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meatonfork · 2 years ago

Note

grim uses crayola markers and highlighters to color in ghosts tattoos

Artist

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pairing: p!ghost x grim

warnings: none i believe

summary: grim loves coloring in ghosts tattoos

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it’s often that boredom consumes you. it hugs you tightly, and forces your mind to run free. in these times of boredom, you read or maybe write a dumb little poem about a bear.

it reads as so:

Little Bear

He’s somewhere out there,

The little bear.

He plays in the water,

And eats honey-

With a little bunny.

that being said, you were bored.

sighing, you stood from your uncomfortable plastic desk chair, and threw your door open.

“c’mon spoon! we have someone to bother.”

sock clad feet pulled little thumps on the hallway floor as you fidgeted with the highlighter lids that were stuffed in your pockets. spoon’s little paws padded down the hall right behind you.

subconsciously, you had a destination in mind. yellow light from the hallway poured down on your small frame, casting dark shadows on the walls as you made your way to your unsuspecting victim.

typically, if boredom struck you this late, you’d find yourself in price’s office. being thrown to the deep end of sleep from him droning on about whatever he was working on. he’d wake you a while later when he picks you up, and makes his way to your room.

tonight, you’d thought you’d give him a break. you knew gaz was passed out. he never stayed up too late, and soap was probably already bothering someone else.

ghost it was.

you stopped in front of his wooden door, hand submerged in your hoodie’s sleeve, and knocked on his door.

it took a second, but his masked face soon appeared in the doorway.

“yes, grim?”

“i’m bored.” you looked up at him from hooded eyes, a grin flooding your features.

in this light, ghost thought you looked at peace. the light shone perfectly on your eyes, the color looking brighter than usual. something only the sun could pull out of you, he’d come to notice over the years. he noted your hair was kind of messy, as if you’d run your fingers through it- strands pulling apart and becoming poofy.

“and i’m supposed to help with that, because why?” his tone was bored, but really he just wanted to see how far he could take it.

“well, i don’t really want to bother price right now- i’ve been doing that too much lately and i don’t really think i can listen to another report about god knows what right now. gaz is passed out in the commons watching some nature documentary? and, i have no idea where soap is. so, you!” you bounced on your heels lightly, spoon poking her head from behind your leg.

ghost stood still, as if weighing his options. he knew he’d say yes. no one can say no to you, but he liked fucking with you.

“alright, c’mon.” he sighed as he moved the door open and stepped out of your way.

“yes! let’s go little one.” you picked up spoon, and sat her on your shoulder as you made your way into ghost’s room.

it was dark save for a desk lamp being on, letting a yellow glow settle on the room.

“i have an idea- if you don’t mind, that is.” you sputtered as you sat on your pal’s bed.

“and that would be?”

“… can i color your tattoos?” your hair flitted in front of your face, eyes peeking from between unruly strands.

“i- what.” his eyes widened a bit.

“never mind! let’s just watch a movie or something.” you smiled up at him.

he slowly moved to sit beside you on the bed, “you can color them if you’d like. i’ll put something on the tv.”

“okay!” you waited while he put something on, and scooted back to rest against the headboard.

once he was settled, you gently grabbed his left arm, holding it at the elbow and wrist. your hands softly tugged his sleeve up, just passed the edge of the tattoo. you brought his arm to settle on your lap, hunched over.

ghost peeked down to see his arm in your lap. he hadn’t been touched this delicately in so long. he found himself yearning for your soft touch once you’d let go to grab the markers from your pocket.

spoon still sat on your shoulder, like a little parrot watching over what you were doing.

“ghost?” your soft voice spoke over the background noise of the tv.

“what’s up?”

“can you grab spoon off my shoulder? i don’t want her to fall off.”

he reached over and grabbed the kitten, settling her into his lap as she purred loudly. his fingers delicately ran over her head as she settled.

you took the chance to grab a marker and start your graffiti on your lieutenant’s arm. the cold from the tip of the marker made ghost’s arm tense, but soon he relaxed. your touch soothing the goosebumps that formed on his skin.

ghost sat and watched as your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. his once black and white tattoos soon were covered in pastel markings.

he’d peek down every once in a while to see how far you’d come. never making comment unless you asked him which color he thought you should use. he’d answer back in an almost whisper, not wanting to break the peaceful silence that had settled over you three.

sometimes, you would pause your task and watch the show when something caught your eye. your hand still on his forearm, marker clutched in the other.

as time passed, you subconsciously leaned into him more, using his shoulder as support as you gripped his arm and continued to color. the sheets below you ruffled with your movements to become more comfortable over time.

flipping his arm, you continued as he pet the purring bundle of fur in his lap.

small talk of the show playing drifted through the room. you often asking questions about what was happening, or asking him to explain something you didn’t quite understand. he never complained, he liked when you asked him questions. whether it was during something as domestic as this, or what you should do when you get pinned during a mission. he enjoyed being needed.

it gave him a sense of fulfilment that only his team seemed to satisfy. almost like a never ending hunger that couldn’t be satiated.

“okay. i think i’m done.” you lifted your head from his shoulder, legs pulled against him as you leaned on him.

his eyes snap down to his arm in your hands.

bright colors donned his arm, and he preferred it that way. because it was done by you.

“looks good, grim.” his eyes crinkled a bit.

“really?”

“oh, yeah. love it, kid.” his voice was soft.

“thanks!” you beamed up at him.

“do you want to hear the poem i wrote earlier while i was bored?”

a huff of air left his nose, arm still in your soft grip, “hit me with it.”

“it’s called ‘Little Bear’. it goes, ‘He’s somewhere out there, The little bear. He plays in the water, And eats honey- With a little bunny.’” your voice was soft as you recited your dumb little poem back to him.

“are you the little bear, or the bunny? because, i think you’re the little bear and everyone else is the bunny.”

“i never really thought about it. although, i guess me being the little bear makes a bit of sense.” you shrugged as you played with his fingers.

“little grim, the little bear.”

a giggle bubbles from your lips as you rested against him once more.

“ghost?”

“simon, kid. my name’s simon.” he cleared his throat, peering down at you from the corner of his eye.

your head snapped to meet his eyes, “simon?”

“hmm?”

“well i forgot what i was going to say, now. but i think simon suits you quite well, hmm?” simon noted a slight sparkle pass over your eyes as you looked at him.

“well, i would hope so. ‘s my name, innit?” he joked.

“yeah. don’t you dare think you’re getting my name out of me now.” you lightly shoved his shoulder with your own.

“never, kid.” he lightly chuckled.

“good, you’re not getting it.”

“didn’t think so.”

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a/n: thank you for reading!! that poem is a real one i wrote like two nights ago while i was stoned and bored 😭

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sanjoongie · 1 month ago

Text

𝖛𝖊𝖗ä𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖓

Verändern: the German word for change, modify, vary, transform

Pairing: Fae! Yunho x Changling! Reader (f)

Genre: smut

Au: fae, changling, modern fantasy

Trope: s2l, bonded mate

Word Count: 2,358

Warnings: public sex, slight fear kink, restraints, dom! Yunho, sub! Reader, brat! Reader, oral (f), breast play, penetrative sex with no barrier, finger sucking (f), tummy bulge, gag (hand, fingers), pull out game, jerking off on stomach?

Rated: 18+ MDNI

Summary: one night, during the autumn solstice celebration, you're whisked away by a hooded man, dropping a bomb to your life. Except you kind of believe him. It wasn't the first time someone accused you of being different.

Author’s Note: @flurrys-creativity to my champion, the one who will fight for me when I cannot. My tag for you is ironic considering how much I depend on you. You may make me wanna tear my hair out but at the end of the day, who else would validate my logic? Also i really hope i didn't butcher the title *pained seonghwa emoji*. Happy belated birthday flurrs, I hope you had a good one

Branches pulled at your hair and clothes, almost as if they were trying to hold you back. You would have leaned into their help if not for the tall, Fae man dragging you through said dark and menacing forest.

“Don’t ever enter the Darkling Forest, sweet,” your mother always told you. “You’ll get trapped and never return.”

Was it a different situation if you were forced into said forest?

Rewind to perhaps a couple hours earlier, where you were celebrating the autumn equinox. You had a solo cup full of a neon green liquid that burned down your esophagus every time you chugged it. You might have gone for some beer if not for the rowdy crowd of people permanently stuck to the keg.

Not that you were one to turn down a good time with some alcohol but you weren’t starting to feel like you shouldn’t have come to the gathering. Your social battery was already at an all-time low from your job and your family. You were starting to want to kick your past self in the but for agreeing to go to this, despite your busy schedule.

Taking another sip from your cup, your eyes skirted around the blazing bonfire near the dark edge of the forest, and your eyes settled on a figure near the edge. The shadows seem to cling to their lanky form. Unlike the rest of the people around you, bundled up in puffy jackets and fuzzy sweaters, this person had a thin cloak that fluttered in the moonlight. You saw peeks of red and gold. You weren’t one to judge someone on what they chose to wear to a party, but this seemed extremely out of whack.

Then, the person cocked their head towards the forest and then disappeared into its depths.

Now, you weren’t a stupid person to simply follow a stranger into the woods. You were more likely to end up on a crime documentary as the killer rather than the victim. But there was something in your chest that was pulling you to follow them.

You threw your solo cup in a can after downing the rest of the contents, of course, and took long strides to meet the edge of the forest.

Fuck it, the party wasn’t that fun anyways.

Bathed in the moonlight in a clearing was the person you had been following. The light from the moon seemed to only highlight his light-colored hair that had to be dyed because no one had hair that natural color. His dark eyes under his fringe, however, were solidly locked on you.

“I didn’t think you’d come. Perhaps they are right,” the man murmured to himself.

You sighed tiredly. “Look, if this is a ruse to kill me, I’ve got a knife in my bag, and I know exactly where to dump a body.”

The man smiled, sharp with amusement. “Quite the opposite, in fact. My name is Jeong Yunho.”

You rubbed your chest. You had felt a zing of something in your heart. What had that been? Heartburn from the neon drink?

“ ‘kay, well Yunho, I’m going to need you to be a hell of a lot less cryptic if you think this is gonna be a thing right now,” you said boldly.

Yunho cocked his head at you curiously. “It’s clear you were brought up amongst them, but you’re going to need to find a way to be less blunt if I bring you back.”

“You know, you may be really hot, but you’re not making a whole lot of sense right now. If you’re selling drugs, I’m not interested.” With that, you walked backward, not giving him the benefit of your back or seeing your ass, if you’re being honest.

The black bindings that ran down his left arm snaked out from his body as he stretched his arm out towards you. They raced along the sticks and leaves on the bare ground and finally wound around your ankles, anchoring you in your spot.

“Leaving is not an option,” Yunho mused. “I’m afraid I can not let you have that much power over your life right now.”

You should have been scared. You knew that objectively. It wasn’t every day that a man controlling shadows wrapped you up in a forest. But you felt something slowly curling inside your chest as Yunho moved closer to you. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but something in you was telling you that Yunho would never hurt you.

Then the moonlight flashed against Yunho’s eyes, much like when a cat’s eyes reflected light and suddenly everything clicked together. The warnings your mother had told you every day that tied in with never going into the Darkling Forest.

“You’re one of them!” You exclaimed. “One of the Fae.”

“And so are you.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Please, if I was a fairy princess, I--”

“Do you have a habit of winding words and working around the truth, or spinning something into how you would like it to sound?” Yunho cut you off.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but--”

“A darkness inside of you assuring you of your survival. A sharp mind that can thirst for blood?” Yunho continued, stepping closer and closer.

“In my defense, that tree had it coming!”

“If you believe I’m Fae, then you know I can’t lie.”

Your mouth shut audibly. Well, he had you there. “Wouldn’t I know if I was a--”

“A changeling?” Yunho’s eyes glinted with mystery. “Haven’t you always felt like you didn’t belong?”

That one hit a little too close to home. “Why now?”

Yunho’s eyes flitted around to the darkness behind you. “They’re coming for you. We have no King or Queen. They’re worried you’ll claim the throne. They want you dead.”

It was your turn to cock your head curiously. “Then why are you here?”

Yunho pressed his lips together, looking at you, then looking at the ground. “You’re mine.”

“Excuse you?!” You shouted in surprise.

“Don’t you feel it? Our bond? They handfasted us as babies. We’re mates.”

Your hand rubbed your chest with an odd sense of warmth at Yunho’s words. “We’re mates?”

Yunho snatched your free hand. “We have to go.”

That’s how you found yourself currently, running through the dark forest with Yunho. You couldn't lie. It was very thrilling; your heart was beating out of your chest and your legs attempting to keep up with the long-legged man dragging you along.

Then, something zoomed past your cheek, and you cried out. Yunho halted immediately but steadied you with two hands on your shoulders. Your free hand, not currently entangled with Yunho’s, rose to your cheek and came back red.

“He’s here,” Yunho said, eyes flitting about behind you.

“My killer? If I’m a Fae, shouldn’t I have cool powers like you? Let me help. Surely, two against one is bet--”

Yunho clamped a hand against your mouth and pushed you up against a tree. “Quiet. We have to blend into the shadows right now. It’s the only way he won’t find us.”

You watched as the shadows seemed to rise from the ground, encompassing the two of you in a bubble of opaque darkness.

Who was the one pursuing you? You couldn't ask, of course, due to Yunho’s hand on your mouth. So you stuck your tongue out and ran it up and down his palm. Yunho sucked in some breath hard at your moist tongue, licking him, but he didn’t look down at you. That was annoying.

You dropped your jaw so you could draw some of the skin between your teeth. Yunho’s jaw clenched, but still no eye contact.

You were about to push your hands onto his chest when a twig snapped in earshot.

A man with long black hair, a red thread making a braid down one shoulder, and a bandolier criss-crossing his chest. He held two knives between his fingers, flipping them there as he stalked through the forest. Was that your pursuer, because if so, he was really fucking hot.

A low growl emitted from Yunho’s chest. You could feel it because of how close he was, pinning you up against the tree. His eyes were finally on you again, and they were burning with anger.

You smirked against Yunho’s hand. Was he jealous?

Seconds ticked by as hours, but eventually, Yunho lowered his shadows and his hand on your mouth when the other man rushed off in another direction.

“Don’t you ever look at another man like you want to fuck him in front of me ever again,” Yunho commanded.

You raised your eyebrows. “Or?”

Yunho’s shadows wrapped around your wrists and pinned them over your head against the tree. “I know you feel the bond. Do not play with me, Changeling.”

“Me? Play with you? But I’m just human raised, aren’t I? What’s that to a Fae grown up in.. the courts, I’m assuming? Do tell me how I’m besting you,” you purred.

This was fun. Maybe being a Changeling wasn’t half bad.

Yunho’s eyes were getting darker. With what, you had a sneaky suspicion you knew. For within your bond, darkness crept through. Darkness of the way Yunho clearly wanted to possess you. His want seeped through the bond. And you wanted to provoke that.

“Show me.”

Yunho’s nimble fingers ran along your jaw. “You want to cement this? In the middle of a forest, with a man pursuing to kill you?”

You couldn't help but grin. “Wouldn’t that go to show I’m Fae after all? Yes.”

That was all Yunho needed to flip the switch. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding your face in place, as he slanted his lips against yours. You found yourself kissing him back with equal ferocity, a hunger pushing you to be closer to him.

Yunho grumbled angrily, fumbling at your unfamiliar clothes. Eventually, he managed to push up your sweater and bra above your boobs and was currently sucking on one nipple while massaging your other breast.

You let out a low whine when his fingers tickled down your ribs, leaving your breast and moving to wriggle under your pants. Your hips bucked forward, looking for that friction that you were craving.

Yunho grunted, pulling his hand from your pants.

“Wh-why?” You couldn't help but demand.

“These offend me. They need to be out of the way.” Yunho slipped his thumbs on either side of your hips and yanked down both your pants and your underwear down to your knees.

Knelt, his face level with your cunt, he spread your pussy lips and started to hearteningly lick at your clit. He had you mewling with the sensation, making your climax built with his skilled tongue.

“Please, Yunho,” you moaned. “Put your fingers in me.”

This Fae was beyond frustrating. He left your cunt and stood up. You pouted that you weren’t going to feel those wonderful fingers inside of you.

“I must claim you,” Yunho murmured under his breath.

His hands moved to his pants and pulled them down under his balls. Your eyes widened in surprise and delight to see that he was long. Fully hard, he bounced against his stomach, and you licked your lips. The weight of him on your tongue would be wonderful, you thought to yourself.

Yunho bent to scoop your legs from under your knees, effectively bending you in half, your back still against the tree, and your arms still wrapped in Yunho’s shadows above your head. It made it easy for him to slip along your wet folds to aid in pushing into you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned loudly as Yunho’s cockhead pushed into your clenching hole.

Yunho slapped his hand over your mouth again. His eyes were hooded and looking down at you as he slid into you fully. “You are…so warm.” His lips pressed together, and he closed his eyes like he was taking in the moment. “So tight.”

You found yourself enjoying the domineering man melting for your pussy. You clenched down on him and elicited a moan from his beautiful lips. “Fuck me, Yunho,” You whispered.

His eyes snapped open, dark and glittering. “It would be my pleasure.”

The tall, Fae man jackhammered into you, hips moving at a speed that was sure to split you apart. You made muffled noises of pleasure against Yunho’s hand.

And when you sneakily licked his palm again, he pulled his hand away, if only to push his fingers into your mouth. The pads of his tongue pressed firmly down on your tongue, effectively silencing you in a different way.

Yunho’s other hand pressed down on your stomach, and you found your bonded mate smiling at the bulge there. You only moaned again, sucking down eagerly on his fingers. The same hand pressed against your abdomen moved lower until his thumb began thrum against your clit.

In no time, you were seeing stars. You screamed with Yunho’s fingers in your mouth. It was that good. Your heart felt so full, so complete. A string of gold showed that both your hearts were connected now, permanently with this action done in the Darkling Forest.

Yunho pulled out and jerked himself off. He bent your body sideways and sent strings of come onto your bare stomach. He cried out with his orgasm, those pretty fingers of his making himself feel good. Yunho coming was a feast for the senses.

“I’m…I come from…” Yunho panted as he came down from his climax. “My family is fertile. I can’t afford to come inside of you. I don’t want to share with you anyone.”

You grinned, still bent in half. “You do love me!”

Yunho’s ears turned pink at your claim. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours as he let go of your legs and released your wrists. “I…”

You patted Yunho’s cheek fondly. “That’s okay, if I’m a Fae, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of time for you to admit this to me. Now, are you going to tell me the name of the man trying to kill me?”

Yunho’s eyes darkened and giggled. This immortal life was about to become really fun.

#pirateeznet #ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #atz smut #flurry aka your worst tumblr moot #recent #ღatz #topaz's work #topaz's birthday bash 24 🎂

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Bruises

Read Bruises on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 30 - Goodbye

Bruce picked up his phone on the second ring. It wasn't unusual for him to get phone calls at eleven o'clock at night - he was a busy man, after all. What was unusual was the fact that the call was from an unknown number. Bruce very rarely gave out his personal number. "Hello?"

"Bruce?" a tiny voice questioned through the phone.

"Emilie?" Bruce recognized her voice, even though it had been ten years since the last time he spoke to Emilie Graham de Vanily (now Emilie Agreste). He never knew what had happened to her, just that one day she stopped answering his emails and her phone number was disconnected. Bruce wanted to reconnect with her, but at the time it seemed like Emilie chose not to speak to him on purpose.

"I'm sorry for calling so late at night. I know we haven't spoken in a long time, but I'm in Gotham and I need your help."

Bruce didn't hesitate for even a moment. "What do you need?"

Twenty minutes later, Bruce pulled up in front of Gotham International Airport. He didn't recognize Emilie at first, not until he got out of the car and she called his name.

"Bruce!" Emilie had changed. What surprised Bruce was that the first thing he noticed was not the black eye that marred her face, but the little blonde boy who stood at her side.

"Hello, Emilie," said Bruce, pointedly ignoring the fact that she hadn't told him about her son.

"Hello, Bruce. This is Adrien," she introduced.

"Hello." Adrien greeted Bruce quietly, his eyes trained at the ground. The white cast on his arm was decorated with little doodles. Bruce assumed that Emilie had drawn them with the pen she tucked behind her ear.

They all got into Bruce's car with little fanfare. Emilie sat in the passenger seat. Adrien sat in the back and was asleep before they left the parking lot.

"Did your husband give you that black eye?"

Emilie didn't waste words explaining the situation. "Yes."

"What about Adrien's arm?"

"I told Gabriel a long time ago that if he ever touched Adrien, I would leave him. Either he forgot or didn't believe me. I'm keeping true to my word. In the morning I'm going to a lawyer to file for divorce papers and a restraining order, and to press charges for Adrien's arm."

Bruce nodded, "I have a whole team of lawyers that you can use." He kept his eyes fixed on the road even though all he wanted to do was stare at her. It had been ten long years since he had seen her face to face.

Bruce first met Emilie during his junior year at Gotham University. He'd been a mess before that. He could barely stay sober long enough to go to class, and his grades were a testament to that fact. Emilie Graham de Vanily came to Gotham University as part of her study abroad program, in which she would spend two semesters at an American university, then return to Paris to finish her degree. She was Bruce's exact opposite: no-nonsense and dedicated to her studies.

The first time Bruce met Emilie, she slapped him in the face. It was the first day of the semester, and he was incredibly hungover. He only showed up to get the syllabus so he knew what the best days to skip were. Bruce sat down next to Emilie Agreste and started flirting with her, an action he had gotten very good at over his years at Gotham University. Emilie told him three times to knock it off, getting increasingly less polite until she eventually slapped him across the face and stormed out of the classroom.

Emilie must have slapped some sense back into Bruce because decided to apologize. She didn't forgive him immediately, but after a few weeks of sitting together in class, they decided to study together. By the end of the semester, they were meeting up every weekend to hang out. Bruce stopped drinking so much, started going back to Wayne Manor on the weekends, started talking to Alfred again.

Bruce asked Emilie out at the beginning of her second semester. To Bruce's disappointment, Emilie declined, but with a gleam in her eye that let Bruce know that there was a chance that their relationship could become more than platonic. They spent the semester together, sharing meals and inside jokes, study rooms and secrets. Bruce was certain that when he asked her out a second time, as they both stood in the airport, waiting for Emilie's flight to Paris to board, she would say yes. Instead, Emilie pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him, "Third time's the charm, Bruce." Then she got on her flight and they never spoke again.

Bruce found out three months later that she was recently engaged. He was never sent a wedding invitation. He tried his best to forget her entirely, after that.

"We're here," Bruce broke the silence as he parked the car in front of Wayne Manor.

From the backseat, Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Maman?" he mumbled.

Emilie got out of the car and opened up the backseat, helping Adrien to his feet. "Tu es en sécurité, mon fils," she whispered to him, assuring her that he was safe here.

Alfred opened up the front door and welcomed Emilie and Adrien into the house, offering to escort them to their rooms. Bruce was suddenly reminded of the time difference between Paris and Gotham. 1 AM in Gotham was 7 AM in Paris - early morning. It had been at least 24 hours since Emilie and Adrien last slept.

"Are you sure we should go?" asked Emilie, yawning through her sentence.

"Of course. I'll get everything for the lawyers taken care of by morning."

Emilie nodded. "Thank you, Bruce."

Emilie and Adrien left the foyer, following Alfred. Bruce made his way to his office and got to work.

Some time later, Alfred entered the room. “Miss Graham de Vanily and her son have just gone to bed.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You should go too."

Bruce shook his head. "I have too much work to do. I need this paperwork ready for my lawyers in the morning." At the top of his desk were divorce papers for Emilie, papers for the termination of parental rights, and two restraining orders, one for Adrien and one for Emilie, both against Gabriel Agreste.

"What you need, is some sleep. You'll be no use to Emilie and Adrien if you're dead on your feet tomorrow morning."

Bruce sighed, casting one last glance at the half-filled forms. "Alright."

----------

At the breakfast table the next morning, Adrien and Dick had become fast friends.

“If you were a superhero, what would your name be?” Dick quizzed the younger boy.

“That depends on what my powers are.”

Dick wrinkled his nose in objection. “You don’t need powers to be a superhero, you just need training.”

Bruce was certain that he had said the same thing to Dick at one point. Dick heeded the words like gospel - now he spent most of his free time training to be Batman's partner. Though Bruce had already told Dick that he wasn't allowed to fight crime until he was thirteen, Dick seemed to think that enough skill might make up for the two-year difference.

"Okay. What would your superhero name be?" asked Adrien

“I would be called Robin, after Robin Hood.”

“I’ll be called Peregrine. Did you know that the peregrine falcon is the fastest type of bird? They can reach speeds of up to 240 miles per hour. I learned that from one of Mom's movies."

Bruce could recall that Emilie narrated a few nature documentaries in her rather brief film career.

Emilie walked into the kitchen, her black eye hidden by a thick layer of concealer. "Good morning, boys." She looked a bit startled, and Bruce realized that he hadn't told her about Dick.

"Emilie, could I talk to you in my office?"

"Sure."

As they made their way down the hall, Emilie remarked to Bruce, "You didn't tell me you had a son."

"I was.... distracted, last night. I adopted Richard a few months back. I was there when his parents died and he reminded me of myself when I was his age."

Emilie nodded. "I'm glad Adrien has someone to talk to here."

They continued down the hall, stopping at the door to Bruce's office.

"So what is it that you wanted to talk about?" asked Emilie as she entered his office.

Bruce held up the forms on his desk. "Divorce papers, restraining orders, termination of parental rights, and a police report for the injuries he caused. I wanted to know which papers you wanted to be filed and when. "

"I want them all filed, as soon as possible." Emilie's voice was hard.

"Are you sure?" Bruce didn't want to ask, but he felt the need to double-check.

"Bruce, I spent ten years of my life with Gabriel. I let him manipulate me into thinking that he was a good man. And he had his good days. There were days when I remembered why I fell in love with him in the first place. He was so passionate..." Emilie's wistful voice turned cold. "But passion turned to obsession, love turned to hate, and he couldn't stand me but he couldn't let me go either. I was willing to give him second chances when I was his only victim, but I can't let him get away with hurting Adrien. If I don't leave now, if I let him get away with even one of the bruises he's given me, then Adrien and I will never be free of him."

Bruce nodded. "We can get to work on these after breakfast."

"Wait." Emilie gently grabbed his elbow. Bruce turned to face her. "Once the divorce is finalized..." Emilie paused and took a deep breath. "Remember what I said at the airport, when we were both young?"

Bruce nodded and quoted her, "You told me: 'Third time's the charm, Bruce.'"

Emilie gave him a small smile. "Third time's the charm. If you still want me, ask me again."

Bruce knew that Emilie had been through a lot these past few days. He didn't want her to make a decision she would later regret. "Are you sure?"

"I've said goodbye to you one too many times, Bruce. I never want to say goodbye to you again."

There was a deep, earnest honesty in her eyes. Bruce knew that there was no longer anything holding her back. There wasn't anything holding him back, either. "Whatever you need, Emilie, I'll give it to you."

Emilie smiled, a hopeful look on her face. "Tell me I can stay."

"Forever."

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #bruce x emilie #bruce wayne #emilie agreste #MaribatMarch2021 #my work #miraculous ladybug fic

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 years ago

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reading update

I was going to wait a full month to make another reading post, but I’m impatient and I’ve read a lot of books since the last one, so fuck it! book blogging NOW.

what have I been reading?

Shades of Milk and Honey (Mary Robinette Kowal) - “fantasy of manners” may be my new favorite genre. short, sweet, fun, and scratched that “Pride and Prejudice 2005″ itch with a heaping helping of magic on the side. I have no idea how this is a five book series but rest assured, I will be reading more.

The Midnight Bargain (C.L. Polk) - another fantasy of manners! delightful! I will freely confess that I’m not as found of this book as I am of Polk’s debut novel, Witchmark, and it’s sequel, but I was still delighted by the worldbuilding, magic system, and elaborate rules of society and courtship Polk put forth. one of the few books I’ve ever read where I would have happily taken less plot and more romance, because the love interest is one of the most bangable men ever put to fiction.

Tampa (Alissa Nutting) - a vicious and nauseating character study delving deep into the profoundly unwell mind of a predatory and sex-obsessed middle school teacher. in interviews about the book, Nutting makes clear her distaste with the common narrative that teenage boys who are molested by female teachers are somehow not really being victimized; her debut novel does an excellent job refuting this notion, and main character Celeste is engrossing despicable from start to finish.

Bunny (Mona Awad) - a typical MFA novel that takes a sharp, trippy pivot into surreal horror. although it’s not my cup of tea all the way through - the plot plods and grows tedious in places, and the narrative obfuscation of reality can turn into a headache fast - the idea is darkly fun, the creeping sense of wrongness is dangerously effective, and at least one reveal hit me so hard I nearly threw the book across the room.

When The Tiger Came Down The Mountain (Nghi Vo) - the framing device of Vi’s novellas, in which the stories are revealed as they are told to a monk dedicated to recording history, is even stronger here than in The Empress of Salt and Fortune. this time around, Chih’s telling the story of a mythical scholar and her mercurial tiger wife, interrupted frequently by three tiger sisters who have their own version of the story. the reckoning of two different perspectives on the same tale adds an exciting tension, and has officially secured Vo as one of my favorite new writers.

Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Consent, Love, Porn, and Navigating the New Masculinity (Peggy Orenstein) - the follow-up to Orenstein’s 2016 book Girls & Sex, which I’ll freely admit was a formative influence on me as an undergrad. this sequel of sorts is as upsetting as the first, revealing the extreme degree to which many young men have internalized the pressures of masculinity. you’ll ping pong wildly back and forth between sorrow (here I’m thinking specifically of the kid who had to watch three Holocaust documentaries to make himself cry when his parents got divorced because he had so thoroughly trained himself out of displays of emotion that it couldn’t come naturally even when he wanted it to) to anger (for both the boys who have been victims of sexual assault and harassment, and the ones who guiltily admit they have almost certainly committed it themselves) and walk away wanting so, so much better for boys.

Mediocre: The Dangerous Legacy of White Male America (Ijeoma Oluo) - now that we’ve all completed Oluo’s 101 course by reading So, You Want to Talk About Race, it’s time to get hype about Mediocre. this book’s chapters offer impressively comprehensive essays, drawing delightfully surprising and insightful comparisons between topics as seemingly disparate as the Buffalo Bill Cody-style romanticizing of the “wild west” to the 2016 occupation of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge by far-right extremists. also, if you like fun facts about how staggeringly racist the history of football is, boy is this the book for you.

The Wicker King (K. Ancrum) - before I even get to the content, I need to state that this is one of the most beautifully designed books I’ve ever held. the illustrations, the insertion of “found objects” like playlists and medical paperwork and photographs, and the way the pages literally darken throughout the story to reflect the characters’ deteriorating mental states is all brilliant. and the story itself? a breathtaking series of vignettes spelling out the story of August and Jack, a pair of terrifyingly intimate and co-dependent teenage boys struggling to make sense of Jack’s increasingly severe hallucinations. all the drama and devotion of Achilles and Patroclus, with (spoilers) none of the death.

what am I reading now?

no idea; I have five books on hold at the library and none of them are available yet, so I guess I’ll just suffer !!!

#bookblr #reading updates

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queen-thinky-thoughts · 4 years ago

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Freddie and bullying

So, I keep coming back to the interview with Freddie’s former classmate from boarding school which was in this new documentary. Especially one thing he said has stuck in mind, which is:

“He was a quiet guy. And although he was a shy guy, he wouldn't be bullied. He wouldn't be bullied, he was not gonna back down.”

To me, this immediately made perfect sense because it’s very in line with what I personally see and how I understand Freddie and his character. How so? Well, there are a couple of interesting things to unpack here.

Firstly, what is said is not: He wasn’t bullied.

Instead, it is: He would not be bullied.

And that is a big difference.

Now, I want to begin by briefly addressing my own life, because I am fully aware that my life experiences colour my speculations and opinions here, and I think that is the case for all of us, naturally. I was viciously bullied at school for many years for ‘being different’ (and this included, but was not limited to, the fact that I was very artistically expressive and undeterred in my very strong artistic ambitions no matter what, playing the lead in every school play, singing the solos in choir, etc, even though this did not at all make me popular. Instead, people would shout abuse after me in the hallways and try to push me down the stairs and such. “Is your name Ana-star-sia cause you wanna be a star?” 😂 - is something I got to hear quite a lot. So, yes, there is somerthing about Freddie’s experience in his teens at school and later in college which has a very familiar ring on a personal level for me. “I’ll be a pop star/legend”, “Freddie Baby” and all that. I can’t help but relate. I fully acknowledge my personal bias here.

With that caveat out of the way, back to Freddie.

The former classmate who was interviewed did not, in fact, say that Freddie wasn’t bullied. In my opinion, he said the opposite. Because by saying that he wouldn’t be bullied, what he is talking about is not what was happening, but how Freddie dealt with it. So what this actually confirms for me is that there was bullying, but equally that Freddie refused to be cowed by it. Perhaps apart from becoming more reserved and quiet than he would have been naturally. Did I spend many hours, days, weeks weeping into my pillow in high school because everybody hated me? Yes. Did this stop me from still putting myself out there, still gunning for the lead in the school play, still wanting to sing those solos? No. There are different ways of dealing with bullying, and they are personality dependant. Some people do become complete wallflowers and shut down entirely, trying to withdraw themselves from the centre of attention completely to stop attracting negative attention. And others, perhaps more stubborn or wilful people, do the opposite. They continue to be themselves more unapologetically, pretend to ignore the bullying, pretend it doesn’t get to them at all, pretend they’ve above it. With everything I’ve read about Freddie, I firmly believe he was the latter. He would not be bullied. He would not let his bullies determine what he did or didn’t do, nor dissuade him from his ambitions. And perhaps, that experience in school even served him well later in life.

I’ll come back to personal experience here, because it’s relevant. As an actor, even just trying to get into drama school, I face/faced constant criticism and rejection. 9 out of 10 auditions will end in rejection. Every performance you are in will be criticised. You are always too fat, too short, too ugly, too wrong for somebody in the entertainment industry. And I have honestly often thought to myself that if I hadn’t made the experience I did in school, if I hadn’t had to get used to the thought that if I attract attention, there will always be people who will hate me, no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, no matter how much I attempt to please them. It is a hard lesson to learn, that you will never be universally loved by all, especially for the sensitive artistic types who just want to be seen, and heard and long for their artistic expression to be appreciated and adored.

Now, think of the way Queen and Freddie specifically were often viciously torn down by the music press. I think that the experience I believe he had in school made that easier to deal with for him. I think that, since childhood, he had learned to laugh with the people who laughed at him and not seem daunted by it. Does that mean it no longer affected him? Absolutely not. It still stings. You still always have to remind yourself, like a mantra, that not everybody will love you. Not everybody will love you. There is always a part of you that thinks, but what if, but maybe- It remains a constant struggle for all artists, I firmly believe.

So what I am saying is that Freddie was evidently bullied in boarding school to some extent, but I cannot for the life of me imagine, given what I’ve read of his character, that he isolated himself because of it or let it “ruin” his life. He was still social. He was still in a band. He still seemed happy enough to his friends most of the time, probably. Because both things can be true. You can be bullied, even terribly, and still go to parties, and still laugh, and still have friends and still refuse to see yourself as a victim.

This is what it comes down to. One’s perception of oneself. I think it’s very clear, throughout Freddie’s life, that he did not like and in fact actively refused to be pitied or to see himself as a victim of his circumstances the large majority of the time. That is also a strength of character which makes a person very attractive, and it’s frankly one of the things I love about him. See, if you had asked me while I was in high school if I was unhappy, I would have said no. I’m happy. I’m fine. Because from my perspective, I wasn’t letting the bullies ruin my life. I wasn’t letting them tear me down. I was winning. I was undefeated. And to me personally, it makes perfect sense that Freddie would have felt that way, too.

Now, there is also something tangential, a little speculation I want to throw out there. I think due to the nature of boarding school, there is definitely a certain amount of camaraderie involved and I think that while Freddie definitely didn’t have an easy time of it there, he had a much worse time at Polytech in terms of bullying once he came to London. Why? Well, this is what the Laura Jackson biography has to say about that time, but keep in mind I have found inaccuracies in that biography and there are no sources given for where the author acquired this information:

“In appearance, accent and temperament he must have felt different, and in his neighbourhood he was treated as such. From the start he suffered from ignorant bigotry – made the butt of constant ridicule and abuse. His first reaction was to retreat into a shell. But, recognising that he was there to stay, he realised it would be impractical for him to hide away. Applying his well-developed streak of self-discipline, he worked out a simple plan of attack. Since his narrow-minded tormentors saw him as a funny foreigner, he played the Persian popinjay for them and parodied himself ruthlessly. This took the sting out of their tails, effectively robbing them of their fun. But, brazening it out took its toll, and at home he became unhappy and insecure, desperate to fit in and yet aware that he was different.”

While I have no proof nor sources for this other than this one biography, it does make sense to me. It makes sense to me looking at the video from Polytech and his entire body language. It makes sense to me in context of the entire situation. It makes me think that if there was a part of his schooling where he was really, truly miserable much of the time - it was most likely then. (So much so that I wrote fic about it.)

So there you are, my detailed thoughts on Freddie and bullying.

#freddie mercury #early days #bullying #boarding school #polytech #speculations

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scithemodestmermaid · 3 years ago

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i just finished eternal cylinder and i’m reeling.

no spoilers: Geoff, you better nominate this for SOMETHING this year because it is the best, most soulful damn game released all year.

spoilers (text and picture) (also somehow it turned into an essay/review, sorry about that):

Not so much a boss fight as it is a boss dodge.

I’ve been waiting on this game for six years, ever since ACE Team posted a video called The Endless Cylinder in their YouTube channel. This prototype just stole the hearts and minds and inspiration of me and lots of others, and I remember discussing potential theories and mechanics with several others (with the devs themselves popping in, adding to the discussion, and taking notes!). When it went off the radar, I was afraid we’d never see it again. Then they went Epic exclusive, which at the time was even worse but now I don’t even care because if this masterpiece couldn’t have happened without that exclusive money then I thank Tim Sweeny for the funding.

Is this a Pacific Rim?

This is one of the most well-designed games I’ve seen in a long time. The art, music, and gameplay all combine to create a fascinating space-Lovecraft experience. The cylinder is a dominating force on the horizon, and the game has all sorts of little tricks to remind you of that. The cylinder will turn firey orange while the music turns ominous. Many runs to the towers (checkpoints that keep the cylinder at bay) will end by forcing the player to turn and see the cylinder at the edge of the screen, barrelling down on them. Sometimes, the cylinder will force you to stay within a certain distance from it. Even in peaceful areas, the cylinder is always present: a reminding force that this planet is doomed.

Then its shares its motives: it is imposing order (removing pain and suffering brought on by chaos) by subsuming all into itself. It reminded me of the reapers’ motivation from Mass Effect, except actually satisfying. The logic technically makes sense, but is executed in such an eldritch way. The horrendous effects of the cylinder on the planet (not only the wasteland it leaves behind, but the creations it sets forth: hideous mockeries of the human form, beautiful and disgusting all at once), the meloncholy deaths of its victims (especially the greet gaahrs, giant giraffe-dino things that just agonizingly break and fall into the cylinder), and the despairing screams of those it has already collected (including the entirety of Earth!), shows how damning this fate is. It adds another layer of dread and despair to an already beastly antagonist.

My final team gets a congrats (if only they would have FACED THE CAMERA, but oh well)

The cylinder, therefore, gets the perfect foil in the form of the Trebhum. These are tiny little elephant-aliens that can mutate into different forms and abilities. They are endlessly curious and a bit chaotic. But they are friendly, and try to see the best in everything. They are smart and wise, creating music and legends (that can be found in the compendium: there’s no reason to have them there, but the devs went that extra mile anyway!). Watching them doing their thing while the Narrator guides them almost feels like watching a charming nature documentary.

Their cheer and determination is what eventually does in the cylinder. They collect as many memories of other species as they can in their adventure. They reignite the connection between their race and the space-faring Trewhaala, who then battle and defeat the cylinder’s most powerful creation, mighty Mathmetician (who turns out to be the Narrator all along). The world is saved simply because they were the only ones small enough and brave enough to adventure where they needed to. Such inspiring little protagonists!

GO OFF, KING

Speaking of the Narrator/Mathmetician, props to his voice actor for doing a fantastic job! It starts out strange, but really helps to add to the strangeness and weirdness of the whole scenario. The design of the Mathmetician is so wrong, so creepy, that it sells just how screwed up the cylinder really is. Really, as I mentioned earlier, all of the cyborgs you find in this game add to that. But, as the giant who serves the cylinder as its right-hand ‘man,’ he stands out the most.

All’s well that ends well

These are just a fraction of the things that made this game so amazing. If I really got going, we’d be here all night.

So, to conclude, The Eternal Cylinder is a beautiful tale of destruction and creation, despair and hope, death and life, set on a beautiful and disturbing alien world.

#sci plays vidyagaems #spoilers #clash of the zenos #i really didnt plan on writing a literal review #if going to start metroid dread now but i feel like anything else i play this year will be a let down

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antoine-roquentin · 4 years ago

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Barring last-minute intervention, Orlando Hall will be the eighth person killed at the federal penitentiary in Terre Haute since July. The execution spree is unprecedented in more ways than one; according to the Death Penalty Information Center, Hall’s execution would be the first lame-duck federal execution in over a century.

Yet even as Covid-19 spreads out of control, the Trump administration plans to kill two more people in December. One is Brandon Bernard, the co-defendant of Christopher Vialva, whose jurors have signaled support for a commutation. The other is Lisa Montgomery, the only woman under a federal death sentence. Last week, attorneys for Montgomery, who has severe mental illness, revealed that they had tested positive for Covid-19, almost certainly as a result of traveling to see her in prison. In a hearing on Monday, a federal judge seemed reluctant to grant more time for her clemency petition.

Hall’s attorney, Robert Owen, who also represents Bernard, has declined to be in Terre Haute for the execution, out of concern for his health. “It alternatively fills me with rage and despair that the government is being allowed to pretend as though the pandemic is over when it is not,” he said. This week a federal judge denied a stay of execution in light of the pandemic.

In Terre Haute, where only two of the seven men put to death have had their attorneys present, fear of new execution dates is compounded by a sense of invisibility. In emails, a friend of Vialva’s reiterated the dismay he felt at the silence from politicians in Washington before he died. “I think Christopher wanted the Democrats to be true in action to their position against capital punishment and to take a public stand … against Trump’s executions, no matter the nature of the crimes,” he wrote.

For Democrats, opposing the federal executions would mean confronting a policy that President-elect Joe Biden did much to create. Hall’s case was one of the first capital cases tried under the 1994 Crime Bill, which dramatically expanded federal death row. The 1996 Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act curtailed federal review, making it harder for the condemned to challenge their convictions in court. Although Biden was instrumental in these “tough on crime” reforms, today he has vowed to eliminate the federal death penalty....

Last week, a group of Democratic lawmakers called on Attorney General Bill Barr “to suspend all federal executions so the incoming Biden-Harris administration can evaluate and determine the future use of the death penalty by the federal government.” The American Bar Association also sent a letter urging reprieves for Hall, Bernard, and Montgomery to allow attorneys to safely and fully advocate for their clients. But neither appeal seems likely to succeed. The Trump administration has refused to acknowledge the election results, much less the ways in which Covid-19 has stymied efforts to save people on death row.

Whatever the future of the federal death penalty, Hall’s case is not the type most likely to spur calls for abolition. The harrowing details have been repeatedly recounted in true crime documentaries and podcasts, which memorialize his teenage victim, Lisa René, and decry the brutal violence she endured. “In the years that I’ve been doing this, she is actually probably the most innocent victim that I’ve ever worked a case on,” Detective John Stanton said in an episode of “The FBI Files.”

Yet other parts of the story have been neglected, including critical context about the failures of the legal system that convicted Hall. Last year, his co-defendant, Bruce Webster, saw his own death sentence vacated after a federal judge was persuaded by an argument his trial attorneys tried to make almost 25 years ago: that his intellectual disability made him ineligible for execution.

Hall, meanwhile, was convicted by an all-white jury. Although his victim was also Black, in contrast with the majority of people on federal death row, the exclusion of Black jurors in his case is a disturbing emblem of the death penalty’s racist roots. Hall’s attorneys also point to significant failures by his court-appointed trial attorneys, particularly when it came to the critical investigative work that could have moved jurors to spare his life.

Among these documents are declarations from investigators, relatives, and members of Hall’s community in his hometown of El Dorado, Arkansas, who describe Hall’s expressions of remorse as well as his positive attributes. Several describe how Hall once saved his young cousin from drowning in a motel swimming pool. The same records describe a childhood marked by violence, abuse, and neglect — factors that help explain how he came to commit such a heinous crime, but most of which his jurors never heard.

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sitcomified · 3 years ago

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we can’t make any promises now, can we, babe?

summary: impromptu peraltiago wedding one-shot set in the b99 season three finale word count: 5.4k rating: general

read below or on AO3

A buzz of chatter spills across the bar. Jake, Amy, and Charles are reunited at last, sharing stories the past few weeks over cheap drinks on a sticky wooden countertop. Amy finally tells Jake she loves him so much and he reciprocates without second thought. Charles offers a knowing glance to Amy, but Jake’s phone buzzes before he can follow up.

“Ooh, I'm gonna get this.” Jake excuses himself from the conversation and answers the call from an unknown number on his phone.

“Jake Peralta? This is Jimmy Figgis.” He feels like his throat has been shoved down his stomach. Cases were never truly solved, and usually the perps harbored resentment, but he had never been singled out like this, on his personal phone number. His first instinct is to try to locate Figgis, but even if he wanted to track the call he couldn’t. The voice on the other end has been altered by a robotic filter, and the background noise is indiscernible.

He hesitates for a moment before responding, “oh, uh, hey, dog.”

“You and Ray Holt took down my operation. Now I'm gonna kill you both.” Jake squints across the room in search of anyone remotely suspicious. Unfortunately, he could read too much into anyone when given the chance. He doesn’t recognize the new bartender, and he’s been less chatty than the others. There’s a lady squeezing her purse against her chest as she looks in his direction. His anxieties boil over in his throat as he tries to stammer out a response, but Figgis ends the conversation before he has time to interject: “later, dog.”

Jake’s hand is still shaking as he lowers his phone. His eyes dart around the room. “Uh, Captain Holt?”

“Peralta,” Holt says from across the bar, approaching the counter after politely excusing himself from an odious conversation with Hitchcock and Scully. His arrival catches the attention of Amy and Charles, who drop their conversation about where to find the best sundaes.

Jake scans the room once more before speaking in a low voice. “I just got a call. From Figgis. He knows that you and I busted his operation and he’s coming for us.” He sighs and his shoulders fall down with defeat. Amy instinctively reaches for Jake’s hand.

“Oh dear,” Holt replies. Even his ever-emotionless expression is disturbed by the news, with raised eyebrows and a slight frown. “Well that is certainly unfortunate.”

“What does this mean?” Amy asks, her voice trembling. Jake squeezes her hand, in a futile attempt to calm the storm of worst-case scenarios she’s piecing together.

“We’re screwed,” Charles says, “don’t worry Jake, I’ll make sure to tell your story.”

“We are not ‘screwed’,” Holt replies, “however, we should discuss proper procedure in a more private place.” He gestures to the couple making out at the table to their left. The group nods in agreement. “Go ahead to the precinct, I will meet you there.” He exits the conversation just as swiftly as he arrived, sparing no second in rallying his—albeit somewhat tipsy—squad.

The walk to the precinct is uncharacteristically somber. Charles doesn’t even comment on the fact that Jake draped his jacket on Amy’s shoulders the second they left the bar. The omnipresent breeze of arguments between neighbors, loud music, and traffic goes still and the only noises they can hear are their own footsteps, and the occasional sigh.

The precinct is at least familiar, but laced with uncertainty as night shift officers occupy the bullpen. The trio make their way to the empty briefing room, which is fortunately unlocked. Amy takes a seat in the back, and Jake hops on the table next to her. Charles heads for the bathroom to face the consequences of the “Authentic Asian-Mexican Fusion” cocktail he tried earlier.

“It’ll be okay,” Amy says, gently stroking Jake’s palm. His blank gaze is fixed at the wall in front of him for minutes that seem like hours, and he still hasn’t said a word. Usually when he was worried, she couldn’t get him to shut up. Seeing him silenced sent an eerie chill across her. “At least for now, Figgis and his guys are way too smart to infiltrate an active precinct.”

He finally replies, “So you want me to live the rest of my life here?” He lets out a meek chuckle. “I think that would be worse than getting shot.”

“Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d see you every day, you already eat most of your meals out of a vending machine, and the bathrooms are nicer than your apartment.” Amy jokes.

“Hey, one day that will be our apartment, watch your mouth.” He cracks a smile. For just a moment he allows himself to forget about the immediate danger surrounding him and indulges in the idea of a daily life with Amy. They would order takeout and sit on the couch watching an action movie, and she would be curled up with her embroidery and he could smell her eucalyptus shampoo. Or maybe he'd learn to cook, and she'd put on another nature documentary, and he'd get to listen to her laugh at the stupid voices he did for the animals. He runs his fingers absentmindedly through her ponytail. That’s a life he would buy a million mattresses and toss his grey towel thousands of times over for.

His fantasy is, however tragically, cut short by the Captain’s arrival. “Peralta, a word, in my office please.” Jake nods and follows him through the bullpen, without even bothering to greet any of the officers. It's as if he was watching himself enter the room, rather than actually experiencing it.

“Take a seat,” Holt gestures to the chair across from where Jake was standing awkwardly across the desk, and he hadn’t thought about sitting down. To be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that he had a body. “I have contacted the U.S. Marshall’s office to make arrangements to send the two of us into Witness Protection. I know that this comes as a disappointment, but I believe that this level of security is necessary to avoid the threat.”

The news hits Jake like a punch to the gut. It’s a new type of dread, one that’s crushing him in instead of pulling him apart. He had worked on high stakes cases before, but this was a new level of imminent danger. He’d always been able to talk his way out of any threat; the squad was always there to help him. Even without them, he could fend for himself. Hell, he survived six months undercover in the frickin mob. Jake clenches his fingers against the captain’s desk. “Captain, with all due respect, is that really necessary–”

“–I understand your hesitancy, but it is absolutely critical that we take the utmost caution, but this is non-negotiable. Our Marshall will be here in two hours. Sergeant Jeffords is on his way to brief the squad on necessary protocols right now.”

“How long will we need to stay in WITSEC for?” Jake tried to reason with himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. It could be a couple weeks, a month tops. It would hurt like hell, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. If it was somewhere cool, then he could also get a killer story out of it.

“Indefinitely,” Holt responds, as if it was obvious and insignificant as the color of the sky. His answer severs the last thread holding Jake’s sanity together. He bangs his fists on the table.

“What the hell? You just assumed I would be okay with all this?” he shouts, “I can handle myself. I don't need to be babysat. I've been a detective for ten years!”

“Precisely, that's why I assumed you would react like an adult, and not like a petulant child.” Holt retorts. His dismissive delivery only fuels Jake’s anger.

“What did you expect me to do? I just got to see Amy for the first time in weeks and now my life is at risk because of some stupid case?” He pauses for a moment, recalling the ridiculous conversation from the briefing room moments ago. “Let me stay here, I’ll take down Figgis. I’ll even live in the precinct.”

Holt manages to convey a magnificent lack of amusement. “I don’t have time to deal with your immaturity right now. There are several arrangements I need to attend to, for your safety, If I may add.”

Jake’s heart is still pounding as he storms out of the captain's office. A pair of officers look up at him with concern before returning to their paperwork. He walks directly to the evidence lock up. As much as he wanted to squeeze out every last moment he could with Amy, he couldn't risk ruining it with some impulsive hot-headed remark.

He paces around the room before eventually landing on a box to rifle through. If he couldn’t address his feelings, he could certainly distract himself from them. It’s an old case—from before Holt became Captain. From what he could remember, the perp was busted for poisoning victims she catfished, and stealing their identities. When he opens the box, a puff of dust fills the air, hitting him with the heavy reality of just how much time had passed. He occupies himself by sifting through the contents of the box: the bracelet she used to store arsenic, the harddrives containing compromised information, and the perfectly crafted report that Amy had spent their whole lunch break editing. He really didn’t know how lucky he was then. He spent every day with the most wonderful woman alive and wasted it by teasing her.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps. He would recognize Amy’s awkward clunking in her “going-out heels” anywhere. Even if he was deep undercover all the way across the country. “I knew I’d find you in here,” she greets him, standing in the door frame with a bunched up tissue in hand.

“It’s like you’re a detective or something,” Jake says. He aims for the light flirtatious tone that the two have grown so accustomed to, but it comes out too aggressive for either of their comfort.

Amy hesitates before clearing her throat and approaching him. She closes the lid and returns the box of evidence to the shelf, and reaches an arm across his back. She notices Jake’s widening eyes, slowing heart rate, and just as he opens his lips she accepts his implicit apology. “This is stressful, I understand.” She pauses and Jake can hear the soft popping of her lips; she's choosing her words very carefully. “I was thinking. Figgis will take a while to track down. I can’t let you go alone for that long.”

Immediately Jake tenses back up. He felt that they were in an awkward stage relationship wise, even before Amy went undercover. He worried she thought that he was moving too fast too soon. That he wasn’t serious or responsible enough. He can’t stop himself from vocalizing his anxieties. “Ames, are you breaking up with me?”

Luckily for him, Amy looks equally horrified at the idea. “No, the opposite, actually—” she takes a deep breath, as Jake violently racks his mind for what that could possibly mean,“—I think we should get married. I know this is all really soon and we haven’t hit all the relationship milestones, but WITSEC only allows contact with immediate family, and after what we just went through I can’t imagine—”

He interrupts without a second thought. “—Duh-doy, of course I’ll marry you.”

Although the proposal was a mere technicality, excitement washes over the room. Amy launches herself at Jake with wide-open arms. He squeezes her tightly and lifts her up. Figgis was still on the loose and his life was still in jeopardy, but it all seemed insignificant when he knew Amy would be by his side. He slowly lowers her down onto a pile of boxes. With their faces pulled back from each other, Jake can actually see Amy’s brilliant smile. He almost feels guilty for dampening it. “Uh, the Captain said the Marshall would be here in two hours, and everything’s closed.”

Her eyes are illuminated by that specific laser-focused excitement that was reserved for completing a crossword puzzle, or, choosing a new notebook, or, someone concerningly, receiving praise from her captain. “Leave that to me,” she says.

Jake can barely muster a response as Amy races to her desk. “You’re my dream girl.”

“I know,” she replies from across the precinct, no doubt doing one of her lovable dork dances from behind the door. The officers must assume that they’re somehow crazier than they already do, but Jake doesn’t care. Amy’s voice is still echoing in his ears when he returns to the captain’s office. His senses return to him, and he’s even grateful for the precinct’s faint smell of metal and burnt-coffee.

Holt seems to have calmed down from earlier, or at the very least, he’s so immersed he can’t be bothered to deal with Jake’s crap right now. He has a pile of binders on his desk and his reading glasses are on the verge of sliding off the tip of his nose. Seeing Holt in serious action almost makes Jake feel guilty for acting out earlier.

He enters the room awkwardly, and Holt looks up from a particularly thick file and clears his throat. “Detective, I noticed you and Santiago were conversing. I trust that you have sufficiently addressed any emotional concerns this process might have, given the romantic nature of your relationship. I understand that the prolonged separation can be quite challenging to navigate. Kevin and I recently had quite an emotional conversation ourselves.”

“Hello Kevin, it is I, your husband Raymond Holt.”

“May I inquire about the occasion? This is a rather unusual time to call.”

“I agree it is quite unorthodox, but this news is urgent. I just completed a very dangerous case and my life is in danger. I am headed into a Witness Protection program indefinitely.”

“I understand. I am quite disappointed by this news.”

“As am I.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jake replies. In any other circumstance he would declare his eternal love for Amy from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge, making sure that the whole city could hear. But, although he would never admit it, he cares just as much about the Captain’s approval as she does. Whenever he imagined proposing to Amy, years down the line, he knew it would be elaborate and tasteful (to the extent he was capable of it) and when both of them were ready. He knew that’s what Amy deserved, and Holt knew it too.

“Pardon?” Holt takes his eyes off the monitor and folds his arms, and Jake feels as if he’s being interrogated. Through the glass, he watches Amy at her desk frantically typing and scribbling down notes.

He purses his lips in anticipation. He doesn’t have time to do a bit or give a fake story to dull the big news like usual, and that makes the ripping off of the bandaid even more painful. “It is possible that Amy and I maybe just decided to get married before the Marshall gets here.”

Holt opens his mouth with a slight indication of confusion, before swallowing a gulp of air. “I see…and you’re sure that you will be able to file the requisite paperwork in time?” An entirely unremarkable—and characteristic—reaction to the situation. No hints of judgement or celebration, just an acknowledgement of simple facts. Jake supposes that he filed any emotional response away to be processed at a later point.

“Don’t worry sir, we have a plan,” Jake assures his still-skeptical Captain. “Well, Amy has a plan,” he clarifies, and Holt indicates marginal relief.

Holt sighs, “I know I am not one to talk you out of your schemes—”

“—It’s not a scheme, it's a plan, and it’s a great one. Amy and I are going to go to whatever craphole state the Marshalls send us to, solve the case in no time and then make out 24/7,” Jake says with a new rush of adrenaline.

“As I was saying, you seem to be quite confident,” Holt continues, “which is why I’m not going to attempt to negotiate with you. You are excellent detectives and you clearly care a lot about each other. Congratulations to you both.” He gestures to Amy, who has her face nearly pressed to the glass behind the shades, as she tries to listen to their conversation. “Santiago, you may enter.”

Amy almost trips on her way into the office, and Jake greets her with a hug, “Did you hear that? The Captain approves!”

Her face floods pink, undermining her already futile efforts to maintain composure. “Thank you sir, it means a lot.”

“Of course. It’s highly enjoyable to see a couple as compatible as yourselves.” Jake has to bite his tongue to avoid mocking his word choice. “Now, given that time is of the utmost essence, I urge you two to go home and gather personal documents. I’ve already spoken to the night shift’s Sergeant, and he has agreed to lend officers to escort each of you.”

“We need to get all the marriage paperwork sorted out, I can just stay here,” Jake adds, turning to his girlfriend, “Amy, all my important stuff is under my beanbag chair.”

“That's why it's so lumpy!”

“I’m sure Detective Boyle would be more than happy to help out with your nuptials,” Holt replies, pushing aside his disgust with his Detective’s living situation. “Here is a list of things that the Marshall will need,” he hands over two slim printouts from one of the many binders on his desk. “You are dismissed.”

“Thanks,” Jake says, flipping through the sheets. He would be so screwed trying to find this all in his apartment.

“See you on the other side, babe,” Amy whispers as she leaves the office.

“See you on the other side,” Jake says, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs.

///////

One hour later.

Amy returns to the precinct with a sleek folder containing every document the Marshall requested. While gathering her necessities, she changed into her old graduation dress. It’s knee length with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, not nearly formal enough for the wedding she had several binders dedicated to, but for all she cared she would marry Jake in sweatpants and grandma glasses.

Her jaw drops as she enters the break room. As it turns out, Charles wasn’t the only one in the squad ecstatic about a Peralta-Santiago wedding, even if it was just a formality. As soon as the rest of the squad found out, they volunteered to help in any way possible. Rosa took her motorcycle to the City Clerk’s office where she obtained a Marriage Certificate and License, though she wouldn’t disclose how she got into the locked rooms. Terry convinced his neighbor who worked in the State Court to begrudgingly sign a letter authorizing the marriage in under 24 hours (“Theirs is a love story for the ages, for the ages Margo!”) Hitchcock and Scully even rearranged the furniture to form a sort of mock-chapel although it didn’t help that Scully was asleep on one of the couches in the back.

Charles himself went full-Boyle. The room is decorated with a beautiful miss-match of flowers from the 24/7 bodega down the street, and soft classical music was playing over the precinct’s sound system. It’s enough to make the holding cell containing a single perp with thirteen charges of public urination seem miles away. “Amy!” he turns around when he sees her, letting the banner of post-it's he’s hanging drop to the floor.

“Charles, this is incredible!” Amy exclaims.

“Thank you, it's not the wedding I dreamed about for you two,—that one has far more exotic birds involved, both for eating and for pleasure,—but I figured it was my job to step up as Jake’s de facto best man,” he says, pulling her into a hug. “If you hurt him I swear to god I will make you suffer for the rest of your life,” he whispers into her ear.

Amy pulls back hesitantly, “yeah, of course I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jake.” She laughs, but no one joins.

“Seriously, we mean it,” Rosa adds, her tone somewhat undercut by the bouquet of roses she’s tying together.

“Everybody, leave Santiago alone, she’s not going to do anything,” Terry says, but his authority is undermined by the mouthful of tape from hanging up decorations.

At that moment Jake walks in, “Leave Santiago Alone, She’s Not Going To Do Anything: title of Amy’s sex tape.” He’s changed into a white button up shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans. His red tie and scuffed sneakers match the flower petals around them. Charles must’ve coordinated this, Amy thinks. He looks so handsome that she forgives the insult. Besides, they both knew he wasn’t speaking from experience.

“Dude, you’re literally getting married,” Rosa says, as Jake rolls his eyes. He saunters over to Amy and gives her a quick kiss. She takes his arm around her, and they walk to the back of the room for a semblance of privacy, taking a seat on the couch opposite Scully.

“Hello future wife,” Jake greets Amy.

“Hi future Mr. Santiago,” she responds, with a slightly smug smile.

“Wait, what are we going to do about last names? Should we hyphenate?” Jake asks, frazzled. He’s still processing everything that’s happened that day.

“We can work all that out later, but it would make paperwork a nightmare,” Amy says, as she tucks a tiny curl behind his ear. It immediately bounces back. Jake smiles at her. Of course she could still be thinking about paperwork at a time like this.

“I know it’s cliche, but I really do feel like the luckiest man on Earth,” he says.

“Well you are being targeted by one of the countries largest crime families, so I guess it evens out.” Jake looks away in response, and Amy bites her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just thought with everything—”

“—No, it’s fine,” Jake says, and he quickly pulls back his frown. At some point over the past evening (early morning, really) Jake had allowed himself to believe that this marriage was forever. That it was the next step in the infinite journey they would share or whatever. His stomach churned at the nagging idea that this was just a loophole for Amy to work a case with him.

“Babe, is everything alright?” She turns to face him, and he realizes the uncharacteristic length of his silence.

“After all this is over—if it’s all over—are we going to stay married?” he asks, not quite able to make eye contact.

“Is that what you want?” Amy counters.

“Maybe,” Jake responds. He definitely knows what he wants, but he tiptoes around putting Amy in a precarious position. The last thing he wants is for her to feel compelled to stay married to a guy she’s only been dating for a year. Instead, he returns the question, “is that what you want?”

She pauses for a second to think. “I want a proper wedding. With my family and everything—I think my mom would kill me if I didn’t. But I want to marry you. Preferably not in a police precinct though,” she adds. Now it’s her turn to avoid his gaze.

“I want that too,” Jake smiles in agreement, “Although a precinct wedding doesn’t seem that bad. Terry’s kids could be our flower girls.”

“That would be adorable,” Amy says.

“Do you think Sarge could bring them in now?”

“Jake, it’s the middle of the night on a school night,” Amy reminds him. Stupid reality always getting in the way of his great ideas.

“Right,” he pauses, and then lets out a laugh. “I love you, Ames.”

“I love you too, Jake,” she says, with her head on his shoulder. He wishes that they could stay like that forever, but time (or, to be more precise, his captain’s anal scheduling practices) were not on their side.

Amy explains all the different forms they have to sign and Jake watches her carefully scan each line and write her name in font-like handwriting. She feels Jake’s leg shake underneath the table and lays her warm hand against his knee to calm him down. He picks up a pen from the floor and adds his name next to hers. He takes a moment to appreciate the smooth black ink from her favorite fountain pen next to his skipped blue-rollerball scrawl.

“Alright, we’re married,” Jake announces, going in for a high five. Amy looks at him with disbelief, and Charles takes the opportunity to cut in and slaps his palm. The rest of the squad joins them around the table, except Hitchcock has fallen asleep on Scully’s lap.

“I can’t believe it,” Rosa shakes her head, “someone actually agreed to spend the rest of their life with Jake.”

“Hey,” Jake protests, “that’s my wife.” He looks up at Amy with his adoring heart eyes and she feels a flutter in her chest. It was the first time she was referred to like that, and he didn’t even use the Borat voice like she expected.

“Whatever. I’m happy for you dorks,” Rosa says and she’s just drunk enough not to hide her smile. “This is unacceptable,” Charles interrupts, “I mean all this work, all this build up—years of watching your heightening sexual tension—just to sign a few papers? At least give us the vows.” He gestures around at the decorations to emphasize the point.

Jake is about to butt in about how it’s not for him, and if they were able to they would celebrate more, until Terry adds on. “I agree with Charles! Terry loves love.”

“Eh, seems like a good way to kill twenty minutes, babe, you in?” Jake turns towards Amy.

“Why not?” she says.

“Yes!” Charles exclaims, “I can officiate, I’ve had my speech written for years. How familiar are you with the different types of tentacles?” Amy and Jake exchange horrified glances, and Jake gets ready to talk his friend down. “I’m just kidding, about the tentacles,” he clarifies, although Amy isn’t entirely convinced.

“Am I going to be able to stop you?” Jake asks.

Charles is already running to his computer when he replies, “Not in a million years!” Terry soon follows him outside, inviting every officer to come watch the ceremony. Rosa tries to wake up Hitchcock and Scully with a gentle nudge before eventually slapping them awake.

In the meantime, Jake and Amy stay at the table. They’re both exhausted from the events of the day, and Amy tries to stifle a yawn as Jake asks her nonsensical questions about life in WITSEC. “What do you want your undercover name to be? I’m thinking Larry Sherbert.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “I’m not taking the last name Sherbert.”

He smiles, “that’s right, because I took yours, Rainbow.”

“You want my name to be Rainbow Sherbert?” she responds incredulously.

“Yep, you had hippie parents,” he explains. She’s about to tell him to knock it off, when Captain Holt enters the room. Amy instinctively straightens her posture and smooths out the front of her dress.

Holt lays the bottle of champagne he’s holding on the table, “This is from my miniature fridge. I was saving it as a mentor-to-mentee gift for when Santiago passed the Sergeant's exam, but this occasion seems equally appropriate.”

“Thank you sir. This is too kind,” Amy says, in the most formal voice she can muster.

“Of course,” Holt says, “It is a customary gift between workplace associates such as ourselves.” Jake shifts his puzzled gaze between his wife and his Captain. He loved them both, but couldn’t for the life of him decipher their relationship.

Terry and Charles return and a few officers trickle into the chairs in the back. Holt takes a seat in the front row, next to Rosa, and Amy and Jake join Charles in the makeshift archway between the vending machines.

“This is the happiest day of my life,” Charles whispers, putting his arms around Jake and Amy.

“Because you found out you were adopting a child, right?” Jake checks.

Charles blushes, “yep, totally that. I’m going to be such a responsible dad.” He rifles through his papers one last time, “Ok I’m ready whenever you are.”

Amy glances expectantly at Jake who gives her two sharp thumbs up. “I think we’re good!”“Alright let’s get this party started!” Charles announces. His volume catches the attention of the crowd, and the chatter dies down. “We are gathered here to celebrate the union of the two most magnificent people I know: Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago. Many of you have had the privilege of watching Jake and Amy’s relationship blossom from the overly competitive co-workers who drove us crazy with their constant bickering, to the glorious sight it is today.” He continues his speech, skipping over entire pages that have been crossed out, containing metaphors everyone is undoubtedly thankful not to hear. “To Jake and Amy, partners in crime solving, and now also, partners in life!”

The room applauds, and Jake takes the time to dab at the tears he was holding back during the speech. “We come now to the words you’ve all been waiting for. Before you declare your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today. Jacob Zachary Peralta, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Amy Maria Santiago in marriage?”

Jake and Amy share a mischievous glance, realizing he never told Charles his actual middle name. He’s about to bring that up, along with the fact that none of the day’s events were remotely close to his intentions, but he gets the sense that Amy wouldn’t be happy if he derailed the ceremony. Instead, he smooths out his tie and confidently says, “I do.”

“And Amy Maria Santiago, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Jacob Zachary Peralta in marriage,” Charles continues, oblivious to their antics.

“I do,” Amy smiles.

“Please face each other and hold hands,” Charles says, pulling two silver bands out of his pocket. Amy looks at Jake with confusion and he mouths the words beanbag chair. Charles instructs the two to repeat after him as they place the rings on each other’s fingers. The whole ceremony starts to blur in Amy’s mind as she realizes Jake already had this ring that somehow slid perfectly on her finger.

“And now, by the power invested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor to declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Charles declares, tossing his papers on the ground for dramatic effect. Jake reaches his arm around Amy’s back in an attempt to dip her as some grand romantic gesture. She fumbles a little and ends up standing up and pulling her head up to his until their lips meet in a warm, invigorating kiss. Both of them chuckle as they pull apart. A few of the officers take that as a cue to return to the bullpen.

“It’s my grandma’s—the dead one’s,” Jake explains, pointing to Amy’s ring, “—and that’s like the one Peralta marriage that wasn’t a total failure so I thought it would bring good luck or something. Plus, you know the crushing debt.”

“It’s perfect,” Amy says, examining the carefully carved diamonds.

Captain Holt rises from his seat and reaches for the bottle of champagne, announcing a toast. As he starts to open the bottle, the cork goes flying across the room, shattering the vending machine glass. Hitchcock and Scully race towards the rubble to steal some free snacks. It’s at that moment that the Marshall, who unbeknownst to the squad had been waiting outside the Captain's office, decides to examine the break room and investigate the noise.

There’s a moment of silence, interrupted only by the fizzing of the overflowing champagne. Amy feels her stomach churning as if she’s somehow in trouble. Holt is at a complete loss for words. At last, it’s Charles who speaks up, hesitantly saying “Mazel Tov?”

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jamy #jamy fic #brooklyn nine nine fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #b99 one shot #my fic

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stripyhorse23 · 4 years ago

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TV of 2020

1) I May Destroy You

I May Destroy You might not have been written during the pandemic, but when it arrived in June it felt like the sort of complicated, cathartic show that could have been. Detailing one woman’s experience of rape and its aftermath, Michaela Coel (who wrote every episode) continually found rich narrative avenues in which to explore her characters’ individual experiences of sexual assault and consent. If that makes the series sound concept-driven, it always placed its characters first; the push-and-pull between Arabella, Terry and Kwame is key to the ways in which Coel’s tender, curious writing is able to explore power dynamics within relationships, friendships and hook-ups. Other, lesser shows that are this deliberately open-ended might feel opaque: it’s testament to the show’s confidence of voice that isn’t the case here.

2) Normal People

Like plenty of others, I binged the entire series of Normal People in a weekend, although one of its many pleasures is how Sally Rooney and Alice Birch’s adaptation teases out the episodic nature of the former’s bestseller. From Connell’s early days at university, to a Tuscan holiday turned sour, and an exchange year in Sweden, Normal People was about the ways in which the people we love move in and out of our lives over the years. It wasn’t immune to mis-steps (the show draws something of a crude line between the abuse Marianne suffers at home and what she seeks out in romantic partners), but the sheer emotional heft of the show was undeniable, nowhere less so than Paul Mescal’s floodgate-opening performance in Episode 10.

3) Adult Material

Perhaps one of the year’s most overlooked shows, Adult Material follows Hayley Burrows as she attempts to balance life as the harassed mother-of-three and the twilight years of her career as adult performer Jolene Dollar. The slyly comic edge of the first episode is quickly eroded after Jolene becomes embroiled in the abuse of another actor on-set. A stark portrait of alcohol abuse and loneliness, it’s also a sharp indictment of how little the so-called ‘culture wars’ surrounding pornography are meaningfully impactful on sex workers themselves. Hayley Squires gives the sort of white-hot star performance usually reserved for 90s Hollywood rom-coms, a veneer of frustration and resignation overlaying even her character’s most abrasive moments.

4) Cook, Eat, Repeat

Why not in this interminably shitty year, choose the one show that offered the sort of balm it’s impossible to reverse engineer? Following hot on the heels of a disappointing series of The Great British Bake-Off, Nigella Lawson’s warm, inviting half-hour new series was the televisual equivalent of a long bath and a facemask. Her fish finger bhorta, brown butter colcannon and black pudding meatballs have already made it into this household’s repertoire, but there’s something innately comforting about the luxurious silliness of Nigella that almost transcends criticism. Whether it’s the giddy nonsense of her liquorice box, the ‘did I hear that right’ moment when she revealed her pronunciation of ‘microwave,’ or the seductive self-care of making a creme caramel for one, no other show elicited such pure enjoyment from me this year.

5) I’ll Be Gone In The Dark

The true crime documentary series boom has increasingly leaned into a focus on the victims, from last year’s The Yorkshire Ripper Files to Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich, but none so effectively or compassionately as I’ll Be Gone In The Dark. Less a story about the hunt for the Golden State Killer and more a study of trauma and obsession, the series splices together home footage of the late Michelle McNamara’s investigation with survivor testimony to create a haunting portrait of one man’s legacy of pain. The early episodes are replete with skin-crawling tension, anguish and tears, but the later episodes allow that to fall away, focusing on the mental fortitude necessary for the survivors at its centre and the sense of community fostered by meeting other women like them.

6)The Salisbury Poisonings

I had no interest in watching this BBC limited series initially: the advertising made it look dry, the story itself (the Novichok poisonings of 2018) seemingly devoid of juicy narrative material. That I’ve watched this three times in the space of a year speaks to its robust, urgent filmmaking. Like several other shows on this list, it arrived into the context of a pandemic it couldn’t have foreseen, but watching the rapid, careful response of local government (crucially and deliberately obstructed by Whitehall) to this crisis presented a sort of horribly watchable what-if scenario. What seemed at first blush to be middle-of-the-road programming evolved over three episodes into the sort of spare, quietly terrifying journalistic drama that invites comparison to last year’s Chernobyl.

7) We Are Who We Are

It turns out that Luca Guadagnino’s woozy, seductive style transfers perfectly to television, and despite We Are Who We Are lacking the timelessness that typifies I Am Love or Call Me By Your Name it thrillingly captured the turbulent adolescence of its teenage characters. Equally effervescent and raggedly emotional, the show’s joy always felt hard-won, bumping heads with the often cynical, unreadable motivations of the adult characters. A tender and frank depiction of queer identities within traditionally restrictive environments, it’s also a love letter to young friendship and the lifeline that can provide during our formative years. Spellbinding.

8) Selling Sunset

Perhaps the year’s most impressively constructed reality show, I was slow on the uptake with Netflix’s Selling Sunset only to have it take over my life for a few weeks during the summer. Manufactured reality series are tough to get right, but much like The Hills (surely this show’s biggest influence) Selling Sunset gains a lot of mileage from gaming pre-existing friendships for maximum impact. Christine and Mary’s beleaguered relationship and, obliquely, their respective responses to fame continued to provide wildly watchable fireworks, but the build-up to Chrishell’s separation from husband Justin Hartley was exquisitely handled. Suddenly Davina’s strangely uncharismatic shit-stirrer and Christine’s predictably OTT wedding were forced to take a back seat to something approaching genuinely moving television. Trying to tease out what was real and what wasn’t, and following the ways this all spilled out onto social media, was pure, unmitigated pleasure in a year sorely lacking in just that sort of unfettered escapism.

9) My Brilliant Friend

Two seasons in and there might not be another character on TV that I’m as continually frustrated and fascinated by as Lila, the eponymous ‘brilliant friend’ of the show’s title. Sparingly warm, often cruel, seductive, Season 2 of HBO’s masterful adaptation sees her trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage but as ever it’s her fractured relationship with Lenù that forms the emotional spine of the show. There’s often a strange sort of snobbery around the term ‘prestige drama,’ as if all that money on the screen is a smokescreen for a dearth of anything to say; My Brilliant Friend uses every colour in its paintbox to portray the yawning void that opened up between Lenù and Lila as they entered adulthood, from the lavish, provocative outfits Lila’s adopts after she marries Stefano to Max Richter’s evocative score and the detail poured into the show’s supporting characters. Rewardingly complex.

10) Mrs. America

I laboured over what would take my tenth spot this year since there was so much TV that I loved, and especially this year so much of it felt essential to how I was receiving the world around me. Ultimately, Mrs. America’s mixture of astute political commentary, character-driven writing and host of enjoyable performances tipped the scale in its favour. Cate Blanchett’s all-timer of a performance as Phyllis Schafly understandably received the majority of attention, but Mrs. America gave us so many memorable moments: Sarah Paulson’s Alice ringing the bell at reception whilst high, Uzo Aduba’s Shirley Chisholm speaking to a potentially bugged hotel ventilator, Margo Martindale’s Bella Abzug quietly realising she’s no longer the radical of her youth on a busy New York street. This sort of deft, smart political drama isn’t often this much fun to watch, and what an ending...

11) This Life

An honourable mention to a show made almost twenty-five years ago that nevertheless helped define the year in TV for me. Shows that were once considered part of the zeitgeist can often feel quaint and old-fashioned in retrospect, but Amy Jenkins rambunctious flatshare drama isn’t one of them. Whilst it can sometimes feel like the show’s characters are universally adverse to making even one good decision between them, there’s a compassion and care underpinning This Life that means it never comes across as overly cynical or sneering. There’s also a lot to be said for discovering a performance that you genuinely consider to be one of the best of the decade, and no other character this year frustrated and moved me in the ways that Daniela Nardini’s Anna did. Bonus points for the genuinely chaotic final episode, perhaps one of the best I’ve ever seen.

And FWIW, these are ten performances from shows not on the list above that I loved this year: Marielle Heller in The Queen’s Gambit, Nicholas Hoult in The Great, Sarah Lancashire in Last Tango in Halifax, Poorna Jagannathan in Never Have I Ever, Michael Sheen in Quiz, Imelda Staunton in Talking Heads, Leila Farzad in I Hate Suzie, Alison Pill in Star Trek: Picard, Gillian Anderson in The Crown and Andy Allo in Upload.

And ten episodes of TV that I loved too: ‘Terry and Korvo Steal a Bear’ (Solar Opposites), ‘The Gang Deals With Alternate Reality’ (The Good Fight), ‘Uncle Naseem’ (Ramy), ‘The View From Halfway Down’ (Bojack Horseman), ‘The Vat of Acid Episode’ (Rick and Morty), ‘I Am’ (Lovecraft Country), ‘No Small Parts’ (Star Trek: Lower Decks), Seven-Spotted Ladybug’ (Everything’s Gonna Be Okay), ‘Daytona’ (Cheer), ‘Whenever You’re Ready’ (The Good Place).

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lothiriel84 · 5 years ago

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Just a few random considerations after my latest rewatch of series 1 of BBC Ghosts last night.

Ghosts vs. the living

It’s extremely interesting that while as a rule humans are completely unable to see/hear ghosts, (some) animals are in fact shown to be able to sense the presence of a ghost, to the point of attempting to interact with them - see Tali (?) the dog barking up at Robin, and then wanting to be petted by Pat.

It remains unclear whether that’s down to some kind of sixth sense specifically possessed by animals (dogs? bears? any animal at all?) as opposed to humans, or it somehow implies that the animal in question had a scrape with death at some point in the past. (Although the latter doesn’t sound very likely when it comes to Barclay’s dogs, or I should hope so, at least.)

Another interesting point is how often exactly do dead animals turn into ghosts. So far, the only animal ghost (or should that be ghost animal?) we’ve been shown is Button House’s resident pigeon - could that be because animals don’t often have any real unfinished business barring their access to whichever sort of afterlife is reserved to their kind? (But more importantly, was Arthur Shappey right in believing heaven is, in fact, full of otters?)

Schrödinger’s (attempted) murder

As I mentioned elsewhere - probably in the tags while reblogging someone else’s gifs, to be honest - I believe Julian being genuinely unable to tell whether he successfully pushed Alison out of the window or she basically lost her balance and fell as a consequence makes for a much more interesting scenario.

To be absolutely clear, that would make no difference when it comes to him being guilty of attempted murder; he is shown to have no qualms whatsoever about killing Alison, and when all is said and done, it hardly matters whether his goal was reached by his own hand or through dumb luck (plus a non-indifferent dose of carelessness on Alison’s part).

All I’m saying is, think back of how much trouble he had with pushing a vase which was comparatively not all that bigger than a cup. And even if he did know for sure - admittedly, he might be capable of feeling the reaction of the object he pushes against, should he succeed in doing so - I, as a viewer, would very much rather be afforded a little room for doubt. Not for the sake of Julian’s character, but as I feel it somehow raises the stakes of this particular storyline.

Alison as one of the coolest characters ever

Not only does Alison figure the whole seeing-dead-people situation mostly by herself - with a little help from the ghost therapist at the hospital, but she could have easily written off the entire episode as yet another of her alleged post-traumatic hallucinations - but more importantly, her reaction when she realises she’s effectively stuck with a haunted house as well as a potentially bankruptcy-inducing mortgage is one of the coolest moments in the entire series.

I dare say most people would be inclined to lose the plot a little bit, when faced with such simultaneously dire yet completely absurd circumstances; Alison, on the other hand, simply unbuckles her seat belt, gets out of the car, and confronts the ghosts head-first. And not only that, but she’s smart enough to call them out on their real reasons for haunting her, to the point they actually confess what they really want from her. (Which sums down, in most cases, to trivial requests such as being allowed to watch war documentaries, or having an incriminated portrait removed from a room.)

Forget her questionable choices when it comes to financial matters, she’s a feisty young woman capable of handling a herd of recalcitrant ghosts, and that’s more than can be said of almost any other character in the show.

The Captain and the morality of choices

It’s hardly a mystery the Captain is a bit of a bastard, and we all love him for that. Right at the beginning, he is presented to us as someone who would make a show of wanting to ‘say a few words’ about the dearly departed just so he could immediately proceed to ‘bagsy her room’. I’d say his general mindset could be summed up as something close to the end justifies the means - with the caveat that we actually know very little about him aside the military persona he chooses to present himself as all the time.

If I had to hazard a guess, facing everything life death throws at him as a military campaign could either be a subconscious defence mechanism, a habit so deeply ingrained he couldn’t shake it off if he wanted to, or something he elects to do as a way to cope with the listlessness that comes with being stuck in limbo (potentially) for eternity. And, quite possibly, a combination of all three.

The main thing is, rules are important for him, but so is winning whichever military campaign he embarked upon at each particular moment in time. When his plan to enroll the plague victims as his new army fails, he resorts to strategic subterfuge in order to win the war; as they say, all's fair in love and war, and more often than not, battles are won by military tactics rather than such things as a superior army. He is very much the Odysseus of Button House, with the significant difference that he’s not so much attempting to conquer an enemy city as he’s fighting to take back control of an outpost he used to be in charge of.

In this (probably unfortunate) parallel, I’m afraid the poor Kitty serves as the infamous Trojan horse. (Juan Domingo, please, we’re not getting into this all over again.) The Captain knows Alison trusts her, and his subterfuge will therefore go undetected until it’s too late; and yet, remarkably enough, he still decides to offer Kitty a choice on the matter. Admittedly, he’s already counting on the fact that Kitty is neither particularly smart, nor in any way prepared to give up on Alison anytime soon - however, he still offers her a choice, and I feel like that is very much relevant to his character. He is, for all intent and purposes, tricking Kitty into fooling her friend/the person she loves; but while he’s concealing all the important facts from her, he’s not robbing her of her choice entirely.

(Should Kitty have decided to prioritise Alison’s happiness over her own, I daresay the captain would have come up with yet another plan to overcome the temporary setback. Neither scenario makes him any less of a bastard, but he’s still a man of principles after his own fashion, and that’s how I choose to read him, regardless.)

A final note on Robin

I’ve made no secret of how Robin is my favourite character by far, just as I believe he is for a significant portions of fans of the show. As mischievous as he loves to be - which is, all things considered, a comparatively tame reaction to being stuck as a ghost for an incredibly long time, with very little hope of ever moving on - his pranks are mostly harmless, and he is at heart the kindest, most emotionally mature of all the ghosts. (Yes, even when he’s scampering around, marvelling at the builders’ equipment. If anything, it’s a sign of his natural curiosity and intelligence; we are, after all, repeatedly shown he is particularly good at problem solving as well as playing what basically boils down to blindfold chess.)

As often as the other ghosts tend to remark upon his language skills or lack thereof, they should probably pay more attention to all the occasions in which Robin’s brains made the difference, and I’m including his emotional intelligence in that category. As others pointed out before me, he’s a trickster with a heart of gold, and the only sane man among what is basically a swarm of squabbling children.

And he faces all of that armed only with his peculiar brand of humour, and his enthusiasm for new things to discover, including - why not? - new ways to scare the living daylights out of Alison, just for the fun of it.

#BBC Ghosts #Ghosts spoilers #series 1 #meta #sort of

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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I would really love to hear your thoughts on Yang's PTSD arc. I hope you don’t think it was handled well. I forgot their account, but someone pointed out about how Tai's joke and calling Yang's suffering moping was toxic as shit. That’s not even getting into her curing her PTSD by killing Adam. Like the racism, it was offensively handled. FNDM loved it, but only because they used PTSD as way to confirm a ship. It’s disgusting for both parties to see/use PTSD like that, this has caused suicides.

First, I think it’s worth acknowledging that such an arc was doomed from the get-go in terms of pleasing anyone. PTSD is an incredibly complex, varied disorder and thus one depiction seen as realistic to some viewers may come across as absurd to others, depending on their experience, knowledge, etc. Like writing a redemption arc, or a dealing with sexism arc, or a breakup arc, whatever, a PTSD arc encompasses too much of the human experience to boil down into one, “right” depiction. Some people will like it whereas others won’t; some people will think it’s realistically done while others won’t; some people will be able to connect with it on an emotional level and - again - others won’t. So when I criticize aspects know that it’s coming primarily from a place of “This didn’t work for me.” Not a claim that it can’t work for anyone. Different people need different types of stories.

That being said, I’m only really a fan of the beginning of Yang’s arc. I think RT did a good job there: having her unable to get out of bed, rejecting Ruby (which was HUGE for Yang), not seeming to care that her little sister ran off, eventually managing to get herself dressed but not anything past watching TV, emotionally flinching away from the arm as a way to “fix” the situation, her firm acknowledgement that she has lost a piece of herself and things will never be the same... that was all compelling and, dare I say, realistic. Including, in my opinion, the arm comment from Tai. This is a perfect example of how different people need different things. Me? I’m Yang. At a certain point I want people to joke about the bad stuff in my life because 1. It helps normalize it, 2. It helps lighten the mood after nothing but Bad Times, and 3. I’m an emotionally constipated person who more comfortably receives affection via humor than heartfelt sentimentality. The important takeaway is that just because you would have been offended by Tai’s comment doesn’t mean everyone else would have... and the really important thing is that Yang wasn’t offended. She smiled. She laughed. She joked right back and we never saw that comment haunting her later, implying that the previous stuff was all just an act. That moment told us how well Tai knows his daughter and what she needs at this point in her recovery: to be treated like normal, someone who is teased and pushed and challenged, not a delicate victim who needs to be tip-toed around. This is also a great example of how the fandom will often ignore the canon in an effort to “prove” their headcanon/subjective reading. Because they want Tai to be the bad guy here they’re just going to conveniently ignore Yang’s response to his comment - the response that overtly tells us whether we should be offended on her behalf or not.

So all that was well done. I’d even go so far as to say it was really well done. The problem is RT didn’t maintain it. Not that a character has to be in this depressive state indefinitely, just that things moved far too quickly after that and (as per RWBY’s usual) had no impact down the road. Meaning yeah, Yang’s hand shakes, but that doesn’t actually affect her performance in any way. She’s still able to spar playfully with Tai. Still able to punch out an asshole at the bar (a moment played mostly for comedy). Still takes out Raven’s goons easy-peasey. Is still willing to fight Raven herself - her long-lost mother - with barely a blink. Still participates in the Battle of Haven with, again, absolutely no difficulty. Indeed, as I’ve mentioned before, Yang removes her arm and goes after two maidens and a third, incredibly powerful fighter. Not only is that stupid for anyone on Team RWBYJNOR to do, it makes even less sense to give that moment to the one fighter who should currently be struggling to fight at all.

The problem comes down to structure. RT front-loaded all of Yang’s difficulties, had her hit a moment where she’s “cured” (putting on the arm), and from then on any “proof” that she wasn’t cured was superficial. It had no impact on her or the plot. Conveniently, Yang’s two flashbacks - in the kitchen and in the Apathy barn - happen when there’s no danger. She’s safe with Tai and safe with Blake, meaning that her PTSD never has a negative impact on the group that Yang has to work through. She never freezes during a battle. She never struggles with whether she can even enter one. Indeed, when she’s faced with the very person who caused this all in the first place, she blasts through Adam with total confidence and control. After Volume Six I received a few anons/responses claiming that this is, in fact, realistic. That anyone with real (“real”) PTSD will struggle when they’re safe but be perfectly capable of pushing through the actual danger if needed. It’s something Steven Universe did much better in my opinion. Steven starts experiencing his most overt symptoms when his galactic war is over - something the show actively has him question and then explains - but the PTSD still has a massive personal impact on his life. I don’t agree that Yang should have been able to confidently blow through every battle like she did. Even if we all unanimously agree that it’s realistic (which, from what I’ve gathered, we don’t), this isn’t a documentary. It’s a crafted story and stories have expectations attached to them, one of which is that we’ll see the impact/outcome/resolution to problems in a way we often don’t in real life. That’s one of the reasons why they’re satisfying via being “unrealistic.” That aside though, even if RT really didn’t want the PTSD informing the plot in that way (what does the group do if Yang can’t fight at Haven?) they could have at least pulled a Steven Universe and had it change the dynamic of the group on a personal level. As it is, no one in the show acknowledges the strong connection between Yang’s PTSD and her current behavior. She’s always been hot-headed, but lately we’ve seen Yang making even more reckless choices (telling Robyn about Amity) and taking her anger out on others inappropriately (the bird conversation, screaming at Oscar, etc.) At no point does the story go, “Hey, you might be doing this because you’re still grappling with PTSD, but that doesn’t make it okay. We need to address this.” Rather, Yang’s PTSD has been forgotten and her behavior continually excused. To the extent that this volume multiple people told me it was absurd to think that Yang should struggle at all with Adam’s death. That’s the legacy her arc has left: such a shallow treatment of the issue that the ongoing nature of PTSD and killing your first person and having that person be the guy who cut off your arm is a combination of things that Yang is expected to just shrug off with a cocky smile. Because that’s mostly what RT has had her do.

Again, there are expectations for stories. Another of which is that - in rejecting realism - a character need not (necessarily) be burdened by their mental health in the way someone would be in real life. I 100% get that RT wouldn’t want to write Yang out of the group as a fighter just in the name of telling a “realistic” story. I also 100% get that the audience doesn’t (again, necessarily) want to watch a character struggle with the same issue indefinitely, especially when the story’s in-world time doesn’t match up with real life time. If you decide Yang needs two years to start making significant progress with her PTSD, that’s going to take a whole slew of volumes considering we’ve had four covering just one year (at most). People don’t necessarily want eight years of RWBY content where it feels like Yang is static. So yes, there’s a balance to be struck between “This is what PTSD is actually like” and “This is what a fictional story needs.” On the whole though, I don’t think RT did a particularly good job striking that balance. They started strong, but weren’t able to maintain that quality.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years ago

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7 Scariest Times The Paranormal Was Caught On Camera That You NEED To See, And The Real Stories Behind Them

What hasn’t been caught on camera?

There’s the 'accidental’ sextapes which are now a confirmed marketing technique, there’s the montages of racial slurs spewed by streamers looking to get, ahem, relevant, and then there’s the clips of customers telling shopping assistants that yes, having to wear a mask is in fact an infringement on their human rights.

(It’s not f*cking hard. Wear a damn mask.)

But everything isn’t just online.

Oh no.

It’s online and filmed in full HD.

And it’s not only the living that are having their most embarrassing moments projected to the world in Ultra-4K. The dead have also been making their name in viral videos.

In fact, it’s the desire to capture the paranormal on camera which has been used by influencer-wannabes and paranormal investigators to secure views and get people talking. But as a result of this, there’s a vast range of clips, pics, and tv shows that claim to capture evidence of the paranormal. And if that wasn’t enough, most of these are faked or fluffed to encourage viewers to fall for the alleged evidence of the afterlife.

But there are some which can’t be explained.

There are some which show no scars of ‘shopped shadows and ghostly figures.

There are some which fit the local legends and complete the paranormal puzzle of the location.

I’ve sifted through YouTube, and I’ve scoured the web for real footage of the supernatural. Now it’s time for you to get traumatised.

#1 - A late-night visitor to The Shaws Bay Hotel wanders around the bar, Australia

In this clip - taken at 1am in August 2015 - we see a white glowing mist move around the tables in full view of the CCTV camera. It keeps its peculiar form in the shape of an orb or a round shadow for a couple seconds, and appears to walk between the tables like a customer before quickly flying off camera.

Check out the video here.

Surely the glowing mist could just be a small bug buzzing across the camera? Or maybe a spec of dust floating in the thick air of the bar?

The thing is, this mist-figure set off the motion sensor security camera, prompting it to record. A moving bug wouldn’t be enough to cause it to start filming.

And if that wasn’t worrying enough, this potential paranormal evidence fits the local legends all too well. This is believed to be the ghost of ‘Little Sarah’, a 7 month old that died in the neighbouring Fenwick House in 1887. She was actually the daughter of the captain - Captain Fenwick - who built the house.

Locals are well versed in her hauntings:

'As a person who has lived in the old house, let me just say it is a very spiritually active house and area’

They typically cite strange noises and objects moving by themselves as the most common activity, but alarms being set off and doors opening are oft mention, too, matching the video in question. She is also known to wander around houses and buildings nearby, and clearly chose the local pub to explore that evening.

#2 - One of the black-eyed children of Cannock Chase wanders in the woods, UK

Black-eyed children are the latest urban legend trend, with creepy kids now dominating discussions of the paranormal. And this video clip is just one more scrap of evidence to suggest that maybe, just maybe, they are real.

You can see the evidence for yourself here.

Filmed by paranormal investigator Lee Brickley (okay, right, it might not have been filmed by him, there is some confusion over who filmed the video or who’s investigation it was in my research), he claims he was filming the notoriously haunted Cannock Chase location when he saw the young girl with pale skin and ‘coal-black’ eyes.

He claimed the child was roughly a metre in height and her head was tilted to one side as if she had been hung or her neck had been snapped (either way it ain’t good). For five minutes the young girl stared at them with her deep, dark eyes, until she sprinted back into the dense trees.

The thing is, this is not the only sighting of black-eyed children in Cannock Chase. As far back as 1982 sightings have been recorded. And all of the sightings - whether the children scream for help, run for the hills, or stare into the darkness - match other claims of supernatural activity local to the area.

The pig-man of Cannock Chase also haunts the location, and is probably presumed to be an evil entity similar to that of black-eyed children. These black-eyed children are believed to be either aliens, vampires, or ghosts.

But they are still largely considered to be simply an urban legend.

The haunted nature of the woods is only furthered by its bloody past: in the 1960s, 3 young girls went missing which were eventually traced back to Raymond Leslie Morris. Could these black-eyed children be the victims of his crimes?

#3 - Antiques move by themselves in Barnsley Antiques Centre, UK

Thanks to the Annabelle movies, haunted objects - whether in creepy-doll format or another vintage style - are the latest trend in terror. And it's for that reason that video clips like this are quite so scary.

In this video we see CCTV footage of a dark shadow next to a shelf. It then gently sways and a huge, heavy lamp comes crashing down from the shelf.

See for yourself.

Okay, fine, it’s a small shadow, and yeah only a few objects fall down. But according to the owner and visitors to the centre, it could be one of the spirits that haunts the location. So much so, that the centre actually has a YouTube channel devoted to their haunting which you can find here.

In 2016 the owner of the Barnsley Antiques Centre claimed he had experienced over 50 occurrences of peculiar activity alone. From the employees that work there to those looking to bag a bargain, this is not the first time something supernatural has been seen.

Fact is, if you collect enough old and potentially haunted objects under one roof, the unexplained is bound to occur. You can read more about haunted or cursed objects right here.

#4 - A glowing light and distinct orb is seen flying over a crib, UK

In this clip we open to a baby’s cot and 8 week old infant that is fast asleep. A baby monitor records a light floating above the cot. We also see the father of the child lean over the child, and a distinctive ghostly glowing orb shake and sway next to the child.

Check out the video.

Orbs are considered one of the most popular signs of paranormal activity that can be captured on camera. But what I want to focus on here is that it is hovering just about the baby.

Children are known for their ability to see and communicate with the paranormal far more than adults. Of course, this could just be an ‘imaginary friend’ or something simply from a daydream or a nightmare; but it's when children mention people that actually did exist that concerns arise.

The connection between children and spirits might just explain why this paranormal phenomenon lingered so closely to the infant. Could this have been a protective spirit, perhaps?

#5 - A haunted calculator is used to communicate with the dead, USA

It's a rule of thumb amongst paranormal enthusiasts:

You never, not ever, attempt to communicate with spirits.

Calculators controlled by spirits come under this umbrella of communication - even if it does sound like it belongs in a parody film.

What do you think?

There are enough videos on the web showcasing the uses of a ouija board, whether they’re real or not. But according to some psychic mediums, ghosts can use any conduit they want to communicate with us. Spirits on the other hand typically only communicate with us through mediums.

In fact, most paranormal investigators often resort to asking ghosts questions and waiting for a visible or audible response, such as a knocking sound. That’s why this video is quite so concerning.

Not only is the calculator old and seemingly unhackable to those ‘using’ it, by communicating with the ghost or spirit, they are inviting the presence to latch onto the location or the people communicating with it, allowing it to feed off their energy.

If this is an evil or negative spirit, this could be the start of a haunting.

#6 - The ghost of an RAF soldier is filmed walking along a busy road, UK

These days, hitchhikers are rarely picked up by passing cars. If anything says potential murderer, it’s that. But this video doesn’t catch a killer - it shows someone who has already been killed.

This clip shows a man clad in khaki and dark brown walking around a road near Belsay who is trying to flag down cars driving past. He appears to be an RAF soldier, but he actually served a couple decades ago. According to local history, this could be the spirit of a soldier that crash landed during the Second World War.

*insert Donald Trump meme about basic f*cking history*

What’s your verdict?

In October 1943, a spitfire spun into the ground at Middlepart Farm. Could this be the ghost of a soldier walking free from the wreck?

#7 - The spirits of soldiers are recorded at Gettysburg, USA

In this video we see small lights and shadowy figures move along a small leafy hill in Gettysburg, a national military park. And as a result of its history, this clip is believed to capture the spirits of soldiers that were caught up in the 3 day battle in Pennsylvania.

Check out the video here.

Thanks to its bloody history - from which approximately 7,800 soldiers died - claims that there is paranormal activity are easy to make. But the location itself has garnered a reputation for supernatural occurrences.

Books, documentaries, EVPs, videos, and pictures all claim to connect and reveal the spooky truth of the location. This video only fits too well.

Numerous spots within Gettysburg have been considered specifically haunted, including the local college, an orphanage, and the home of the only civilian that was killed during the battle. Soldiers tend to lead the haunting, but a ghost cat and ghost children are also spotted at a local inn.

The high emotional atmosphere and bloody violence that took place here - along with the severe volume of deaths - suggests that this short clip showcases just a few of the spirits that still linger here.

As video becomes the mainstream format for communication - whether you’re aiming to become the next big TikTok star or are just sending a meme to a mate - one thing is clear:

Why not use it to prove that the afterlife exists?

Liked this post? Want to read a new article about the paranormal every week AND hear a new real ghost story everyday? Hit follow.

And while you’re at it, make sure you check out The Peoples Paranormal Archive where you can binge accounts of real paranormal experiences and contribute to the project with your own.

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primatechnosynthpop · 4 years ago

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Ok so the idea is in my mind now thanks to what my classmates were posting about on the myinfo discussion boards earlier, and I know that nobody here cares about this, but I need to gather my thoughts here. So here's an outline for what I think would happen in a Da Vinci Code/ Black Echo crossover

It starts with Langdon being involved in a high-profile documentary about the grail and the priory that's being filmed in Hollywood. Then a bunch of people involved in the documentary start being murdered, and Bosch is assigned to the case

They meet at the crime scene for one of the murders; Langdon is shaken up because the people working on the documentary with him were people he'd worked with before and gotten along with, and he's trying not to show how shaken he is and play himself off as cool, but Bosch sees right through him and recognizes his distraught emotional state. He's sympathetic, but he does have a job to do here... it's time to ask this guy some questions

HB: Professor Langdon, right? I'm officer Bosch. I have a few questions for you.

RL: Bosch... that's an interesting name

HB: Like the painter, yes. You wouldn't be the first to point it out, believe me.

RL: I've done many lectures on the religious symbolism in that man's paintings. Tell me, officer, how familiar with his work are you?

HB: Not very. Now, Mr. Langdon--

RL: You can call me Robert if you want.

HB: ...Mr. Langdon, what kind of relationship did you have with the victim?

...You get the picture; they don't get along very well at first. Bosch thinks Langdon is too self-obsessed and show-offy, while Langdon thinks Bosch is too grim and doesn't approve of his smoking habit

But since Bosch is a devoted and hardworking detective, he puts aside his mild annoyance with Langdon and does his best to solve the case. Problem is, Langdon clearly knows something about the case that he's refusing to tell anyone. *sonic voice* That's no good!

Bosch confronts Langdon about this in private, very angry... maybe cue a wall slam except that Bosch is shorter than Langdon so it does maybe look just a little bit silly. But more importantly a little bit homoerotic in an angry and repressed kinda way

After a bit of arguing and a very thorough check of the room they're in to make sure nobody is watching or listening in, Langdon confides to Bosch about the Grail and his experiences with it

Bosch is skeptical, but he's no stranger to tangled webs of dark secrets, so his reaction to all this is less "wow!!" and more "shit. Really? Fuck. Okay... huh. I need a drink." So Langdon pours him a drink, they agree to team up to collaborate on solving the case, and this is bonding moment #1 in which their barriers start to crack just a little bit

But of course Bosch, a decent guy at heart who cares about people's lives, isn't gonna let some random symbologist get too wrapped up in what's clearly a dangerous case. So after he and Langdon figure out together where the killer might be hiding out, Bosch goes to the location alone--armed and ready, but alone nonetheless

It goes bad!

Meanwhile, Langdon figures out by talking to some of the other cops where Bosch has taken off to. He gets there just in time to see the cloud of dust as the killer gets away, leaving a badly injured Bosch lying on the ground. Probably in some dark alleyway or dingy apartment or something idk. Very dark and very dramatic

Shifting in and out of consciousness in the backseat as Langdon drives him to a hospital, Bosch starts having a PTSD flashback nightmare. There's nothing Langdon can really do to help him out there, and he feels bad about it

Flash forward a couple days. We get bonding moment #2 as Langdon scolds a recovering Bosch for being so reckless

RL: I mean, you could have been killed!

HB: That's part of my job. Always has been.

RL: But still--

HB: I'm not like you, remember? You may have gotten involved in some dangerous situations before, but at the end of the day, you're still a civilian. It's my job to protect you.

RL: How would you dying help us get to the bottom of this case? If you want to help me, then stay alive and work with me.

HB: Fine. So, did you just come here to yell at me?

RL: Actually, that's not the only reason. I figured something out about the case... something that I think can help us

(This probably wouldn't be the exact dialogue but you get the gist)

Also Langdon sees Bosch's tattoo and if he asks about it then Bosch definitely does not answer. But when he gets home Langdon researches rat imagery and symbolism and eventually figures out, if not the connection to the war, at least that this dude has probably been through some tough times

They also each individually make the realization that Bosch having a rat tattoo + Langdon having a mickey mouse wristwatch is kind of an interesting coincidence... but when Langdon brings it up Bosch gets kinda snappy with him because, believe me, it's really not even remotely close to the same thing

So they get back to work on the case, but as soon as Bosch is back on his feet he retreats back into his shell, which disheartens Langdon somewhat for reasons that he can't pinpoint. (Hint: it's that Langdon was beginning to recognize the soft heart buried beneath Bosch's rough exterior, and guess that he must have had a pretty rough life, and on some subconscious level he was beginning to drift toward the "I can fix him!" mentality)

Still, they've got a job to do. They spend a few days, maybe a week tracking down the killer, during which we get a couple more small bonding moments during which Bosch demonstrates his kind and caring side, and Langdon starts spending maybe a little longer than necessary staring at him when he's not looking. Bosch wonders when he stopped finding Langdon's tendency for sharing information annoying and started to like the sound of his voice. But neither of them are at a stage where they're gonna be like "so basically I have ptsd and claustrophobia because of my traumatic backstory" or anything

At some point, though (maybe when he's slightly drunk) Bosch makes a gruff remark in passing about having been betrayed before, and Langdon replies that he's been betrayed too, by a close friend. They kind of raise their eyebrows at each other, an unspoken realization that they're connected by more bonds than expected, and they clink their glasses together

So the killer's hideout involves crawling through a small enclosed space and they both know this in advance and the plan they come up with is "one of us goes in while the other waits outside and stands guard" (the way the killer's lair is set up would make this a good plan. I'm not gonna come up with all the details right now, because if I could do that, then I'd become a mystery novelist) but they haven't laid out who'll be going in the small enclosed space and they're both secretly counting on the other doing it

Then they get there and it's like. Hmm. Oops! Neither of them want to go in because they both have the same psychological issues

An argument ensues, but they're less trying to convince each other to go in the small enclosed space and more frustrated at the other for keeping secrets. Eventually Langdon agrees to be the one to go in because by now he's pieced together that Bosch is a vet and that his trauma is therefore probably a lot "worse" (not that those things are really quantifiable)

Bosch is super grateful but also feels terrible, like it's his fault for being too weak, and promises Langdon to make it up for him later--"So be sure to stay alive for me, okay, Robert?"

RL: Wait, did you just call me by my first name? I think that's the first time I've heard you say it.

HB: Hey, what can I say? You've grown on me.

RL: Heh. You... you've grown on me, too, Harry.

HB: Robert..... good luck in there.

They sort of smile and nod at each other, solemn and melancholy (and repressed). And then Langdon goes in and does the thing but of course it's some kind of a trap and he gets stuck in the small enclosed space and Bosch hears him getting attacked in there and hey, Bosch can't magically overcome his severe war trauma but in that moment his brain just kinda turns off and he's able to power through it long enough to go in and get Langdon out safely

They're both very shaken from all this but now they've got the killer out in the open so it's time for the final showdown. Working together, they elaborately lure the killer into confessing to the murders of the people working on the Grail documentary... those people knew too much, they couldn't be allowed to keep living. Naturally, Bosch is wearing a wire that's picking all this up and recording it

But then the killer finishes with "and you, the symbologist who knows the true location of the Grail... you can't be allowed to live either!" and before either of them can react he shoots Langdon! This makes Bosch extremely angry and he immediately shoots the killer like five consecutive times in the chest

Turns out Langdon's alive, the bullet just missed his heart or lungs or whatever, and he's lying on the ground in shock from getting shot staring up at Bosch and is like "...you killed him...?"

HB: Oh, right, I almost forgot... you've never killed someone before, have you?

RL: No, although I've been acquainted with more murders than I would like...

HB: Well, here's one more murderer you're acquainted with, then. Come on, let's go

Hospital time redux ft. congratulating each other on solving the case and a whole lot going unsaid between them. They both agree that they ended up making a decent team in the end...

In a quiet moment when he thinks Langdon is asleep, Bosch starts reminiscing out loud about his childhood, his time in the war, all the blood he's seen spilled and spilled himself both as a veteran and a detective. Of course Langdon was actually awake to hear all that, and after a long moment of silence he starts talking quietly about falling down a well as a child, as well as some of the scarier moments in his past adventures and how those have messed him up a little

RL: Of course, what I've been through is nothing compared to you... I mean, you, you're amazing. I can't believe I ever judged you for having a cold exterior.

HB: I wouldn't call myself amazing. More like, a poor bastard doing his best to keep his head afloat.

RL: No, no, that's... that's why you're amazing. The fact that you are where you are now.

HB: What, in a hospital at the bedside of a symbology professor who's lucky to be alive after solving an elaborate murder case?

RL: Hey, it's not my first rodeo.

HB: Mine neither. (Heh...) maybe we should start a club.

At the end they say goodbye to each other and they like shake hands or something but they're still repressed so they just go their separate ways and don't see each other again

But MAYBE a few months or years down the line Bosch eventually leaves the police force (either because he wisens up and realizes that acab, or because he acts up too much and gets fired) and can no longer afford to live in LA so he moves to a different part of the country and by pure coincidence it ends up being where Langdon lives. And he finds out when he sees an ad for one of Langdon's lectures, and he attends and Langdon spots him in the crowd and he sort of visibly stiffens and then softens. You can figure out where things go from there

(I actually don't know where exactly things would go from there but maybe, someday, eventually they kiss?)

#this is silly and about a topic nobody cares about i know but the idea is FIRMLY IN my head #and i will go more crazy if i don't post about it than if i do #also confession time i haven't read very far into the black echo yet and ive already forgotten several details of the da vinci code #after reading it like last month so idk if this is even very in character but i did my best.#point is i think this idea is fun and i might use it for my creative project if i can manage to adapt it into something 5-10 pages in lengt

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