#the funniest thing about this to me is that it’s literally just Jean with shorter front hair a binder and padded shoulders

[otaku553]

Hilariously I’m part of an art club for a school I don’t go to and most of the members I interact with play genshin and once in a while everyone has the same brain cell and decides they’re going to draw something like catboy zhongli

Anyways this time the brain cell decided male Jean so here you go

[collisiondiscourse]

SKSKSKSKSKSK CODI CODI PLEASE I LOVE DADRAGON HISASHI PLS CAN I GET A COUPLE HCS

*SLAMS DESK* THANK HECK SOMEONE ASKED ME BECAUSE I *LOVE* TALKING ABOUT MY MENTAL IMAGE FOR HISASHI MIDORIYA

listen. ok. in my mind, hisashi is the COOLEST DAD EVER. THE COOL ONE EVERYONE *WISHES* THEY HAD

-he has red hair and bright green eyes and freckles EVERYWHERE just like deku. except i hc that his firebreathing thing is partially a dragon thing!! so he has little horns on top of his head and a few patchy areas with scales. he looks COOL ASF until u get to the back n see his tiny ass wings that dont do nuthin

inko makes fun of his stubby wings so much n hes always like "BAAAABE STOP U KNOW I WAS BORN LIKE THIS 😭" but its ok bc he still luvs her

HE. DRESSES. HORRIBLY. Like im talkin stupid unbuttoned polos with band shirts underneath and ratty ass jeans. he wears socks and sandals and sometimes even jorts. hes always wearing like 30 unmatched pieces of jewelry bc hes a dragon and he HOARDS

most of the jewelry is handmade bracelets izuku sent him as a kid and he NEVER TAKES THEM OFF even if theyre literally falling apart

AND LIKE. OK. DEKUS RED SHOES RIGHT?? HE ACTUALLY GOT THOSE FROM HIS DAD WHO BOUGHT HIM AND BAKUGOU MATCHING RED AND BLUE ONES AND A RED ADULT SIZED PAIR FOR HIMSELF TOO. bakugou stopped wearing them after he grew out of them but IZUKU AND HISASHI ARE STUBBORN MFS N WEAR THE SAME SHOES EVERYDAY.

dekusquad jokingly is always like "ahh finding the male midoriyas in a crowd is always easy! just look for them big ass red shoes ✌"

all that aside tho. if u look past the disastrous fashion sense. hisashi midoriya is HOT hot.

LIKE. ok. hes mostly lean w a bit of chub, from working as a successful barista in america, and hes also TALL AS HECK. hes like. maybe a few inches shorter than all might. bottomline is that hes REALLY ATTRACTIVE. ESPECIALLY WHEN INKO DRESSES HIM UP

and when deku introduces him to 1A and his teachers for the first time everyones looking at hisashi n blushing n they look at deku n theyre all like "....dude"

(and maybe because they notice the fact that deku actually looks pretty similar to his dad 1A starts to realize that deku isnt actually that plain when you stare at his face long enough and oh wow uh—"

ANYWAY katsuki 💯 had a crush on dekus dad when he was younger. mitsuki makes fun of her son like ALL THE TIME for having a crush on her best friend. hisashi demonstrated his quirk once in front of the bakugous to show off a bartending trick and that was literally the first time katsuki ever complimented a quirk aside from his own

hisashi and deku at the same time combining their adorable energy: kacchan!!

katsuki, furiously blushing: STOP

anyway aside from katsuki—uraraka, todoroki, and shinsou DEFINITELY also have a crush on dekus dad. NO ONE CAN FIGHT ME ON THIS. obvs everyone in UA thinks hisashi's cool and SMOKIN, but those four have it like BAD.

SO BAD.

dekus oblivious to this. so is hisashi. he goes up to shouto once and ruffles his hair and calls him sport and todoroki sets his desk on fire.

uraraka keeps making things float accidentally because she gets sidetracked staring at deku and his dad side by side and "oh wow they both have a freckle on the back of their neck just a little below their left ears—"

shinsou just. goes up to deku n hands him a note that says "get ur dad out of my school"

BUT THE FUNNIEST PART THO. THE FUNNIEST PART.

all might has a crush on hisashi too.

LIKE HISASHI COMES BACK TO JAPAN N IS ALL LIKE "wow i miss being here! is all might still no. 1? hows my son doing? america was so stressful! im so glad to be back in sweet home musutafu :)"

n then he comes home and all mights eating ice cream on the couch cursing at the football game on TV

hisashi: ....all might-san?

toshinori: u-aH? uh? good evening er. uh. mr. midoriya?? welcome home! im going to gay—i mean go!!

hisashi: w—

toshinori, panicking and reverting to symbol of peace dealing with PR mode: ENJOY YOUR SON! HAVE A NICE STAY! DONT DO DRUGS *leaves house in sweatpants and slams the door shut*

toshinori, internally: oh my god what the fuck what the fuck is this a quirk am i dying

when it calms down tho toshinoris still a blushing stuttering mess buT AT LEAST YK WHAT?? they bond over talking about america and deku!!

they both go on long af rambles about american lifestyles n all the weird people theyve met while in there and then they start throwing around words like bucky's convenience store and bubba gump shrimps and everyone stops listening

izuku notices how weird his mentor is around his dad but doesnt rlly care bc two!!! two father figures!!!! and a mom figure!!!!! they all play (quirk powered) dodgeball every other sunday while 1A watches in a mix of horror, attraction, and unbridled joy.

toshinori: oh my god why did they both have to be hot. why couldnt it have just been inko? thats easier to deal with. i cant do both. i cant HANDLE both. who allowed this? why?

aizawa: how the fuck did you get into my office its 4 am yagi.

[reallygrossstuff]

DirkHalDave - Party Tricksters

Not a request today, but a commission! A friend wanted Dirk getting tag-teamed by some snack-happy tricksters, and I aim to deliver. Let me know what you think!

Knock-knock-knock.

Dirk gritted his teeth tighter, focusing with even more intent on the project in front of him. He was in a good groove, edging into hour five of his work session, so whoever wanted his company would just have to wait their turn. If they were someone he wanted to see anyway, they’d know to message him before coming anyway.

And yet.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

The gaps between knockings were growing shorter, the intensity of the impact growing. Even if Dirk could continue to ignore it, he ran the risk of his visitor knocking his door down if they continued. With a quiet groan, he forced his knees to unbend, rising to his feet and trudging to answer the insistent knocking – and arriving a moment before the lock snapped off its frame, causing the door to swing inward and narrowly miss his nose.

“I’ve got to say, literally knocking down my door is a new brand of bullshit, man.” Dirk groused, still blinking off alarm from the forced entry.

“Haha, sorry, man!” The voice was familiar in tone, and alien in every other way. Dirk took a shocked step back as Dave floated through the door, giddiness dripping off his every move almost as much as chocolate dripped off the dipped strawberries perched in his vibrant green hair. His short cape blew in its own wind as he fidgeted in mid-air, a dangerous grin plastered to his face. “You were just taking so long, we didn’t want to run out of time for the party!”

Dirk didn’t even have time to question ‘we’ before the answer became clear, and Hal of all people traipsed in through the still-open door. “You were taking a long time, Dirk. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were something less than sugar-tastically stoked for the celebration.”

Well, at least Hal being in on this explained why he hadn’t warned Dirk about his uninvited guests, even if the rock candy microchip on his head and the garishly trickster-coloured suspenders and tie he wore invited more questions than it answered.

“Alright, who the fuck thought unburying the hell-candy from wherever we shoved it after last time was a good idea?” When that only got a light giggle from Dave and an incrementally wider smile from Hal, he tacked on, “and how does it even work on you, I didn’t give you tastebuds! Or a goddamn stomach!”

“Aw, come on, it’s not a crime to want some fun!” Dave floated closer, seemingly allergic to touching the ground as he curved himself loosely around Dirk, getting a glob of chocolate on his shirt in the process.

“And you’d be surprised what, pardon the word, miracles a juju like that can weave. Who needs tastebuds when it’s so obvious it’ll taste scrumptious?” At least Hal had the wherewithal to close the door behind him. “Of course, then we realised it’d be downright mean to exclude you from the oodles of fun we wanted to have, so we came right over.”

“Yeah! So now it’s party time! You don’t mind hosting, right bro? It’ll be soooooo much fun!” Heart-shaped shades hovered an inch from Dirk’s own glasses, not quite tinted enough to hide the wide, almost manic red eyes behind them.

Dirk wanted to say no. He wanted more than anything to say no. “Sure,” his mouth said, knowing better than to refuse a trickster. “Just don’t make a mess of the place or anything.”

“Of course not.” Hal scoffed, as if his companion hadn’t just forced open Dirk’s door. “We’ll be superbly civil, I promise. Heck, you might not even notice we’re-.”

“Party!” Dave cheered, instantly flying further into the apartment. “Hal, c’mon and help me, you know there’s no party without food!”

“Right!” Hal’s train of thought was abandoned immediately at the suggestion, the android nearly giving Dirk whiplash as he flashed past to accompany Dave. Soon the two were enthusiastically emptying their sylladexes, dumping a hellish variety of party foods across Dirk’s kitchen counter, his workstation, his coffee table, and just across the floor once everything else was covered. There were bags of chips and party-sized soda bottles, alongside massive bowls full of chocolate-covered strawberries and rich, already-melting cakes. The overall impression was that someone had googled ‘party foods’ and just bought everything they saw on the list.

“This is the opposite of civil, assholes.” Dirk stepped forwards to gather some of the food into his own sylladex, even as his impromptu guests continued piling every surface high with more. “Two people don’t need this much food, this is fucking excessive.”

“Two people might not, but three should just about finish it all.” Hal’s grin slanted, somehow becoming more sinister without losing its bright glee. “Stop being such a party-pooper, Dirk, or Dave will have to show you how to enjoy something sweet for a change.”

“Ooh, I should do that anyway!” Finally Dave stopped pouring food out onto the floor, instead collecting an eclectic mix of it and approaching Dirk. Somehow, this didn’t feel like an improvement. “You’re always so sour, man, but I bet you’ll love this! Just give it a try!”

Dirk didn’t get a chance to voice his opinion on giving any of ‘it’ a try – as soon as Dave finished his sentence, he forced one of the crisp bags open with a loud bang and shoved a heaping handful between Dirk’s parted lips.

“There you go! We’ll start easy, I know you like chips and soda! And then once you’re not so grumpy, you can try all the tasty chocolate stuff too!”

Dirk’s responding “mmmph!” was all but drowned out by the crunching of chips within his mouth. He puffed his cheeks up, ready to spit the snacks out, but the moment his lips parted again Dave was there with one of the soda bottles, squeezing it with such force that Dirk had no choice but to swallow, or risk dying from suffocation on cheap party goods.

That set the pace for how Dave treated him. Dirk never opened his mouth without being silenced by more food, never gasped for breath without having to quickly brace for another splash of sugary drink. The taste was fine, good even, but each morsel just tasted of so much that it became almost tiring to endure. Not to mention that the giddy trickster seemed to have no sense for complementary flavours, alternating sweet and savoury, rich and plain, chewy and gooey with such reckless abandon that soon everything tasted like everything just from osmosis.

Thankfully for Dirk’s tired mind, Dave’s corralling seemed to be leading him towards the couch. Each forced mouthful gave him a little shove towards it, each invasion of his personal space made him flinch backwards, until his legs hit the food-covered furniture and he collapsed onto it with a muffled ‘oof’.

Had the feeding been any less taxing, Dirk would’ve had a lot of time to think on the deteriorating state of his clothing. His shirt was riding up something fierce, but even that didn’t save it from straining over the upper half of his stuffed gut. His jeans clung tight around his waist, filling Dirk’s ears with the sound of creaking stitches even after the button popped and the zipper was forced open. His shades were, first, covered in crumbs and smears from the messy feeding, and soon after knocked off entirely by an overly expressive gesture from Dave.

As things progressed, Dirk only became less able to react. Sugary sodas and chocolate bars might have been a distraction, but when Dave moved on to unbearably ripe chocolate-coated strawberries and rich, layered cakes thick and gooey enough to risk clogging his throat, his mind was fit to shut down entirely. There just wasn’t room for anything else beside the taste – even his vision was going funny, fogging and tinting as if he was still wearing his shades.

It should’ve been a relief when Dave relented, floating back to give Dirk both space and time to process the world once again, but the taste lingered in his mouth, in his mind, dulling his response to Dave’s announcement. “Okay, that’s a good start! Um… Oh. I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Dirk just groaned, still trying to clear his throat from the rushed meal. Before he could get himself together for a proper reply, Hal took charge. “I’d say you didn’t go far enough, bro. Sure, Dirk’s enjoying himself, but is he having the gummy-funniest time possible? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, no way! Look, he’s barely smiling!” Some part of Dirk piped up that he wasn’t smiling at all, for the record, but the sentiment never made it into the air. “Can he fit more fun, though? He looks kind of full…”

“Don’t worry.” Through his stupor, and the phantom lights in his eyes, Dirk managed to be intimidated by Hal’s smirk as he approached the couch. He raised one metal hand, and all it took was a puff of a sugar cloud to turn it into a wide, heavy-duty hose end, his stripwound arm turning transparent so Dirk could see something inside. Something neon green, speckled with glittery flecks, that dripped from the hose’s end even before Hal stuffed it in Dirk’s mouth.

“I’ll make room.”

The paste was thick, cold, and almost painfully sweet. The sort of artificial sweet that made Dirk think of his old snack stashes in his last apartment in unkind terms. It seemed to fill every gap and hollow in him, bloating his stomach almost as severely as it bloated the rest of him.

Cloth tore violently. Denim shredded. Even the couch groaned worryingly as Dirk expanded. Where before he’d simply looked overly stuffed, the more of the paste Hal forced down his throat, the more he looked like this sort of feeding was a regular occurrence. His face grew heavy, chins sagging until they touched his collarbones. Whatever fight was left in his arms was snuffed out as they grew too ponderous to leave his sides, which similarly swelled outwards with new love handles. The back of the couch bent slightly as his new ass-flab forced itself against it. All that preserved his modesty was the still-growing spectacle of his belly, forcing his chunky legs to spread and hanging trembling inches off of the trash-coated floor.

Whatever tank Hal was pumping from wasn’t endless, though, as much as it felt that way in the moment. Eventually, once he was thoroughly filling the couch and in no fit state to lift a finger, the hose left his mouth, turning back into a hand just so Hal could give his wobbling cheek a teasing pat.

“I’d say that makes for a mouth-whetting first course. What about you, Dave, any morsels of wisdom to add?”

“Nope! He looks like he’s having loads of fun! Now, for the second course, I was thinking-.”

-ify!

A blinding flash of multicoloured light filled the room. Dirk blinked as quickly as he could, failing to banish even half of the strange spots from his vision. His face and breasts obscured a large portion of his vision, and he was in no fit state to analyse the rest, but something definitely seemed… different…

“Ugh, my head… yo, Hal, the hell’s all this?”

“My initial assumption is some sort of intense party, though there’s no course of action that would explain my lack of memories. Or my sudden ability to have a migraine.”

Dirk’s stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly, the tacky candy paste upsetting it to the point he had to let out a paper-shaking belch.

The silence that rang after his belch was deafening, leaving Dirk alone with his abused stomach, until, in two voices:

“Oh, shit.”

[chilling-seavey]

Love the previous blurb so here's another one for ABM - Florence meeting the Seaveys + Christian interacting with Clementine and Penelope ~ T

I had written this one a while back...before I really knew Christian so I took the time to write a little more to the ending just for you (and me lol) Here ya go!

December 23, 2021

“Are we sure we’re going to be okay?” Florence mumbled, bouncing Penelope on her hip.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Daniel chuckled, handing Clementine another M&M from the chair next to her in their terminal. “We’re going to do great.”

Florence paced in front of them with the baby, never having flown with a young child before yet alone two. Penelope was already antsy that morning, refusing any sort of breakfast and crying when she was put in her winter clothes, and Florence really wasn’t looking forward to being that mom that all the other plane passengers glared at while their child screamed the entire flight. Once through security and at the gate, Penelope seemed fine, rosy cheeks from crying all morning but happily munching on a cookie regardless.

“I haven’t been in a plane since I was pregnant with Clementine. What if I forgot how to do it?” Florence mumbled.

“Forgot how to sit?” Daniel raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know. I’m nervous. I’m meeting your whole entire family in a few hours.” Florence frowned.

“They’re not scary.” Daniel chuckled, passing Clementine another M&M into her outstretched hand. “My mum already loves you and you’ve talked to her on the phone plenty of times.”

“I know.” Florence sighed. “This is different through.”

Daniel sent her a soft smile that she didn’t notice since she was too busy pacing.

“We’re gonna be okay, mama!” Clementine assured her through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Once you get down from this sugar high we’re not going to be.” Florence laughed lightly at her daughter’s messy face.

“Yeah...maybe you’ve had enough of these.” Daniel looked in the bag that was almost empty.

“One more, daddy.” Clementine ordered, holding out her hand palm up again.

“Two more.” Daniel whispered, passing them to her. He pressed a kiss to her head before folding up the package and putting them in the front pouch of the carry-on.

“You’re dealing with her sugar crash. You know she’s vicious after.” Florence said through a teasing smirk.

“Nuh uh.” Clementine stuck her tongue out at her.

The lady at the desk announced boarding for their flight and they started to gather their things. Clementine had her own little suitcase that she pulled along excitedly behind her, holding onto Daniel’s hand with her other, almost pulling him towards the gate. He struggled to get his backpack on and keep the suitcase steady as well as keeping the almost three-year-old within arms reach. Florence led their little group with Penelope in her arms, the diaper bag over her shoulder, and all four tickets in hand.

Once on the plane, they found their row and Clementine crawled into the window seat, peering out towards the runway as Daniel got their bags packed away above them. Florence waited for him to finish, noticing all the lingering glances from strangers at the baby in her arms. Daniel simply ushered her into their row before taking the aisle seat.

“You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you, Penny?” Florence whispered to the 17-month-old on her lap.

Penelope nodded through a small smile, meeting her older sister’s cheeky grin from beside her. Clementine leaned in and pressed a messy kiss to her cheek, making the baby giggle loudly.

“Are you all buckled, Clem?” Florence asked, brushing her hand through her eldest’s hair.

Clementine sat herself properly in the seat and picked up the two pieces of the seatbelt in her tiny hands. Florence leaned over to buckle them for her, instructing her to pull the ribbon to make it tighter. Of course, the toddler tugged as hard as she could to cut off any circulation to her legs, thinking that was the funniest thing ever.

“You are so crazy.” Florence couldn’t help but laugh, wigging her hand between her laughing daughter and the seatbelt to loosen it a little while still keeping one hand on the baby.

When they were all buckled in and Penelope was leaning back tiredly against her mother’s chest, it was about time for takeoff.

As they were headed for the runway, Daniel handed Clementine a little mint to hopefully keep her little ears in check as the pressure changed. He then let his hand fall into Florence’s, intertwining their fingers and pulling it up to kiss the back of her hand softly.

“I’m nervous.” Florence whispered.

“I know.” Daniel replied quietly, giving her hand a small squeeze. “You don’t need to be. I’m right here.”

They shared gentle smiles just as the wheels left the ground.

Clementine was too busy looking out the window to even notice any pressure changes and Penelope got away with a few quiet whimpers and her tiny hands over her ears instead of the major meltdown Florence was expecting. Once they were in the sky, Florence felt more at ease; Clementine busied herself with a colouring book and Penelope was starting to fall asleep. She held out her arms to Daniel, her eyes almost closed as sleep was starting to come, and he scooped her up from Florence’s lap, glad to give her a break. Penelope curled into him, one arm around his neck and her chubby cheek pressed against his shoulder as he drew soft patterns over her back to help her relax. Soon enough, she was fast asleep.

The flight went surprisingly well, Penelope sleeping for most of it which would make the jet lag easier on her and Clementine quietly colouring or watching something on the TV in front of her. Once the mountains came into view, the three year old didn’t care about the TV show, pressing her nose to the window to see the snowy peaks that poked out above the clouds as she talked excitedly about all the made up things that probably lived in the mountains.

The plane taxied to their gate and Clementine was almost literally bouncing in her seat to go exploring. Daniel kept the baby asleep on his shoulder as they got up to disembark, Florence now in charge of the carry on and the toddler.

The Vancouver airport was just as busy as the Toronto one but Daniel navigated them through the maze of hallways and gates like it was the back of his hand. Baggage claim was downstairs and Florence waited for the suitcases while he went to the oversized area for the stroller and his guitar case.

“I’m surprised she’s still sleeping.” Daniel said, pushing the sleeping baby in the stroller towards where Florence and Clementine stood.

“Me too but I’m glad she is.” Florence said. She stopped to pull their suitcase off the conveyor belt as it came around.

“Ready to go?” Daniel asked.

“Yep!” Clementine beamed. She held onto Daniel’s jacket to keep close as both parents had their hands full. Her own personal suitcase full of her pyjamas, favourite stuffed animals, and a few books was pulled along behind her messily, being more dragged across the tile rather than wheeled.

The double doors slid open into the ‘arrivals’ gate where family members and friends waited to greet the travellers.

Clementine gaped at the crowd, “Are all these people here for us?”

“No, angel.” Daniel laughed. “We’re just looking for my mum and my sister, remember?”

Clementine gripped his coat tighter as they navigated their way through the crowd to someone she didn’t know. Florence was in the same boat as her daughter, shying behind Daniel a little to let him go first. She was worried what his family would think of her, always being raised to such a high standard; suddenly their son is bringing home a girlfriend with two kids, one of whom is from a failed relationship; it didn’t look the best to outsiders and Florence knew that well.

Daniel was welcomed into a tight embrace by his mother, a shorter woman with his same brown hair and friendly eyes that scrunched closed when she had her son in her arms.

“My sweet Daniel, I missed you so much.” she whispered, taking his face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

“I missed you too, Ma.” Daniel chuckled.

He turned to hug who Florence guessed was his sister, her straight dyed blonde hair swept over her shoulder and a soft squeal leaving her lips as he lifted her off the ground a little.

“You must be Florence.” his mother smiled at her, pulling her into a friendly hug. It had been a while since she had a proper motherly hug and she felt herself instantly melt into her touch.

“Nice to finally meet you, Keri.” Florence chuckled, moving back as little arms wrapped around her legs.

“And little Clementine!” Keri bent down in front of the toddler who was hiding behind her mother a bit. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Clementine’s small smile was hidden into the side of Florence’s jeans.

“Hi, Clementine.” his sister was bent down next to her now too. “I brought you a little present.”

Clementine eyed the small stuffed moose in the girl’s hands and smiled shyly, glancing up at Florence and then to Daniel.

“That’s your Auntie Anna, Clem. You can say hi.” Daniel spoke softly.

Clementine took a few steps forward and gently took the stuffed animal from Anna’s outstretched hands.

“What do you say, angel?” Daniel said.

“Thank you.” Clementine whispered through a smile, admiring the little moose she held. She turned to Anna and hugged her quickly, taking everyone - especially her parents - by surprise.

“You’re so welcome!” Anna beamed, glancing up at her brother.

“And this must be Penelope.” Keri whispered, looking over to the sleeping baby in the stroller.

“That’s my baby sister.” Clementine said proudly.

“I know!” Keri smiled at her. “Do you love her?”

Clementine nodded, peering over the side of the stroller with pride. Florence waited with bated breath for some sort of remark about having two kids so young but none came. Even throughout the walk to the car, everything was more than fine as Clementine seemed to take a liking to Anna and walked hand in hand with her and Keri offered to push the stroller.

Daniel, now needing to carry the tiny pink suitcase that had been ditched by the three-year-old, snuck a glance at Florence who was walking beside him.

“Feeling better yet?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” Florence said. “A little.”

“Told you they’d love you.” Daniel smirked.

“We still have to face your father and brothers.” Florence reminded quietly.

“The easiest three. Trust me, Dad’s just glad I finally found someone and the second you say one word I’ll be fighting my brothers off you.” Daniel teased.

Florence glanced over at his small smile and pink cheeks and frazzled hair that was tucked under a lavender beanie and she couldn’t help but literally fall a little more in love with him at his excitement to bring her home to his family.

She stopped walking, moving her hand from the handle of the suitcase to the sleeve of his jacket and led him back towards her, pulling him in by the back of his neck to press a lingering kiss to his lips. Daniel sighed softly as she pulled back, her hand falling to the front of his open coat and he smiled at her, leaning in for one more quick kiss before they had to rush to catch up with the rest of their small group.

~~

Daniel’s childhood home was on the outskirts of the city, right near the coast and it was situated high enough that you could see the mountain peaks and lush green forests across the bay. It was absolutely picturesque and being able to grow up there was a privilege Florence wished she could have had.

Pulling into the driveway revealed the modern house from behind the fence and Daniel smiled widely at simply just being at home. Keri parked the van and they all started to climb out and gather the bags from the trunk. Daniel unbuckled waking Penelope from her car seat and she rubbed her eye with her fist after such a long lap.

“Good afternoon, bug.” Daniel chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he set her on his hip. Penelope leaned into him, holding onto his jacket in her tiny fist.

They all headed for the front door, Daniel swiping his guitar from his sister.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying your things.” she protested.

“I know.” Daniel shrugged.

She scoffed at him.

The volume increased as they stepped inside, Daniel’s two older brothers and his father joining them excitedly in the foyer after not seeing him for almost a year. Florence stayed back against the door; Clementine wrapped around her legs. The family swooned over the shy and still sleepy baby in Daniel’s arms, making her curl into his neck for protection from the strangers.

“She’s definitely a Seavey.” his father spoke gently but proudly. “Looks so much like you did when you were small.”

Florence looked down to Clementine and ran a hand over her soft blonde hair, waiting for any sort of animosity to come. She was all too used to it from her own parents.

But it never came.

Keri and Jeff Seavey were one of the nicest couples Florence had ever met, both taking her in for hugs the second they were introduced and treating her like one of their own.

Even Clementine was treated just the same as Penelope, despite not biologically being related to the family. It was apparent where Daniel got his kind heart from.

Anna helped them take their things upstairs into Daniel’s old bedroom. It was very much him, the records posted on the wall over a full keyboard, mixing set, and a few various instruments that couldn’t fit in a suitcase to Toronto that crowded most of one side of the room. His white bedsheets were tucked perfectly straight over the double bed which was honestly no surprise. The window overlooked the bay and Stanley Park in the distance to the right.

“Mum said Clementine can have the boys’ old room or we can bring up the air mattress from the basement in here if you’d prefer.” Anna said, setting their suitcase in the corner.

“I think she’d like her own room, won’t you, Clemmy girl?” Daniel said, setting his guitar down on the floor.

The three-year-old simply giggled and climbed up onto the double bed, starting to jump, “Yeah!”

“Not this room.” Florence tisked, scooping her back onto the floor.

“I wanna stay with Auntie Anna.” Clementine said matter-of-factly, throwing her arms around the nineteen-year-old’s legs.

“You do?” Florence raised an eyebrow.

“I think we can do that.” Anna smiled widely.

“You now have a leech, sis.” Daniel smirked.

“I couldn’t be prouder of it.” Anna said, ushering Clementine out of the room so they could set up her bed.

~~

Daniel pulled out his guitar after dinner, the family sitting around the living room as he played a few songs for them. Clementine was sat with Anna on the couch, playing quietly with a few stuffed animals on her lap. Christian had swiped Penelope, the one-and-a-half-year-old sitting in his lap on the floor, giggling loudly with her hands holding onto his fingers as he danced her around a little to the music. Even when the guitar was put away and Daniel joined Florence on the couch, Penelope kept her grip on Christian’s fingers, trying to wiggle them herself to make him continue his little dancing actions, the rest of the room picking up conversation.

“’gain!” Penelope tilted her head back to look up at him, falling backwards against his body.

“Again?” Christian laughed, tickling her sides to make her shriek with laughter. He stopped suddenly and leaned back against the side of the couch, closing his eyes. “No, I’m too tired. Bedtime.”

Penelope blinked at him, turning herself around on his lap. He peeked open an eye at her as she stood up, holding onto his sweater, and leaned her head on his chest.

“Night-night.” She whispered.

Christian laughed lightly, scooping her up in his arms, “It’s not bedtime yet!”

He rocked her back and forth dramatically before pretending to dump her backwards over his arm, making her shriek before erupting into a fit of giggles. He did it again, careful not to hit her head off the ground, her tiny hands clinging onto his sweater.

“Chris, don’t…just…be careful with her.” Daniel spoke softly.

“We are being very careful.” Christian replied, looking down to the breathless baby in his arms, “Aren’t we?”

Penelope nodded excitedly.

“Dad is trying to ruin the fun.” Christian whispered down to her, making the clueless child giggle.

“I’m trying to not have you break my daughter’s head off the wood floors.” Daniel retorted.

“Bro, relax.” Christian glared playfully at him.

“Relaaaax.” Clementine repeated, making the room laugh.

“Is that what I sound like?” Christian glanced behind him to the almost three-year-old, resting his head back against the couch.

“Yeah.” Clementine giggled.

“She’s right.” Anna nodded.

“I’m right.” Clementine smacked her toy moose on his head.

“Hey! Be gentle.” Daniel went to reach for his eldest but Christian had already snatched the stuffed animal from her and smacked her back with it (much gentler of course).

“Ouch!” Clementine shrieked, taking the moose from him again and pressed it against his face, smacking her hand down on it a few times.

“Clementine!” Florence gaped, both the parents now trying to grab their slightly hyperactive daughter from being a tad too vicious with her play fighting. Penelope was shrieking with laughter from Christian’s lap, always entertained by her older sister’s antics.

“You are gonna get it.” Christian easily moved onto his knees and turned around, holding the baby on his hip as he grabbed the toddler around the waist with his other arm and carefully dragged her to the floor. Clementine was already shrieking with laughter before he could even tickle her, kicking her legs against his chest to keep him away the best she could. He still managed to blow a raspberry against her neck, making her scream and try to squirm away from him through her fits of giggles.

“Why don’t you go play somewhere else to let the adults talk?” Anna suggested.

“That is a great idea.” Christian stood up, scooping one girl up in each arm and carried them off to another part of the house.

The family let Christian entertain the children, busying themselves with conversation for at least a good hour or so. Soon it got quiet and late and Daniel and Florence started to find their children to put them to bed. They found them in Christian and Tyler’s old bedroom, most of the toys they had brought from home spilled out all over the carpet until there was barely any room to even sit. Christian was passed out asleep on his side on the floor, Penelope sleeping curled up against his chest with his arm around her, and Clementine knocked out with her head on his legs. The three of them slept soundly admits the mess of building blocks and dolls.

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2017, Part II

Part I can be found here. I should have mentioned the films I haven’t seen, which include BPM; Faces Places; The Square; Coco; Thelma; Last Flag Flying; Roman J. Israel, Esq.; Wonder Wheel; Jane; and I, Daniel Blake. Long-time AHOLs also know that I’m in the fifth year of a self-imposed five-year break from superhero culture, so I haven’t seen Logan or Thor or whatever else. With that: ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS 87. The Great Wall (Zhang Yimou)-  Zhang Yimou's The Great Wall has a lot in common with Wong Kar-Wai's The Grandmaster. Both are high-concept international co-productions that bear just enough of the filmmaker's signature but feel unfortunately cut to ribbons in the editing room. Computers have made us all a little worse at our jobs, Zhang included, and his spectacle is achieved despite CGI, not because of it. I liked watching a boulder's journey through the stages of being catapulted, even if it eventually landed into a physics-negligent pit of cartoon monsters. By the end, the picture is more bloodless, sexless, and simplistic than a game of toy soldiers, which makes it seem just as child-like. It's a forgettable sort of fun, but it is often fun. 86. The Ghost in the Shell (Rupert Sanders)- A bit more comprehensible than the original but far less beautiful. It's a shame that visions of future exteriors haven't improved or at least changed since Blade Runner. Big advertisements. Got it. (Also, we have telepathic walkie-talkies, but people sleep on the floor?) There are a few good ideas drizzled around. If people can basically toggle back and forth between languages, why not hire a famous actor who doesn't speak English for one of the supporting roles? Speaking of acting though, Johansson is pretty bad in this, hamstrung by the whole playing-a-robot problem. (She looks as good as she ever has though, which is saying something.) She could have taken some notes from Michael Pitt, who brings some edge and skitter to his cybernetic replicant or whatever they call it. 85. Wilson (Craig Johnson)- It hits the notes that a Daniel Clowes property usually does: misanthropy, formlessness, begrudging acceptance at the end. I laughed a few times and appreciated the huge left-turn at the two-thirds mark, but I didn't think it amounted to much. 84. Patti Cake$ (Geremy Jasper)-  Other than the Basterd character, there's nothing really broken about this movie, but I'm selling on anything with double-digit dream sequences. 

83. Colossal (Nacho Vigalondo)- The ending, both the final act and the final note, went a long way to save what was a tedious sit for me. I appreciate the big swings that everyone took with this budget and material--Sudeikis once again gets to show impressive range. But this is an hour of material stretched to an hour and forty-nine minutes. 82. Rough Night (Lucia Aniello)- Hide-the-body movies never work, but what makes this one disappointing is that there's a daring, original corrective somewhere on the margins. You can tell from the comparatively tame bachelor party or the unexpectedly positive threesome that this movie has refreshing ideas, but both the Machine and TV visuals from a TV director shaved the edge down. No one wants to hear such a thing about a sorely-needed female-driven comedy, but Paul W. Downs is the funniest thing in this. 81. Beauty and the Beast (Bill Condon)- Shout-out to the morons protesting this movie's gayness but not realizing that the original was always an allegory for AIDS. These live-action remakes are all around the same quality, but this one feels especially bloated, with really dicey CGI. Things get borderline boring in between the musical numbers, but, man, do those numbers hold up. There's the title track obviously, but songs that would be throwaways in something else--"Gaston," "Be Our Guest," "Something There"--are BANGERZ here. The real IP is the music, and Disney is just going to get each generation's Josh Gad to sing them forever. 80. Darkest Hour (Joe Wright)- This movie reminded me of The Imitation Game in the sense that it's a staid presentation with a solid structure that feels cheap whenever it zooms out beyond its back rooms. The grander version of this, which Joe Wright in some ways already made, is probably just as unsatisfying, but it wouldn't have the pinnacle of goofiness that will hereupon be known as The Underground Scene. I’m a bit bored of this type of film. Darkest Hour might be worth seeing for Oldman's performance, which is a true transformation, absent of any actory vanity but invested with some real myth-making. Churchill gets introduced with just his hat, then lit by just a match, then lit by a shock of sunlight. Oldman is very good in his scenes with Scott Thomas, so it's a shame that her character disappears for a half-hour at a time. The more troubling thing to note is that there are many men in this film who are so English that they can't pronounce their r's. If you catch it eawly, it's a weal distwacting pwoblem. 79. The Fate of the Furious (F. Gary Gray)- Since some of the dumbest stuff is some of the best stuff*, I'm not going to get caught in the web of assessing how much sense The Fate of the Furious makes. But I can say that this entry is the least intentionally funny of the series, and other than "the White girls' soccer team is the Monarchs," it loses some of the class undressing of 6 and 7. From the endless scene-setting to the overstuffed character roster, this is now more of a comic book than a movie, an exercise in being a plot without being a narrative. *- See: the "make it rain" sequence, Statham swinging the baby carrier through a gun battle, Rock redirecting the missile with his bare hands.

78. Nobody Speak: Trials of the Free Press (Brian Knappenberger)- The first hour, centering on the Hulk Hogan/Gawker case, is compulsively watchable, even if it doesn't shed much extra light for anyone who followed it when it happened. Terry Bollea explaining that his penis is shorter than ten inches while Hulk Hogan's, the character's, is not: That's what I signed up for. When that case veers into the bizarrely vengeful, pretty much when Peter Thiel comes in, Nobody Speak becomes something else. The final third pits the sensitive, diligent bullpen of the Las Vegas Review-Journal against billionaire liver spot Sheldon Adelson, who bought their paper to suppress it. Then, of course, the doc expands to Donald Trump's vilification of the free press. If that sounds like a straight line, it doesn't come off that way in the film. The Hogan/Gawker stuff, which takes up the majority of the running time, feels unresolved after all the tangents. 77. The Reagan Show (Sierra Pettengill, Pacho Velez)- I'm cringing for the next five years, in which I'll have to judge a movie's success based on how subtly it invokes its mandatory Donald Trump comparisons and allegories. They're coming. In general, it's kind of sad to see how much more literate people were even thirty years ago, even as they populated a medium we all agreed was low culture. This documentary feels sharp at first, understanding something essential about the way Reagan owned his own persona. With the American Right treating him like some patron saint, it's also helpful to remember how much pushback he got at the end of his second term, for something that would be, like, the fiftieth most controversial thing Donald Trump would have done already. (See?) When the doc gets to its own fascination with Reagan's Star Wars program, however, it basically loses its thesis. As lean as it is, it still sort of stumbles to the finish line. 76. Beatriz at Dinner (Miguel Arteta)- I appreciated this portrayal of a culture clash way more than I liked it. For a while the characters are highly specific. (The delivery of "It's 6:13, Kathy" made me laugh out loud.) Then the plot turns into "Oh, so we're talking about Trump's America, right?" (See?) Here's a critique that's catty every time: This film has great ideas about class and race if you've never thought about class and race before. 75. I, Tonya (Craig Gillespie)- Oscar is calling...for the fat dude playing Shawn Eckhardt and no one else. If Allison Janney wins for doing the thing she always does over Laurie Metcalf's fully realized human, then it's a huge mistake. Successful in some of its comedic goals, especially in its depiction of northwestern goons, the shame of the working class, and period detail. (I laughed out loud when I saw the Girbaud tag on Gilooly's jeans.) Unsuccessful in most of its other goals--if I'm even reading the film correctly in my assumption of those goals. The most obvious one is the slippery nature of the truth, and that idea is handled clumsily. Gillespie goes to great GoodFellas-aping lengths to grapple with perception--having characters break the fourth wall even though there are already voiceovers and to-camera interviews. That talking to the camera comes up a few times in the disturbing scenes of domestic violence, which do humanize the characters because the other elements of the film can't, but they distract the viewer with their blitheness. The most puzzling angle of the film is the Hard Copy reporter, played by Bobby Cannavale in yet another example of his agent not knowing how famous he is. It's a missed opportunity in a movie full of them. 74. It (Andy Muschietti)- I don't get why people went nuts for this. The ensemble avails itself pretty well, despite all the sitcom-y dialogue. (Dialogue that, based on the Stephen King that I've read, is probably faithful to the book.) Some of the visuals nail the distinction between surreal and unreal--my favorite is the children's TV show that sporadically drifts into the murderous. But the movie just kind of hangs there, all the way to its interminable ending, satisfied with its own literal presentation of events that seem to be metaphorical. As I understand, It--however It manifests itself--represents the death of childhood and the emergence of an adult banality of evil. But the movie engages with that level as little as possible, and maybe that's why people are going nuts for it. This is a scary movie if you're a child, and most of the moviegoing public seem to be children. 73. Before I Fall (Ry Russo-Young)- I mostly watched this because I think Zoey Deutch is a Movie Star, and if I'm going to be there for her Speed, I have to be there for her Love Potion No. 9's as well. I appreciated Before I Fall's brevity, but the premise offers a lot more fun than the film is willing to have. In the end the balance was off: It had to be either more moralistically PG-13 or go way darker. For example, just like in Groundhog Day, the character realizes that she'll live out the same day no matter what she does, and it triggers a nihilistic phase. But rather than going on a shooting spree or stealing stuff from a mall, she just, like, wears a sexier dress and talks back to her parents. Good swing, kids, but I'm waiting for the crazier version.

72. War Machine (David Michod)- There are some standout moments in War Machine, many of which are thanks to its impressive cast, but I don't think the film is cohesive enough for me to recommend. I know what Michod is against--counter-insurgency, military hubris--but it's harder to figure out what he's arguing for beyond some sort of level of transparency. The war sequence near the end feels at odds with the tone of everything else, even though it benefits from the Nick Cave and Warren Ellis score. In a similarly frustrated vein, I feel as if I know exactly who Glen McMahon is, and the script's greatest strength is how sharply it draws him, but Pitt's studied performance adds distance to it. It's as if all of the film's comedic nature is supposed to come from how people revolve around his straight man, and that expectation is too much to put on his shoulders. There's more than a little Bud Turgidson in the voice Pitt affects, but the difference is that, as mean as this sounds, I always believed George C. Scott when he played a smart person. 71. The Trip to Spain (Michael Winterbottom)- Diminishing returns. 70. Downsizing (Alexander Payne)- There's a meta-effect to the structure of Downsizing. Its characters decide to shrink themselves, finding unpredictable challenges in the process, and the film similarly gets more problematic as it focuses further into each of its four legs. The first part, the outside world, is when the film is at its most cutting and well-observed. It still lays its points on thickly--dude at the bar asking if downsized people should be able to vote, for example--but the questions are worth asking. The second part, Leisureland, the bourgeois subdivision lil' Damon lives in, is more satirical and less satisfying. (I do love that downsizing ends up being such a gauche pursuit though. Payne has always had his finger on the pulse of people with poor taste.) The third part, which takes place in the downsizing slums, is a sharp, unfunny left turn that discards characters but at least develops the protagonist further. And then the wheels come off in Norway. At least we got to hear Udo Kier say, "I do love my boat." 69. Okja (Bong Joon-Ho)- Since Okja is such a unique movie, I feel as if people will overpraise it as a way to brand themselves: Its poster is probably going to be in a lot of dorm rooms. But there's a lot that you have to look past in order to recommend it. In general, I find that Bong's English language work has a bizarre mixture of muddled themes being presented in direct ways. There is some sweetness here--most of it due to the amazingly detailed rendering of the pig--but too much of the comedy doesn't work, and the ending feels a bit easy. I liked most of the stuff with the Animal Liberation Front, and I kind of wish they had been the focal point of the movie. Can I say, as my main takeaway, that I'm worried about Jakey G? He is so big here, so out-of-tune with the rest of the film, that I blame Bong for not reining him in. At the same time, I keep making excuses for Gyllenhaal, claiming that his parts are under-written, but at a certain point, you have to point the finger at him if there's such a pattern of bad performances emerging. I didn't see Everest, but this is his fourth brick in a row. Help us, Dan Gilroy. You're our only hope. 68. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos)- An interesting swing that ends up missing for me. Excepting The Lobster, Lanthimos's works seem obsessed with family dynamics, and he plays some interesting games with this family's perversions. Farrell's character's story about his father dovetails with his somnophilia, which seems to inspire the way his daughter offers herself to her object of affection. From Anna's medical past to Steven's alcoholism, these characters seem to have full lives that have been in motion long before the events of the story. But I kind of suspect I'm worshiping at the altar of auteurism, and I wouldn't have half the respect or patience I do for this film had I not known who made it. The dialogue and performances are purposefully flat and stilted, thus creating an off, eerie quality before we know why we should be unnerved. But what if the performances are just, you know, bad? The film also creates a premise that concludes in an inevitably unsatisfying way. I don't know what I would have done instead, but I'm not a genius filmmaker who gets the benefit of the doubt.