Jackie glared at Anti.

Schneep cleared his throat. “Marvin...are you ready to talk about...what that was back there?”

“I-I don’ know what it was,” Marvin said simply. “It was just...t'ere was not’ing. Just a daze. But also, t’ere was...I-I don’ know. An...urge...to do certain t’ings. An I know it was coming from him.”

“Mind control?” Jackie asked. He looked at JJ. “Is that possible?”

“Um...” JJ folded his arms. “I know that there are spells out there that can do that. And strange creatures that can influence your thoughts. But I’ve never even heard of something like...him.”

“Um, Marvin?” Anti asked tentatively. “Is it okay to ask how you know that...thing?”

Marvin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’ know how I know him. I just know he’s familiar. I don’ r’member much, and I know less. I don’t even know how I got to now—to here!”

Schneep blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say—”

“Not!...now,” Marvin interrupted, opening his eyes. “I’ll explain it to you t’ree anot’er time, righ’ now it’s...too many t’ings.”

Jackie nodded. He looked around the room quickly. Everyone was tense, uneasy, and/or upset. “Well!” He clapped his hands. “I think that’s too many things for all of us today. We need to do something to calm down.”

They all looked at him in surprise. But none of them disagreed. Or, well, Anti did, but he just liked to disagree. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t you need to get home soon?”

“Rama and Michelle could do with some time together,” Jackie shrugged. “Why? Are you worried about Will?”

“I mean, I paid the sitter for the whole afternoon because I didn’t know how long this would take, so I guess I could technically stay a bit longer?”

“Good. So we’re going to do that.” Jackie stood up and walked over to the TV. He began rummaging through the cabinet under it. “Trust me, sometimes you just need a distraction. And I think we all need one right now. I don’t know what kind of movies people like, so you’re going to have to tell me so we can pick something everyone likes.”

It’s surprising how quickly a mood can change.

It’s surprising, sometimes, how easy it is to bounce back to reality after being in a grayed-out zone for a while.

Maybe all it really takes are five friends laughing and shouting so loud that you can’t really hear to movie, until someone makes popcorn and someone else takes out the spare blankets, and eventually everything seems right again.