#the lack of Brooklyn is very fitting

[silverthelovebug]

Finally got some JWCC/JWCT merch :3

Sadly, I had to choose between the Sammy and Ben JWCT set and this one, and I couldn't pass up on a Yaz minifig 💔

BUT I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED !!!!

[brunchable]

LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Part I

Part Two | Part Three Words: 8.5K Themes: Very Angsty?, Break-up, Violence, Kidnapped, Super Human transformation, Action, Attempted Assault, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Summary: Set in 1942. Steve allowed being a Super Soldier inflate his ego. After a breaking up with Steve, your world shatters then you're abducted and subjected to a mysterious experiment. A/N: I was washing the dishes when this came to me. I thought Y/N was really BADASS at the end. Baby girl is bad bitch, she on Fire. Paint the town red can be her song. A reblog would be noice <3

The sun was setting over Brooklyn, casting long shadows across the streets. You and Steve walked side by side, your fingers intertwined, the cool breeze of the evening wrapping around you both. Steve’s small hand fit perfectly in yours, a comforting reminder of the years you had spent together, supporting each other through thick and thin. 

It wasn’t easy being with him, especially with how the world treated him—just a scrawny, sickly guy who never knew when to give up. 

Your parents disapproved and your friends laughed at you for choosing Steve over James. You always tell Steve, ‘If they laugh, then fuck'em all.’

He has a good heart and you loved him for it— for his determination, his kindness, and his unwavering sense of right and wrong.

As you walked, a heavy silence hung between you. The reason was clear: James or known as Bucky Barnes, was shipping out to fight in the war. The three of you had been inseparable, a trio bound by shared history and deep affection. But now, Bucky was leaving, and the thought of losing him weighed heavily on your heart.

“Well, I guess this is it. I’m heading out tomorrow.” Bucky finally stopped and turned to you both, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You nodded, trying to keep the sadness from showing on your face. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Bucky.”

He gave a small chuckle, though it lacked its usual warmth. “You’ll manage. You’ve got this punk to keep you busy.” He playfully nudged Steve, who smiled weakly in return.

“I should be going with you, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice tight with emotion.

“You’re gonna be fine, Steve. You’ve got that heart of yours, and that’s stronger than any muscle.” Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. He turned to you, his gaze filled with concern. 

“And you, Y/N… take care of him, will ya? Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I will, Bucky. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into a tight hug, holding you for a moment longer than necessary. When he finally let go, he clasped hands with Steve, their handshake lingering as they both tried to hold onto the moment.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky said, trying to lighten the mood.

Steve gave a small laugh, but it was strained. “No promises.”

With one last look at both of you, Bucky nodded, then turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance. 

As he left, the weight of his absence settled over you like a thick fog. The world suddenly felt colder, emptier without Bucky’s presence.

“He’ll be okay,” Steve said quietly, more to himself than to you, as you both stood there in silence, watching Bucky disappear.You leaned into Steve, seeking comfort in his presence. 

“I hope so. I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to him.” Steve squeezed your hand, trying to be reassuring. 

“He’s strong. He’ll make it back.” But deep down, both of you knew there were no guarantees in war.

× × × × 

A few weeks later, the day finally came when Steve received his enlistment notice. You were there when he got the news, a mixture of pride and worry swirling in your chest. He had finally done it—he was going to fight in the war, just like Bucky. But that also meant he was leaving you behind, just like Bucky.

“I can’t believe it,” Steve said, staring at the paper in his hands, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m actually going.”

You smiled, though it was bittersweet. “I knew you would. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met, Steve. They’d be crazy not to let you in.”

 “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. You’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.” Steve looked up at you, his expression softening.

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m so proud of you, Steve. You’re going to do great things. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve’s eyes were filled with emotion as he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I promise, Y/N. I’ll come back to you. I swear.”

But as you held him, a deep sadness settled over you. First Bucky, now Steve—everyone you cared about was leaving, going off to fight a war that seemed so far removed from your life in Brooklyn. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, a fear that things would never be the same again.

× × × × 

The day Steve came back from the super-soldier program, everything changed. You had waited anxiously for news, praying that everything would go smoothly, that he would come back to you safe and sound. When you finally saw him again, it was nothing like you imagined.

The first time you laid eyes on the new Steve Rogers was outside a government building, where a crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, eager to see him after weeks of silence. When you finally spotted him, your breath caught in your throat.There he was—tall, muscular, and impossibly different. The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man who exuded power and confidence. It was Steve, and yet it wasn’t.

“Steve!” you called out, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd. You tried to make your way toward him, but the throng of people pushed you back, jostling you aside as they clamored for a closer look at the hero.

Steve seemed oblivious to the crowd around him, focused entirely on the conversation he was having with a woman by his side—Peggy Carter. You had heard about her, of course, but seeing them together was different. There was an ease between them that made your heart sink.

“Steve!” you called out again, louder this time, but he didn’t hear you—or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. You watched as Peggy leaned in closer, her hand resting on his arm in a way that felt far too familiar.

Then, as if in slow motion, you saw Steve get into a car with her, leaving you standing alone in the crowd, feeling completely invisible.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to see you, to run to you, to hold you in his arms like he always did. But instead, he was driving away with someone else, and you were left behind, forgotten.

× × × ×

A few weeks pass by with not one word from Steve, the last time you heard his voice was on the radio, giving a speech that would motivate the soldiers out there or in the newspaper. You were sitting by the window, reading a book while your cat rested peacefully on your lap. Then, there was a knock at the door. You kept your ears attentive, though your eyes were focused somewhere else.

You heard your mother answer it, and you listened as she exchanged a few words with whoever was at the door. A moment later, she called out to you, “Y/N, there’s a soldier here to see you.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you walked toward the door. A soldier? Why would—?

As you reached the doorway, your breath caught in your throat. There, standing in the threshold, was Steve Rogers, but not the Steve you remembered. He was taller, broader, wearing an army uniform that fit him perfectly, and his entire presence seemed… different. The frail, sickly boy you had known was gone, replaced by a man you barely recognized.

“Do you know this gentleman, dear?” Your mother, still standing by the door, looked between you and Steve, clearly confused. 

“It’s me, Mrs. L/N, Steve Rogers.” Steve gave her a warm smile, his voice deeper than you remembered. 

Your mother blinked, looking Steve up and down before recognition finally dawned on her face. “Steve? My goodness, look at you! I didn’t even recognize you. You look… Well, you look like a different person altogether!”

“Yes, he… he certainly does.” You forced a smile, still trying to process the fact that he's standing there. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Your mother gave you a strange look as she walked past, heading back into the house. 

The heck was that about?

As she disappeared into the other room, you turned your attention back to Steve, your heart pounding. You looked up at him, which was something you weren't used to. He's so. . .tall.

“Steve… is that really you?”

“It’s me, Y/N,” Steve replied, his voice deeper than you remembered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Things have been… crazy in the last couple of days.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment.

Steve smiled, a hint of the old Steve you knew shining through. “I’m more than okay. I want to make it up to you. How about I take you out to dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”

Your heart lifted at the thought. Maybe this was your chance to reconnect, to get back to the way things were. 

“I’d like that,” you said softly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Listen, I need to go back but I'll see you at our favorite spot? Six-thirty?” He reaches for your hands and kissed the back of it. 

“I’ll be there,” you chuckled at his romantic gesture.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” He winks at you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. This new playful side of him, got you hooked like a fish.

× × × ×

“Good evening, Ma'am. Do you have a reservation for tonight?” the hostess asked politely, her hands poised over the guest book.

“Yes. Steve Rogers?”

The hostess scanned the list, her finger trailing down the page. “Table 11. Right this way.” She smiled warmly and gestured for you to follow.

Your heart quickened as you anticipated seeing Steve, but when you reached the table, your smile faltered. The chair opposite you was empty. The hostess pulled it out for you, and with a quiet sigh, you sat down, your eyes flickering anxiously toward the door.

“Can I offer you any refreshments?” 

“Not at the moment.”

“No problem. Let us know if you need anything.” With a nod, she left you alone, leaving the weight of the evening to settle over you.

Minutes turned into an hour, and you found yourself glancing at the door every time it opened, only to be met with disappointment as someone other than Steve entered. As the hours passed, your hope began to wane, replaced by a growing knot of irritation in your chest.

But as the hours ticked by, your hope began to fade. The restaurant was closing, and still, there was no sign of him. The waitstaff was cleaning up around you, giving you sympathetic looks as you sat there alone, trying to hold back the tears.

The restaurant was winding down, the waitstaff quietly cleaning up around you. Their sympathetic looks were hard to ignore as you sat alone, struggling to keep your emotions in check. You felt a lump in your throat, your eyes stinging as you blinked back tears.

“Miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re closing,” a waiter said gently, approaching you with a cautious smile.

You nodded, trying to muster some semblance of dignity, “I’m so sorry. I’ll be on my way.” You snuffled and smiled as you got up from your seat. Getting up alone was hard, the weight of embarrassment was weighing you down. 

Just as you turned to leave, the door swung open. Steve rushed in, his face flushed and hair slightly disheveled. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, hurrying over to you. “I got caught up in something important. I didn’t mean to be late.”

The staff paused in their work, their eyes shifting between you and Steve. There stood the dashing soldier, looking every bit the hero in his crisp uniform, yet here he was, unmistakably late. As their gazes turned to you in your lavender shirtwaist dress, it was clear they understood why you had waited so long.

“It’s eleven.” Your voice seethed after glancing at your watch, noticing a red smudge on his collar, “They’re closed. Let’s talk outside.”

Without waiting for a response, you cleared your throat and walked out, brushing past him intentionally to make your anger known. Steve followed closely behind, sensing the storm brewing between you two. This was the first time he had been this late, and you were struggling to decide whether to forgive him easily or let him feel the full weight of your emotions.

“Steve, where were you? I waited for hours,” you said, trying to keep your voice whole, this feeling like you were losing him is foreign and hard to keep internally.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I got caught up with something… important.” Steve barely met your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“More important than us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, the pain of being pushed aside finally surfacing.

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not like that. You know I’m trying to do the right thing. There’s so much going on, and I—”

“Forgot about me?” You didn’t want to be this person, but the loneliness and the fear of losing him had been building up for too long. Without Bucky around, you had no one to turn to, no one to share this burden with. “I understand that you have responsibilities now, but you made a promise.”

He finally looked at you, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not leaving you behind. I just. . . things are different.”

“I can see that,” you said, you look at him from head to toe. The man standing in front of you wasn’t the same Steve who used to hold you and make you feel like the most important person in the world. This was someone else, someone who had outgrown you, “You’ve changed, and I’m not talking about your appearance.”

“I’m still me, Y/N. But now, I have responsibilities, people who rely on me.” Steve looked down, guilt flashing in his eyes. 

“And what about me?” you asked, the hurt evident in your voice. “Do I even matter anymore, or was I just someone to keep you company when you had nothing else?”

“Don’t say that,” Steve replied quickly out of spite, “Maybe… maybe you were only with me because you felt sorry for me. For who I was.”

His words cut deep, and you recoiled as if he had struck you. “You think I was with you out of pity? Is that what you believe?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, his voice strained.

“How could you think that?” you said, your voice rising with a mix of anger and hurt. “I was with you because I love you, Steve. Not because I felt sorry for you. I believed in you, and I loved you for who you were, not because of what you couldn’t do or how you appear.”

“I’m just not sure where I fit in this new world, and I’m not sure where you fit in it either. I'm trying to wo—”

Your chest began feeling tight because of his words. You had always known that things would change after the serum, but you never expected him to question your feelings like this. 

“So, what are you saying? That there’s no place for me in your life anymore? That I don’t belong because you’ve become someone else?” You emphasized his structure with your hand.

Steve shook his head, looking frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… I feel like we’re both hanging on to something that’s already gone.”

“Already gone? Nothing was gone, at least not on my part.” Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep your voice from cracking, “Is there someone else? Is that why you’re looking for a way out?”

“No! Of course not. It's because for once in myself I feel like I'm worth something,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

The finality of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had fought so hard to hold onto him, to keep the love between you alive, but now it felt like you were losing that battle. You had wanted him to stay tonight, to make things right, but now you weren’t sure if there was anything left to salvage.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned away, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. 

“You know what? Just… go, Steve. Do whatever it is you have to do. I will not think less of myself just because you do not know how to love me anymore.” you said, your voice heavy with resignation.

“Y/N…” Steve’s voice was soft, filled with regret, but you couldn’t face him. Not now.

“Please, Steve. Just go.”

What you really wanted to say was, “Please stay. Show me that I still matter to you.” But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You were too afraid that he wouldn’t fight for you, and the thought of that was too painful to bear.

Steve hesitated, his eyes wandering as if trying to find the right words. He just stood there, saying nothing. 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you walked closer to him, his face softening as you reached up and gently adjusted his collar. Your fingers brushed against the fabric, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. 

Then, in the calmest voice you could muster, you said, “Lemon helps with removing lipstick stains.”

Steve’s eyes widened in panic, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the spot where your fingers had been.

“Y/N, I seriously don't know how this got here—” he began and it almost sounded genuine, his voice filled with panic as he tried to close the distance between you.

But you took a step back, your eyes now red and brimming with tears. You raised a hand to stop him, your voice breaking as you sobbed deeply, “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Steve’s heart shattered at the sight of you sobbing, your pain a statement in every tear that fell. His instinct was to reach out, to hold you, but your outstretched hand and the heartbreak in your eyes kept him rooted to the spot.

If Bucky were here… The thought pierced his mind like a knife, and suddenly, jealousy coursed through him, hot and irrational. Bucky. The one person who had always managed to make you smile, even when he couldn’t. The one who could draw out your laughter with just a word, a look. The one who, despite being his best friend, had always been a shadow in the corner of Steve’s mind when it came to you.

Was it easier with Bucky? Did you love Bucky more than him? Had you ever thought of Bucky in ways that Steve couldn’t bear to imagine?

“You should’ve just chosen Bucky.” Steve muttered and with one last, tortured look at you, Steve turned away, his steps. He walked away, leaving you standing there, your tears flowing freely now. He didn’t look back, too afraid of what he might see if he did.

Your breath caught in your throat, the shock of his words slicing through the already unbearable pain. You stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to process the bitterness in his voice, the finality of his statement.

The Steve you had known was gone. You didn’t know if looking for him would be worth it because you knew how it would feel—it would feel like reaching for smoke.

Heartbroken and feeling more isolated than ever, you decided to walk home alone. Your cries echoes the street, water gushing out of your eyes like it’s being released by a dam. The echo of your footsteps on the empty streets was a haunting reminder of just how alone you felt. Steve had left, and with him, it felt like a part of your heart had been ripped away.

Steve’s words replayed in your mind, cutting deeper with every repetition. The idea that he thought you might have been with him out of pity or that you're better off with Bucky was a knife to your heart, twisting with every breath.

The streets of Brooklyn were eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced by an unsettling stillness. The lamps cast long, distorted shadows across the pavement, and every sound seemed amplified in the silence. You quickened your pace, trying to escape the weight of your thoughts, but it was no use. 

As you turned down a narrow street, the familiar surroundings suddenly felt foreign and oppressive. You hugged your coat tighter around you, your mind racing with a mixture of fear and despair. Ahead, the road forked into two directions—one leading to your home, the other into an even darker, narrower alley. You turned towards home, your heart pounding as you tried to shake the feeling of being watched.

Then, without warning, you heard the screech of tires on the asphalt. Before you could react, a van skidded to a stop in front of you, its headlights blinding in the dark street. The doors flew open, and three men in dark clothing jumped out, their faces obscured by shadows.

Panic surged through you as you spun on your heel, trying to run, but it was too late. They were on you in an instant, their grips like iron as they dragged you towards the van.

“No! Let me go! Help! Please someone!” you screamed, thrashing against their hold, but your voice was swallowed by the night, and the empty streets offered no help. Your heart raced, the fear consuming you as you struggled with the best you can.

A cloth was suddenly pressed against your mouth and nose, and a sickly sweet smell filled your senses. You tried to hold your breath, to fight against the drowsiness that quickly overtook you, but it was no use. The world around you started to blur, your vision darkening as your body went limp.

The last thing you heard before everything went black was the sound of the van doors slamming shut and the dull roar of the engine as it sped away into the night.

× × × ×

DAY ONE

When you woke, the world was a haze of pain and confusion. The first thing you noticed was the cold metal pressing against your back, you were naked. Your wrists and ankles were strapped to a metal table, the restraints biting into your skin. Panic clawed at your chest as you struggled against the bonds, but they held firm, keeping you pinned down.

Your vision was blurry, your head pounding from whatever they had used to knock you out. Slowly, the room around you came into focus—bare, clinical, with walls of stark white. You weren’t in Brooklyn anymore. You weren’t anywhere you recognized.

You heard voices, cold and detached, speaking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sent chills down your spine. Footsteps approached, and a shadow loomed over you.

A man’s face came into view, his expression devoid of any warmth or compassion. “She’s awake. Prepare the serum.”

The word “serum” sent a jolt of fear through you, and you renewed your struggles, trying to break free. But the restraints didn’t budge, and the man paid no attention to your terror or the muffled screams that bounced off the walls.

You felt a sharp prick in your arm as they injected something into your veins. Immediately, a searing pain shot through your body, like liquid fire burning through every nerve. You tried to scream, but your voice was caught in your throat, choked off by the agony that consumed you.

The pain was unbearable and you could feel your body convulsing on the table, your muscles seizing as the serum spread through you. It felt like your entire being was being torn apart, every cell screaming in protest. You began to foam in the mouth, the scene your captors watched was like out of an exorcist movie.

And then… nothing. The world around you went dark, and you slipped into unconsciousness, the pain finally giving way to merciful oblivion.

“Sir, should we stop?” One of them said, “Her vital signs are getting dangerously out of limits, she might go into cardiac arrest.”

“No, keep going until that last vial is finished. I want to see what’ll happen. Then we repeat until there’s signs of success.” 

DAY TWO

You awoke to the sensation of your body being dragged, rough hands gripping your arms as they pulled you across the cold, unforgiving floor. Your vision was clouded, your mind struggling to grasp onto reality as the fog of unconsciousness began to lift. Every inch of you ached, a dull, throbbing pain that seemed to seep into your very bones.

As you were hoisted back onto the metal table, the cold surface pressed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The restraints clamped down on your wrists and ankles once more, their cruel bite familiar by now. The room around you was still the same—sterile, white, and devoid of any humanity.

You tried to speak, but your throat was on dry and on fire, your voice barely a whisper. "Please... stop..."

Your plea fell on deaf ears. The figures in lab coats moved around you with the same clinical detachment as before, their faces obscured by surgical masks. One of them approached, holding a clipboard, his eyes scanning the data as if you were nothing more than a lab rat.

"Her vitals stabilized overnight," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But... the readings are inconsistent. I'm not sure if the serum is taking effect."

The man from before—the one who had ordered the serum—stepped into view, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. He leaned over you, his eyes scrutinizing your face with a mix of curiosity and impatience.

"Let's see if she can handle more," he said, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you remembered the excruciating pain from the day before. You tried to struggle, but your body was too weak, too drained from the torment they had already inflicted on you.

The man nodded to one of his colleagues, who approached with another syringe, the liquid inside glowing with an ominous, sickly hue. You watched in horror as the needle approached your arm, every muscle in your body tensing with dread.

"No... no, please..." you begged, your voice breaking.

But they didn't stop. The needle pierced your skin once again, and the liquid fire coursed through your veins, more intense than before. The pain was immediate, searing through you like a thousand white-hot knives. You thrashed against the restraints, your screams tearing through the air, but there was no escape from the agony.

The world around you blurred as the pain became all-consuming, every nerve in your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding erratically, your vision darkening at the edges. It was too much, too overwhelming.

But this time, there was no merciful oblivion waiting for you. The pain persisted, dragging you down into a nightmare from which there was no escape. Your body convulsed violently, your muscles seizing as the serum wreaked havoc within you.

The voices around you became distant, muffled by the roaring in your ears. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but their tone was one of cold observation, detached from the suffering they were causing.

"Her body's reacting... but the patterns aren't consistent. It’s hard to tell if it’s working or if she’s just... rejecting it."

"Increase the dosage," the man ordered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched your writhing form. "We need to push her further. If there's any sign of success, we'll see it soon enough."

"But sir," one of the lab technicians hesitated, his voice uncertain. "If we push too hard, she might not survive the next round. The readings are already erratic—she could go into shock or worse."

"That’s a risk I’m willing to take," the man replied coldly. "We won’t know until we push her limits."

Your heart sank at his words. There was no end to this. They were going to keep pushing, keep testing, until either the serum took hold of your body or gave out entirely.

As you lay there, barely conscious, the pain began to ebb slightly, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you tried to cling to consciousness.

"Prepare the next dose," the man ordered, his voice devoid of any empathy.

This time, your heart sank even deeper. The nightmare wasn’t just beginning—it was accelerating, and there was no way out. You were trapped in this hell, at the mercy of those who saw you as nothing more than an experiment, a means to an end. And whether or not the serum was taking effect, you knew that whatever happened next would push you to your breaking point—and beyond.

DAY EIGHTY

When you woke, the familiar chill of the metal table greeted you. The room was as stark and clinical as ever, but something had changed within you. The pain was still there, a constant, gnawing presence, but it no longer controlled you. You had become accustomed to it, numb to its bite. It was just another part of your existence now.

Eighty days.

Eighty days of torment, of relentless experimentation, of feeling your body and mind pushed to their breaking points and beyond. You had lost track of time somewhere around the third week, the days and nights blending into a seamless blur of agony and darkness. But even as the days passed, you remained conscious, aware—alive.

The door to the room opened, and you didn’t bother to turn your head. You knew who it was. The man with the cold eyes approached, his footsteps echoing on the hard floor. He had become a constant in your world, his presence as regular as the pain he inflicted. 

“You’re still with us, I see,” he remarked, his tone as detached as ever. He moved closer, inspecting the restraints that held you down. “Most impressive.”

You didn’t respond. You hadn’t spoken in days—there was nothing left to say. Every word, every plea had fallen on deaf ears. You had learned long ago that silence was your only companion in this hell.

“Her vitals are stronger,” a technician noted, glancing at the monitors that tracked your every heartbeat. “We’ve noticed a significant increase in her strength and resilience. The serum seems to be taking effect.”

The man nodded, though there was no satisfaction in his expression. “Eighty days,” he mused, as if talking to himself. “Eighty days, and you’re still here. Stronger, faster… more than we ever anticipated.”

He turned his gaze to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But are you in control, I wonder? Or has the serum taken control of you?”

His words hung in the air, but you didn’t flinch. The battle for control was something you fought every day, every hour. The serum coursing through your veins had changed you in ways you couldn’t fully understand yet, but you were still you—or so you told yourself.

“Let’s see if we can push it further,” he said, signaling to the technician.

The restraints were released, and you felt the cold metal slide away from your wrists and ankles. You didn’t move, not yet. You had learned to conserve your strength, to hold back until the moment was right.

“Sit up,” he commanded.

You obeyed, slowly raising yourself into a seated position. Your movements were deliberate, controlled. You could feel the power coursing through your body, every muscle coiled with potential energy, but you kept it in check.

The man stepped back, giving you space, watching you closely. “Stand.”

You slid off the table, your bare feet touching the cold floor. You stood, swaying slightly as the blood rushed to your head. But you remained upright, your gaze locked on the man who had been your tormentor for nearly three months.

“Walk,” he ordered, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You took a step forward, then another. Your legs were shaky at first, but you quickly found your balance. Each movement felt strange, foreign, as if you were inhabiting a body that wasn’t entirely your own. But you continued, step after step, until you were standing directly in front of him.

“Good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

He reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch was light, almost gentle, but you could sense the underlying threat in it. “Now, let’s see just how far we can take this.”

You didn’t react as he motioned for the guards to step forward, their weapons at the ready. You knew what was coming next. This was another test, another attempt to push you beyond your limits.

The guards surrounded you, their faces expressionless, their grips tight on their weapons. The man gave a slight nod, and they moved as one, striking out at you with calculated precision.

But this time, you were ready. The serum had done its work. You were faster, stronger, and as their blows came toward you, you reacted with a speed that surprised even you. You deflected the first strike with ease, the second with even greater efficiency. Your movements were fluid, instinctual, a dance of power and precision.

Within moments, the guards were on the ground, groaning in pain, their weapons scattered across the floor. You stood over them, breathing heavily, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The power surging through you was intoxicating, overwhelming, but you were in control. For now.

The man watched you with a hint of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or perhaps something more sinister.

“Yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”

You stood there, the blood rushing in your ears, your body alive with the thrill of what you had just done. But beneath it all, there was a gnawing sense of unease. You had changed, become something different, something more. But at what cost?

As the guards were dragged away, the man turned to you once more. “Eighty days,” he repeated, a slight smile playing on his lips. “And now, the real work begins.”

You didn’t respond. You had nothing left to say. The battle was far from over, and as you looked into the cold, calculating eyes of your captor, you knew that whatever came next would push you even further into the darkness.

But you were ready. Because after eighty days of hell, you had learned one thing—you would survive, no matter what.

DAY 100

The pain had reached a point where it was almost surreal, as if your mind had detached itself from your body to protect what was left of your sanity. You lay strapped to the cold metal table, your skin clammy, your breaths shallow. The serum that had been forced into your veins was taking its final toll. Your vision blurred, the edges of your world darkening as you teetered on the brink of consciousness.

The man with the cold eyes stood over you, his expression hard as he watched the monitors tracking your vitals. He had been relentless, pushing the experiments further each day, determined to force the serum to work. But today, something was different. The lines on the monitor were becoming erratic, your heart rate spiking and dipping unpredictably.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," a technician warned, his voice tinged with anxiety. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The man clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, cutting off the protest.The technician hesitated for a moment before injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The liquid fire surged through your veins, and the world around you exploded into pain once again. But this time, it was different—this time, your body couldn’t take it.

You convulsed violently on the table, the restraints digging into your skin as your body fought a losing battle. Your vision darkened further, the room around you fading into an indistinct blur. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, a desperate rhythm that couldn’t keep pace with the assault on your system.

And then, it stopped. The world around you went silent. your life flashed before your eyes, beginning with the warmth of your childhood—the comforting embrace of your mother as she read you stories at night, the sound of her laughter filling your small apartment in Brooklyn. You remembered the day you met Steve, the shy, awkward boy who had tripped over his own feet trying to impress you, and Bucky’s teasing grin as he nudged Steve forward, encouraging him to finally ask you out. There were memories of long summer days spent in the park, the three of you inseparable, sharing ice cream and dreams of the future.

But then, the memories shifted. The warmth drained away as you saw Steve walking away from you, his back turned, his footsteps echoing in the empty space between you. . .

“Dispose of the body.”

× × × ×

D - 100

When you woke up this time, you weren’t in the cold, sterile room. Instead, you were lying in an alley, discarded like trash. The hard, wet pavement was unforgiving against your body, and the chill in the air bit through your clothes. You don’t know what day or even month it was.

Your once neat and tidy outfit was now torn and filthy, covered in grime and dirt from the alleyway. The lavender shirtwaist dress you had worn so proudly earlier was now barely recognizable, stained with mud and who knows what else.

Your hair, once carefully styled, was now a tangled mess, strands sticking to your face, damp with sweat and the moisture of the night. You could feel the grit and dirt under your nails, the remnants of your struggle to free yourself from whatever hellish place you had been held. Your hands were scraped and raw, the skin broken and bleeding in places.

Your face felt gritty, as if you’d been dragged through the dirt. As you lifted a hand to touch your cheek, you could feel the rough texture of dried blood and dirt clinging to your skin. Your body aches all over, every muscle sore from the strain of whatever had been done to you. The cold dusk air bit into your exposed skin, making you shiver as you struggled to push yourself up from the ground.

The street was dimly lit, the sound of distant traffic the only sign of life around you. The once-familiar streets of Brooklyn now felt alien and hostile, and in your current state, you felt like a ghost haunting the city you once knew.

You stood there, shivering and alone, the reality of your situation sank in. Whoever had taken you had done something to you—something that had changed you. But they had deemed you a failure, or perhaps an afterthought, and simply left you to fend for yourself.

You felt stronger, different, but the overwhelming sense of abandonment weighed heavily on your heart. You looked down at your hands, trembling as you tried to comprehend what had happened to you.

Just as you began to move, your disheveled appearance caught the attention of a group of men lurking in the shadows. They saw an easy target—someone weak, vulnerable, alone. Their eyes locked onto you, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you like a predator sizing up its prey. But they had no idea what they were about to face.

“Hey, look what we got here,” one of them called out, his voice dripping with malice. He stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in your bedraggled state. “You look like you’ve had a rough night, sweetheart.”

Another man snickered, his eyes narrowing as he moved to block your path. “Where you headed in such a hurry? We could keep you company.”

The men began to circle you, cutting off any chance of escape. Their leers and mocking laughter echoed off the walls of the alley, making your skin crawl. You backed away, your heart racing, but they kept closing in, their intent all too clear.

One of them reached out to grab your arm, but before his hand could make contact, something snapped inside you. The fear that had gripped you earlier was replaced by a cold, detached resolve. 

With a sudden burst of strength, you lashed out, your fist connecting with the man’s jaw. The impact sent him reeling backward, blood spurting from his mouth. He stumbled, crashing into a pile of trash cans with a loud clatter, his smug expression replaced by shock.

The other men hesitated, their bravado faltering as they realized you were not the helpless victim they had assumed. But their hesitation quickly turned to anger, and they surged forward, determined to make you pay for their friend’s humiliation.

But they didn’t stand a chance.

With a newfound power surging through your veins, you moved like a force of nature. You dodged their clumsy attempts to grab you, your movements fluid and precise. Every strike you landed sent them staggering back, their groans of pain filling the air.

One man lunged at you, his hands reaching for your throat, but you ducked under his grasp, spinning on your heel to deliver a powerful kick to his midsection. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Another man tried to grab you from behind, but you twisted out of his grip, your elbow slamming into his ribs with a sickening crack. He howled in pain, clutching his side as he fell to his knees.

The last man standing looked at you with wide, fearful eyes, his confidence shattered. “What the hell are you?” he stammered, backing away.

You stared at him, feeling that cold detachment settle over you once more. “Someone you should never have messed with,” you replied, your voice calm and steady.

Without another word, you stepped forward and struck him with a swift, powerful punch. He didn’t have time to react before he was sent crashing to the ground, unconscious.

As you stood there, surrounded by the groaning forms of the men who had tried to attack you, the reality of what you had just done began to sink in. You had taken them down with ease, without even thinking. The fear that had gripped you earlier was gone, replaced by something else—something darker, more dangerous.

You looked down at your hands, trembling slightly as you tried to process what had just happened. They were bruised and dirty, knuckles bloodied from the fight, but they were steady, powerful. You weren’t the same person who had been taken from the streets and subjected to whatever hellish experiment had been done to you.

You were stronger now, and that strength came with a cold, hard edge that scared you as much as it empowered you.

But there was no time to dwell on it. You needed to get out of there, to find somewhere safe where you could figure out what had been done to you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you began to walk away from the alley, leaving the men behind.

As you disappeared into the early morning light, the realization that you were truly alone settled in your heart. You had been discarded, left to fend for yourself. But you would survive this. You would become stronger, faster, more powerful than anyone who had ever underestimated you.

And if Steve had truly discarded you as well, if he had moved on and left you behind, then you would prove that you didn’t need him—or anyone else.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were no longer the same person who had waited at that restaurant, hoping for a fresh start. The flame that once burned brightly for Steve had turned to cold, hardened embers.

You vowed never to let anyone discard you again.

.

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.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you trudged through the streets, your skin a canvas of bruises and cuts, each one a testament to the brutality you had endured. The world around you seemed surreal, almost detached, as if you were walking through a twisted dream. 

People noticed you—how could they not? Their eyes lingered a fraction too long before they darted away, some filled with pity, others with fear or disgust. Concerned mothers pulled their children closer, shielding them from the sight of you as if you were a monster, something to be feared and avoided. Whispers followed you like a shadow, just out of earshot but thick with judgment, dripping with the cruelty of strangers who saw only the surface.

No one approached you. No one dared. The stares didn’t bother you. In fact, you welcomed them. Let them look, let them fear. You would not be pitied. You would not be scorned. If the world wanted to see you as a monster—then so be it. 

As you walked, a familiar part of town began to come into view. You knew these streets well, every crack in the sidewalk, every faded storefront. It had been a place of comfort, of familiarity—but now it felt foreign, like you were an intruder in a place that no longer belonged to you.

Then, through the blur of people, you saw her. Your mother. She stood on the corner, frantically handing out pieces of paper with your picture on them, her eyes scanning every face that passed by, desperate and searching

When her gaze landed on you, her expression shifted—first to shock, then to fear, relief, and heartbreak that hit you like a punch to the gut. Your heart clenched, a pang of pity slicing through the wall you’d built around yourself. You had steeled yourself against so much, but seeing her there, so fragile, so broken, was almost too much to bear.

“M-Mom?” Your voice cracked, a betrayal of the emotions you fought so hard to suppress. For a split second, you felt like yourself again, but then that cold voice in your head reminded you: no tears, no weakness.

She rushed toward you, disbelief widening her eyes, her hand trembling as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Y/N? Is that you?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to speak as she reached out to you. Her hands, trembling, cupped your face, her touch so familiar yet so foreign. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in your appearance.

“What… what happened to you?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

The tears in her eyes reflected the pain you had tried so hard to bury. But you couldn’t let it out—not now. Not after everything.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though the words felt hollow. You pulled away from her touch, the warmth of it almost too painful to bear.

“No, you’re not,” she insisted, her voice shaking as she looked you up and down, trying to understand what had happened to her daughter. “Who did this to you? Where have you been?”

You shook your head, the emotions churning inside you too chaotic to form into coherent thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, your voice colder than you intended. “I just need to go home.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed, as she looked at you with a mother’s instinctive fear. “No, we need to take you to the hospital. You need to be checked out, Y/N. You’re hurt—”

“No!” you snapped, the force of your voice startling both of you, desperation in your tone, “No hospitals, no police report.”

“Y/N, please. You need help. We have to tell someone—”

Help? No one helped. 

“I said no!” you repeated, your voice trembling with an intensity that silenced her. “They won’t help. They’ll just ask questions, questions I can’t answer. They won’t understand, Mom. No one will.”

“But, Y/N—”

“I don’t need a doctor. I don’t need the police. I just need to go home. Please, Mom… just take me home.” Your breath came faster, panic rising in your chest as the thought of being in a hospital, of facing the police and their endless probing, became unbearable. 

Her face crumpled with worry, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as if trying to shield you from whatever had hurt you. 

Slowly, she nodded, though her worry was still palpable. “Okay. Okay, we’ll go home. But promise me… promise me that if you need help, you’ll let me know. Just… don’t shut me out.”

You nodded, but the motion felt distant, like it didn’t quite belong to you. “I promise,” you whispered, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt empty, a hollow reassurance to ease her fears.

× × × × 

The rain poured down like icy needles, but you barely felt it through your black raincoat. Across the street, through the glowing window, Steve and Peggy danced together, they danced together like a well-rehearsed melody, a song you had once known by heart but now could only hear as a distant echo. Their connection was a knife, twisting in the hollowed-out space where your heart used to be.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms as you stood there, seething. Every drop of rain that pelted against your coat felt like a reminder of the cold, hard truth—you had been replaced. Forgotten. Left to rot in the streets while he found comfort in another’s arms.

Your anger simmered, bubbling up from the depths of your chest. You had been willing to fight for him, to stand by his side no matter what. But what had that loyalty gotten you? Abandonment. Betrayal? And now, as you watched them dance, that anger solidified into something colder, harder.

“Y/L/N.” a deep commanding voice called your name.

Two officials stood in the shadows, their presence barely registering as you finally tore your gaze away from the window. They weren’t there for the party—they were there for you. Without a word, you pushed past them and joined their side.

[chaifootsteps]

the thing with 'Addict' is that Michael's voice is more clearly autotuned than Chi Chi's (listen to his delivery on 'this is my life' for example) but it works. He delivers the song 100% in character and it fits for the same reason that other musical theatre songs sung by actors who weren't necessarily the strongest vocalists (Robin William's 'Friend Like Me', the Rock's 'You're Welcome) also worked - the acting and charisma is strong enough to carry it

Blake Roman might be a better singer but if he doesn't 'get' the character or just tries to deliver a Michael Kovach impression people will notice the difference. Heck, you could argue that Bryce Pinkham is a better singer (when directed properly) but Look My Way (the Viv revised version) just isn't doing the same numbers as Addict. For one, it's a lot more of a drag than the upbeat Addict and for two, there just isn't the same love for Stolas as there is for Angel, and a huge part of people's attachment to Angel is Michael Kovach. It's been a while since it happened now but I remember the backlash to dropping the pilot VAs was so strong some fans swore off every watching the proper show after it was picked up

Honestly, I always figured he was autotuned to hell and back because that's the sound they were going for; I didn't think it had anything to do with lack of singing ability. Even Bryce in Look My Way gets a couple of very obvious autotones.

Definitely agree about acting and charisma making up for flawless singing ability, and that sometimes a less than polished singing voice can actually add a ton of character. My favorite example will always be this one.

Some observers have dinged Burt Reynolds' singing voice in this movie, but it's a perfectly nice voice and for a character like Charlie, it works.

Angel's a trashy little rat from Brooklyn who gets by on his looks and promiscuity. He lived fast and died young, had a rampant drug problem, and while there's no reason that should preclude him from sounding like a Broadway superstar, it also makes an equal amount of sense that he wouldn't. A singing voice that's a little rougher, a little more human, would have added to his character, not detracted.

[pianokantzart]

What didn’t you like about The Super Mario Bros Movie?🤔

I feel like I'm just gonna repeat what has already been said a hundred times over, but... Number 1 is the pacing. This movie could've benefitted so much from just an extra fifteen minutes tacked on. The experience of watching the film for the first time is comparable to going on a guided tour in a beautiful location with a super impatient tour guide who is eager to clock out. You want to take in the scene and enjoy the moment, but next thing you know you're being aggressively shoved to the next scene without a second to breathe.

Number 2 is the jukebox songs. "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" was fine. "Thunderstruck" was annoying. "Take On Me" was inexcusable when you listen to the song that was supposed to be playing during that sequence!

And look, I can sorta get what they were going for if they were trying to reference the pop songs that played during The Super Mario Bros Super Show, but the amount of people nostalgically connected to The Super Show is easily dwarfed by the amount people nostalgically connected to the OG music of Nintendo (no hate on Super Show enjoyers of course, just stating the facts.) You've got an incredible catalogue of music at your fingertips and a talented composer! Take advantage! Please!

Number 3 is (some of) the casting

Jack Black, Charlie Day, and Keegan-Michael Key were fantastic (Keegan-Michael Key in particular I feel doesn't get nearly enough credit for balancing sounding like Toad of all characters while not being grating to listen to, and actually putting in a darned good performance.) Chris Pratt was okay. His voice was surprisingly fitting for Mario once I saw it? It's very everyman while being a little naturally high pitched. The one thing he lacked was the super high Mario-levels of energy. The yelling in particular needs work. Speaking of yelling... I know they kept the actors in separate recording booths for secrecy reasons or whatever, but I think Chris Pratt would greatly benefit from sharing a recording booth with Charlie Day. Especially if The Mario Bros. are going to be on screen together in future installments. DK, too, I feel was just okay. Not distracting, still pretty funny, but he didn't wow me.

Anya Taylor-Joy was, unfortunately, kind of disappointing. It feels like they just went with a "pretty lady actress with a lady voice" in the casting call. She doesn't really sound much like Peach, and her delivery falls a little flat at times. I prescribe... putting her in the recording booth with Jack Black.

As for Fred Armisen's Cranky Kong, I have to mute and put on subtitles when he's on screen. I give his performance a solid 2/10 because he is putting in energy, but the delivery is so off and the voice doesn't fit. It's actually really distracting.

[undead-moth]

Okay I thought I could let this go and just leave it at this post I wrote a bit ago but I can't.

Everything about how the Faks were written this season, including how much screentime they got, can be attributed to fatphobia.

The Faks exemplify a really common fatphobic stereotype that gets heavily relied on in comedy shows. I call it The Lovably Childish Fat Man trope, though there's much more to it than that. Some examples are Scully and Hitchcock from Brooklyn 99, Teddy from Bob's Burgers, Andy from Parks and Rec, and Kevin from The Office.

These characters are dopey, incompetent, clumsy, dumb, sloppy, childish and self-unaware. All of these attributes are used for comedic affect within the story. While these characters are lovable, they are lovable in a, "Isn't it just so endearing how dumb and clumsy and gross they are?" way. It is in the most condescending way possible. These are characters who aren't allowed to be serious and are required to play into the comedy of their fatness, often wearing ill-fitting clothes, overeating, or having their weight become an obstacle in a setting. This is how fat characters can still be made into a joke, and not just a joke, but THE joke, without a single comment ever being made about their weight from any of the thin characters in the story.

Now, when it comes to The Bear, Neil Fak was always an example of this trope - but in the first two seasons it wasn't as egregious. Neil was incompetent in general, but when it came to his job as a maintenance man, he was very competent. He was childish in general, but he was allowed to participate in conversations like any other adult without the sole purpose of his presence being that he was going to say something childish or dumb.

On top of that, all of his incompetence and childishness was balanced out by Richie, who was also immature, incompetent, and self-unaware.

But in the third season, a lot changes.

The biggest change is that the restaurant opens, and so now there is no need for a regular maintenance man who is going to take mold seriously, insist on moving the lockers before painting, and figure out that Michael fucked with the fire alert system to prevent it from going off when he tried to burn The Beef down.

Now, instead, Neil becomes a server in the restaurant, which is something he's woefully incapable of doing, and his incompetency in serving is highlighted for comedic affect.

At the same time, Richie has gone through real character development, and he's no longer unprofessionally dressed. He doesn't lack self-awareness. He's not as outspoken or willfully rude. When he is angry or immature, it is not comparable to a teenager's anger, much less a child. He no longer balances Neil out as a thin character with a lot of the same flaws.

What's worse, is that another Fak was introduced as a character, and he's also fat. Ted Fak becomes a regular rather than someone who's made an appearance or two, and his personality is virtually indistinguishable from Neil's. The only real difference that I can tell between them is that Ted's maturity is closer to on par with a thirteen or fourteen-year-old, while this season especially, Neil's maturity was more on par with a nine or ten-year-old.

When I say they're childish, I mean they are literally portrayed like children. They engage in the same conversations you could expect from children. Neil routinely refers to Carmy as his best friend unnecessarily, which is something a child would do, but on top of that the joke is, "Ha ha - can you believe Neil thinks he's Carmy's best friend?" even though Carmy outright admitted that Neil was probably his best friend in season one (which was also intended to be a ha ha funny joke). Ted and Neil also talk about Neil's wall of food critics, and Neil asserts that he would have already been able to tell whether or not one of the food critics had come in, and insists that he's memorized all their faces in a very child-like way. Any time the two of them are engaging in conversation, it's made apparent that the two of them both think they're geniuses exchanging profound wisdom, when in reality everything they say is stupid and uses the logic of children who don't yet understand how complicated everything is.

I really hit my limit when they went to see Claire to tell her Carmy says he's sorry - an act that no two grown ass men would ever decide to do, nor think was appropriate to do, nor helpful to do, nor would they fucking think it's their business, or if they did decide to talk to Claire, they wouldn't bombard the E.R without permission and wander into an operating room in the process. On top of this, they speak too loudly for the indoors, and Neil stammers through saying Carmy is sorry in very simple words, no different than a child saying sorry on the playground, and Claire even responds to them like children, trying to quiet them down, lecturing them about going places they shouldn't, talking them down from apologizing for Carmy because she recognizes it's not as simple as these children think it is, and she even explains it in simple terms to them, while routinely saying, "My love," and, "I love you," and trying to manage their excitement and expectations again - the exact same way you would with a hyper, overly enthusiastic child. With Ted she implies that he gave one of her friends an STD, and gives him a very maternal look and a, "You know what I'm talking about," comment while Ted continues to act obliviously (Ha ha the gross fat man has an std funny joke.)

Literally, you could easily replace these characters with a ten-year-old and a teenager and you wouldn't have to change anything. In fact, it would work better. It would make more sense.

It is possibly the most egregious example of this trope that I have ever seen. It turned a show that was previously actually better than the average TV show when it comes to fatphobia into a show that's actually more fatphobic than most shows I've watched.

And as for why the Faks were so heavily relied on, why they got so much screentime despite there being so many other characters they could have chosen to develop or focus on instead - I think the writers chose to do that because they knew this season was going to be heavier than past seasons.

They knew that the A Plots (Primarily Carmy's worsening behavior in the restaurant, but also Natalie giving birth, and Tina's search for a job after being let go) were all going to be really heavy, serious storylines. But they knew that even if this season was going to be more serious, this show was still a comedy. Not only do they need to keep it in line with its category, but they also had to try to keep the tone consistent with past seasons even though the plots in the past two seasons were not as serious. And particularly with the main storyline, with Carmy's character arc, I don't think Storer wanted to make that comedic at all. Previously, even really heavy moments could be humorous. The humor was dark, sure, but it was there, and so the comedy was threaded seamlessly throughout episodes, and no one character was more responsible for comedy than any other, even in heavy moments. But with this season, it was crucial that Carmy's state of mind feel as serious as it was. It was crucial that the alienation the other characters felt was palpable to us. In order for that to be the case, they couldn't be the ones providing comedic relief. Those moments had to remain incredibly tense, and awkward, and uncomfortable.

So - enter The Faks as Shakespearian-esque Fools.

In order to keep the A Plots properly serious, The Faks provided comic relief in between A Plot scenes. They're fools in intermissions. That's all. This works because Ted and Neil aren't supposed to be real characters. They don't have character arcs. They aren't ever going to be developed in any meaningful way, and so Storer can afford to include numerous empty scenes with them that do nothing to complicate them or reveal anything about them - and this isn't true of most other reoccurring characters in the show.

It's also worth noting that relying on this trope, using this trope as a crutch really, provides endless low-hanging fruit. Most people who had problems with The Faks this season had a problem with them in part because even though they were given so much screentime, and even though they were always being used comically - they were never funny.

This is where Storer fucked up - you know, beyond being a huge fatphobe. Storer was relying on the fact that most people find fatphobia hilarious. It is an easy way to get some laughs. It requires almost no thought. And okay - I understand that there are scenes in which something more is clearly meant to be getting through, particularly with the discussions of "the haunt" - but the Faks are so annoying that whatever was meant to get through doesn't anyway, or if it does, we don't fucking care anymore.

I'm not going to argue that The Bear fandom isn't fatphobic, because they very much are - However - That is not the kind of humor that first drew them to The Bear. The humor in this show previously was dry, dark, clever, absurd - many things, but all very sophisticated and often subtle. That is not only the humor we expected to return this season, it's obviously the humor we like! Since we're returning for season three!

But Storer didn't understand this about his own audience, and so he didn't think it would matter if he relied on a fatphobic stereotype for comedic effect. Honestly, I think it was probably a blind-spot for him, because he doesn't even know that's what he was doing - he just genuinely thinks this fatphobic trope is hilarious, and so do the other writers. It didn't occur to them that the audience wouldn't too. As a result, it is possibly the weakest part, and most universally hated parts of this season.

[possum-quesadilla]

The last chapter of Time is a Flat Circle is up! So sorry in advance. (No I’m not.) Be sure to read the trigger warnings and tread carefully! This one is a doozy!

Here are the details for this specific chapter! Time is a Flat Circle as a whole will have a “post mortem” itself before Part 2 comes out. If you have any questions you’d like answered, send them my way!

- The lyrics from this chapter’s title is from “This Woman’s Work” by Kate Bush! Heavily inspired by a scene using a song in “Our Flag Means Death”, I listened to this song endlessly while writing this chapter. I believe it fits it so well for obvious reasons.

- “His senses weren’t overly reactive, recently. It was easier to spend more time outside, or among the humans’ excited chatter. It was nice. It made them feel… not peace, but a lack of unease.” - he is experiencing overstimulation less and less due to the humans helping him have access to accommodations!

- “(where the hell even was “Miskatonic University”?)” - This is a reference to H.P. Lovecraft’s work, since it inspired Beetlejuice’s last name, but also more to the movie “Re-Animator”! It kicks a lot of ass if you can stomach it. Check the trigger warnings before watching. Highly regarded in the trans autistic community.

- Beej’s favorite pizza toppings being pepperoni and mushrooms is a reference to That Beautiful Sound!

- “one of the “fidgets” she was particularly fond of; a singular key of a keyboard.” - This is based on my favorite fidget!

- “Can you even blush?” - He can!

- “ the gaudy floral wallpaper.” … “the tackily patterned yellow wallpaper. (How repellent. How dull.)” - The appearance of the wallpaper and the way Beetlejuice describes it is taken straight from one of my absolute favorite horror short stories, “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman!

- “I promised I’d get you all out of this, and ‘m a… thing of my word.” - Taken straight from my own vernacular. I’m not a man or a woman of my word, so I say “thing” as a joke!

- “Hot damn!” - this is a reference to one of my favorite “Brooklyn-99” cold opens.

- The TV show Barbara and Lydia start while the boys are busy with the model is “The Fall of the House of Usher”, which is one of my absolute favorite shows ever. It is an amalgamation of Edgar Allen Poe’s stories! Lydia would go nuts, I think.

- As Adam states, Beetlejuice has very sensitive eyes! They’re built for darkness, so they don’t know how to handle an abundance of light properly. Also, the sensory nightmare of ‘sun in your eyes’ sucks.

- “Gardening with Barbara was like a short dream conjured up from a summer afternoon nap.” - Although altered, this comparison is taken straight from my absolute favorite story Stephen King has ever written: “Laurie”. It is phenomenal. Highly recommend you listen to MrCreepyPasta’s reading of it.

- The soup Beetlejuice helped make was loaded potato soup! One of my favorites.

- “It should be a comfort, shouldn’t it? No one else got a chance like this, to have the precious moments mapped out, to have their time left set in stone.” - This is taken straight from my own thoughts. As someone with many chronic illnesses and a projected shortened lifespan, this is something I often tell myself.

- “after he’d wrapped her up in blankets and tossed her onto her bed.” - Fun sibling activities! My older brother used to love to wrap me up tightly and toss me across the room onto my bed. I also loved it.

- “I don’t keep anything strong on me after Adam freaked out about my flask.” - My version of Adam has trauma related to alcoholism/substance abuse. Beej took his concerns seriously and stashed away most of his ’goods’.

- “ “There is no… other side for me.” He gently squeezed her hand. “This is it.” ” - This is, of course, one of the hardest lines ever written, from “BoJack Horseman”. Made me bawl my eyes out when I first heard it, and I bawled again writing it into my fic.

- The various smells!

- Black tea and perfume - this has already been addressed! Beetlejuice mentioned how Barbara smells like iced tea and perfume a few times before.

- Isopropyl alcohol and tung oil - aftershave and woodworking materials!

- Vinegar-y chemicals and formaldehyde - Lydia has traces of photo-treatment chemicals on her. And she likes taxidermy things.

- Beetlejuice’s reaction to being called sweet is a direct mirror of my own. I have no idea how to respond to being called kind and such and act all grumpy.

- On the “diagnosed” conversation - everyone but Beetlejuice knows that that’s about. Lydia has been diagnosed with a few things as well! Perhaps we will get into it in Part 2?

- “The evening passed at the speed of a dream. Dinner, dishes, laughter. Pajamas, blankets, rounds of Clue and tossed game pieces.” - This is meant to parody General Gibson’s speech in “Asteroid City”. Specifically when he says, “twenty years passed at the speed of a dream. A wife, a son, a daughter, a poodle.” This movie literally altered my brain chemistry, no hyperbole. It will be referenced again.

- “Eric is returning to his grave.” - This is meant to be foreshadowing for Beej’s plan!

- “Lydia suggested they watch “The Exorcist”. Despite the Maitlands being terrified of the film, they stuck around to watch it. But the humans did not make it to the ending. They fell asleep huddled together, all pressed up against the demon’s sides. “God damn you, take me!” It wasn’t so funny this time around.” - This has a few layers; it’s referring to how movie Beetlejuice has seen “The Exorcist” 167 times, and says it gets funnier every time. The scene that is being quoted is when the priest character, Karras, tells the demon to take him instead of the girl it’s possessing. He then jumps out the window to kill the demon along with himself. For obvious reasons, this is not quite as funny to Beej anymore. (And, I mean, it’s about an exorcism. And he is dreading an upcoming exorcism. Not fun!)

- “How exquisitely stupid. How perfectly splendid.” - These are both references to two of my favorite pieces of horror media. The first is from “Nope”, the second is from “The Haunting of Bly Manor”.

- “They tried, desperately, to hold it all within their grasp, to savor it, to hold it close. But it’s hopeless. The last day with their BFFF passes like sand through his fingers.” - This is meant to be a reference to “So Long” by Tokyo Elvis, which was the song for one of the previous chapters!

- “7pm arrives like a thief in the night, sure and swift and inevitable.” - the phrase “like a thief in the night” is from “The Masque of Red Death” by Edgar Allen Poe. Lydia’s love of the poet is rubbing off on him!

- “He empties out their belongings from his hammer space and leaves them in tidy piles in the basement.” - this is a reference to a line from Mitski’s “The Last Words of a Shooting Star”, which was almost the song for this chapter. The lyrics it references are “And I am relieved that I'd left my room tidy, They'll think of me kindly, When they come for my things”

- The scene where Lydia calls Beetlejuice “BugBeverage” is meant to parallel the goodbye hug they exchanged at the end of the musical, just somewhat reversed!

- “Of all the billions of breathers that coulda seen me and said my name, I’m so glad it was you.” - this is meant to be a homage to a very impactful scene in “Fantastic Mr. Fox”. Shout out to all my fellow autistics that this movie made cry.

- “W-Wiggog Y-” - This is a cheeky reference to Wiggly from the Hatchetfield Universe! I have my own Tickle-Me-Wiggly!

- “I bid you, full foul in your fury, to smother this profane blight with your icy cull,” - This is a rephrasing of one of the best monologues ever from the best movie of all time, “The Lighthouse”. (I have seen it 103 times. I am not joking.) The original lines were, “rise from the depths full foul in his fury!” And “smother this young mouth with pungent slime”

- “His feet shifted, teeter-toter- Deep breath, it’s time.” - Taken from “The View from Halfway Down”, a poem read on “BoJack Horseman” from the same episode as the other quote in this chapter. It is a haunting, distressing poem from the perspective of someone who has jumped off a bridge to commit suicide, but regrets it halfway down. I thought it was extremely thematically relevant here.

- “Morning Frost.” - Morning Frost is a creation of my own. It’s a play on the ‘Morningstar’, or Lucifer, the original demon. The original head honcho of the Netherworld. Not much is known about them by Beej, so we are too for now! The only way to kill a creature born of hellfire is to freeze out that fire.

- “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.” - This is taken from a similar scene in “Slay The Princess”, one of my favorite games ever!! A horrific timeloop, a twisted romance. I won’t spoil anything, but the character saying this is doing so to keep his body from shutting down, like Beetlejuice. I say this to myself over and over again sometimes when I’m having a panic attack and it’s helped!

- “They hope it’ll lull them safely into a gentle goodnight.” - this is a reference to a famous poem, “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas.

- The feeling of warmth returning is a bad thing, which is why Adam freaks out more when he notices! One of the last stages of hypothermia is feeling incredibly warm and stopping shaking. There’s also disorientation and confusion, hence why Beej can’t talk or think quite straight after this point.

- A fun little lesson on treating hypothermia from the Deetz-Maitlands! Warm the neck and core with blankets, get heated blankets if possible, and give them warm, sweet beverages. Starting to shake again is a great sign.

- “… he couldn’t let them see him as he was) and stepped forward to greet the pair, shaking on his humanoid illusions and Ghost with the Most persona.” - Beeltejuice is afraid that he can’t take anything back now. He wants to make a good impression on Charles and Delia. Sucks to suck, buddy!

If you’ve made it this far, wow… thank you! This monster of a fic wouldn’t be possible without the serotonin boost every like, comment, and FANART (still can’t believe that one) sent my way. Thank you so much. Can’t wait for Part 2! I will add hints and teasers for what’s to come in the Post Mortem. I’m going to keep working on my crochet sandworm now.

[hamsterrod]

LPS POPULAR REMAKE RECOMMENDATION AND RAMBLE

(but on an account that aligns with my "hamsterrod" "Rodney" one.)

Once I get into rambling about the series itself, I'll leave a cutoff to avoid spoiling anyone. However, since this is also a recommendation, I better give you all a good descriptor of what you might like about it.

The LPS Popular remake (MLP Fever on YouTube! Hey Cleo.) is a new spin on the series started by SophieGTV over a decade ago. I say new spin super heavily, because while lots carries over, it does deviate quite a bit from the original. (Love that part about it, just so you know.)

The first season takes place in the same highschool setting of the original, with the second taking place in college instead. To be as vague as possible about what to expect from this story, here are some things I think Tumblr users might like!

• Canonically LGBT characters. I'm aware of two (unlabelled in canon) sapphic characters, a bisexual character, a canonically gay character, and a canonically trans character. The majority of which appear super early on. • A highschool drama. Well, for the first season anyway. It's a lot closer to the original than season 2, but has enough differences to ease you into the changed plot and the things occuring in season 2. (Season 2 takes place in college.) • A satisfying conclusion for the characters in both season 1 and season 2. Really, if you only watch season 1 (which I don't recommend, watch the whole thing!) you will probably be just as alright with that as an ending as you would watching both seasons. And season 3 is confirmed, so I think it can really only go up from here. • Fairly realistic character conflicts, including a lack of a "real villain" for any particular plotpoint in the show.

Alright, onto the series itself.

Savannah Reed. Savvy is pretty much the bringer of her own destruction, she has a lot more obvious flaws in this series than the original, but that is absolutely not a bad thing. Savvy is the innocent girl in the beginning, but she's easily corrupted by her own heartbreak and her own experiences with other characters. In a way, Savannah's innocence is what corrupts her. She's really getting a handle on social situations for what seems like the first time, struggling to manage her emotions until they make her act out. She wants Brooke back, she wants her friend back, but that initial rejection from Brooke just makes her so upset. She spirals out of control, getting makeovers, hitting on Sage, dating Sage, and the conflict of season 1 all explodes at the party, sending her further down the tracks of being exactly what hurt her in the first place. Savannah and Brooke almost switch places for the remainder of season 1, and even after their reconciliation, Savvy's self destructive behavior doesn't really seem to end.

Season two for Savannah is particularly heartbreaking because the worst of it all is entirely based on a miscommunication. Briac isn't with Brooke, and the very fact that she doesn't know that sends her to be with Tom. She denies feelings for Brooke, over and over, running from things and inadvertently hurting herself, Tom, and Brooke in the process. Her running away at the end of s2 to be with Brooke was basically the perfect end to the character arc she had in season 2. To end the season where she runs and runs and runs from everything, her final action being running away to Brooke is so fitting.

Brooklyn Hayes. Really, who doesn't love a good mean girl? Brooke herself, apparently. Even from her first full interaction with Savannah in season 1, it was relatively clear to me that she wasn't someone who wanted to hurt anyone, especially not Savannah. Savannah coming to see her is, unfortunately, the thing that breaks down the persona she'd set up for herself. Brooke couldn't stand Savannah being in her school because it means she'd have to accept that she has had feelings for her the whole time. It's especially notable the change she goes through the moment the jig is up, the moment she can't keep her persona up, she changes to a lot more relaxed version of herself, even if she's miserable while she's at it. Season 2 is the same for her, really. She's grown a far meaner persona to keep Savannah at arms length while still being there for her. It's clear the jerkish side of her is either a front, or just not quite her real feelings, because she behaves so much different with Briac. She wants for Briac what she can't have for herself, and yet they both find happiness at the end of season 2. Brooke is a caring character, one that's actually pretty kind once her walls fall down, but she needs those walls, she needs to keep Savannah out, she needs to keep her friends out. Letting anyone in besides Briac is out of the question for her until the last minute, the last weeks before Savannah is married. Even then, even when Savannah knows, even when Savannah confesses the same to her, she lets her go. She doesn't want to push it. And Savvy choosing to push herself to leave is exactly what both of them needed. Brooke is tired of acting, Savannah needs to take the action step instead of letting everything happen to her. And she does.

Tom Dawson. Tom is only introduced in season 2, but he is so, so very major once he's there. I think Tom is an interesting example of how differently the perspective of the audience and the perspective of the characters is. Tom can't know Savannah's thoughts, she never tells him a thing, so he feels like he can love her. Tom is so tired of being seen as someone so famous, someone that people only want for his status, and for Savannah to treat him like a person, it's extremely exciting for him. Tom acts fast, he wants Savannah, the one girl who treats him properly, to stay with him. He jumps the gun with the early proposal, but why wouldn't he? Tom seems so isolated even with so many people that "love" him. It doesn't seem like he has all that many friends, he is just dragged into Savannah's group and we don't see much of him with anyone else. He's kind, he's caring, he listens, but Savannah never tells him anything he needs to hear, never tells him anything she needs to say. And if she did? I think he would be more than understanding, he wants Savannah's happiness. He wants her to be able to have a say in things, he asks at several points if she wants to be with him, and she lies. He's really the only character that doesn't get that conclusive end in the season 2 finale, but I have faith that there will be an expansion on the aftermath once season 3 rolls around.

[takeariskao3]

If tpfy characters were from America, which state would represent them the best? For example, I see Hermione as a New Yorker, and I'm torn between Florida, Arizona, and Texas for Draco, Harry would be from California or Hawaii, Luna would be from Oregon, Pansy would be from Utah, Neville is from Washington, and I'm confused about the Weasley's... I want to say Texas, but they don't fit Texas. I don't really know much about Theo, so let's throw him into Alaska.

LOL this is the silliest thing we've ever done. i'm going to try and leave politics out of it as much as possible?

Harry: Colorado. laid back, a little bit of everything. it's got mountains, and farms, and desert. it's got big cities and small towns, which speaks to his adaptability and his overall lack of self sometimes. there's harsh landscape but made it's beautiful because of it's severity.

Ginny: Nevada. don't let the red rock mountains and the dessert fool you, this is a lush environment if you look beyond the surface which is a bit like ginny's front that she puts up for everyone else. at first glance she's vegas, but get to know her and she's the spring mountains. also wild horses live here

Hermione: I like New York for her! but a borough? maybe brooklyn? she's the lifetime new yorker who is a bit desensitized to all the batshit things going on in her own head. like the bodega rats and the guy dancing on the street corners to no music. that's just new york! she's got a crazy schedule, and she never sleeps, but that's only because there's so much that she needs to get DONE!

Draco: Connecticut. full stop. but like the blue blood, children of the revolution, ivy league legacy, kind of connecticut. He's got a yacht and a beach house and he actively talks shit about the families from Massachusetts who infiltrate the town in the summer time.

Ron: North Carolina. traditional with lots of history, but also up for anything. He can go big city without losing his rural roots. family is always a priority. the best fucking beaches around.

Padma: Virginia. actually a commonwealth, the state belongs to the people, not the state government (that's a very simplistic definition but this is a very silly game so i'm not getting into it) virginia is supposed to value democracy (their ideals) above all else. also richmond is a v cool town.

Neville: Nebraska. quiet and unassuming, minds his own business but sticks to his principles when it matters. hard working, and agriculture based, seems pretty boring until you get to know him and realize all that boring is actually *really* admirable.

Pansy: Illinois. the glitz and glam and cool factor of chicago is fun, but it's also a little morally bankrupt (lol). She's learning to appreciate the quiet, more steady parts of her.

Luna: I went back and forth on this one for a while, but i think you are right. i have to go with Oregon. Keep Portland Weird and all that. she definitely brings the special brownies to the potluck.

Theo: Montana. quiet and bit of a leave me the fuck alone attitude. appreciates solitary walks through the mountains. likes animals more than people. so sick of the grind. let him lay in a field of wildflowers and think about the universe for a few days.

i think the weasleys as a whole would be Iowa. hardworking, rural, they have enough money to get by, they're willing to try new things (like wind energy), they always try to stand up for what is right, but at the same time they value their tight knit communities.

and since i've now spent a full hour on this, i'm calling it done LOL

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E Bios: Saraid Grady-Sullivan / Sara Lucifarian (2021)

The Wrathful Imp Sara Lucifarian

Same pic as Sara hasn't changed much.

The seventh of the seven, the fireball of a young lady, Sara Lucifarian. Sara isn't particularly smart, wise, cunning, tactful, any of that, but she has what the others lack, pure rage that can be released at a moment's notice. If Damien were honest he'd probably say that Sara even scares him, but Damien would never admit such a thing, rather he has taken to locking Sara in a cage whenever she fights or locking her outside of buildings for street fights so that her rage may never be directed at him.

"Dare you to."

Name

Full Legal Name: Saraid Ginger Grady-Sullivan

First Name: Saraid

Meaning: From Old Irish 'Sárait', derived from 'Sár' meaning 'Excellent'.

Pronunciation: suh-RAI

Origin: Irish, Irish Mythology

Middle Name: Ginger

Meaning: From the English word 'Ginger' for the spice or the reddish-brown colour.

Pronunciation: JIN-jer

Origin: English

Surname: Grady-Sullivan

Meaning: Grady: From Irish 'Ó Gráda' or 'Ó Grádaigh' meaning 'Descendnt of Gráda'. The byname 'Gráda'means 'Noble, Illustrious'. Sullivan: Anglicized form of the Irish name 'Ó Súileabháin' meaning 'Descendant of Súileabhán'. The name 'Súileabhán' means 'Dark eye'.

Pronunciation: GRAY-dee. SUL-i-van

Origin: English

Alias: The Wrathful Imp, Sara Lucifarian

Reason: Sara isn't particularly tall, hence the 'imp' name and is a very rage-filled individual hence 'wrathful'.

Nicknames: Sara, Red

Titles: Miss

Characteristics

Age: 19

Gender: Female. She/Her Pronouns

Race: Human

Nationality: Irish-American

Ethnicity: White

Birth Date: April 7th 2002

Symbols: Bears, Red

Sexuality: Straight

Religion: Catholic

Native Language: English

Spoken Languages: English

Relationship Status: Single

Astrological Sign: Aries

Theme Song: 'Rich Kids [Middle Cla$$ MIX]' - New Medicine (2018-)

Voice Actor: Julia Louis-Dreyfus

Geographical Characteristics

Birthplace: Fort Greene, Brooklyn, New York

Current Location: Unknown

Hometown: Fort Greene, Brooklyn, New York

Appearance

Height: 5'1" / 154 cm

Weight: 115 lbs / 52 kg

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Brown

Hair Dye: Section dyed red (& usually braided)

Body Hair: N/A

Facial Hair: N/A

Tattoos: (As of Jan 2020) 4

Piercings: Eyebrow piercing (Double right, single left), Inner eyebrow (Right), Bridge, Nose (Right), Anti-Eyebrow (Left), Shark Bites, Cyber Bites, Nipple (Both), Industrial (Left), Double Helix (Right), Triple lobe (Both)

Scars: None

Health and Fitness

Allergies: None

Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Smoker, Social Drinker, Smokes Weed

Illnesses/Disorders: None

Medications: None

Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Allies: (As of Jan 2021) Damien Lucifarian, Vi Lucifarian, Billie Lucifarian, Geia Lucifarian, Honey Lucifarian, Eli Lucifarian, Yeray Marino, Flo Marino, Bano Marino, Judi Marino, Rino Marino, Nat Marino, Mac Marino, Ros Marino, Zac Marino, 'Monster' Mike, Sakurako, Ash Thunder

Enemies: (As of Jan 2021) Kirby Kingston, Eddie Kingston

Friends: Viola Nye, Bienvenida Marino, Pelageya Winter, Kirby Moore, Honey Di Napoli, Elinor Herbert, Paulette Nye, Zella Lum, Rosaura Marino, Emperatriz Romero-Marino, Venetia Winter, Barbara Di Napoli

Colleagues: The AEW locker room / Too many to list

Rivals: Alex Reynolds, Penta Oscuro, Jon Moxley, Jungle Boy, Yuka Sakazaki

Closest Confidant: Kirby Moore Viola Nye

Mentor: Damien Lucifarian

Significant Other: None

Previous Partners: None of Note

Parents: Desmond Grady (39, Father), Honora Sullivan (40, Mother)

Parents-In-Law: None

Siblings: Oscar Grady-Sullivan (16, Brother)

Siblings-In-Law: None

Nieces & Nephews: None

Children: None

Children-In-Law: None

Grandkids: None

Great Grandkids: None

Wrestling

Billed From: The Underworld

Trainer: Damien Lucifarian

Managers: Damien Lucifarian

Wrestlers Managed: None

Debut: 2018

Debut Match: Billie Lucifarian VS Sara Lucifarian. Sara won by Pinfall

Retired: N/A

Retirement Match: N/A

Wrestling Style: Street Fighter

Stables: The Lucifarians (2018-)

Teams: Post

Regular Moves: Kick to the Midsection, Diving Leg Drop, Forearm Smash, Diving Splash, Chair Shot, Jumping Knee Drop, Pump Handle Slam, Dropkick, Diving Back Elbow Drop, Berserker (Diving Knee Drop)

Finishers: Ripped Apart (Double Leg Slam), Son of Sam (Sitout Suplex Slam)

Refers To Fans As: The Wrathful, The Wrathful Ones, The Enraged, The Enraged Ones

Extras

Backstory: Raised by a college professor with her younger brother t her side whilst her mother is off fighting wars that Saraid herself doesn't believe in. Sara became Wrath after a long streak of street fights led to her to the underground parking lot beneath Damien's apartment building and straight into a face-to-face confrontation with the King of Hell himself.

Trivia: None of note

[arch-godenvy]

AGENT JESTER , LEVEL III

name  genevieve castillo nicknames  jester, jes, jessie age  thirty-nine date of birth  august 13, 1984 zodiac  leo place of birth  new brunswick, new jersey current residence  brooklyn gender  genderfluid pronouns  she/he/they sexuality  bisexual, women preference occupation  artist / level iii cerberus agent

faceclaim  aubrey plaza height  5'6 tattoos  many... secret :) piercings  lip, healed. both ears. distinguishing features  big eyes, knowing smile positive traits  creative, relaxed, imaginative, expressive negative traits  foolish, immature, tactless, unserious labels / tropes  class clown, beware the silly ones, blatant lies, hidden depths, lonely rich kid likes  pulling pranks, art, people watching, baked goods dislikes  meetings, serious missions, level i agents fears  death hobbies  painting, sketching habits  clicking tongue, rolling eyes, tapping foot

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience… 

jester was having a normal day. the most normal a day can get for her. her roommate left. her boyfriend broke up with her. her favorite bakery didn't have her favorite little treat. that's fine! she goes to the met because that's where she's able to think and relax. jester had no idea that this would be the location for a cerberus corp mission. between one step and the next, jester is dead on the steps of the met, the extra ordinary that practically ran through her in pursuit of a villain not even turning back to check what happened. very sad very terrible. she's revived by a do-gooder that saw the entire thing happen, shocked back to life. when asked about her experience, she details that it felt like she was in a prism, her reflection everywhere she looked, though each was a little different, showing jester on a separate path that she could have taken at any time in her life.

power… 

self-replication / duplication. jester can duplicate herself into tangible perfect replicates. the limit she's found is 10 replicants. each is able of individual thought and action, though she had to have given them the initial thought as she created the duplicate. it is impossible to tell which jester is the real one, and it makes her pranks nearly deadly. she discovered her power when she was wishing she could bake, paint, and relax / watch tv at the same time and she immediately split into three.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities… 

as of right now, the duplicates need to be within 100 ft & she needs to have them in her line of sight. the more she has up, the closer they have to stay. as soon as a duplicate is attacked, it disappears as if it was an illusion. a hit against a duplicate does not effect her, but a hit against her may cause her to lose concentration and therefore all duplicates will disappear as well. ever since her death a few months back, her thoughts have been racing and more scrambled, and being split into duplicates helps her manage things.

(if applicable)  cerberus corp… 

jester auditioned for cerberus on a whim when her friend said that her power could probably be used to do some good. she has no desire to 'do good' but at least working at cerberus gives her something to occupy her time. no one thinks that she'll be able to make it past level iii considering her lack of motivation, but if she puts in the work, it's certainly possible. jester's recent mission was successful, just barely, and is under investigation because she ran off from the higher level agents that were on the mission with her. she's here for a good time not a long time tbh.

codename… 

jester is a childhood nickname that she chose as her codename on the basis that 1) its cute and 2) fits her ability & personality. cerberus does not give a damn...

003.  HEADCANONS

will recruit people into a prank war without warning

(un)intentionally sabotages missions

dad is a politician and mom is a famous actress. neither have had contact with her since her birth as she was raised by a rotating team of nannies. her mom and dad's relationship was an affair on both sides and it would be a scandal if it were to come out, even forty years later.

a very good liar

does have depth despite the front she puts on!

her art is reflective of people she meets, though it has become increasingly more abstract and chaotic since her death and resurrection.

always smiling in a sort of sinister way like she knows too much

does not train. will duplicate herself and have the duplicate train in her place.

004. CONNECTIONS

(on main wc page) a housemate that doesnt have to pay rent but she asks them to pay anyway just to see if they will. she goes through roommates like theyre nothing, usually because they end up leaving her, fed up with her antics.

(on main wc page) the eo that was responsible for her death

ex-relationships.. yes plural. she falls in love easily but people seem to fall out of it much faster

muse / inspiration for her art

a level i or ii agent that is assigned to help her train and hates every second of it

???? idk. profit.

let her get into prank wars with your muse thanks.

[jadestormcloud2]

I babble a little about Hazbin Hotel

The first 4 episodes of Hazbin Hotel are up on Amazon Prime. I've gotten through the first 3 so far and I'm pretty much enjoying them.

The story is interesting & the songs are amazing. I'm enjoying meeting more of the Overlords (some very interesting character designs there). My biggest issue has just been adapting to the new voices because they almost all seemed so different to me.

Charlie's voice is great. Fits her perfectly, I think, and is one where I hardly noticed the change. Angeldust's voice sounded a little off to me initially, but not too bad and I'm enjoying his character. I like Niffty- she's completely unhinged. And I actually like Sir Pentious' voice & mannerisms more now than in the pilot.

Voices I'm still working on:

Alastor's voice still doesn't have the same kick for me as it did in the pilot. Seems flatter somehow. Maybe less radio effects? Maybe it's just the different voice actor. When re-watching the pilot, I still find myself so fascinated whenever he speaks, but in the new episodes, it's like he's lacking something.

With Vaggie's and Husk's voices it's mainly me knowing the actors from elsewhere and trying to connect them to the Hazbin characters instead of just hearing them as "Keith David" and "Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99" whenever they speak.

Also, I thought Brandon Rogers as Katie Killjoy was an unusual choice. That was probably the biggest (& my least favorite) of the voice changes.

Anyway, I hear the next ep starts to get heavier, so I look forward to seeing where it goes. And if you haven't watched yet, you should check it out.

[ponreviews]

Super Mario Bros Movie - Letsa Go!!

Categories: Action, Adventure, Comedy

Rating: 9/10

Synopsis:

Mario and Luigi are just your average plumbers starting their own business in Brooklyn. The brothers find themselves investigating some strange happenings within the sewers beneath the city. The next thing they knew they were warped into a strange universe. Separated, Mario desperately does all he can to get his brother back, teaming up with a princess and a.... mushroom?? to do it all while protecting the Mushroom Kingdom in the process.

Review:

For the first time, I'm going to make this review spoiler free! I think this is a perfect opportunity to get you to watch the movie if you haven't already. I'm still going to attach stills throughout the review like I normally do, but in this case, the stills shouldn't be huge spoilers (especially if you have seen the trailer).

I'll start a bit negative because let's face it, this movie is an obvious cash grab. It primarily feeds off of the nostalgia of older generations while also appealing to younger generations who enjoy Super Mario games. Because of this, there's not a lot of substance to the movie. Unlike other critics, however, I don't believe that makes this movie bad. I went into the theater with little expectations other than "the references should be there."

I was pleasantly surprised by the flow of the movie. Not one part felt like it was slowing down. I liked how animated and exaggerated the movements were. It's very fast paced and for Super Mario, that's perfect. I was surprised to find out how deep the references went. Like that rival plumber (Foreman Spike) does actually exist in the Super Mario lore. It was fun to learn a little bit about the references I didn't know about. I do wish they gave Charles Martinet a bigger role than just a cameo.

I had my concerns about Chris Pratt being cast as Mario, and I hate to admit it, but he was right when he said no one is gonna care about the accent. It's explained pretty well early on in the movie too. An exaggerated Italian accent for a commercial for their plumbing brand? Makes sense. I still don't like Chris Pratt as Mario, but that's just because I don't like him in general. I will note that my bias against him does not affect the rating would've been docked a whole point if it did. He plays the role well, but it's forgettable compared to the rest of the star-studded cast.

Jack Black as Bowser was PERFECT!! His personality fit the character they were trying to go for with Bowser. Same with Charlie Day as Luigi. We all know that meme. The conspiracy theorist Charlie Day meme. Need I say more? Also Seth Rogan?? As Donkey Kong??? That laugh solidified the casting for me. Anya Taylor Joy works as Peach. It would be wrong for me to say it was the perfect casting, but she does make it work. Overall, great performances by the actors.

Illumination should be proud of the animation. They were able to maintain integrity of the games' original designs while sticking to their signature style. It's hard to pull that off and have overwhelming praise. I particularly liked how bouncy (for the lack of a better word) everything was. It really was enjoyable. Going back to the "cash grab" complaint I had, I do respect them for it. It's smart to market the movie for kids while building on the nostalgia of the adults who grew up on the games. I see you Nintendo and Illumination marketing teams. Geniuses all of you. The best part about it is that it wasn't that weird mesh of animation and live action. It was all animated and all wonderful.

Overall, I definitely think this movie is worth the hype it's getting. You could tell everyone involved was just having fun, and that's where you find the best projects. The movie doesn't take itself too seriously, and it's even more amazing when the cast has fun in that project (and the premieres - shoutout Anya Taylor Joy and Jack Black for those wonderful outfits). All in all, if you haven't watched it yet, go! Watch with friends, family, or even alone! If you have watched it already, watch again if/when the movie hits streaming sites with others. I feel like it's a nice comfort movie, and we haven't had one like this in ages.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

"I got you a ring pop." He holds it to the other, it's already out of it's wrapper and everything. Peter was licking his own watermelon sour flavor (is it on his left hand? but his index finger.. what does this mean? nothing of course.)

"Cherry is your favorite right?" It's just an innocent ring pop. Nothing more, nothing less. (Or is it?)

It was at Peter Parker's apartment that he had decided to roost. Taking the stack of papers, tucked in those ugly yellow folders, and brought it HOME ⸻ this place that was no longer precisely a destination; the meaning of the very word changed.

TO FOCUS ON THAT FEELING ⸻ HOME WITH A DIFFERENT MEANING. Clint would find himself pondering, often in moments like this (sitting down, leant over a collection of papers). Today specifically he's at the small table that has been designated the dining table, which on several days was the catch all table.

Clint often disposed many objects at this table, anywhere from packages to arrow-making kits (all to be dealt with at a later). THIS PLACE HAD BECAME A HOME ⸻ But THE HOME was a different place entirely; lacking of, in fact, being a place at all. IT WAS A PERSON, IT WAS BECOMING PETER.

Another one of those things that he pondered was how had he GOTTEN SO LUCKY. It sure wasn't in his nature of luck to end up completely smitten (no, that part was par for the course) but it wasn't in his nature for that to last without any major SCREW UPS or something hindering them.

LIKE ⸻ you know, he wasn't going to get into the old aches. Clint needed to get this paperwork done, because YOU ARE THE TEAM LEADER ⸺ AND ⸺ NEED TO SET AN EXAMPLE. Being all official, government approved and city sanctioned, meant doing paperwork. The Avengers had that too; but the point standing that being all OFFICIAL meant heaps of paperwork.

Actually, he just needed to do this before Helen started holding hostage, or booking him for more interviews (who ever let him open his mouth made a mistake). ⸻ DISTRACTION !!

The front door opens, with Peter wandering in with a few re-usable tote bag in arm, returning from a grocery run. FINALLY ⸻ PETER'S WHINE ABOUT HAVING NOTHING IN THE FRIDGE FOR WEEKS (it's cause he has been mooching off the fridge at their brooklyn home which one of them needed to say something and move in to one apartment or another).

Clint only mumbles a greeting, leaning over to the side that Peter come up on, letting him kiss him before focus is put back onto the paperwork (with much more frustration now). He listens to his talkative love (OH GOSH HOW HE LOVES HIM) go on about three and a half tangents while he restocks his own kitchen. ❝ Oh, yup, that's great, baby. ❞ He'll input here-there, until Peter's back at his side again interrupting Clint's train of thought as he's trying to transcribe Eegro's writing (which why the hell did whatever Eegro was need to write reports as well).

He's doing that crouch that he liked to do, which why hadn't Peter jut pulled up a chair. HE'S SO GODDAMN RIDICULOUS. A red ⸺ A RED RING POP ⸺ is presented in front of him.

"I got you a ring pop."

YES, HE SEES THAT. There's other things that he has clocked because Hawkeye was not literal but to some degree, Clint's trained himself in visual perception. KNOWING HOW TO TAKEN IN A SIGHT, A SCENE, AT A GLANCE. Picking up on small things, points where an arrow might cause a chain reaction, and so on. Something anyone can do with practice. THE OTHER THINGS BEING ⸻ The crouched position at his side, could almost be a kneel if he squinted really tight ⸺ and ⸺ Peter's got his own RING POP on his left hand (index finger but that's probably because it fit better).

"Cherry is your favorite right?"

Clint sets his pen down, which was a poor choice to work with because he's got scribbles of pen ink drawn over his palms whenever the ballpoint would die on him and he couldn't just scribble on government documents. LOOK HE'S TAKING HIS JOB SERIOUSLY (as much as Peter gets to hear Clint bitch about a system he hates, and worrying that he has become a part of the system; mourning the days of old).

IT'S NOT A PROPOSAL ⸻ but there's that smile on Peter's face, all too innocent that makes Clint pause for a moment. THEY HAD JUST CELEBRATED AN ANNIVERSARY NOT ALL THAT LONG AGO. They had been working well enough together, Mayday was walking and talking.

He takes the ring pop, give it a lick. ARIFITICAL FLAVOUR ⸻ HIS FAVORITE.

❝ Oh gosh, is the big bad, be your boyfriend question? ⸺ You know I had thought we were already doing that, I mean what I am doing here? Was I not your boyfriend already? 'Causse if not, boy, do I feel embarrassed. I thought we had a great thing going here. ❞ He jokes, but that was something couples considered after a time and they really did need to have the talk about a permanent living situation. Peter's place was better, Mayday was going to want and need her own room. In the bedroom with Clint and Peter, or the couch was not ideal or permanently situation for a growing kid.

Gosh, who could he ask on the top floor that he move them to lower apartments (his apartment with the loft) and made a lot of barbecue for the neighbors, for some light construction to make a larger apartment on the top for room for. . . FAMILY.

❝ Sure thing, baby, I'll be your boyfriend. ❞ AND MORE, EVENTUALLY. Sooner than later. Keep asking him.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: lee pace

full name: garrick velour

nickname(s) / goes by: n/a

pronouns & gender: he/him, cisgender

sexuality: questioning

birth date: November 4, 1987

birth place: rural quebec canada

arrival to merrock: may 2023

housing: historic downtown; (townhome in some converted historic building ie brooklyn brownstone)

occupation: seller at bookends

work place: bookends

family: mother, Émilienne; father, Casimir; and five siblings: Jacqueline, Tavin, Caelan, Delwyn, and Aveline

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

+ Compassionate, empathetic, outgoing, trustworthy - Reckless, manipulative, selfish, defensive Love spills out of him in droves. He searches for connection wherever he is—bars, restaurants, walks around the neighborhood. The kind of man who would greet a passerby while they’re out for a morning walk with their dog and remember both of their names. As the eldest brother who never quite shed the coat of his adolescent expectations, Garrick often puts himself out for the sake of helping others, especially his friends and loved ones. Even to his own personal detriment Despite his big heart, Garrick has quite the penchant for mess. He’s quick to be on the defensive and bite back, especially when he feels exposed or backed into a corner. He’s overly sensitive and tends to turn himself into a martyr while in the heart of conflict. He loses himself in relationships, pouring so much from his own cup that it’s entirely empty. Using love and attachments as a shield from the ragged, raw parts of himself that he can’t bear to look at. Riddled with insecurities he tries to keep expertly shoved away, Garrick is slowly working on his lack of self and is set on growing into a better man.

WRITTEN BY: Alex (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: verbal and emotional abuse, alcoholism

Garrick has spent his life stepping into hyper-masculine roles that felt like they fit—the eldest son and child, the provider, a paternal figure. Roles that settled on his shoulders after his parents split when he was eleven years old. His father was rarely around, emotionally distant, verbally and emotionally abusive when he was. Garrick felt his father’s absence when he was away constantly on business, but the distance only grew more painful when Casimir finally was home. In the aftermath of their divorce, he had his mother, pregnant with twins, and three siblings to help her look after and a farm to keep going. Money grew tight. The pressure to help keep his family afloat and raise his youngest siblings became heavier with each passing year. He stepped into shoes that were far too big for him to fill.

In his late teens, his family packed up and migrated to the States, settling on a smaller farm in Vermont. The farm in Quebec became too much for Émilienne to handle, especially with Garrick deciding to go away to school—which she and his sister, Jacqueline, insisted he do. He attended college around Boston with an academic scholarship. He played lacrosse while at school before graduating with an English degree. His passion for the subject was all-consuming, inspiring him to continue with his studies in higher education. He completed his Masters in Literature and moved on to teach in the Boston area at a college level.

Garrick’s queerness is still a very tender and raw part of himself. Implicitly tied to his struggles with masculinity, he’s still peeling back the layers of his identity. The parts of him fractured in childhood. The parts he continued to cover up and hide away in college. He bounced from toxic relationship to toxic relationship during his twenties and thirties, fostering an environment that stifled him. He wasn’t blameless through any of it, though. An equal participant with his manipulative and selfish behavior, his unhealthy habits collided with every girlfriend he had at the time. Together, they created suffocating, whirlwind romances that always ended as explosively as they began. 

Things came to a tipping point when he was thirty-six. His girlfriend fell pregnant which he only discovered shortly after they had a very heated split. The idea of being a father was far too much for him to process. Despite toying with the idea in theory, he could never separate his image of fatherhood from the ghost of Casimir, constantly hovering over him. He took the news extremely hard, spiraling into a panic. His lingering issues with vices—smoking and drinking—became too tantalizing for him to not indulge in. Burying himself in liquor in the immediate aftermath of Natalya’s pregnancy, he picked a fight with men at a grungy bar, got arrested, and lost his teaching position. 

Which, then, brings him to present day in Merrock. A new start. An opportunity to pause and reflect, get back on his feet. His daughter, Alina, is three years old and he moved up to Maine to be closer to where she is. Legal battles with custody rights and visitation have been long and strenuous, but all he knows is that he wants to show up for her. Be present and become a man he can be proud of.

[brandnewnyla]

Friendship Realness!

Ambiance: People For Your Life by Isaiah Templeton

Written circa January 2022

            We often equate the provision of God to unexpected monetary increase. We quote scriptures like Malachi 3:10 or Ephesians 3:20 back to God, reminding Him of His biblical promises to us regarding our finances. For me during the pandemic, especially the end of 2020 into the beginning of this year, I understood the provision of God toward me as being able to stay in New York City and afford my lifestyle. Not that I live like a Rockstar or anything, but being a performer, income has been touch and go. As I zoom out and really take inventory of my current circumstances, I realize that the sanity that I’ve been able to maintain hasn’t all been from a warm bed and a warm meal. (Though, for that, I am EXTREMELY GRATEFUL!) It’s mostly come from the people that God provided me with last year to isolate me even as He pieced the monetary provision together on my behalf. God has kept a roof over my head and food in my belly but even when it may have seemed like I was cutting it close financially, I’ve had community girding me up every step of the way.

            When the pandemic first began last March, I was still in graduate school and teaching private voice lessons at New York University. There was very little time to process what was going on in the world while moving out of graduate housing, transitioning myself and all my students to virtual schooling and preparing for my final recital (which now had to be in the living room of my new Brooklyn digs). By the time I really wrapped my mind around what was happening outside of my small bubble, it was probably mid-May, early-June. It was then that I was able to process what this really meant for those in the arts, as the steady checks from my assistantship came to an end. I had a mini meltdown. The world as I knew it was completely different and I was grieving all those end-of-the-year victory celebrations as our normal graduation plans were and are still currently tabled indefinitely. It was weird and confusing, but I wasn’t alone. None of us are. 

            Between the months of April and July, God provided. He provided me with people, community, accountability and fellowship. Even moving into a new apartment was through a colleague who I went to graduate school with that had some roommates move out “unexpectantly” the month before and, of course, the perspective sublet just “never showed up”. God is intentional and specific in my needs and interests were taken into consideration and accommodated. The fitness accountability group that He connected with last May was my saving grace for consistently through all the swift transitions. The bible study that He connected me with last June is a group of Opera singers that are believers. The Elevation Church eFam eGroup that I’m apart of is a group of women that is committed to allowing God into our holistic health, falling right in line with the weight loss journey that I’m on. Miraculous how God saw me, heard my cries and led me to people with whom I could be all of myself. 

            We are all going through this radical redefining of reality together and yet there is still such nuance to everybody’s circumstances. The provision of God spans all aspects of our lives, including the luxury of having someone to call when times are tough who doesn’t diminish the reality of our pain while still helping us find gratitude. It’s knowing that God’s hand is in the loving call from my grandmother right when I needed it or being able to talk about the fear in the performing arts world with my Bible study sisters. Provision ranges from never being short on a bill to never lacking in community to reach out to when things get tough mentally and emotionally. I thank God for being surrounded by people I can trust with the hard times and rejoice with me when unemployment gets extended AGAIN and I get another private voice student on my roster. It’s all from the hand of God. 

[hollymbryan]

Blog Tour: Top 5 Reasons to Read A DARKER MISCHIEF by Derek Milman! #tbrbeyondtours

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the TBR and Beyond Tours blog tour for A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman! I've got all the details for you below, along with my top five reasons to read this brilliant YA dark academia.

About the Book

title: A Darker Mischief author: Derek Milman publisher: Scholastic Press release date: 2 July 2024

The Honeys meets The Secret History in a work of dark academia like no other — a boarding school thriller about a queer teen from Mississippi who finds himself swept into a world of old money, privilege, and the secret society at the heart of it all. When Cal Ware wins a scholarship to an elite New England boarding school, he’s thrilled to leave his past behind. Back home in Mississippi, he was the poor, queer kid who never fit in. But at Essex Academy, he’ll be able to reinvent himself. Or so he hopes… But at Essex, Cal’s classmates only see his cheap clothes and old iPhone. They mock his accent, and can’t believe he’s never left the country, or heard of The Hamptons. Cal, at his breaking point, is about to give up and return to Mississippi when he learns about a secret society on campus — the key to becoming Essex royalty. Cal knows he’s not exactly secret society material, but to his surprise, he finds an unlikely champion in the handsome, charismatic, and slightly dangerous Luke Kim. As they get swept up in the mystery and glamour of the Rush process, Cal finds himself falling in love for the first time. But as the initiation rituals grow riskier — and increasingly nefarious — Cal must decide how far he’s willing to go, and how much of himself he’s willing to sacrifice, to save everything and everyone he cherishes most. Because nothing at Essex — not even Cal’s first love — is quite what it seems. Content Warning: Trauma from gay bashing incident (past), kidnapping, parental illness (cancer), instances of cutting and branding, physical abuse

Add to Goodreads: A Darker Mischief Purchase the Book: Amazon | B&N | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Derek studied English, Theater, and Creative Writing at Northwestern University. Derek started off as a playwright and screenwriter–his first play was produced in New York City right after he graduated college–and went on to receive an MFA in acting at the Yale School of Drama. As a classically trained thespian (Derek’s favorite word), Derek has performed on stages across the country, and appeared in numerous TV shows and films, working with two Academy Award winning film directors (who probably have no recollection of working with Derek). Derek has taught at a film school in NYC, worked the front desk of a yoga studio, and had a very short stint as a DJ in a Lower East Side club (if you tipped him well enough, he would pretend to have that New Order B-side no one ever heard of). He began writing YA fiction a few years ago. Derek currently lives in Brooklyn, where he writes fiction full time, wanders the waterfront staring at the Manhattan skyline, plays video games, and buys lime green hoodies made out of locally-sourced hemp.

Connect with Derek: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

Top 5 Reasons to Read

It's Derek Milman! There aren't many authors whose every single work I've read (just for lack of time!), but Derek is one of the few I have. I did a blog tour for his first book and never looked back. His writing is magical, truly special in a way that's hard to quantify, and his focus on LGBTQ+ kids will help readers feel seen.

It's dark academia! There's just something about YA dark academia that has me hooked, despite the fact that I finished all of my own academic pursuits almost two and a half decades ago.

There's a secret society! "Society of the Seven Eyes" -- just sounds creepy and magical, right?? But would Cal do absolutely *anything* to fit in and gain entry into this elite society?

The campus of Essex Academy is so cool! It's got a lot of gothic architecture, which reminded me of Duke, where I went to school. Also, something like half of its buildings are abandoned, having sprung up as part of and around a college from the 1700s that didn't last very long. And the tasks to get into the society require explorations of the unused buildings on campus, which is fun to read about.

It's got first love! I can't quite describe how reading this made me feel, other than to say "tender"...like I wanted to just gather Cal into my arms and hug him, to mother him (and Luke, too). Cal has experienced multiple traumas in his short life, and his move to Essex Academy from small town Mississippi may allow him not only to reinvent himself but to find that first love. But is Luke truly what he seems?

I highly recommend this book, as with all of Derek's incredible works. If you're at all a fan of dark academia, secret societies, and reading about LGBTQ+ characters, I hope you'll pick this one up!

Rating: 5 stars!

Check out our Bookstagram tour too! You can find my post here, and the full schedule is here.