#also bill is apparently my daughter’s wife?

[noccynoo]

i love that my kids are the exact same brand of autistic as me because it means that gravity falls has been on our tv for nearly three months straight

[sem24]

On the importance of immigrants…

I usually just post fun, quirky fandom stuff, but in light of recent events I felt I needed to speak up:

Most Americans probably know this iconic song.

It’s considered a classic piece of Americana, but what you may not know is that despite all its mentions of West Virginia, the song was actually inspired by its neighbor, Maryland.

The other thing is, it wasn’t written by John Denver but by a couple, Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert. Their creativity and collaboration brought the song to life before Denver’s voice made it a legend.

Before the success of that song, the two were very much starving artists—in the most literal sense. They couldn’t even afford groceries.

The names Sol and Helen Butt may not mean anything to you, but they mean everything to me…they were my great-grandparents.

Sol was a Polish immigrant, hence the unfortunate last name, awkwardly shortened from its original Polish form. It’s difficult to trace the records, but we believe he arrived in the U.S. sometime in the late 1920s or early 1930s. According to my grandmother—his daughter-in-law—he saw the writing on the wall with the rise of fascism and antisemitism in the lead up to you know what.

As a Jew, he decided to leave before it was too late. The details are hazy, and my recently deceased grandmother’s memory wasn’t as sharp in her final years. (We sadly lost my grandfather when I was very young.) But as far as we know, only Sol—and possibly one of his sisters—made it out. What became of his parents and other siblings is unclear, but you can imagine…

Sol was, by all accounts, a kind, generous, and very… passionate man. One family legend tells of a time when a man came into their little “Mom and Pop grocery store” and held a knife to my great-grandmother’s throat, attempting to rob them. My great-grandfather was in the back, where they also had a small butcher shop. Hearing the commotion, he came out holding his giant butcher’s cleaver. The would-be robber took one look at the furious Polish man with the enormous knife and bolted. But Sol, enraged that someone would dare threaten his beloved wife, didn’t stop there—he chased the man down the street, cleaver in hand, yelling at him the whole way.

Sol and Helen had a long, happy marriage until their deaths, long before I was born. They were apparently so well-loved in their neighborhood that when they eventually retired and sold their shop, the community threw a giant block party in their honor. Somewhere, packed away in my dad’s house, there’s an old album with grainy photos of that day—a celebration of two lives that left such a lasting mark on everyone around them.

They were survived by my grandfather, who, as I mentioned earlier, passed away many years ago. Even so, I can still vaguely remember him—a warm, bald man with an infectious belly laugh and the kind of hugs that made you feel completely safe and loved. Sol and Helen raised a good man, someone who spent the last 30 years of his life using his law degree not to climb the ladder at some fancy law firm, but to defend people against predatory IRS practices, fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Tragically, despite his dedication to helping others, he was let down by the U.S. healthcare system and died from a preventable cause—a painful irony for a man who spent his life trying to make things fairer for others.

All this to say, immigrants built this country, shaping everything from agriculture to art and contributing to the few parts of the U.S. that make life here worth living. No one should have to justify why they deserve to exist somewhere, but immigrants have more than proven their value. Without them, much of what we think of as quintessentially American wouldn’t exist—from Italians giving us pizza to Japanese workers building the railroads, to Mexican communities enriching our culture, to a small immigrant-owned grocery store quietly supporting the creation of one of America’s most beloved songs. Immigrants aren’t just part of the story—they are the story, woven into the very fabric of this nation.

Fuck Elon Musk

Fuck our orange dictator

Fuck Nazis

And remember kids, always punch Nazis in their stupid fucking face.

Or chase them with a cleaver, you have options.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, that is all.

[intothetlkverse]

Decided to challenge myself by drawing every single TLK character out there, up until this point in time, and post it here. You can see the finished project on my main account, though I figured to post it on my tumblr just show I could proudly show off my work and a few of my head canons.

Here are all the hornbills across TLK:

Starting off is the OG 'red-billed' hornbill, majordomo for Mufasa and Simba's reign, the king's left-wing bird, Zazu(answer-Igbo) and nieces and nephews, Binti, Mwana, and Zinga. Binti(daughter) originally comes from the January 1996 draft of TLK2 and is meant to be Zazu's girlfriend in this, however I hold the idea that Zazu is a "I'm married to my job" guy, though he is slowly getting into spending time with Timon's mom as he begins to consider retirement. Binti here is Zazu's niece though Babazu, and while she gets along with her uncle, she's too much of a free-spirit to be bogged down by such a hefty position like king's left hand man. Jicho and her brother Mwana will be a more suitable successors. Mwana's(son) is more diligent, knowledgeable, and calm unlike his sister, and also took an immediate liking to his uncle and expressed an interest in the tasks associated with being a majordomo, so Zazu agreed to have him apprentice under him as a future scout. He doesn't belong to TLK media and is my character, but I figured I'd add him and Zazu's father just to fil, in the family tree. Lastly we have Zinga, Zinga/Uzinga(honey), Zazu's niece and these two's cousins from from "The Bird-Sitters". Uzinga is very mischievous and daring, picking that from her stepmom and occasionally making it difficult for others to talk/control her, but she's very sweet and enthusiastic, able to endear herself to others quickly, and is best friends with her cousin and Babazu's daughter Binti.

Next up are Zazu's siblings, Babazu(father-to) and older sister Nazu(back-Igbo), mentioned in the phrase "There's one in every family, sire. Two in mine, actually", though apparently they were meant to be the names of the deleted tickbirds on Herr Rhino who egged him on as he chased Simba and Baasho. For the longest time they weren't speaking with Zazu, mostly since he originally didn't decide to try to be the next majordomo while they both were attempting to learn from their mother, the previous majordomo of Ahadi/Uru's reign, though Zazu just happened to help Mufasa out with finding and helping out his future wife Sarabi and thus scored the position. The two eventually moved out and it wouldn't be until a few seasons later, when they had both started families and Zazu was well established as Mufasa's majordomo that they began to reconnect, trying to rebuild the strained relationship. The statement Zazu says about them to Mufasa is in reference to how the two purposefully missed out his announcement and introduction ceremony to the Pridelands out of envy, something both of them regret now. Beside Nazu is her wife Uju(honey), who was Zazu's girlfriend from "Heartbreaker Zazu". They did use to date, though between his demanding job and their opposite personalities(Zazu being more strict and rule-abiding while Uju being more free-spirited and daring), the two amicably broke up. She would eventually get together with Zazu's sister Nazu and together they had Zinga together.

Next up are Zazu and his siblings' parents, Jafari(creek) and Zuzu/Uzuzu(nonsense). Zuzu was Ahadi's majordomo from "A Tale of Two Brothers", and Zazu's predecessor. Jafari is my own character, though I figured to add him in just to ensure consistency with the family. He is the kind, supportive, and emotional parent compared to his strict, overbearing ex-wife. He's the more popular grandparent, getting involved in both his kids and grandchicks lives and being there to  be the supportive dad. As for Zuzu, she's spent her entire life being the ideal hornbill majordomo. She's built up a reputation of being reliable, knowledgeable, and an involved majordomo, which is to say that she is a busybody, gossip, and often snobbish. She was insistent on having a legacy of majordomos within the pride, so she really pushed for her chicks to follow in her wingbeats, causing a wedge to form between them that only increased when Zazu proved himself to be the next candidate for the role, and so she devoted most of her time and energy into grooming him into being the next majordomo. While Zazu can say he enjoys his work, his mother's overbearing, snobbish, and insensitive teaching methods formed a rift between them, and finally, after mouthing off a few too many times about the new king Mufasa, Zazu finally tore her a new one and demanded she leave him alone. Infuriated and humiliated, she did. Zuzu returned back to stay with Jafari in the time being. Jafari had divorced her during the early part of Mufasa's reign after seeing how her actions had turned their chicks against them and moved with his kids to a neighboring territory, though being the gracious, kind soul he was, allowed her to stay close by, though their kids keep her on a leash when it comes to interacting with her grandchicks. At the moment, she's seen as the crabby old lady whom her kids keep a close eye on to ensure she isn't trying to stir up unhealthy competition or unhealthy goals in.

Next up we have Kigali(watch-Igbo), a Southern yellow-billed hornbill from Operation Pridelands, one of Zazu's scouts and closest childhood friend. Kigali spent most of his life exploring and experiencing the world, so when Zazu reunited with him after his release from Scar's tyrannical rule, he entrusted Kigali with help trying to find and bring back the the herds and animals which had left to return back to the Pridelands with the message that there was a new king. Kigali is friendly, wise, and very knowledgeable, though he also has a quick wit and tendency to tease. He and Zazu often will greet each other with snarky, friendly insults, though they are all in the spirit of fun. He also has similar British accent. He also is the father of several chicks, to which Zazu plays uncle for them too.

Beside him is my take on TLK 2019/Broadway Zazu, so meet Uzaz(answer). A red-billed hornbill/Von der Decken's hornbill hybrid majordomo for the Zinari Pride of my "TLK2 but slightly to the left" project. Uzaz is snooty, condescending, and prideful, though he is able to get the job done. He does have a rivalry with the neighboring pride's majordomo, a malachite kingfisher named Zuza, though over time they're relationship has gone from rivals to 'rivals', but with a softer edge'. The two constantly make jabs and pecks at each other, critiquing the other's style, methods, appearance, likes/dislikes, choice of hangout place, choice of best romantic areas, what date is their first meeting anniversary... yeah the two get married in the end.

Lastly are Kigali's many, many chicks from "Greedy Is As Greedy Does". Sort a Billy Goats Gruff, but with hyenas and hornbills, the our hyena trio of Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed find little Ibo/Ibhoko(goat-Zulu) by his lonesome and plan to eat him, but he namedrops his bigger sister Sibo/Sibuko(mirror-Zulu), and the hyenas agree to 'help him find' his sister. When they do, Sibo mentions their big sister, Kibo, prompting the hyenas to go and find her, and the two eventually lead the hyenas to their flock and massive family, whereupon, seeing the multitude of hornbills, promptly drop the two chicks off and flee for their lives. Ibhoko and Sibuko are the youngest and last chicks of the two, though the Kigali and his wife Gibo/Gimbaya(princess-African) have seven lovely chicks, composed of six older daughters and the youngest their son. From oldest to youngest, left to right, we have Zibo/Ziba(gorgeous-Arabic), Hibo/Ihubo(hymm-Zulu), Mibo/Omi(water-Yoruba), Kibo/Kibra(jungle-Arabic), Dibo/Idibo(vote-Yoruba), Sibo,Sibuko, and Ibo/Ibhoko. Their mother started this tradition of naming her chicks and give them nicknames of 'letter' + -'ibo'. Each one of their chicks are are beautiful as their mother and as strong as their father, or vice versa as their mother would say. I used the wiki with the comic for reference for the names, though aside from Ibo and Sibo none of them have any identifying features, so I kinda had to use the other hornbills in the background and go off from there and my design for Kigali. Also the wiki does mention several names for Ibo/Sibo's sisters that aren't in the comic itself, which I'm gonna assume is an error, though I decided just to go with both the names mentioned on the wiki and said in the comic. Gibo, for example, was supposed to be a sister, but is only mentioned in the wiki and not in the comic, so I decided just to add her in and make her Kigali's mate and the mother of the seven. They do go by the nicknames as a family tradition, though mostly its used by Kigali.

[agentnico]

Nosferatu (2024) review

What a lovely romantic tale… Should have been a Valentine’s movie!

Plot: In the 1830s, estate agent Thomas Hutter travels to Transylvania for a fateful meeting with Count Orlok, a prospective client. In his absence, Hutter's new bride, Ellen, is left under the care of their friends, Friedrich and Anna Harding. Plagued by horrific visions and an increasing sense of dread, Ellen soon encounters an evil force that's far beyond her control.

Went to see it with my parents and my wife. Parents (who are fans of the original 1922 and 1979 Nosferatu versions) came out hugely disappointed, complaining how ugly, dark and bland this movie was and “why the hell are all characters constantly breathing so heavily??”. My wife was more horrified by ‘the pigeon scene’, and apparently that was her only note. I get it, a guy does eat a pigeon’s head - it’s disgusting. Moving on. As for me, I find myself somewhere in the middle with this new horror film from Robert Eggers. Has some genuinely cool shot compositions, and a couple of the cast performances are truly a stand out, but otherwise this an okay take on the Bram Stoker inspired vampire tale, that heavily relies on stealing ideas from other horror movies, especially The Exorcist. Also, was with all those slow camera turns? There were so many of them, each one seemingly done to set-up a jump scare, except a jump scare never came, making the slow pans be nothing more than pointless tension build-up, but because it was being done all the time it actually didn’t offer any tension whatsoever.

This is Bill Skarsgard’s and Lily-Rose Depp’s movie - these two absolutely shine in their roles. Johnny Depp’s daughter in particular giving an extremely committed performance, with Eggers getting her to morph and yank her body about so much between despair and ecstasy, that it was admirable how much she was willing to do to bring this cursed character to life. As for Bill Skarsgard, had I not known beforehand that Skarsgard was in this movie, I would never have guessed that he played the main Count Orlok. It’s a Hollywood cliche to say, but honestly he is unrecognisable as the titular vampire. Not only due to the ‘zombie-Vlad-the-Impaler’ make-up and darkly lit cinematography, but also his voice. Like my dude provides a guttural vocal with a thick Romanian accent, and it sounds nothing like real-life Bill Skarsgard. There’s an element of pitch black humour through his deadpan delivery of certain lines in broken English, but indeed this performance should be applauded, as its a perfect example of an actor getting lost in a character. Should also give a shout out to my guy Willem Dafoe, who seems to be the only one who embraces the silliness of the movie by delivering a theatrically zany performance. As for Nicholas Hoult, aside from the head-scratching ironic fact that he also recently played Renfield opposite Nic Cage’s Dracula, he is just regular Nicholas Hoult. And Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who mind you I usually admire, did not work for me in this movie. His performance felt really fake, and particular a late outburst of his came off really over-the-top and cheesy. Sorry Aaron, please don’t hate, I still ship you as James Bond!!

I believe Robert Eggers’s style of filmmaking of dark and gritty takes on horror, folklore and mythology can be very effective and powerful depending on the material he is tackling. However with the vampire tale inspired from Bram Stoker’s novel, I wish he gave this movie a bit more colour. There are some truly incredible shots in this, from the shadowy hand hovering over the city to Hoult’s Thomas travelling to Orlok’s castle with that sequence alone providing some fantastic imagery and transition work, however most of the movie is too dark. I get that it’s a monster story primarily set at night in shadows, but let’s take Francis Ford Coppola’s version of Bram Stoker’s Dracula - the use of colour in that movie, from the bright reds to the lighting projecting through the multi-coloured stained glass, to the costumers, it’s all really vibrant and feels like a true vision. Eggers on the other hand opts for full minimalism, which, even though results in a few fantastic sequences, doesn’t make for a visually entertaining full movie experience. The movie is also really slow. I don’t mind slow movies (again, Paris Texas is one of my favourites) but in Nosferatu it’s primarily due to long slow camera pans that offer nothing but pointless suspense that leads to no climax. Heck, even when the naughty erotic scenes come about there’s hardly a climax either, just saying.

Overall score: 5/10

[roguelov]

Ok but your tags on that Longlegs post 😂

I said what said and I’m a proud owner of a dumbass brain 😂 I even said it was jfk with my full chest then my sister (who saw it with me) was like ‘… dude that was Bill Clinton’ and I was like ‘��� … you’re right’

I’ll put some rambling thoughts below so no spoilers

Like to be fair the movie was good but I thought it was going to lean more towards mystery serial killer thriller not spooks and shit (although once I did see it was satan I did play the game of trying to find that goat man in the background)

I can do thrillers and killers but demons/ghosts I don’t mix well (I blame paranormal activity given that was my first big horror movie after swearing to not touch a single horror movie ever cuz like I said I’m a baby but I’m slowly getting into horror like some of Mike flangans stuff)

I will be fighting the head of fbi in a parking lot because why the fuck was his daughter’s birthday never brought up???? MY GUY THE BRIGHT WARNING SIGNS ARE FLASHING AND YOU WENT ‘couldn’t be for me’ (it probably was like oh satan already has him so that why he didn’t say anything and blah blah blah bullshit)

Him: why did you tell me your birthday was on the 14th?

Me: ok so like your daughter apparently doesn’t matter 🤨

Also was everyone uninvited to the party or was there no party to begin with? I like the former for shits and giggles like ‘yeah sorry Bethany the party has been canceled due to satan yeah you’re going to have to return your gift you bought’

And like Harker just not stopping the dad from killing his wife was bonkers. Yeah yeah I know the mom was like ‘she’s already dead’ while frankly I don’t give a fuck how about you stop that man cuz I sat there like ‘… we’re just letting this happen?? Not even going to try??? Not even a lil bit????’

I did not watch homie bash his brains in cuz he hit his head once and I went ‘you know what … I’m actually good on seeing this’

I did love the cool upside shot of her on the bed and just the whole aesthetic and cinematography of the movie it was stunning

Also for some reason when they first showed Harker’s cabin I swore her home as a child was in the background so I thought we lived near it for motivation and what not but alas it was just a random ass white house that held no importance

WAIT ALSO I REMEMBERED WHY THE FUCK DID HARKER NOT CALL IN FOR THE SHOOTER IN THE FIRST 10 MINUTES I WAS LIKE ‘GIRL CALL FOR BACK UP YOUR PARTNER JUST GOT SHOT’ SHE HAD ME PANICKING AS SHE SEARCHED THAT HOUSE

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#168):

First watch: Hitchcock’s third feature, the 1927 silent The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, which established him as a 'thriller master'. It shows an early fascination with themes that will occupy him for decades: An innocent man falsely accused, association between sex and murder, his obsession with blondes, the fear of authority. 9/10.

🍿  

5 Classic re-watches:

🍿 "The worst thing that can happen in sports was 4th-place at the Olympics.”

My 3rd or 4th visit with Aaron Sorkin's masterful debut, Molly's Game [His two follow-up features 'The Trial of the Chicago 7' and 'Being the Ricardos' were forgettable]. Why is it so engaging? Mostly for the impeccable script which should be read simultaneously. But also, for the sharp dialogue, crisp editing, and spectacular performances from Jessica Chastain. A real-life champion superhero, who excels in anything she sets her mind to, a mesmerizing strong women, with a vulnerable father-daughter hole in her heart.

It also featured powerhouse acting from everybody else in the cast, the male pigs (Kevin Costner, Jeremy Strong, Michael Cera, Brian d'Arcy James, Bill Camp, Chris O'Dowd) and the two 'Mensches' (lawyer Idris Elba and judge Graham Greene). I loved that the move from LA to NYC happened at exactly 1:08, the precise mid-point of the movie, but then you wouldn't expect anything else from the play-writer, would you? 10/10. ♻️

🍿 There are movies that most people will only watch once, and Schindler's List is on top of the list. But after 'The Zone of Interest' I had to re-visit it, feeling that it probably did not age well, and wouldn't compare to ‘Zone’, (which I consider the Best movie of 2024, so far). I was mostly wrong: It was 'Auschwitz given the exaggerated Spielberg treatment', with atrocious accents and manipulative sentimentality, but it's still better than most holocaust films. Schindler was converted from being a war profiteer into a saint, and Amon Göth stayed a mad monster in and out. 'Night and fog' and 'Shoah' are still better introductions to the subject, without the usual Hollywood simplified glorification. ♻️

🍿 The Dark Side of the Rainbow is the pairing of the Pink Floyd album 'The Dark Side of the Moon' with the film 'The Wizard of Oz'. This produces numerous moments of apparent synchronicity where the film and the album appear to correspond. It does work, but the record has to be played 2.5 times, which raises the possibility that you could tack it on most anything. Two psychedelic classics. Flying monkeys, pink horses and the man behind the curtain. Available on 'Internet Archive'. ♻️

🍿  "Let's invent surrealism!" said Buñuel to his creative buddy Salvador Dalí, probably while on ether – or absinthe. And so they did. First with 'Un Chien Andalou' and the following year with L'Age d'Or. It must have been so heady to create so much outrage and be so misunderstood. Everything that was holy, acceptable, and "normal" was trampled down and pissed on. And the scandals which followed were disruptive, the shocks sweet. Subversive, anti-bourgeois, Wagnerian. ♻️

🍿 "How do you know so much about swallows?" Monty Python and the Holy Grail, (or as it was called in Japanese "Holy Sake Cup"), one of the greatest comedies of all times, and containing 527 jokes. I didn't remember that the "Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords" concept originated here, at the 'self-perpetuating autocracy' scene. So quotable! 9/10. ♻️

🍿  

"I bid you good night..."

J-P Melville's minimalist directorial debut, The silence of the sea. During the occupation, an elderly man and his niece are forced to give shelter to a Nazi officer at their home in the country. The conscientious German tries to engage them with respectful dialogue every night, but their only response to him, their only way of resistance, is with total silence. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. (Photo Above).

🍿  

My Favorite Wife, another Cary Grant vehicle, belonging to the 'Comedy of re-marriage' sub-genre, which was popular in the 30's and 40's ('The Philadelphia Story', etc.). He's marrying a second wife, but gets back with first wife Irene Dunne who was presumed dead. But mostly, it's notable for the visibly bisexual vibes between him and real-life boyfriend Randolph Scott.

🍿  

2 more from Paweł Pawlikowski:

🍿 "My mum loves men who make her cry..."

Last resort (2000), my 6th soulful film by favorite Polish director, his first in English. A young Russian woman comes to England with her 10-year-old son, but the man she thinks of as her fiance, never shows up at the airport. She gets desperately stuck in a bureaucratic limbo while waiting for a political asylum she had asked for by mistake, until she meets decent guy Paddy Considine, another lonely "fucked up" soul. The run-down seaside town of Margate looks grim and unpleasant. 7/10.

🍿 Before venturing into fiction, Pawlikowski was known for his documentaries. Dostoevsky’s Travels was an early 1991 one. It's a strangely-staged story not about Fyodor Dostoevsky the novelist, but about Dimitri Dostoevsky, his tram-driver great-grandson and only descendant. Dimitri leaves St. Petersburg for Berlin, Luxembourg and London, trying to cash in on his ancestor's good name among literary fans in the west, so that he can buy a used Mercedes Benz, and bring it back to Mother Russia. It sounds like fiction made by Borat, and maybe it is.

🍿  

My first Kaiju film ever, the original Godzilla (1954), the giant monster. A collective Japanese reaction to the destruction caused by the Atomic bombing, with identical shots of incineration and devastation. With 'Ikiru's Takashi Shimura. With the exception of 'Jaws', I don't think I ever had any interest in disaster movies like this. 2/10.

Extra: Fire! (1901), one of the first 'Disaster films' ever, and my third short by Scottish pioneer James Williamson. Showing firefighters rescuing victims from a house fire.

🍿  

Allied (2016), a glossy historical drama a-la 'Casablanca', also taking place in Morocco during the WW2 and also dealing with spies and romance. With Brad Pitt as Bogart, and Marion Cotillard as Bergman having steamy sex during a sandstorm. Any movie that uses Django Reinhardt in the score is OK with me.

🍿  

Arthur Penn's disappointing adaptation of Arlo Guthrie's 18-minute blues anthem Alice's Restaurant. While the song is a perennial Thanksgiving classic, and the voices of Guthrie (and Pete Seeger) are distinct and beloved, the movie is a weak attempt to capture the Hippy spirit of the late 1960's. Counter-culture at its worst.

The acting was also terrible all around, with two exceptions: Tina Chen, who played Janice for 2 minutes in 'Three days of the condor', was lovely here too, and M. Emmet Walsh stood out as 'Group W Sergeant', in his first ever small film role. Roger Ebert created the “Stanton-Walsh Rule,” which held that (nearly) no movie featuring either Harry Dean Stanton or M. Emmet Walsh in a supporting role can be altogether bad. This is one of the exceptions.

RIP, M. Emmet Walsh!

🍿  

Breaking news, my first (and last) inane action story from Hong Kong director Johnnie To. The only different detail from hundreds of other like this is the elder policeman who buys a hot sweet potato from a street vendor, and farts loudly the rest of the movie. 1/10.

🍿  

Lammbock, another lousy German stoner comedy from 2001. Might as well be called 'Toking and driving'. Unfunny, low-budget and dirty feeling. 1/10.

🍿  

3 Shorts:

🍿 Tribute to the teachers, a 1977 Iranian short film directed by Abbas Kiarostami. A time capsule of social idealism just before the revolution.

🍿 Good Night, Nurse (1918), my second silent two-reeler with "Fatty" Arbuckle & Buster Keaton, about a drunk who's admitted to a sanitarium in order to cure him for alcoholism

🍿 Pusling ("Crybaby"), a 2008 Danish film about a 3rd grade girl who's being bullied by a class mate. Typically Danish, but not that great.

/ Female Director

🍿

Throw-back to the "Art project”:  

Hitchcock Adora.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)

[lieutenant-columbro]

Some interesting facts about Peter Falk:

He was an artist! Like not only an actor, he drew stuff

https://bit.ly/3CJUueQ (an article about an exhibition of his work in the late 00’s)

Another, more sad fact is that there’s a law in NY named after him. Apparently his second wife disclosed barely any information to the rest of his family about Peter’s condition later in life, even failing to notify them of his death in a timely manner. This prompted his daughter Catherine to campaign for legislation that would prevent things like this happening again.

https://www.nysenate.gov/legislation/bills/2015/S5154

his art is super cool! i remember in one interview lee grant said he would go to the art student's league every day while they were rehearsing "the prisoner of second avenue", it was basically his way to deal with the stress of being on broadway. he also mentioned in his autobiography that he had liked drawing for quite a while before that, but he thought the fact that he needed to look at a reference meant he was cheating 😭😭 like brooooo

as for the second fact, god 😔😔 it's obviously not my place to comment on his private family matters, but alzheimers is some of the scariest and saddest fucking shit ANYONE could ever go through and it breaks my heart to think about it, he deserved so much better

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

Alright.

A list of things I need or need to do over the next week:

1. Somehow come up with $400 in the next three days to pay the phone bill. (THIS IS URGENT? I CAN'T DOORDASH ENOUGH TO MAKE THIS.)

2. Organize a fundraiser to cremate Raven's wife. I wanna go with the Neptune Society because even though they're a little more expensive, they just take care of everything, and they also offer grief counseling.

3. Use the little money I have to buy cat food. (Thank you to the person who sent me a lil' something bc that paid for cat food and toilet paper. I had to get a used tire and spent $50 for it - super cheap, but not $50 I could really spare. Fuck people who leave screws laying in the roadway.)

4. Somehow come up with $70 to pay my car insurance.

5. Get a power of attorney notarized and faxed to like seven different places. If anyone knows a cheap or free notary in Carson City or Reno, let me know, because my usual guy is on vacation.

6. File said power of attorney with the Carson City records department. (This apparently costs money and doesn't mean shit.)

7. Write letters to a judge.

8. Request records from a DA.

9. Request records from four different schools.

10. Take Raven to get their final VA disability assessment.

11. File paperwork for backdated pay from the VA based on the reason Raven was discharged (honorably).

12. Call Raven's therapist and have her call Raven to schedule a session before she leaves on vacation.

13. Call my therapist for same.

14. Call my doctor to get a refill on my migraine prevention meds.

15. Go through a fuckload of legal documents and create a timeline.

16. Call a jail and get visitor records logs.

17. Order urns and urn jewelry and somehow come up with the money for that.

18. Potentially plan for a relocation to the east coast.

19. Haggle with a judge about settling a warrant with out-of-state jail time, or a reduced sentence of some sort.

20. Organize a pay schedule for something owed.

21. Devise a potential parenting plan.

22. Acquire some CPS reports.

23. Acquire some records in Washington and Oregon.

24. Find Southwest Airline points or fundraise to get my daughter to Oregon to help a friend who's pro-choice overall but not for abortion for herself, get an abortion because of circumstance. :(

25. I guess sleep and eat somewhere in between this all.

I'm so tired.

Uh if you can help with any of this my PayPal is tashabot at gmail dot com and my. Cashapp is $tashabot. I'm so tired. I work two jobs and I'm still broke. I need a nap. I cannot nap, I need to go to work in a few hours.

[twilightdruig]

help?

pairing : george weasley x fem!reader

summary : “hi i’m your neighbor and while i know we’ve never spoken but you’re a single parent of two and my sister recently died leaving me to raise her infant and i have no idea what i’m doing, help?” au

warnings : swearing , mentions of character deaths , fluff , au where george lives alone with his two children in a cottage near the burrow , au where fred and cedric live.

words : 2.6k

a/n : this is my first fic so it’s probably gonna be shit (as you can probably tell i’m not good with titles either) but yeah hope you enjoy :> and i might do a little part 2 on this soon

holly l/n was loved by multiple. a sweet hufflepuff student who was favored by all the teachers and students. her sister, y/n was a scary and intimidating gryffindor who hung out in the library.

ever since the battle of hogwarts death eaters have been imprisoned in azkaban. but, that didn’t mean all harm was gone.

now here y/n l/n was, standing in the heat of the summer, her nephew connor l/n mourning the death of a family member.

the service was beautiful. a few hogwarts students came including luna lovegood and neville longbottom and professor sprout and professor flitwick decided to pay their respects. headmistress mcgonagall sent her condolences through a letter as well.

conner wasn’t old enough to go to hogwarts yet. there was no one else for holly to leave connor with. her husband, ronan died during the war, all connor’s grandparents died and the only appointed godparents were holly’s best friend cedric diggory and her sister y/n.

cedric diggory was now teaching first year flying at hogwarts and is married to cho chang.

y/n was currently doing nothing with her life. she wanted to live alone in a cottage, reading, stitching, picking apples and getting drunk on fruity cocktails. but now? she had to take care of her sister’s spoiled son.

y/n hated children more than she hated the people in her own hogwarts house. more so, she didn’t know how to take care of them.

she had to enroll her nephew in hogwarts, teach him basic life skills and other stuff like that. there goes her life goal on being that cool stoner aunt that hates love and children.

—

“shit, connor!” y/n exclaimed as her 3 year old nephew accidentally ate a ton tongue toffee made by the joke shop in diagon alley owned by the weasleys.

“sorry aunty y/n”

she was never close to the weasleys. all of them, stereotypical gryffindors, loud and chaotic and always the main characters.

the only thing she knew about them is that one of the twins live next to her. y/n didn’t know how to shrink his tongue and thought it was quite the convenience that he lives next door. he was a single dad with two daughters, maybe he could help her control her nephew and technically her adopted son, now.

she sighed. “put on your coat, we’re visiting our neighbors, ok con?” the little boy nodded in response

—

went the small cottage came into view, there were two little girls picking flowers on the front yard and a tall red-headed man on the porch watching them.

“hey! weasley!” she yelled with a small smile as she approached the small gate.

“l/n? what are you doing here?” george asked

y/n gestured to her nephew who was holding his now 3 foot long tongue. “he accidentally ate one of your products and i’m not entirely sure how to fix it”

“right, right” he laughed “come on, connor right? i’ll reverse that”

y/n felt a tug at her oversized cardigan. she looked down to see two identical ginger twins.

“hi there!” one smiled.

“hello!” y/n tried to sound as nice as possible. looking back at her teenage years she remembered laughing at kids who fell of their brooms their brooms when she’d watch first year flying. she remembered laughing at seamus finnigan when something blew up in his face. or when she’d laugh at any kid accidentally getting hurt.

“these are for you! they’re pretty just like you” the other twin exclaimed.

“i’m charlotte and she’s billie” charlotte giggled.

“how do u know our daddy?” billie asked

“oh! um, we went to school together and i live just next door” y/n replied

“do you know our uncle freddie?”

“i know all your uncles and your aunt ginny, aunt hermione and uncle harry. they were all famous when we were in school”

“wow!” they both exclaimed

george and connor came back out. “look aunty y/n! my tongue’s normal again!”

“aunty?” george questioned. “holly. she died quite recently.”

“oh! i’m so sorry. i heard about her. yeah. i believe mum sent some flowers for the service”

“yeah we received them”

“i’ll see you around?” george inquired

“yeah, yeah. and i might need some parenting advice? you knew how i was back at hogwarts”

“i am flattered, dear l/n”

“oh hush. and they get along.” she pointed to the three children running around.

“they do. and yes, i would love to help you tame that little rascal” george laughed.

“thank you, george. really.”

“i’m just next door, yeah?”

“yeah” y/n smiled “come on, connor. we’re going home. but we’ll definitely be seeing these lovely ladies soon.”

“bye pretty lady!” y/n heard two young voices call after her

“daddy, who was she?”

“is she gonna be our new mommy?”

—

george and y/n had been hanging out for the past weeks. he had given her advice on taking care of connor and how to deal with children. they also spent time talking about family and their time back at hogwarts. she was told about the attack of death eaters at one of his brothers’ wedding and how his daughters were named after his brothers bill and charlie.

a knock at y/n’s door interrupted her reading.

“oi, l/n!” she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

“weasley” she muttered.

connor recognized george’s voice and the twins’ giggles, he decided he would take matters into his own little hands. connor knew how stubborn his aunt was at the young age of seven.

“hi billie! hi charlotte! hi uncle george!” the little boy squealed.

“hey there, con!” george ruffled his hair while billie and charlotte ran over to y/n.

connor and the twins were two years apart. connor was going to hogwarts the next year. no doubt would he be trouble to professor mcgonagall but everyone knew they were always her favorites.

“aunty y/n! uncle george brought cookies!” connor yelled excitedly. y/n was never the type to bake or cook. she did try to but it always ended in almost burning the house down. she usually fed connor fruits or store bought food.

“you didn’t have to” y/n responded while taking the plastic box.

“oh yes i did” he teased “i heard you’ve been starving this poor little fellow”

“daddy didn’t bake those cookies” charlotte stated “grandma did” billie continued

“oh” she smirked at george then turned to the twins “tell your grandma i say thanks!”

“uncle george! i wanna show you something outside! the twins can come too!”

“connor, what are you gonna show them?” y/n grumbled.

“your paintings! they’re amazing” her nephew jumped.

“paintings, eh?” george smiled “okay, let’s go, champ. see those paintings of your aunt.” the two scurried outside, two redheaded girls following after.

y/n groaned and fell back into the couch, finishing her book.

—

it’s been a few days since george and the twins came with cooking to y/n and connor’s cottage. she wanted to throw connor a little surprise birthday party.

connor has loved the twins and george so much, he thinks of them as blood relatives. y/n decided to call up cedric and cho to look after connor while she’d do some errands.

the two arrived exactly on time as y/n was preparing to go out. she had on a simple cardigan and loose denim pants.

“ced! cho! hi, how are you guys?” y/n greeted as she saw her old friends apparate into the cottage.

“hi y/n!” cho greeted “hey nerd” cedric snickered.

she sent cedric a small glare before connor jumped at the two.

“uncle ceddy! aunty cho! you’re here” he shouted.

“yeah buddy! your aunt’s gonna run some errands and visit your uncle georgie?” cedric winked at y/n. she had been owling cedric about george and how he’s been helping her with connor.

“are you going out with uncle george?” connor asked, eyes twinkling.

“i don’t know, actually. i might check him out next door.”

“george weasley?” cho teased.

“yes, cho,” y/n rolled her eyes “but on that note, i have to go”

“bye, connor! behave okay?” she crouched down and squished his cheeks.

“bye, ced! cho!” her voice faded when she dashed out the door.

—

y/n passed george’s cottage to see if he actually might want to come with her and do errands.

she was standing outside the small gate, hesitating. ‘maybe he was busy’ ‘he wouldn’t want to do errands with me’ ‘maybe he would if i told him it was for connor’s birthday’ she thought. y/n didn’t know why she was overthinking her choices. the first time she was standing right outside the gate she bursted in and demanded george to fix whatever happened to her nephew. now, she was nervous. her palms were sweaty and clammy.

she pushed herself in and walked to the front porch. she knocked a few times and was met with a head of messy brown hair.

“hermione?!” she squealed

“y/n!” hermione jumped to hug her old friend.

there were overlapping voices in the background and when they pulled away she was met with multiple mops of ginger hair, a head of blonde hair and another with black hair behind hermione.

“l/n?” ginny weasley asked, quite shocked what she would be doing outside george’s door.

“oh! did i interrupt something? i am so sorry!” she said feeling a bit nervous.

“oh! you must be the dearest y/n george keeps talking about!” an old woman she thought was mrs. weasley approached her from behind her children.

“hi there!” y/n said feeling a little embarrassed she might’ve barged in on a family reunion.

“ah! l/n? i have heard of your family! muggle-borns right?” arthur weasley joined his wife.

“uh, yeah!” she pursed her lips “i am so so sorry i interrupted! i should go. tell george i’ll swing by next time”

“oh it’s absolutely alright, dear” molly reassured her.

“george! there’s a really pretty girl! get your arse out here!” fred yelled to george who was probably inside the house.

“is she here?” charlotte and billie ran to the door.

“hi girls! tell you dad i was here yeah? say i’ll come by next time” most of the weasleys came back in. she took it as her time to go on with her day.

“oi! y/n! wait up” the voice she recognized as george’s called after her.

“george, hey”

“where’r you off to?” george pointed to the small bag that was swung over her shoulder.

“errands. connor’s birthday is coming up so i thought i’d prepare something for him. first birthday without his mum, you know”

“his birthday’s coming up?” george looked as excited as a child on christmas morning.

“yeah. why?” she smiled

“you’re talking to one of the best party planners there is. you also did talk to another one of them… i think”

“fred?”

“oh yeah”

“i wanted to ask if you wanted to come but seeing as to your family is in your house… i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you aren’t available right now” she giggled.

“maybe if you went another day” he said sympathetically. george really wanted to go and prepare connor’s party with her. he treated him like his own and boy did he remind him of how fun it was to be a kid. he loved his aunt so much it was adorable.

“george. seriously, it’s okay. spend time with your family” she laughed.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you when you get back” he waved.

—

connor’s small birthday gathering was in full swing. y/n became acquainted with george’s siblings. bill, charlie, percy (whom she was actually friends with back in hogwarts), fred, ron and ginny. hermione was a very good friend of hers and so was harry. she recognized fleur from that day in the cottage as beauxbatons triwizard champion.

connor had quite a bunch of guests for his birthday. cedric, cho, luna, neville, fred, percy, ron, harry, hermione, bill and fleur and their little victorie. of course, billie and charlotte helped george and y/n fix up the party. mr. and mrs. weasley sent a small cake for connor when they heard about y/n not knowing asingle thing about cooking.

fred offered to take care of the twins and connor while george and y/n ran off somewhere. the two found themselves near a small creek. y/n explained how the cottage was where she’d go off exploring and the only person who knew was holly. she was overjoyed when her sister got the cottage she used as a hideaway.

george was surprised when there were lights and blankets and everything. the soft sounds of running water was calming.

the two were pretty intoxicated when they sat down; stumbled onto the picnic blanket. y/n was sober enough to not spill her deepest darkest secrets. george on the other hand…

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?” george mumbled next to her. y/n only snickered and blushed.

“um, can i hold your hand?” he continued, taking a look at the girl next to him.

“sure” she winked.

“you know” he started again “i actually fancied you a bit back in school”

“yeah?” she rolled over to her side “i wonder… what did you like about me?”

“i don’t even know. my heart just felt so full with you. still does, right now, holding your hand, under the stars by a stream.” he had this glint in his eye when he looks at her.

“hey,” she brushed some hair out of his face “these past few months have been great. and you’re a huge help with connor. you know i’ll always be there for you, right?”

“yeah darling,” he yawned “yeah”

“wait, george!” she sat up “no. don’t fall asleep!”

“fuck” she groaned before falling back down on the blanket.

“i think i love you” she whispered.

—

morning rolled around and they were still lying somewhere in the forest behind the cottage. some childish chatter and laughs were heard from where they were still sleeping soundly.

until, a red ant bit y/n and george’s intertwined hands. “ah shit!” y/n woke up from the bite. her yell also woke up the sleeping man next to her “what?! what happened?” he jumped.

“oh. did i wake you up?” she asked.

“no. it’s honestly no worries” he said “but i do have a killer headache”

“an ant bit me” she muttered, wanting to scratch it.

“hey, no don’t scratch! i’ve had a lot if experience with insect bites” he explained “want me to kiss it better?” he teased.

“oh, ha-ha” she rolled her eyes but blushed.

“we should probably head back” he checked his watch while standing up.

—

“ah! there the lovebirds are!” fred exclaimed.

everyone was cleaning up from last night. there were children running around while chasing balloons and each other.

“yeah,” george started “we, um, fell asleep”

“sure ya did” this time ron teased the two.

“i’m gonna clean up here,” y/n offered “you guys should go home. you know, get some rest”

cedric gasped “y/n l/n! are you kicking us out?” he said in mock offense.

“technically, yeah. i doubt connor got any sleep”

“maybe we should,” fleur said with her accent “victorie was very excited for the party she is very worn out”

george snuck behind y/n “i think i love you too” he muttered under his breath. he wasn’t sure if she heard it. she did.

“i’ll see you later, y/n!” he yelled “come on, princesses, we’re going home. we’ll see connor and y/n later”

connor and the twins hugged while y/n said thank you’s to all the guests.

maybe it wasn’t such a bad decision to ask for help.

[imnotwolverine]

Wolfie’s Fic Recs | Dad!Fics

DAD!FICS - Henry and his characters with kids, wanting kids, making kids. That’s it. That’s this list. 

Author’s note: My sincere apologies for how crazy long this list has gotten 😂 It’s like the whole fandom is agreeing on one thing: this man needs a baby ASAP. Also, thank you dear @littlefreya for your ever wonderful suggestions! 

--

With Henry

Single dad Henry is trying to figure out a hair tutorial to please his 4-year old, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. With Flowers In Her Hair by @wanna-do-bad-things 

Single dad Henry kinda hittin’ on da nanny? Picture Perfect by @fun-with-jane is a short fic series that’ll get you kinda hot, and kinda bothered (the slow burn..ARGH) 

Getting you pregnant is, apparently, a very VERY exact science including honey-wine-&-cookies.. baby. Freyja Dag by @geek-eat-repeat

And don’t forget about timing! THE TIMING! Let’s Make One Of Our Own is the sweaty hot smut you might just crave (am I the only one ovulating right now?), fic by @littlefreya. 

Sometimes it’s also just a situation of super sperm, followed by an “oopsie baby”. And when two bullheaded fuckbuddies-to-be-parents are involved, things can get pretty ..engaging: The Rules Of Engagement by @ladyreapermc (multi-chapter). 

Or perhaps it’s a situation of Henry and his untameable Hunger, by @littlefreya (yes, it’s breeeeding smut my lassies -- again, forgive me for I am thirsty) 

Pregnancy ain’t always sunshine and rainbows. There’s also a lot of change and self-doubt. But that’s nothing some coconut oil and love can’t fix, in Two Months by @littlefreya

There’s a lotttt of first times with having children, which in turn will probably give quite a few heart Flutters for poor protective dad Henry. By @littlefreya

And he’s not just protective, he’s also pretty observant. This Cute Little Drabble makes you wonder when you last bought tampons... by @toomanystoriessolittletime​

Newborns? They can be a little fussy. But again, daddy bear is here to fix it! Everything I Ever Wanted by @fuckoffbard

With the brood expanding, it’s getting a little difficult to garner the ever-craved attention of momma bear in This Is War by @cruelfvkingsummer

And when mom isn’t home? Well..the question arises what happened to all the cookies.. Daddy’s day by @angrythingstarlight

Okay, one more by @angrythingstarlight because I couldn’t choose: Baby Talk

And Henry’ll learn soon enough that changing your facial hair should go with a disclaimer. Especially when toddlers are involved. Daddy Who? by @viking-raider

And facial hair also reminds me of this fic; Domestic Life by @writernerd23 (-> “Your face is scratchy, Daddy.” <- CUTE)

The Accidental Family by me. A domestic sad-fluffy short series about memory loss -- After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.

And to carry on with the more sad fluff-stuff. How would Henry deal with the less rosy parts of trying to have children - like miscarriage? Negative is a beautiful fic that got me balling my eyes out and you should definitely read it if you’re in the need for some sad, sad fluff. By @oddduckthatgirl​

Perhaps things didn’t quite go as planned - whatever the plan was. This sad-to-fluff fic brings you on the rollercoaster of extremely sad to fuzzy warm and happy. Better Off by @toomanystoriessolittletime​

More tear-jerkers? 😭Falling Again by @deathonyourtongue follows struggling AU dad!Henry as bills keep piling and the loss of his wife haunts his every waking moment. 

Back to the fun stuff - *chants* Rugby dad! Rugby dad! I couldn’t pick just one from the extensive list of rugby dad Henry fics by @hlkwrites and @achaoticaugust - let’s be honest; this should be a genre on its own, so here’s a few: 

Henry Cavill, The Rugby Dad Part 2 (smut, daddy kink) I laughed perhaps a tad too loud at the drunk make-out session on the front lawn - here’s some short sexy rugby dad Henry drabbles. 

 A Rugby Dad’s Guide To Injury Time  (smut) I just love smut when it slow, sensual and JUST a tiny bit awkward because you’re on the couch and someone’s leg is in a cast 😜

A Rugby Dad’s Guide To The Off Season (smut) And after the hard toil of keeping a family up and running, it might just be time for a hot (tub) little break 

With Sy

A few short, golden moments in becoming first-time parents with Sy - including skin-to-skin daddy cuddles - what else do you want? Evermore by @hauntedelation is a fluffy fic that gets me all kinds of fuzzy inside.

Talking “short” golden moments..this one includes one short reader, a coffee mug and one teasing oaf-of-a-bear Syverson. (smut) Of Short Girls And High Shelves by my fellow Lisa, also known as @killjoy-assbutt-1112 (hi girl!) 

Cankles, have never been so hot a subject to talk about as they are in this lovely fic by @crimsonrae: Cigarettes and Morning Breath 

And before you know it, you have a whole brood. Will that stop Sy? Meh..probably not. Fourth Time’s The Charm by @cruelfvkingsummer

And once he HAS a daughter? Woof! Dad Syverson is probably just a LITTLE bit too overprotective. But that’s nothing a daughter-dad weekend can’t fix. Daddy Syverson by @connieisland​

Imagine this: one big chunky Captain Syverson and one tiny, tiny babygirl cradled in his arms. Are you melting yet? Siobhán is just the cutest little fic, by @littlefreya

We really want Sy to get a daughter huh? And that’ll be particularly funny when daughter sweet becomes old enough for Prom Night -- we’ll be back with overprotective daddy Sy who is ever stubborn, but also ever sweet. By @littlefreya

Onto the holidays: Santa brings back home a 5-year old’s one true wish in Santa Letter Wish by @lovelycavills 

And sometimes? You wish the babe would wait JUST a few days before getting born. Christmas, Baby by @its--fandom--darling

Now. To finish off the Sy vibes; are you perhaps in the need of one heck of a good series? Willow Run is one of the first series I read here on Tumblr and it is SO GOOD. I won’t blab and just let you read ❤️ you won’t regret it. By @deathonyourtongue

With Geralt

Geralt, Destiny, one stubborn girl and the Law of Surprise - it’s a recipe for great adventures and funny grumpy dad!Geralt moments. This wonderful multichap fic A Soldier’s Daughter is written by @viking-raider​ 

I know it’s canonically impossible for a Witcher to get anyone pregnant (due to the Trial of the Grasses). But you know..if ..and when..and maybe..then: A Gentle Soul by @killjoy-assbutt-1112

With Marshall

Some mild roleplaying, rough smutiness and unexpected news make this love-making sesh a wild-wild ride. Heart Of Darkness by @littlefreya

Sleepless is a wonderful multichap fic with Marshall x single!mom reader. @feralrunaway gives you awkward barbecue chat and protective Marshall being ever protective. There’s no masterlist, so here’s (I think) all the chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Can you imagine big hunky chunk Marshall being worried when you get all teared up with emotion? Baby Blues gives you allll the cute caring dad!Marshall you need. By @the-soot-sprite

With August

A child born out of love and chaos, is all August craves when he comes back home. Mother Of Murder by @littlefreya​ (smut) 

Bad guys, accidental babies and *BOOM* suddenly it’s not just you who calls August “daddy” ((pun intended here, please don’t hate me 😂)) Surprise, surprise.. by @maya-the-cute-ass-bee

And once such that surprise happens, August knows one thing for sure: he’d burn the whole world to a crisp if anything was to happen to you and his unborn child. In this Imagine by @littlefreya

With Napoleon

Sobs, cries and accidentally getting pregnant by spies ((the puns are getting worse, I swear I’ll show myself out in a bit)). On a serious note though: this multi-chapter is an angsty rollercoaster with a tinge of fluff by @coloraturadiva - A Mistake 

With Sherlock

Dad!Sherlock fics are surprisingly hard to find, but here’s one: Promises by @zodiyack is a bit of a modern interpretation of a Victorian household, and it sure as hell is delightful!  

--

WEW! That was a LONG list - wonderful work dear fic writers! And, as ever; if you have any good recommendations that fit in this list, please add in the comments or reblog! ❤️

( Fan art by me 😊)

[thecringefailintherye]

hi first time hearing about winnie the pooh ruining anyone's life. can you elaborate please? /gen

of course anon! (accurate grammar below bc this is a topic i am VERY passionate about)

So, I’m pretty sure we all know that in the Winnie the Pooh poems and books, they all involve a character named Christopher Robin. This character was based on A.A Milne’s real life son, Christopher-Robin Milne. Who famously never wanted the books and poetry published. Christopher apparently felt like he was in the shadow of the fictional character, and throughout most of his life spoke with resentment towards his father: “He had got where he was by climbing on my infant shoulders, that he had filched from me my good name and had left me with nothing but the empty fame of being his son.” His memoirs are filled to the brim with his pure hatred towards the Pooh titles, the character based on him, and tbh his parents.

Yknow, Christopher’s mother actually refused to see him on her deathbed, primarily because he engaged in a lot of incest with his cousin Lesley, but let’s not talk too much abt that. Towards the end of her life she actually despised her son, and not-very-fun-fact: she had a statue of him torn down. So, Chris did not have the best time as an adult,

Christopher also said he failed to find jobs, was relentlessly bullied in school and in the army, and felt his father had exploited him. He’s also, from one exception (we’ll get to that) NEVER, NEVER accepted any royalties from Pooh. In fact, the only thing he had in common with his wife-cousin Lesley, is that they both absolutely hated Winnie The Pooh.

Throughout his entire life, Christopher felt his father neglected him, and that the idea of a little boy and a bear playing in the woodlands “only existed in the hearts of other children.” Christopher-Robin Milne became famous at 6, was a fictional character until he was about 10, his parents were both seemingly emotionally unavailable (he was almost entirely raised by a Nanny, who was called Olive, or Nou, not Alice.), he was ridiculed until his late life, and even then, remained almost completely anonymous.

The only time Christopher ever accepted any Pooh royalties was to pay for his disabled daughter’s medical bills.

Perhaps Christopher would like this horror movie had he still been alive, but it’s still the thing that ruined that poor bloke’s life. If they decide to include the ‘Christopher Robin’ character, that I will be very, very, very disappointed.

Tldr, Chris Milne deserved fucking better, go read his own work, boycott anything winnie the pooh :)

If you need any recs for his own books, I’d def check out The Enchanted Places! It’s a sort of memoir/autobiography and it looks a lot into growing up as Christopher Robin!

[writesowhatnext]

submerse myself in brie // fred weasley

Summary: Bill & Fleur’s wedding is quite the event… too bad about those wedding crashers. Anyway, what wedding is complete without awkwardness at the buffet table?

Request: Are you taking requests? If you are could I ask for another Fred Weasley? Maybe something where they’re fighting together (bills wedding or battle of Hogwarts maybe?) and the reader rescues him in some way but gets injured herself but not fatally because I can’t deal with too much angst 🙈 hope that’s not too specific... also just wanted to say I love your writing it’s amazing 💕💕

A/N: thank you!!!! Terribly sorry for how long this took holy cow but I hope this is alright love I loved the request and that is why this is so long also I wasn’t quite sure how to split up the flashbacks so like we’ll see how this goes

Reader: female

Warnings: injury, battle, suggestive, couple stuff, alcohol, suggestive, implied sex

A groan peeled open your lips before you could even think about opening your eyes. You couldn’t really focus on anything, though, not when everything just ached, not with your head pounding and your ears ringing. People’s feet blurred past you, rushing and falling with flashes of light. You frowned. Blades of wet grass pressed against your cheek. The smell invaded your senses.

__

Fred groaned like a child at Molly’s pestering, the vibrations echoing down your spine. You rolled your eyes, pressing your back further into his chest in response.

“When I get married,” he said, turning to face George with a grimace. “I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full-body-bind curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

Molly tutted at her son, ignoring him for the most part as she scurried away to fix something else that didn’t really need fixing.

“Oh, really, mate?” George said, drinking his tea.

You were happy to see him up and around; you remembered how scared Fred had been after the incident on the broomsticks. The bandage around George’s head still looked particularly grizzly, but you were glad he was feeling better.

“Does Y/N have anything to say about that?” he said cheekily, hiding his face in his mug as he watched you with playful eyes.

“Why would I?” you asked, pulling away from Fred to grab a piece of toast off the table. “It’s not like my standards are low enough to marry this git.”

“Oi!” Fred huffed.

You tried to move out of his reach before he grabbed you, or worse, tickled you, but you weren’t fast enough and you squealed as he clapped his hand on your arse.

“Cheeky,” Fred said, pointing at your accusatorily as you glared back, pulling your dress straight with your toast balanced in your mouth.

“Might have to teach my wife a lesson,” he teased, shooting you a wink. As you moved to sit by George on the kitchen counter, you mimicked Fred, ignoring the backflips of your stomach at his words.

__

Your stomach flopped again as you rolled over, the wet grass splaying over your face, no doubt covering your cheeks in mud. There was a sharp pain at your side and a nagging in your head as you tried to remember what exactly was happening. Where you were. Where the bloody hell Fred was. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, every breath felt like daggers in your side, your ribs bruised horribly. Whatever happened had certainly left you winded. It could have been worse, though, you thought as your vision cleared up.

Standing up was almost impossible and each breath was wheezy as you fought the fog clouding your mind, your knees sinking into the mud as you did. Your dress was ruined, that much was obvious. The fabric and your skin were both covered in dirt and dust and black marks as you reached your feet. You tried to smooth it down, but it didn’t seem worth it, especially not as your eyes trailed up to see the wedding tent.

Well, what was left of it.

The golden marquee was in tatters, torn here and scorched there. Guests were running under the archways and disappearing into thin air like there was no tomorrow, no doubt encouraged by the black figures shooting brightly coloured spells at their feet. You almost wished the ringing in your ears hadn’t stopped as the sounds of shouting and carnage began to fill your senses.

__

“Y/N, you look lovely, dear,” Molly said, the pride in her voice obvious.

“Thanks,” you said, shooting her a wink. “I’ll be sure to pass the message on to my stylist.”

She laughed at the joke, patting your hand softly and leaving to tell someone off, no doubt. You remembered fondly her insistence earlier that no, she was never too busy to do her favourite soon-to-be-daughter-in-law’s hair. It was a good job though, you thought, that Fleur was too busy getting dressed up herself to hear that one.

You finished your champagne, more than grateful that the flute was enchanted as you watched it refill. As you stared, you became suddenly aware of someone’s eyes on you and turned to see Fred sat beside you, a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked lightly, sipping your drink.

“Nothing,” he said, a decidedly un-Fred-like smile playing on his lips. It was far too angelic to be recognisable in his features.

“Is there something on my face?”

You all but slammed your glass on the table, using the shiny napkin holders to try and get a better look at your reflection.

“No,” he chuckled, his laughter only growing as you made faces, looking for some stray crumbs or Aunt Mildred’s lipstick. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, stopping your borderline-neurotic inspection. You looked up at him with a pout and a fond smile spread across his lips.

“There is,” he said, cupping your face in his hand and running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Nothing wrong with your face.”

Struggling to hide your pleased grin at his compliment, you leant into his touch.

“Sounds like someone has a crush, Weasley.”

“Oh, really?” he said, his hand leaving your face with a pout in its wake. You smirked though, when he scooted his chair closer to yours, like a child, leaning on the back of yours with his elbow instead.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, his smile contagious. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” he said conversationally, leaning the side of his head on his hand. “I think you might be the one with the crush.”

“How did you know?” you said dully, slowly placing a hand on your chest in mock surprise. “How can I ever cope with the knowledge that you will never feel the same?”

He barked a laugh at your dry, monotonous tone, his head dropping to the side as he watched you for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. That was before, however, a sly smile lifted his lips – a look you were very familiar with when it came to Fred. You fixed him with a suspicious stare.

“How about we get out of here?” he said, shifting in his seat.

“What?”

Your eyes followed him as he stood up, brushing down his suit briefly before offering his hand.

“Come on,” he insisted impatiently. He made a face at your unwillingness.

“Fred,” you said incredulously, shaking your head at his gall. “This is your brother’s wedding.”

“I have other brothers,” he shrugged before rolling his eyes and leaning down to grab your hand. “And we’ll be back in 20 minutes, half an hour, maximum.”

You stood up, enjoying the way his hand twisted to thread your fingers together.

“We will, will we?” you said, raising your eyebrows with an amused grin.

“Yes.”

He moved to wrap his hand around your waist, pulling you closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“With you looking like that, I doubt we’ll need any longer, sweetheart.”

You choked out a laugh at his words and looked around you as you escaped through the side of the tent.

“If we get caught-“ you threatened, cutting yourself off when he shot you a smirk.

“Live a little, sweetheart.”

__

“Fred,” you said quietly, your voice coming out hoarse. You blinked, swallowing and letting yourself adjust to the frantic rush of your surroundings.

“Fred,” you repeated, slightly louder this time as your heartbeat began to race.

People were apparating in and out like wildfire and there were already a few bodies collecting on the ground. Only injured, from the looks of it, but your mind thought the worst. Spotting your wand on the ground, you bent down to pick it up, your whole body singing in pain at the stretching of your muscles.

“Merlin,” you muttered, a grimace contorting your features. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

You searched for someone you knew in the crowds, a recognisable face in a sea of sparks and mist and gold wedding decorations. Your reactions weren’t the best, though, and your head was swimming. Albeit, though, you were grateful to be getting your land-legs back with each shaky step. Every flash of red hair you saw had your heartbeat jumping, but none of them were Fred, all most likely some distant Weasley cousin and none of them anybody you wanted to see right now.

What had even happened? One minute you and Fred were watching Fleur and Bill dance – she did look ever so lovely in that dress – and the next you woke up on a bed of damp grass with a killer headache and a distinct lack of memories. You didn’t have to be a genius, though, to put two and two together. The dark figures slowly herding people inside the tent and shooting spells every which way were Death Eaters; you could only hope that Harry had gotten out safely. Despite your hopes, though, your thoughts were preoccupied with Fred and you found yourself praying that he was okay.

“Fred!”

__

You hoped you weren’t giggling too loudly, and that your dress wasn’t too creased, and that it wasn’t too obvious what you’d just spent the last 23 minutes doing. As you snuck back into the tent, you separated from Fred, shushing him and moving to interest yourself in the buffet as to avert suspicion. Necessary, you figured, with Fred being so very suspicious. Typically, he ignored your plans and followed you to the buffet table, a cheeky grin slapped across his face

You glared at him, distracting yourself with the mini sausage rolls and putting as much distance between you both as possible. Harry, unlucky as ever, was caught in the crossfire.

“You alright there, Harry?” Fred said, looking over the display. “Any of the classically beautiful Weasley cousins taking your fancy?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind, actually, Fred,” Harry said tightly. You felt your stomach drop slightly; he was far too young to be carrying so much weight on his shoulders.

“Ah, no mind,” Fred replied, as unaffected and blasé as ever. “I’m sure you’ve got your eye on someone else anyway, eh?”

You watched Harry’s face heat up and rolled your eyes affectionately: Fred had a knack for turning even the darkest of issues to humour.

“I’ve got my eye on someone here actually,” Fred said, piling cocktail sausages onto his plate with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, turning to face Fred. He clearly didn’t care but you did notice his double-take and frowned, your brows drawing together. “Who’s that?”

“Well, if I told you then I’d have to kill you,” Fred nodded solemnly, shoving three mini sandwiches in his mouth at once and shooting you a surprisingly subtle wink.

“Sorry, uh,” Harry stuttered, pointing at Fred and then gesturing to his own face. “You have, uh, something on your-“

“What?”

Fred frowned, his mouth stretching as he swallowed the food and began to rub at his cheek.

“Lipstick, I think,” Harry said, decidedly awkward.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, not daring to look at Fred

“Ah, cheers for that Harry.”

“Not a problem, Fred.”

With that, Harry turned to leave, surprised to see you behind him. You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips and you prayed to Merlin, Godric and even Salazar that he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Alright, Y/N?” Harry said softly, his mouth set in an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a couple of octaves too high. “Thanks. Enjoy your…”

You looked down at his plate, swallowing uncomfortably as you felt your face heat up.

“Chocolate frogs.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

You clenched your teeth as Harry walked past you, cursing Fred under your breath. Chuckling, he slid next to you, his plate once again overflowing with food.

“Brilliantly eloquent there, love. I don’t doubt that Harry’ll enjoy those chocolate frogs, but I’m sure your well wishes are appreciated.”

“You’re the worst person alive,” you snapped, not looking at him.

“That is not what you said earlier,” he said smugly. You turned to shoot him a dry look as he pushed a block of cheese into his mouth.

“I hate you so much,” you insisted, your smile giving you away.

“Me?” Fred pressed a hand to his chest defensively, spewing crumbs everywhere as he spoke.

“Yes, you-“

Your bickering was cut off by the clinking of a spoon against a champagne class. You both turned to face Molly, who was looking particularly happy with herself as she announced Fleur & Bill’s first dance.

“Come on, you pig,” you huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the crowd forming around the happy couple. Despite his grumbling, he put down his plate and followed you. Ever the gentleman, he brushed off crumbs onto his trousers before grabbing for your hand.

As you watched them dance, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It was hard not to imagine you and Fred in their shoes in a couple years. Molly always told you that you argued like an old married couple as it was, surely it wouldn’t do any harm to make it official. You couldn’t think like that now though, not with the constant threat of war looming. It never seemed more real, though, than when Kingsley Shacklebolt’s patronus appeared, his deep voice ringing through the tent, announcing the incoming storm, creating a frenzy.

Fred’s hand tightened around your own and when the Death Eaters started appearing, you were grateful for the contact. You looked between the faces you recognised, somewhere between heartbroken and horrified to see Ginny and Molly already firing out spells; Harry, Ron and Hermione rushing outside, hopefully apparating to safety. Distracted by the others, you barely noticed a Death Eater appearing next to Fred. Fred, in his panic, didn’t seem to either. Just as he readied his wand, you found yourself pushing Fred to the side and out of the crossfire. The force of the hit ripped your hand from his and the last thing you remembered before you were knocked out cold was your body flying through the side of the tent.

__

“Y/N!”

You spun around, the new memories and very familiar headache making you wince as you all but collided with Fred, suffocated instantly in his tight grasp.

“Merlin,” he sighed, his breath fanning against your cheek as you struggled to form a sentence. “Am I glad to see you.”

He pulled away, cupping your cheek with one hand whilst the other still held your waist gently. “You had me so worried.”

He didn’t need to tell you that; you could see it for yourself. His relief was slowly ironing out the deep crease between his brows and his eyes were shining with tears in the light of the moon.

“Pushing me out the way like that, what were you even thinking? Could’ve been killed. Merlin, you flew right through that tent, George had to hold me back, he did. If I wasn’t so bloody worried, I would’ve ripped that bastard to-“

“Fred, we really need to go,“ George insisted, his eyes drifting to you for a moment as he anxiously fiddled with the wand in his grip.

“Hang on a minute,” Fred said distractedly, turning to his brother for a moment as his fingers slotted behind your ears, cradling your face.

“Are you okay, love?”

You breathed for a second, only vaguely aware of the commotion still going on around you. Without another moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around Fred’s neck, holding him close and revelling in the familiar scent of his shampoo. You smiled as he relaxed in your hold, his chin digging into your shoulder.

“Guys-“ George said, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Fred pulled away abruptly, his worried eyes scanning your face.

“Are you alright to apparate?” he asked, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You nodded.

“Let’s get the hell out of here then.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​​ @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness​ @xinyourdreamsx​​ @brainlesspasta​​ @hariosborn​​ @staringmoony​ @rexorangecouny​​ @alittletoomanyobsessions​​ @peachesandpinks​ @yuptha-tsme​​ @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog​​ @dreamer821​ @iprobablyshipit91​​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​​ @haphazardhufflepuff​​ @princesof-theuniverse​​ @whovianayesha​​ @msmimimerton​​ @extra-trash77​​ @potterverseimagine​​ @my-own-mindpalace​​ @sxrensxngwrites​​ @damonwhitlock​​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens​ @thisismysketchbook​ @zhangixingxing1 @cedricscoffin​ @ccabian @amourtentiaa​ @ickle-ronniekins​ @harrysweasleys​ 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket. 

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train. 

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force. 

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear. 

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged. 

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him. 

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy. 

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent. 

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good. 

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”. 

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point. 

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests. 

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life. 

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.  

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason). 

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom. 

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there. 

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since. 

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Now I want the story where NMJ is half war god and NHS is half fox spirit, thank you so much xD

based on this tumblr post and Lao Nie’s decision to refer to WRH as A-Han in this one ficlet

on ao3

Nie Zonghui had long ago suspected that his Sect Leader was a madman, but he didn’t really know it for certain until the first time he lost the man while on a bodyguarding mission – his first, and a great honor. 

Supposedly.

“It’s all right,” his father said, looking long-suffering, when he reported back in distress. “He’s an adult, our sect leader, and this is a small city with no major threats in the middle of some idiosyncratic festival celebration for some goddess or another. How much damage can he really do before he sobers up?”

Nie Zonghui stared at his father, then turned to his mother, who was also staring at her husband with an expression of sincere incredulity.

“Lots,” she supplied. “Lots and lots and lots, and that’s assuming he doesn’t get himself killed in the meantime. Why would you even say that?”

“He’s our sect leader, have some respect.”

“I respect the boss bull of the herd, too, but it doesn’t mean I let it go wandering around the fields wherever it pleases!” She shook her head, snorting in a manner not entirely unlike a bull herself. “Well, if we’re very lucky, maybe our cousin will knock up a cow while he’s out and about rather than just breaking things. We could use a direct heir already; he’s not getting any younger.”

“We could use him being properly married is what we could use. I don’t understand why he’s so resistant – ah, Zonghui, you’re still here? Go gather some cultivators and go look for him, but don’t kick up any fuss, and worry too much if you can’t find him at once. He’ll be back to business soon enough.”

He was, if by “soon enough” one meant “after nearly ten days” and by “back to business” one meant “still drunk off his ass and waxing rhapsodic about some girl he met and possibly married”.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure the sun shines out of her ass,” Nie Zonghui’s father said, his face stormy. “You still could’ve told us where you went. Look what you did to poor Zonghui, he’s been wearing down his heels pacing in worry over you!”

“Oh, heels, yes, did I mention that my gorgeous goddess had amazing legs, too?” their sect leader asked with a soppy smile and stars in his eyes, totally uninterested in any of their petty complaints. “She could kill a man with them – oh, but I would die a happy man between those thighs…!”

“Zonghui, go guard the outside door,” his mother told him. “Also, tell his younger sister that she might need to be sect leader sooner than she’d hoped, because I’m going to murder this fucking –”

-

Nie Zonghui was there, too, when ten months later his new little baby cousin was (metaphorically) ditched on their doorstep.

The entire thing was entirely too dramatic for his taste, and yes, he was aware that as a person who chose to dual wield sabers he had very little room to criticize others for being overly dramatic, however correct he might be.

They had been fighting bandits – barely disguised mercenaries, really, probably paid off by the Wen sect to harass them – in what had turned into a particularly bad situation. Three separate regiments had joined together to take advantage of a terrible thunderstorm and ambush them at all once and them with their backs against a raging river, swollen with rain to the precipice of flooding, with no way to retreat except by fleeing on their sabers, abandoning the common people they were protecting and losing all face. 

The sect leader had been raging on the battlefield, saber in hand, but even he had seen that they would need to shortly choose between death and dishonor; Nie Zonghui, close by his side, had seen how his face was split with a terrible scowl as he wracked his brain for more options.

Then there had been a terrible roar of thunder, and then a flash of light that had blinded them all.

Nie Zonghui had immediately noted the anomality of it, thunder first and lightning second, and wondered it if it was some sort of array working against them, especially when the light had not faded away but grown brighter, causing searing pain in his eyes that made him fall and clutch at his face. But he was a good soldier, loyal and true, and he forced his eyes open to squint into the night, looking to see he did not know what.

Through his sun-blindness, he vaguely thought he could see a silhouette not unlike that of a woman, ten feet tall and radiant as the sun, wearing a dress of nine colors and carrying a guandao in her hand that seemed to reach the clouds, but when he blinked again he saw nothing at all.

Or, well, he did see something: all of their enemies were headless, no matter where on the battlefield they were, their bodies dropping like a loosened string of coins where they had been standing and splattering anyone they were fighting with blood as they gawped at the sudden corpses.

Also, the sect leader was suddenly holding something in his arms when he hadn’t been before.

“What’s that?” Nie Zonghui asked, and the sect leader turned towards him. Nie Zonghui squinted, and suddenly wondered if this entire battle had been a very bad dream. “…is that a baby?”

“Yes,” the sect leader said, grinning broadly. “He’s my son!”

“He’s your what,” Nie Zonghui said.

“My son! I didn’t know about him, of course – apparently he came as something of a surprise to her as well – but anyway she thought that it would be more appropriate for me to raise him, all things considered. A baby doesn’t quite fit her lifestyle. What do you think of ‘Mingjue’ as a courtesy name? Good, yes?”

Nie Zonghui suddenly understood why his parents were always cursing all the time.

-

“I don’t see why I need another wife,” the sect leader said. “I already have a son.”

“Don’t you want to give said son a mother?” Nie Zonghui’s mother asked, her arms crossed. “One that isn’t the Dark Lady of the Nine Heavens, the war goddess you somehow managed to knock up without getting killed?”

“She never specified that she was –”

“Someone needs to be Nie-furen,” the sect leader’s younger sister interrupted, “because I am sick and tired of doing the job, and it’s a little difficult to ask a goddess to do it. So you are going to find yourself another one that’s a little closer to the ground this time, you understand me?”

The sect leader nodded and agreed, which was universally agreed upon to be the only appropriate reaction when his beloved meimei said something in that particular tone of voice.

(He did, after a suitable period of time, state that he wanted to make clear that there was no actual evidence that he had knocked up Jiutian Xuannü and that it was quite plausible that the mother of his heir was nothing more than a rogue cultivator of particular strength and possibility even immortality. If Baosan Sanren had managed it, why not someone else?)

At any rate, they brought him several pictures of women that might fit the bill and who would not be too offended at being asked to be a secondary wife – their sect leader swore up and down that he had performed bows with the mother of his first son, rendering him legitimate, and anyway no one was in the mood to see if the maybe-a-goddess would take offense to someone calling her child a bastard – but none seemed to catch their sect leader’s interest.

“Consider visiting a few brothels,” Nie Zonghui’s great-uncle suggested. “Anything to get you back in the habit of thinking about women of a less divine nature – though of course we’d prefer that she be literate.”

The sect leader scowled and stalked off to go night-hunting instead.

“I don’t like brothels,” he said to Nie Zonghui as they made their way through an especially deserted mountain valley in search of something that had murdered all the local mensfolk in the surrounding villages with especial viciousness. “Surely there’s an option in between.”

Nie Zonghui preferred his sabers to either men or women, but he obediently wracked his brain to think of where people in stories and famous songs found their wives. “Innkeeper’s daughters?” he finally suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the sect leader scoffed, but the very next day, he decided to break his usual habit of staying out in the wild no matter the weather in favor of taking shelter from the encroaching storm in a small inn right at the base of an especially lonesome and nasty-looking cliff.

“We’re always happy to have guests,” the innkeeper said with a somewhat sinister smile – he was pale as a ghost in the guttering candlelight, and his lips looked very red. “My daughter will show you to your rooms.”

The daughter in question was inhumanly beautiful: small and graceful, with a fox’s face and dark hair that fell to her knees.

“Wow,” the sect leader said, staring at her. “You know, I think you could kill me with those nails of yours.”

Nie Zonghui took a look and agreed with the sentiment, seeing that her nails were as long as claws and looked just as sharp, but apparently he and the sect leader had somewhat different interpretations of this sequence of events and plans on how to address it.

Namely, Nie Zonghui pointed out that the lady was obviously some sort of yao or maybe a gui and that she was probably the one seducing the local mensfolk, draining their yang energy and then slaughtering them, and therefore that it was undoubtedly their duty as cultivators – and cultivators of the Nie sect in particular – to put an end to her vile deeds through the swift application of their sabers. Furthermore, he explained, they should take care never to allow themselves to be alone with her in the process, lest she seek to entrance them with her seductive magics and lure them to their undoubtedly violent deaths.

The sect leader’s rebuttal to this line of logic was limited to “I’m the sect leader and if I want to bang the probably-a-ghost, I’m going to bang the ghost and there’s nothing you can do to stop me”.

Amazingly enough, the sect leader did not end up dead the next day – the innkeeper looked just as surprised as Nie Zonghui felt – and instead announced, very happily, that he was planning on marrying her.

“You what,” the innkeeper said, staring at his very smug-looking ‘daughter’. In light of dawn, she was wearing a dress of many colors with a foxfur ruff, and her beauty was almost painful to behold.

“You why,” Nie Zonghui moaned.

“You shut up,” the sect leader told him. “I’ll have you know that my lady here is very clever, literate and well-learned, and she doesn’t at all mind being the second wife. Weren’t you one of the ones on my case about getting a Nie-furen to help managing things back home?”

“I didn’t think we needed to specify that the person in question didn’t murder a lot of people!”

“Isn’t his first wife supposedly a war goddess?” the lady inquired, her clever eyes dancing in amusement.

“Well…yes…”

“Also, all those men deserved it,” she said. After a brief pause, she added, “In my opinion as a totally unrelated observer, of course.”

“See?” the sect leader said, putting his arm around her waist. “No problem. Anyway, she’ll stick to killing bad people from now on, it’s fine.”

The lady smiled. There were many teeth in that smile, and they were very sharp.

“If she doesn’t, I’ll have my first wife discipline her,” the sect leader added and her smile abruptly disappeared.

Nie Zonghui coughed into his hand, but reluctantly admitted that maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be as bad as all that.

-

“Huaisang is a lovely name,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, being the best of them at diplomacy when she put her mind to it, although admittedly it was something she did only very rarely. “I think we were just expecting something a little different, that’s all.”

“Possibly something a little more fox related,” Nie Zonghui’s father said.

“Please,” the sect leader’s second wife said. “That would be gauche.”

They looked at her.

“…all of my suggestions along those lines got rejected,” she admitted, and glared at the small shrine in the corner as if it had personally wronged her. In this context, it very well might have.

“Is there anything we should keep an eye out for?” Nie Zonghui said, watching his little cousin carry around his even littler cousin under his arm as if he were a sack of potatoes and not a baby that hadn’t yet had its first month celebration. He would have interfered but for the fact that little Nie Huaisang seemed to be notably more in control of his various limbs than the usual infant. “A tail, for instance?”

“Oh, no,” the second lady said. “Nothing like that.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“It’s very rare for fox children to achieve a grand plot worthy of a tail in their first lifetime.” A pause. “From what I understand, that is.”

“Great,” Nie Zonghui said. “…great.”

“You’ll take good care of him when I’m gone, won’t you?” she asked, and when they all looked at her, smiled. “Not for another year or two, don’t worry, but I really can’t stay here that long. Sometimes, a girl’s got urges she has to take care of.”

“The sort of urges where we’d need to hunt down a mysteriously appearing fox yao for having murdered a lot of people?”

“I already promised to stop killing people,” she said sulkily. “Although I do think I made some plausible arguments in favor of a little bit of entirely justified murder in connection with the Jin sect and maybe the Lan sect and, oh, the Jiang sect –”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s not my fault your Great Sects are all headed by men who wrong women.”

“You’re not wrong,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, and Nie Zonghui’s father looked alarmed. “But still, don’t.”

“You’re such spoilsports. But no, as it happens, it’s getting to that time when I need to return home for a while to pay my respects to the older generation.”

“How often does that happen?” Nie Zonghui’s father asked. “Once a century?”

“A gentleman shouldn’t ask a lady her age,” she sniffed. “At any rate, my family home is rather far away and they’re fairly insular, so I’ll probably be gone for at least a decade or so. I’d take the baby with me, but, well, you know, long travel and all. He’s better off sticking with his father.”

“All right,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said. “We understand, and we’ll help take care of him as best we can.”

“I’m glad.”

“We have only one thing to ask of you in return.”

Their second lady arched her delicate eyebrows.

Nie Zonghui’s mother smiled. “You be the one to tell your sister-in-law that you’re leaving your post.”

“…you know, on second thought, maybe I can push my departure out a few more years…”

-

“Before you say anything, I want to be clear right now that I don’t need a third wife,” their sect leader said. “I’m fine.”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said, not unaffectionately. “You’re not allowed a third wife.”

“And therefore – wait, really?” he asked, a little skeptically. “You’re not concerned about me?”

“Oh, we’re very concerned about you,” Nie Zonghui’s father said. “But not in that specific respect. Some celibacy would probably be good for you, at least in terms of increasing your life expectancy.”

“…my sister is lying in wait with a cleaver to make sure she doesn’t have to take on the duties of Nie-furen again, isn’t she.”

“I’m not discounting that possibility, but don’t worry about it, it’s fine, we’ll talk to her. The Lan sect haven’t had a proper hostess in years either, we can just say we’re following their example.”

The sect leader eyed his cousins beadily. “They haven’t had a proper sect leader in years, either.”

“No, you don’t say,” Nie Zonghui’s mother said dryly. “What a coincidence -”

“You have two fine sons,” Nie Zonghui’s father said hastily. “That seems like enough, really.”

“You don’t think they need a mother…?”

“Sect Leader,” Nie Zonghui interjected politely. “While we admit that it may be within your capabilities to be able to find a mother willing to deal with one step-son who has been waiving around a saber taller than he is since he learned to walk and has a penchant for the unyielding, unmerciful and very violent application of the norms of divine justice –”

Nie Mingjue’s presence bolstered the spirit of good men, while his gaze seemed to make evildoers itch. He was the most earnestly good person Nie Zonghui had ever met, and also one of the most stiff and unbending in respect to what he believed should and should not be done.

Unfortunate that his standards didn’t seem to match up to the needs of either human law or diplomacy…

“– as well as another who can scheme circles around anyone and persuade them of anything as long as he puts his mind to it and only doesn’t because he’s too busy lazing around in the sun to bother –”

Nie Huaisang liked to file his nails down to something that looked quite normal, but they grew sharp quickly enough if he wasn’t paying attention, and he had a penchant for pranks. There was nothing quite as unnerving as running into a sudden and unexpected ambush and then suddenly hearing the shrill peal of a fox’s laughter, hidden behind a scholarly fan.

“– but all things considered, we’d really rather you - didn’t.”

His mother and father nodded fervently.

“Good,” the sect leader said, though he still looked suspiciously at them as if he thought they were hiding something. “Good. As long as we’re agreed.”

-

Nie Zonghui walked in on his sect leader pinning the Wen sect leader to a wall, murmuring something in a low voice with a very particular smile on his face, and then he turned around and walked right back out again.

The sect leader of the Wen sect might appear beautiful and young, but he was at least a generation older than the Nie sect leader. Not that that had stopped the latter from relying on their respective positions to refer to him in startlingly intimate terms – my dear A-Han, the sect leader would say with a touch of wickedness that reminded one of his second son and the tiger gall bravery of his first – and while at first the Wen sect leader had taken it as a challenge to his authority, an act of brash insolence, it appeared that they had progressed beyond that.

That the Wen sect leader already had three wives and two concubines apparently didn’t present any obstacles either – except perhaps in what those poor women might have to endure from their husband when he returned from the wretched teasing he was enduring. Nie Zonghui felt a bit of pity for them.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a bit of pity for himself. The Wen sect had long dreamed of dominating the cultivation world and sought to increase their influence with the other sects through underhanded means, with the Nie sect opposing them at every turn. Even if war was not on the immediate horizon, the wise could smell its distant approach in the air - the best estimates said that it would take another decade or two to arrive, unless the Nie sect leader took an especially hard stance.

It appeared, however, that the Nie sect leader had chosen to take a different sort of…hard stance.

Ugh.

Maybe Nie Zonghui could conspire to throw his sect leader into a cage with a live tiger in heat next time he felt in the mood. It’d probably be less dangerous.

Nie Zonghui had assumed that the first person to talk to him about what he had seen would be his sect leader, even if it was only to remind him of the general rule that the sect leader had ultimate power and therefore could exercise his own bad judgment in deciding to fuck whoever he wished, but instead it was the Wen sect leader that found him later that afternoon.

A flush had yet to fully fade from his cheeks, and Nie Zonghui raised his eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking directly at the man in front of him. 

He did not want to know. Others might, given that no one had ever complained about the looks of either party, but he himself had realized long ago that he had no interest in matters of the flesh under any circumstances; he was very content with that conclusion.

“Is there some service this one can provide to Sect Leader Wen?” he asked politely, and it was only when the sect leader flushed again that he realized belatedly that his words could be misconstrued. After all, his own sect leader had probably already made a similar offer regarding the provision of services…

“Your sect leader has a sister, doesn’t he?” the other man asked, his voice tight and his hands in even tighter fists. “I’m not misremembering that?”

“He does,” Nie Zonghui responded honestly, and not without sympathy for the Wen sect leader’s position. He was given to understand that making certain belated discoveries regarding one’s own preferences could be highly disconcerting, particularly later in life. “But she’s rather different in kind than what you may be thinking, so it won’t work out that way. It wouldn’t work even if she wasn’t already married, which she is.”

After a moment of thought, he added, “Also, consider your predecessors.”

The Wen sect leader’s eyes narrowed.

-

Really, it was the sect leader’s own damn fault that he got himself murdered.

[theoreticslut]

Tu m'appartiens // g.w.

pairing: george weasley x reader

 requested: no

word count: 3.4k

warnings: some jealousy, somewhat steamy dialogue?, fluff

A/N: Ahhh! I’ve been wanting to write this for like two weeks now, and thanks to my brain deciding 3am is the perfect time to remember my high school french lessons and create a full french conversation as I’m trying to go to bed, I figured why not write it today when I’ve already got a good portion of the french out of the way. It also helps that my laptop magically started behaving again for me so I could type on here instead of my phone. I’m very excited to have this done, and I really hope you guys like it too. I feel like I’ve lost my touch for writing so I’m just trying to get back into it. disclaimer - I have never and will never claim fluency in french. All the french in this is simply from my memory of how things should be formatted with help from the internet. If you fluently speak french and notice there’s errors, don’t worry about letting me know. Just be kind about it. That or you can just ignore it for me, that’s be cool too. Anyways, I hope you guys like this!! Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl​ @xuckduck​ @yikesyikesyikes95​ @filipi-yes​ @aestheticwh0r3​ @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko​ @msmarklee1213​ @immajustreadwritereblog​ @msmimimerton​ @perfectlysane24​ @mischievous-queen​ @bunnyboo7​ @grandeoptimist​ @daddystevee​ @slytherinxhunter​ @streetfighterrichie​ @softlyqoos​ @sarcasticallywitty15 @isthereanymorejello​ @karushinekomiya @p0gue420​ @hogwartslut​ @sebby-staan​ @darthwheezely​ @slytherin-7​ @callmelilone​ @teenagesublimefan​ @hufflrpuffforfred​ @hopefullhearts​ @fredshmeasley​ @youralternantpersonality​ @stoopidwithtwohoes​ @sightiff​ @captaincactusjuice​ @concepcion​ @hufflepuffflowers​ @impulse-anchor​ @loverslane99 @fleurho​ @eternallyvenus​ @lemongrasshoney @watermelonsugar2810​ @hpotterwhore​ @harrypotterwifey​ @onyourgoddamnleft​ @littlemisswitt​ @princessofmice​ @harleigh110 @accioalix​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @sammy-the-gay​ @kaitlynw011​ @midsummernightdream​ @stxrryxsky​ @fredweasleypls​ @pandaxnienke​ @georgeweasleyishot​ @Leovaldez37 @psychocracker​ @tovvaa​ @weasley8800​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @pinkypurplemagic​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @lindsaytriestowrite​ @amourtentiaa​ @georgeswhore @slytherinambitious​ @lovesanimals​ @freddie-weaselbee​ @the-real-santana-lopez @accio-remus-lupin​ @zabinizucchini​ @tinylumpiaa​ @celestialmage23​ @hogwortslut123 @georgeweasleysbabe​ @stilinskibiles

*Translations added after each phrase!

"Mon Cheri! (Honey) I'm home. How was your day today?" Your father asks as he apparates into the kitchen. You smile, closing the fridge door as you grabbed a bowl of grapes.

"Bonjour, papa. I've been good. How about you? How was work?" You ask, taking a seat at the kitchen island while your father busies himself with taking off his jacket and getting comfortable.

"Good, good. You remember that eccentric coworker of mine I was telling you about? Arthur?"

You nod, popping a grape into your mouth. It was one of the first things he had told you about after moving here to Britain and starting work at the Ministry. You had to admit that the man sounded interesting. Bright red hair and obsessed with muggle inventions. He sounded like he'd be a fun person to talk to. Not to mention, your father had said he was extraordinarily kind and welcoming. You were glad he had met someone to get him acquainted with the new job.

"We were talking today and I had mentioned that you were going to be starting at Hogwarts beginning of September, so of course he was wondering how old you were. So I told him, and guess what? It turns out he has two sons - twins - your age."

"Vraiment (really)? That's cool, papa. You think they'll be able to help me adjust to Hogwarts?"

"I'm hoping, mon cheri (honey). Arthur invited us over for dinner to introduce us to his family, and so you could meet his children. Says he's got the twins that are your age, a boy two years younger, and a daughter a year younger than that. At the very least, you can get to know some kids before starting school, yeah?"

"Of course. It sounds like fun, papa. When did he invite us over for?"

"Sunday. Is that alright?"

"Perfect! Can't wait!"

~.~

When Sunday finally comes around, you're a mess of nerves and excitement. You nervous about meeting new people, especially kids you'd be going to school with. You didn't have any problems with school or having friends back at Beauxbatons, but being in a new country, you weren't sure what people would think of you.

It's not like you weren't a kind and friendly person, but there was the worry of people teasing you for speaking a different language. You knew English well enough, but you still had the French accent which you were sure sounded funny to others.

"Are you ready, y/n?"

You look up to see your father poking his head into the room. You smile and nod, taking a deep breath to calm your rising nerves. You weren't usually this nervous about anything, but you could feel your heart racing and palms sweating. You only hoped you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in front of the Weasley family.

"Yeah. As ready as I can be I guess."

He smiles, motioning for you to follow him out. You quickly grab your jacket and bag, taking one last glance around the room to make sure you weren't forgetting anything. Sighing, you decide that you've got everything you think you'll need before following your father out of the apartment to your shared car.

Since you hadn't yet been to the Weasley's home, you decided it would be best to drive there instead of apparating or using the Floo. You weren't sure exactly how far away they lived, but it couldn't have been too far.

~.~

Reading road signs, you smile as you drive through Ottery St Catchpole as it's a quaint little town with few houses spread across the land. You figured it was as beautiful a place as any to live, better than in the middle of a larger town like you and your father did. Out here you got to hear birds and nature, whereas the town rang loud with cars and chatter. You could never find any peace in the city, but there was no shortage of it here.

"Well that's nice." you hear your father compliment, looking at the slightly lopsided house in front of the two of you.

"Is this the Weasley's?"

"I believe so. It's a nice home they've got, isn't it mon cherie (my dear)?"

"Beautiful. It looks like it'd be homey inside." You smile, getting out of the car as your dad turns off the car.

"y/d/n, I'm glad to see you. This must be your daughter?" A red-haired man asks, smiling at the both of you as he comes out from the house.

"She is. It's nice to see you, Arthur. Thank you for inviting us to dinner."

"Yes, merci (Thank you) Mr. Weasley." You smile, curtseying lightly at the older man.

"It's nice to meet you, dear. Y/n, right?"

You nod and smile, shaking the hand that Arthur holds out to you.

"Oui (Yes). It's nice to meet you too."

"Well come on inside and meet my wife and our children. Get comfortable." Arthur invites, leading you and your father back to the house.

Upon entering you're met with a hug from an older woman, who you can only assume is Mrs. Weasley. Already you're liking this family, but you can't help but notice that she too sports ginger hair.

"Hello, Hello. It's so nice to meet you. You must be, y/n?"

"Uh, yes. Enchanté, Mrs. Weasley. It's nice to meet you." You smile, a small blush coming to your cheeks.

Your father was an affectionate person, but this was a whole new level. You can't say you didn't mind it though. You hadn't even been inside the house for five minutes yet, but you already felt welcomed and cared for.

"Oh, dear. Call me Molly. I'm so glad you and your dad decided to come tonight. Arthur hasn't been able to stop talking about his new French co-worker and daughter."

You nod, chuckling a bit. Your dad has been the same way about Arthur. It's no surprise that they were friends.

"When I found out how old you were, I just had to invite you all over. My children are...somewhere around here. Let's introduce you. Fred and George are in the same year, so I thought it'd be great for you three to get to know each other before classes start."

"Of course. I appreciate it tremendously, Molly. It'll definitely be nice to know at least someone when I start."

"Of course, dear. Here, one second."

"Fred! George! Ron! Ginny! Come meet our guests!"

You smile, taking the time to look around the house at all the pictures and personal touches. There was no denying that this house was full of love.

"Guests?" You hear someone ask, footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Yes, Fred. I told you all we'd be having your father's work friend and his daughter over this weekend." Molly sighs as two identical boys come into view.

You can't help but chew on your lip as you smile lightly. The two boys were definitely attractive, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You weren't looking for a relationship.

"Boys, meet Y/n." Molly introduces, motioning towards you.

"Hi. Enchanté."

" Enchanté?" they ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Nice to meet you. It's a standard greeting, guys." You hear someone else call and your attention is drawn over to the doorway where yet another ginger has appeared with a blonde attached to his arm. You're not quite sure why, but the blonde seems even more comforting than Molly.

"Bill! I'm glad you and Fleur and could make it!" You hear Molly smile, pulling the man into a hug as the blonde smiles, greeting the woman with a small hug.

"Ohh. It's nice to meet you too. I'm George." one smiles, holding his hand out for our to shake.

"I'm Fred." The other introduces, giving you a cheeky smile as you blush lightly, shaking both of their hands.

You try to find any differences between them, but there's not many. You can tell that one, George if you remember correctly, has a bit more of an oval-shaped face compared to his brother, but that’s about all you can tell right now.

“Ah, Salut! Bon soir.(Hi! Good evening)” The blonde greets, excited at having another French women in the place. She loved Bill and his family, but she did miss France. She could only imagine how overwhelmed to must feel.

“Bon soir.” You greet, smiling as she quickly kisses each of your cheeks in typical French greeting.

“Je m’appelle Fleur. Tu t’appelles est...?” (My name is Fleur. Your name is...)

“Y/n. Enchanté (nice to meet you), Fleur. Comment ça va (how are you)?” You inquire out of politeness, realizing now why she seemed so comforting to you when she walked in - she was French which was familiar, hence comforting.

“Enchanté. Ça va très bien! Et toi?” (Nice to meet you. I am very well! And you?)

“Eh, ça va. C’est trés fou (eh, okay. It’s very crazy)” you chuckle, earning a small chuckle and nod from her.

“Ah, oui (yes). You get used to it though, y/n.”

You sigh and nod, looking around at all the people currently occupying the house. You definitely did not expect this when your father had told you that you'd been invited over for dinner.

~.~

"So, y/n, dear. Are you excited for Hogwarts?" Molly asks as you all sit down and eat dinner.

"I am. I'm a bit nervous though. Never really thought I'd be transferring schools this late in my education, especially to another country."

"That's understandable, dear. Hogwarts is wonderful though. All of my children have gone there, and you'll have these four to help get you situated." She smiles, nodding towards the twins, ron, and Ginny, who you met shortly after Fleur.

"Absolutely! It'll be so much fun having you around." Ginny smiles, taking a bite of her food.

"What did you think of hogwarts when you visited, mon ange (my angel)?" You hear Bill ask Fleur.

You furrow your brows, not expecting Fleur to have attended Hogwarts.

"It was nice. Different to Beauxbatons, but I don't ‘ave any complaints." She smiles.

You nod, feeling a little better knowing that someone else had had a good experience with the school having come from another country.

"Fred and George, I'm sure, will have no problem showing you around and introducing you to people. And they'll behave for your sake." Molly indirectly threatens, a chuckle leaving Fred's lips.

"Of course, mum. We won't scare the poor girl. Not right away at least."

"Pardon (excuse me)?" you ask, a little worried about who your classmates were already.

"Ignore him, y/n. They like to pull pranks around the castle, but if they ever pulled one on you, I'm sure they know that I'll be coming for them, don't you guys?" ginny questions, cocking a brow at her two older brothers.

"Of course, Gin. We wouldn't dream of pranking y/n here." George states, both him and Fred looking a bit nervous at their sister's warning.

You chuckle, smiling at the ginger girl who is quickly becoming your favourite weasley. She sends a small wink your way, enjoying the hold she has over her brothers.

~.~

You sigh, gulping back nerves as you look at all the students around the platform. You knew that Hogwarts wasn't a small school, but you had never really stopped to consider just how many students there would be.

"You doing okay?" Fred asks, him and George coming to stand either side of you.

"Just perfect." You quip, your eyes dancing with worry as your heart pounds out the

song.

"Breathe, y/n. We'll be here and so will Ron and Ginny. I'm sure Hermione will be by your side too once she gets to know you." George reassures, resting his arm on your shoulder.

"Y/n!"

You turn at the call of your name, lighting up when you see Fleur and Bill coming your way. You luckily made friends with Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny pretty quickly, but you were beyond grateful you had made friends with Fleur as well. She has truly been the one keeping you calm and getting adjusted to Britain so far.

"Fleur! I'm glad to see you!" You smile, hugging her.

"Respire (take a breath/breathe). You'll be fine, I promise."

"Ahh, Je suis très nerveuse (Ahh, I am very nervous)." you admit. She gives you a small smile, noticing the worry in your face.

"Je sais (I know). just breathe."

You take a deep breath, watching her anxiously as she sends you a small smile.

"You will be fine. Je le jure (I swear)."

"Y/n, we better board the train soon if we want a good seat." George calls to you, nodding towards the train behind him.

"I'll be right there." You sigh, a smile playing on your lips as you watch the ginger twin you've become friends with.

"Y/n...Que penses-tu de lui (what do you think of him)?" Fleur asks you, taking notice of how much you've seemed to calm down while looking at him.

"Qui (who)? George?"

"Ah, oui." She says, as if it was obvious.

"Oh. Uh, Je ne sais pas. Je veux dire...Il est très mignon." (oh. Uh, I don’t know. I mean...he is very cute.)

She smiles, glancing back at Bill as she replies, "Je le savais (I knew it)!"

"Fleur! Shush. It's not like anything's going to come of it."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Y/n. Anyways, you need to get going! Bonne chance (good luck). You'll do great!"

You huff, frowning as Fleur shoves you towards the train and where George is standing. You adore her, but she sure is frustrating at times. How could she possibly think you have a chance with him?

He smiles when he sees you, grabbing your hand with his as he pulls you on to the train, barely giving you a chance to catch your balance from when Fleur pushed you.

~.~

"Tu es un idiot (you are an idiot), george." You sigh, shaking your head at the redhead as he makes a stupid joke.

"Hey!" he laughs, understanding what you said thanks to you teaching him a bit of French here and there.

After noticing how you spoke in french from time to time, George asked you to teach him just for fun. That and he kind of wanted to know what you were saying.

He truly enjoyed it too. He loved listening to you speak french and loved it even more when you complimented him on his pronunciation. He couldn't help but feel proud when you smiled at him because he finally understood a word or started pronouncing it right, either.

You two have become really close since you started teaching him, too. You could easily say that he was your closest friend here, but you would never complain about it. George was amazing to talk to and hang out with, always making you laugh and smile.

Although, as you had at Beauxbatons, you easily made friends here at Hogwarts. You might not have been close to any of them like you were with George, but you almost always had someone you could say hi to in the halls.

George was glad you could make friends so easily as he knew how anxious it had made you, but at the same time, he was a bit jealous. He's not sure why or when this happened, but he found himself not wanting to share you. He didn't want you being friendly with other guys, and he surely didn't want them being friendly with you.

George wasn't blind, nor was he dumb. He knew how attractive you were, having been taken aback when he first saw you that night at his house for dinner. He knew that others would find you attractive, especially since you were a new girl and had this beautiful accent. On top of that, you were just overwhelming charismatic. Not only were you kind, but you were brilliant and confident. You easily captured the attention of a room wherever you were, and maybe that's why George was so jealous. You were no longer his little secret, but rather a well-known personality among everyone.

"Are you ever nice to me?" he pouts, jokingly as you. You purse your lips in thought, following in the joking tone.

"Ehh, parfois (sometimes). I did teach you French if you remember correctly."

"That you did, ma lapine (my bunny). " he smiles, bumping his shoulder with yours.

~.~

"Yeah, if you'd ever like to study together, we could get together..."

George fumes as he watches Roger Davies shamelessly flirt with you. He knew this would start soon enough, but that doesn’t mean he'd like it. He's still jealous whenever some guy says hi to you, not that he has any right to, but he does.

As he watches you smile and agree with Davies, he can't help but start clenching his jaw together, absentmindedly grinding his teeth.

He should be the one you're talking to and flirting with, Not Davies nor anyone else. He should be the one to be bring a smile to your face and a laugh from your lips. He should be the one you're with, not anyone else.

In all reality, he's the one that fell for you first. Surely you have to see that. Or at least feel that. Otherwise why would you smile at him the way you do? Why would you spend your nights with him, even when you have Ginny and Hermione and your roommates to hang out with?

"Bonjour, mon amour (hello, my love)." you greet, having taken to calling him your love shortly after he started calling you his bunny.

"George? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" (what’s wrong?)

You frown as he looks upset, angry. You can't recall him looking this angry over anything before. Sure you've only known him since July, but that's still a lot of time for you two to see each other in a number of emotional states.

You pout, eyes filled with concern as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his side before you start walking to merlin knows where.

"Hey, y/n, Ma lapine."

"yes, Qu'est-que c'est (what is it)?"

You watch as George leans down, lips barely ghosting over your ear. The only reason you know he's there is from his hot breath fanning over the crest of your ear. You gasp a little, trying to contain a shiver as you feel your heart rate quicken at his proximity. You've liked George practically since you met him, but you never expected anything to happen between the two of you. He's got your mind spinning right now, however, with his actions.

"George" You mumble, turning your head slightly towards him.

"Tu m'appartiens (you belong to me)." He nearly growls, your knees becoming weak at his statement.

"Pardon (sorry)? George, what-"

"Comprenez vous? Tu m'appartiens (Do you understand? You belong to me)." He states again, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your mind blanks to anything aside from him.

"Oui...Oui (yes), George. Je t'appartiens (I belong to you)." you answer, quietly, not quite believing what you're hearing. You belong to him? Please, that's a dream. A very, very, very pleasant dream.

"Good. I don't like seeing other guys flirt with you, and I don't like seeing you so friendly with them back. I like you, y/n. Je t'aime beaucoup (I like you a lot)."

"mon dieu (my god)." You sigh, your knees still weak and the desire to kiss him only intensifying with each passing second.

"You okay, ma lapine (my bunny)?"

"You will be the death of me, george weasley. I like you, too, and merlin I want to kiss you."

He chuckles, the sound melodic to your ears, as he leans closer to you with a smile resting on his lips.

"Yeah? Can you ask me that in French?"

"The death of me, weasley." You sigh, loving the soft chuckle coming from his lips.

"embrasse-moi, s'il te plait." (please kiss me)

"I really love when you speak French, darling." He smiles, a soft groan leaving his throat before he's pressing his lips to yours.

You smile against his lips, not quite believing this is real until he nips at your bottom lip, drawing a soft whine from your body and a blush to your cheeks.

"I really like you, George. I'm so glad we met when we did." You smile, looking up into his beautiful brown eyes once you pull away from the kiss.

"Me too, darling." He agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your lips again before suggesting you go find your friends, or at the very least get out of the halls before a teacher catches the two of you.

You can't help but smile as he slides his hand into yours as you walk, squeezing your hand gently as if he needed the reassurance that you were there and real. You honestly never expected to find a boyfriend when you moved, but you were quite happy with the chain of events that led you here.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

So my sister has been talking about a pain in her side for the past week. She only started talking about it recently but apparently has been dealing with it for a month. She just didn't say anything.

It's gotten so bad that she can't take it anymore. Nothing stops the pain. Not crouching, or pushing on it. No pain meds we have are able to even alleviate it a bit. It's just gotten worse.

Too far back to be the appendix, to high up to be the ovaries. It's the kidney area.

She was rushed to the hospital hours ago. 5 hours later and she's only just been see to by a nurse who wanted all the information she had about what's going on, including the fact that she hasn't been able to urinate for 2 days and when she tries it hurts too much and nothing happens.

And said nurse proceeded to go, "Well I don't know what to do if you can't give us a urine sample."

ISTFG my already incredibly low faith in medical professionals gets lower and lower with every passing day. They won't give her anything for the pain despite knowing her list of allergies. They won't do anything else. Apparently they just 'don't know what to do'.

She in such agony that she's terrified all the other people in the waiting room, many of whom have demanded for her to be seen before them.

Bethy doesn't like the hospital. Or doctors. She'll avoid them as much as possible. This isn't a joke. It's not some 14 year old wanting attention. When she's curled up on the ground, bawling, there's something fucking wrong.

Her friend had to go with her because mom has no mode of transportation. Why, you may ask?

We have 2 cars. 1 is allowed to be on the road and the other isn't. 2 days ago, step-bro and his wife took #1 because they were supposed to go to the store. The store 20 minutes away. They've gone across state lines without permission to bum money off step-bro's grandmother and his wife's parents. They never asked to do any of this with the vehicle in my mom's name. Step-dad had to use #2 despite it not being legal right now. He's not here either.

Mom has no way of being there for Bethy other than calling repeatedly to find out information.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, the reason Idiot #1 and Idiot #2 are bumming money off of people who have legit cut them from their lives due to them literally overspending on said peoples' credit cards without permission, is because they have no jobs, don't want to have jobs, and don't want to pay their portion of the rent.

They were living here, not on the lease, for 8 months, and barely helped out. The owner just found out a couple weeks ago and raised the rent $300 because of it. She's an old bitch who isn't following Delaware's housing laws and has done nothing but be an asshole. Still, she has a right to raise the rent when people she didn't want here, are here. They're throwing fits about it despite it being their own actions landing them here. They could have moved out any time.

So far they've pulled the:

living-on-her-parents-money-when-they-met-without-permission,

to being-kicked-out-cuz-the-parents-didn't-want-stepBro(a stranger)-living-with-their-daughter,

to moving-back-in-with-dad-cuz-they're-so-unfair,

to-moving-to-their-own-apartment-cuz-jobs-aren't-fun,

to moving-back-in-with-dad-but-us-being-there-against-the-lease-got-dad's-family-evicted,

so now-we-live-in-stepMom's-Uncle's-house-with-them-and-hate-how-they-made-us-get-jobs-again,

to moving-in-with-grammy-cuz-unfun-dad-made-us-get-jobs-again-and-grammy-is-disabled-and-needs-constant-care-so-we-don't-need-jobs-with-her,

to grammy's-sister-found-us-out-and-kicked-us-out-cuz-we-maxed-out-grammy's-credit-cards-so-we-moved-in-with-aunt-Karen-using-some-sob-story-about-how-unfair-grammy-and-her-sister-are,

to aunt-karen-kicked-us-out-because-we-broke-her-things-didn't-work-and assaulted-her-hubby-so-we-moved-back-in-with-dad,

to we're-gonna-try-to-get-pity-from-her-parents-since-we-have-a-baby-now-all-cuz-dad-wanted-us-to-work-to-pay-our-portion-of-the-bills-and-we-don't-like-that.

I am lazy and don't work. I've never pretended to be anything but myself. This means I never stole my mom or dad's car. Never stole my terminally ill grandmother's credit cards and then lied about what I used them for. Never hopped from house to house for the past 7 years, bumming off people all over not wanting to get a job. I've never pretended to be disabled to get benefits from the government. I've never lied on official documents to get more money from the government. I've never been dishonest about who I am.

The list goes on. It's bad. I'm so pissed off right now.

Mom is actually crying and feels like a horrible mother because the actions of other people made it so she can't be there for Bethy.