#watching the edits of trailers and sobbing a little

[gender-euphowrya]

i just have faith that someone somewhere will make it their personal mission to edit the movie and put charles back in and i cannot thank them enough

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt VIII good omens a spoiler-free trailer

*walks into church, ignoring the gasps of the congregation* *holds mic to a terrified gentleman's face*

Have you ever wondered, what if the flaming sword at the Garden of Eden was insufferably in love with the Serpent?

*doesn't wait for response, shoves mic in shaking lady's face*

What if I told you, your bible studies are incomplete, because they are missing the most important story of all?

*cut to me in front of a white screen, walking seductively toward camera in a suit*

Worry not, for your prayers have been answered. Presenting, Good Omens, a kind-of biblically accurate story by Sir Terry Pratchett and Tumblr's own @neil-gaiman, now a TV show and queerer than ever. All you AO3 slow-burn hoes, we see you. You asked for it, you got it. Childhood friends is so last millennium, we give you instead, six thousand years of mutual pining.

*hard cut to David Tennant, whom I have stuck to a chair with Elmer's glitter glue* *he struggles, in vain*

Starring David Tennant and his signature slutty walk as Crowley, now in a ginger Barbie edition that comes with demonic eyes, every hairstyle and gender you could ever dream of, and instant outfit changes. It really is a miracle!

*camera swivels to focus on Michael Sheen, who is bound in blankets and looking deeply concerned*

Starring Michael Sheen the fae shapeshifter as Aziraphale, the sweetest, most cherubic murderous bitchy angel you've ever seen. Special features include automatic heart-eyes the moment he is faced with Crowley, a charming disregard for casual massacre in the name of God, and the instant outfit changes. Watch him melt your heart before breaking it! Bonus tip: try giving him sushi!

*cut back to the white screen, I am now sitting uncomfortably close to the camera*

Follow Aziraphale and Crowley as they alternatively try to follow and thwart God's ineffable plan, managing to spectacularly fail at both tasks with a consistency that amazes as it befuddles. Featuring alcohol, a bookstore, and metaphorical and literal fire as things get a little... heated in the Bible fandom.

*crossfade to Soho, I walk along the street as the camera follows me*

If that isn't enough to convince you, presenting also, idiot lesbians giving an ancient demon love advice, sexy horsepersons of the apocalypse, an unofficial wedding combined with burning Nazis alive where the most important part is the handing over of a suitcase, and the sexiest MILF witch Agnes Nutter, a literal bombshell.

*cut to disturbing close up of Neil Gaiman's face* *he tries to step away, and is met with my camerapersons*

Watch Neil Gaiman give you hope and shatter it again repeatedly, in a show where the literal apocalypse is only the background to a forbidden idiots who are lovers-to-lovers who are idiots story that is older than Time itself. Armageddon takes a backseat as Crowley serves gender, and if you thought the Antichrist was adorable, wait till you see him in Good Omens, where his evil powers are directed towards being the cutest kid he can possibly be.

*cut back to white screen, I smile ominously while twirling a human bone*

Good Omens, at your nearest Amazon Prime, with free UST, fluff, Queen, and plenty of tears. Don't miss it!

*text rapidly rolls across screen*

[Imagery has been used for representative purposes. No David Tennant, Michael Sheen or Neil Gaiman was harmed in the process of creating this advertisement. Good Omens will have expected side-effects, including unprompted sobbing, a Pavlovian reaction to bandstands, nightingales, holy water and 'the final fifteen', heartache for the foreseeable future, and intense lust for Crowley's elusive gender. Asmi is not responsible for any consequences resulting from the advertised product. Some features have been excluded from the advertisement due to space and time constraints.]

[lesbiandanhowell]

How Phil Nearly Died

- I did not take the title serious and did just think "Oh what did he do now" and UPDATE I was very wrong omg.

- The teenecting of the fainting, yeah they knew we'd be all over that (and we are)

- Dan must have been fucking terrified I am not even gonna lie. Seeing someone you love faint and in general in such a state is terrifying, I have been there.

- I am so very concerned for Phil and I am so glad he is fine.

- Dan has a watch tanline and it makes me weirdly fond of him. Like it's such a dad thing to me because my dad uses to have the strongest watch tan on his wrist every summer :,)

- The fact Dan edited the tour trailer in a state of panic makes me feel so much more appreciative of it? Like editing that thing was Dan coping.

- Dan being concerned and going on a search for Phil, I feel so bad for how stressed he must have been.

- Them being so offended over being father and son aah yes everything as it should be.

- At the begnning i was jokingly thinking they got this sponsored,,, i can not believe they actually did.

- Dan was 100% offended and jealous of the fact Phil had a hot doctor.

- The selfie?? Why are they sharing this with us. I have been wondering the entire video why they felt the need to share this, because we would have never known if Phil hadn't made a video about it. The fact he felt comfortable and like we have a relationship where he wanted to share this makes me very emotional.

- "I've decided not to take any anxiety from this" spoken like a person with anxiety

-Dan being so grateful and thanking all the nurses because they saved Phil, his Phil, y'all I will sob for real.

- This whole video made me very extremely emotional and I cried a little and got very stressed but I am just so grateful for them. And Dan and Phil are right, take care of your health!!

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

Now with amazing FANART 😱

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902 | AO3 link

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Chapter 2

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

[imrllytootiredforthis]

wait do u like anime???jjk??😭😭😭pls i'm such a big fan?? can't wait for season two 😭

i'm mentally ill, a little too zesty for my own good and listen to kpop, of course i like anime😭💀

i'm a little ashamed to say that i'm not done season one yet--but that's just because i'm the type of person that cannot watch the show until i read the book first, so i read the manga (up 'til book nine so far, i borrowed the books from a friend and that's all he has up to) and then i just started watching it

i am still excited for season two though, i've watched the trailer and i'm constantly bombarded with geto and gojo edits that make me wanna sob and rip my soul out of my body😔

[icy-watch]

From @little-nightfury17

#just like how the NC citizens lit lanturna for Nya in Crystalized

From @peanut-with-wifi-access

#this is so bittersweet#bitter in that the townsfolk think they're all dead#sweet in that they care to remember them

From @rainofthetwilight

#the amount. of edits. that came out of this scene.#the trailers had bits of this scene in them#and everyone went INSANE#but anyway oughjjfjf this scene is so good man 😭 it HURT#even after all these years of the ninja's dissapearance and w/ the possibilty of them being dead or gone for good#the people still chose to remember them#they made an entire memorial dedicated to honor them. to honor their hereos they adore and love and care for#gosh...😭

From @pandemonium-kidz

#I LOVE this scene#one of my favourites of S1#Is just... you can just see how much people care#Yeah everyone thinks they're dead (No wonder)#But also despite all that time they took time and effort to build this

From @only-lonely-stars

#literally they are SO LOVED T_T#literally all of ninjago knows they are heroes and they all think they're DEAD or GONE#sdhfksjhfskdjfha aaaaaa many feelings

From @toastingpencils37

#yup

From @basicallyjaywalker

#this made me so sad to watch#and like.... thinking about how lloyd must feel too#it's A Lot

From @misplacedfangirl83

#I cried at this scene

From @user-without-a-cool-acronym

#oh#yeah this scene#this does hurt a lot#especially with that slow version of the overture#there at the beginning

From @helpmyinterestsareverywhere

#sobbed and cried at this scene when i first saw it 👍#the town appreciates and loves them so much...#its just like the laterns with Nya...#i really like when they show how much ninjago appreciates the ninja in more than just “WOW MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE EVER”#this is more... subtle? somewhat more real-life to me - a gentle tribute to those who looked out for the city because now they're gone#supposedly

Oh this hurts

This hurts a lot

[skinnyducky]

class act // v.h.

requested by @lovesicksofi​ 

a/n this was quite difficult to write. i felt like half the time i was info-dumping and i didn’t want anything to feel redundant or like it was slowing the pace down. however, i tried my best and i think it’s good. i hope this what you were expecting and wanting !

vinnie hacker x plus sized!actress!reader

Word Count: 1544, edited

WARNING: fluff, mentions of death (not real) blood (fake) and stabbing (fake), language, and sadness... i think that’s all.

---------

You were sitting at the makeup chair in your trailer, watching from the mirror as your makeup artist added blood to the corner of your lips. Today was the last day on set for you as your character in your highly anticipated drama film was meeting their demise. It was bittersweet, but after working for a good three months, you were finally happy to get it over with.

Being an actress was something you dreamed of doing. You went from being the sun in your elementary school’s “food chain” play to starring on Broadway in hits like Mean Girls or Wicked. Now, you were hitting the big screen. Though, when people found out about you, as happy as they were to have another talented actress in the business, they had a lot to say about your weight. You were more curvier, more fuller than most of the women in your field, and you faced a lot of criticism for it. No matter how good your acting was, you were always just the “overweight” girl.

At first, those words hurt, and it made you feel as though you wouldn’t make it in the industry. But then, you realized you had been working your ass off to get to where you are today. You damn sure weren’t about to let some snide remarks get in the way of you achieving your dreams. So, you kept pushing and pushing. Now, you had a leading role in a movie, starring alongside Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt.

“I think I need a little bit more pink in the eye.” You said to Andrew, your makeup artist. He rolled his eyes at you and continued to add blush to your cheeks.

“You’re dying, Y/n, not going to the club.”

You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look good before I get stabbed.”

“Har, har…now tilt your head.” Andrew sneered, putting on my mascara. “So, where’s Jen? I miss her rants about contracts and stuff.”

“She’s with another client of hers. Something to do with dropping an album or whatever, I don’t know.”

Andrew snickered, screwing the top onto back onto the mascara. “She’s managing music artists too? Isn’t she quite the manager.”

“Tell me about it. I get lucky if she ever she shows me any attention.” You laughed as you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. You went through and liked a bunch of pictures until you stopped on a certain person’s photo. A smile plastered itself onto your face as you admired the shirtless shot of your boyfriend, Vinnie.

“Is that the boyfriend I hear so much about?” Andrew grinned.

“That’s him indeed.” You answered with a smile. “His name’s Vinnie.”

You and Vinnie had been together for a good year. You both met at some sleazy influencer party. With you both clinging to wall, clearly not wanting to be there, you two made small talk. You chatted it up about everything: from favorite colors to Elmo, your conversations were wild. At the end of the night when you were getting ready to leave, he asked you for your number—much to your surprise. With glee, you gave it to him and thus led to a beautiful relationship. Of course, there was hate, people questioning what he was doing with you and mocking you because of your weight. But you weren’t focused on that. You had a gorgeous boyfriend and a blossoming career right in front of you. Jealous fans were the least of your worries.

“He’s a cutie, Y/n. You bagged a baddie.” Andrew joked, spritzing some setting spray on his masterpiece. “So, when can I meet him?”

Just before you could respond, the door to your trailer opened. You turned around and shrieked with excitement as your boyfriend wandered in. “I got lost and met Margot Robbie.” He said, causing you and Andrew to laugh. “Hey, babe.”

Vinnie stepped beside you and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, baby!” You squealed. “This is Andrew, my makeup artist.”

You pointed towards the MUA who merely waved at Vinnie before pulling out his phone. “He’s not really social,” you said. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing a sub-a-thon?”

“Well, I was going to, but I decided to come visit you instead.” He replied, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course, I am. I’m always happy to see you.”

He grinned and went to kiss your lips but before he could Andrew stopped him. “Not on my watch, sir. That took an hour and a half, and I really would like to not spend another one redoing it.”

You snickered, turning to Vinnie. “He takes his work seriously.”

“Duly noted.”

You and Vinnie shared a laugh and talked for a minute before you were called to set. After getting dressed in your tattered dress and fishnets, you left your trailer with Vinnie following behind you. Now, you were standing in the middle of a trashed hotel room with Brad Pitt across from you and Margot Robbie standing a few feet away. Vinnie stood with the crew as your director explained the scene thoroughly to you.

“Ginger”—he pointed at you—“is being attacked by Paul”—he pointed to Brad Pitt—“and Susan is banging on the door to help you, but it’s locked. When she opens it, you’re already dead, got it?”

You and the other two nodded before the director rushed to his seat behind the camera and yelled, “Action!”

Once the camera’s started rolling, it was like a shift for you. No longer were you Y/n, you were your character, inside and out. As Brad’s character, Paul—safely—flung you across the room, Vinnie couldn’t help but feel a little pained. He knew you were acting but seeing it, it hurt him a little. Margot’s screams rang throughout the set as she banged against the door. “Don’t hurt her, Paul!” she cried.

Tossing you onto the floor, Brad stood over you menacingly. “You wanna screw me over, bitch!” He shouted, gripping the straps of your dress as he pulled out the fake pocketknife in his back pocket.

“Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything. Please,” You cried, gripping onto Brad’s wrist. “Don’t, Paul…don’t do this!”

Vinnie gulped back a sob as he watched the scene unfold with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Why am I acting like this? He thought. This isn’t real. But it felt real, all too real. It no longer felt like he was on movie set, no cameras or crew. To him, you weren’t playing a character, you were still Y/n…and you were being hurt. He couldn’t take it; he wanted to intervene and save you…but he couldn’t…and that broke his heart.

Soon enough, the epic moment came, and Brad plunged the “knife” deep into your abdomen. You let out an ear-piercing scream, sending chills down everyone’s body. Your breathing hitched as blood poured from your partly opened lips. And then…your body went limp.

“CUT!”

And with that, you we’re back to Y/n. The director ran over to you and pulled you up off the floor. “That was fucking amazing, oh my god! I’ve never worked with anyone who could convey that much emotion before!”

“Thank you!” You blushed. The rest of your cast and crew members flocked around you, complimenting you on your incredible performance. However, as you looked around, you noticed a specific someone missing from the small crowd. As you humbly accepted everyone’s praise, you said your goodbyes and went to search for you boyfriend around the set. When you didn’t find him, you headed back to your trailer. Before you opened the door, you heard the sound of soft cries. With furrowed brows, you walked into the trailer and there was your boyfriend, crying into a pillow on your couch.

“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” You cooed as you sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back.

He shook his head, keeping quiet. “Vinnie, just tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” You said.

“All of that…I know it was fake and it was just acting, but it felt so real. Seeing you just…die, it hurt me, y’know? I don’t know if it’s because you’re fucking good at what you do or if it’s just boyfriend instincts but, seeing that and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it…it was painful.”

“Oh, Vinnie.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m still here, babe. I’m alive, okay? Nothing actually happened to me.”

He nodded into your chest. “I know, but it was too real. I just had to leave.”

“And I understand. Had I known you were planning on coming, I would’ve warned you ahead of time. I didn’t know seeing me acting out a death scene was going to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just me being worried over you.”

You smiled, “Well, you have nothing to be worried about.” You placed a kiss on top of head and started to stroke his hair.

“I’m safe.”

“And a damn good actress.” Vinnie added.

“That too.”

[bts-reveries]

expect the unexpected | 19

(images in between and in the end)

Jin had just picked up his two oldest and is now back in his office. It’s been a long day. Having Haneul alone with him was already a hard time but adding two more? He tried his best to maintain his composure as Yeonjun told him the rest of the schedule for today. 

“So right now we have all this paperwork to go through because it has to be sent out today, and then we have to go to a video shoot at 4:30pm. Jungkook should be here soon. Afterwards, when we get back, we have a meeting regarding the promotional photoshoots for the new drama, Save Me, with their Director, Producer, and the seven lead actors.” Yeonjun says. “I heard it’s really good. Kind of confusing actually when I saw the trailer. There’s this seven group of friends and they all make some sort of bad decision in their lives and they.. Well not all of them but I think some of them die? Then come back to life? I don’t know, but one of them is a time traveler I think..” Yeonjun trailed on, looking up as he thought back to the trailer.                              

Although, Jin wasn’t really listening. 

“Dad, what does this word mean?” Minseok asks, pointing to his book. 

“Daddy can we get ice cream in the cafeteria,” Soojin says, holding onto the door knob. 

“Carry meee,” Haneul whines, he’s standing by Jin’s leg, trying to climb onto his dad’s lap.

“Anyways,” Yeonjun says, going back on track. “It should be fun. They’ll be here around 6pm. Which, I understand, is around dinner time, but it was the only available time they had for a meeting. This drama was a big hit on webtoon. It’s good exposure for us for them to use our studio.” 

“Dad!” Minseok called, he’s now standing next to Jin. “Can you help me please? I don’t know this word.”

“DDDAAAAAADDDYY!” Soojin yells. “Can we please get ice cream!”

“Caaarryyy meeeeee!” Haneul screams, bursting into tears. 

Jin drops his head into his hands. “My head. Is going. To ex-plode.”

“Minseok, I’ll help you with your homework, come with me,” Yeonjun says, finally realizing how tired and stressed Jin was. Minseok glances at his dad before walking towards Yeonjun and grabbing onto his hand that he was holding out. Then Soojin came running to Jin’s side, where Minseok was just standing.

“Daddy you’re not listening to me,” Soojin frowns. Jin turns to the side and looks at her. His sweet, precious daughter. The one he can never say no to.

“Soojin it’s cold, you’re going to get sick if you eat ice cream,” Jin calmly says. “And you haven’t even done your homework yet. Go with Minseok and Uncle Yeonjun and do your homework with them.”

Soojin’s lip starts to quiver, “but I just want to eat a little bit. I can do my homework when I’m done…” 

“Soojin, daddy said no. Now go,” Jin says, turning to the side to pick up Haneul. He was still crying his eyes out. Soojin looked down, a big frown on her face and tears started running down her face. Jin was too busy wiping Haneul’s tears away and shushing him that he didn’t know Soojin was crying until he heard her sobbing when she walked away. 

“Soojin,” Jin called out. She didn’t answer, nor did she look back. “Soojinie,” Jin calls again. “Yah, Kim Soojin!”

“w-AHH!” Jin yells, the three, Yeonjun, Minseok, and Soojin all looked back at Jin when they heard him yell.

Yeonjun has never seen him so mad before. 

Jin puts down Haneul and stands up. 

Hot coffee dripped down his suit. His tie and white dress shirt was completely soaked. 

Jin puts both hands on his desk, leaning forward as he sighs. 

Haneul wasn’t done crying, flailing his hand around and started hitting things on the table, grabbing things, causing Jin’s cup of coffee to come flying at his chest. Not to mention, spilling all over the paperwork that had to be done.

“Sir, I have a sweatshirt you can borrow in my bag,” Yeonjun says, standing up immediately to grab his duffle bag. He usually worked out in the gym Jin had a whole floor of in his building. “You can change into it now so you don’t get all sticky,” he says, handing a white sweatshirt to Jin. Jin says a quiet thank you, grabbing the sweatshirt from Yeonjun and placing it on the back of his chair as he took off his blazer, his tie, and his white dress shirt. 

Haneul was still sniffling and he quickly ran to Yeonjun when he made eye contact with his dad. 

“Yeonjun,” Jin says. “Do you have the soft copy for these,” he says, pointing to the sticky mess on his table.

“Yes sir,” Yeonjun says, running over to get his laptop. “I’ll send them to you right now.” Jin sounded awfully calm right now, which scared the kids even more. Minseok was fidgeting with his book as he looked at his dad and Soojin was sitting next to him, playing with her hands. Haneul was standing by the couch, trying to hide. He would take small glances at his dad as he watched him clean up the mess he made.

“And also, we can’t cancel the meeting so just make sure our guests feel welcome when they come here for our meeting. I’ll connect from my laptop because we’ll be going home soon. I’ll continue my work there. You’re in charge here, make sure everyone is in that meeting and please have someone set up a TV in our boardroom so they can all see me when I connect. Umm, yeah, that’s all-- Oh, I won’t be there for the video shoot. We won’t get anything done and will only be a bother if I come with the kids so just go with Jungkook okay?”

“Okay sir.” 

“Kids pack your stuff, we’re going to leave in a bit,” Jin says, going back to cleaning his desk. The kids hurriedly grabbed their things, stuffing it into their backpacks.

Jin wasn’t mad often, but when he was…

He’s definitely scary.

-

“Hello everyone, first of all, thank you all for being here. I apologize that I couldn’t be there with you in person. I really wanted to be there but I am working as both CEO and dad tonight,” Jin says lightheartedly. He watches everyone smile through his laptop. “Second of all, I want to apologize beforehand. My three kids might pop up here and there and interrupt, but I talked to them before this and we should be okay. But just in case,” Jin says, raising his head to see if the kids are nearby. His office had clear doors for him to be able to see the kids.

“Okay, so it looks like the coast is clear,” Jin jokes, we can start our meeting now. Jin nods his head, gesturing for the first person to go ahead and start off the meeting. First they had to talk about the drama and it’s concept so they can have a feel of how they can take the photos. 

“Daddy,” Jin hears from the side. He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath before moving his head out of frame to see Haneul peeking in the room. “I want to stay with you..” 

Jin mutes his mic before talking to Haneul. 

“Daddy’s in the meeting, can you please go to your brother and sister and wait until I’m done?”

Haneul shakes his head no, walking towards Jin. “I want to stay with youu~” He says, trying to climb onto Jin’s lap yet again.

Jin sighs, pulling Haneul up and placing him on his lap. 

“What do you think, Mr. Kim?” 

Jin’s eyes widened, unmuting himself. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

The director laughs. “We’re thinking of doing one concept as school themed. Since the seven characters will be meeting at school in the drama. Would we be able to do that?”

“Yes, that sounds good. We have school props that we can use for the photoshoots, like desks and the blackboard. Yeonjun show them a picture that we have from a previous photoshoot where we did a school concept.”

“I don’t like that,” Haneul says, causing a few heads to look up. Jin looks down and shushes him. 

“It’s not for you to like,” he says.

-

As the meeting went on, Haneul got bored and began picking at things on the table. 

“Haneul please don’t touch anything,” Jin says, moving Haneul’s hand away from the table and holding onto them.

“What is it Mr. Kim?”

“Oh no sorry, I was talking to my son. Please,” Jin says, moving a hand to gesture to the camera. “Continue.”

After Jin lets go of Haneul’s hands, he immediately slams a hand on the keyboards, shutting it off.

“What did you do!” Jin yells. Trying to turn the laptop back on but it looks like it froze or something because it wasn’t turning on.

“I don’t want to be in the meeting,” Haneul says, watching Jin frantically trying to get his laptop to work. Jin sighs in annoyance, grabbing Haneul and putting him down next to him.

“Then why didn’t you stay with your siblings?” He says. “This is an important meeting Haneul, I was already supposed to be there in person and now I can’t even join--”

“I just want to play--”

“I’m speaking right now,” Jin says to him, turning to look him in the eye. 

“Okay,” Haneul answers quietly. 

“Is that right or not?”

“That’s right.”

“You did something wrong, do you agree?” 

Haneul nods, his lip beginning to quiver and his eyes starting to water. 

“Go stand in the corner, you’re in a time out,” Jin tells him, nodding to the corner of his office. Haneul burst into tears as he ran to the corner where his dad told him to go, holding his face in his hands.

“Stay there until I finish my meeting,” Jin tells him, returning back to his laptop. It still wasn’t turning on. 

Jin runs his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. He grabs his phone and texts Yeonjun.

“Haneul shut off my laptop and it’s not turning on. I’ll connect through my phone just give me a few minutes.”

-

expect the unexpected

♡ part nineteen: daddy said no ♡ 

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: the part where jin says “im speaking right now” to “you did something wrong do you agree?” and everything in between was a real convo between him and yoongi when he kept talking while jin was talking😭 i’ll reblog this later with a link lol

edit: actually here it is: 0:39-0:44

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball  @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @ygbubs @catspancake  @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning Part 7

I felt like writing today, so you guys have two Drowning parts today. Enjoy, but beware that I did not edit this.

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: possessiveness, medical whump, odd medical practices, anesthesia, major descriptions of vomit, striped of clothing (not sexual), restraints, IVs, needles, knives, surgery (intense descriptions)

~

Hero blinked her eyes open, taking in the scene around her. She wasn't in the chair anymore, she could move her arms and legs and there wasn't the consistent beep of the monitors hooked up to Supervillain's skin.

Her hands must've have recovered some of their strength for she dug them into the object she was laid upon. It sunk down, but rebounded when she released pressure.

A bed.

Her head was also set gingerly upon a soft pillow- caressing to give her optimum comfort.

Light streamed in through a window, landing on her torso. Hero stiffened, noticing a shadow pass through her abdomen where it stopped.

"Look at me."

Hero hesitantly brought her head up to meet Villain's blue eyes. Memories of their encounter streamed through her head, blocking any other thought process.

"There we go now dear," Villain sat on the foot of the bed, tracing some form of shape into the ruffled covers with a smug smile on his tanned face.

"What do you want?" Hero asked, though she halfway knew the answer.

"You, of course, my dear," Villain said with such confidence that it almost sounded arrogant, cocky...

Possessive.

"Well, now you have me," Hero stated, her tongue feeling bitterly dry. "Where's Supervillain?"

"You still care about him? I thought the doctor- oh sorry, your friends- did a pretty good job of taking those feelings away," Villain tutted. "What breakfast? I made a smoothie bowl." Then he added with a twinkle to his gaze, "Your favorite."

"Hmm no thanks," Hero smiled, still glaring at Villain as if that would remove him from her sight. His whole fit body was a vulgar sight.

Villain sighed dramatically. "Can't I do anything right for you?" He asked, voice in a bitter snarl. "Nope," he answered himself. "No because Hero is too righteous to take anything from a villain..."

"Quit with the guilt tripping. It is not working," Hero informed him, rolling her eyes. "I don't want anything because I don't need anything."

"You can't walk."

"Can to," Hero retorted, crossing her arms, relieved that those at least had some strength in them.

"Try it," Villain dared, leaning against the bed with his palms dug deeply into a mattress, a twinkle in his eyes. Hero vaguely noticed the decrease in swelling, the near fading scar on his right temple- a reminder of how long she had been caged up.

Hero swung her legs to the other side, dangling them down before putting all her weight on the shaky muscles. Gripping the sides of the bed, she pushed herself off and...

She fell, only to be caught by strong arms.

"There now. Proved you wrong dearie, now how does breakfast sound?" Villain asked, smiling down at his little captive.

Hero snarled, tucking her chin to her chest, before nodding subtley. Villain grinned even wider and carried her to the kitchen where she was sat down at the table.

"What are they doing to Supervillain when I'm not there?" Hero asked, looking down at her hands.

"Probably healing him up," Villain replied as he dished flax meal and chia seeds on the berry smoothie bowl. "And then do who knows what."

"We should rescue him," Hero said, nearly a whisper. Villain cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" He asked nonchalantly. Hero nodded and took the cold metal spoon and began to eat the more than delicious breakfast.

"That is, hmm, not happening," Villain scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" Hero asked, pausing her eating.

Villain didn't answer. He just left and began to wash the dishes.

"Hello?" Hero called, but received no answer in return.

Within the next fews days of movement, Hero built up enough strength in her legs to carry herself across the house without as much as breaking a sweat.

"I want to watch a movie tonight," Villain said once when Hero was helping clean up after dinner.

"What movie?" Hero asked, never giving him an joy-filled statement once in her stay.

"Thor," Villain replied. "The first one."

"Why don't we watch Iron Man? The first one. Or whichever one Tony gets drunk at the party and fights Rhodey."

"Because Stark sucks, Loki is the best."

"Uh, nooo. Loki is the definition of bad acting," Hero rolled her eyes as she set a dirty plate into the sink.

"Stark is the definition of a crappy character," Villain retorted as he handwashed a knife. Hero studied him, watching as the soapy water drenched his long sleeve shirt. His soft blonde hair trickled into his icy blue eyes as his pink lips were pulled tight into a concentrated purse.

"Or maybe we watch the Kissing Booth," Hero murmured and joined Villain to rinse off the plates and utensils to put them in the dishwasher.

Villain smiled, but it wasn't his usual broad, creepy smile that made shivers run down Hero's spine. It was a smile one, a contented embarrassed one. Tied with his blushing cheeks, Hero would've even called it cute.

That was if he never betrayed her, or never kidnapped her.

If he never kept her from rescuing Supervillain in that wretched place.

Yes, Hero noticed that doors that could only be unlocked by Villain's fingerprints. The sealed windows that refused to budge.

And the fact that the one story trailer house was different from Villain's previous home that consisted of three stories with a gym room and a gaming room.

He was moved, or moved himself, specifically to keep Hero locked in.

Not even his charisma could change that foreboding fact.

《~~》

"Welcome Supervillain to the lab."

Supervillain blinked slowly as LED lights brushed past tender eyelids. The rolling floor memorized him slightly as he watched the equally placed lines fall under the gurney's wheels.

The gurney took a turn, causing a nauseating lurch of vertigo to pass through his stomach. He held back the urge to gag and instead burped repeatedly until he tasted the beginnings of vomit.

Tossing his head over to the side, Supervillain opened his mouth a threw up. He wanted to lurch, but the restraints around all points of movement other than his head and neck forbid that. He was left to allow the puke to streaming down his front, landing on his bound hands.

"Look at you!" One of the heroes chastised, slapping Supervillain hard across the face with a backhanded slap. The world around Supervillain whirled and he nearly threw up again if it wasn't for the gag- no, metal bit- shoved into his mouth, hitting his teeth and sending yet another gag reflex through his esophagus. But this time, he was forced to keep the vomit within and threw up inside his own mouth. Groaning and eyes rolling up slightly, Supervillain laid his head back against the thin pillow that protected his head against any form of head injury. Eyes fluttering closed, he tried to draw more sleep in.

Only for a sudden release in pressure to wake him up from his momentary slumber. The bit was removed and his body was held under a faucet for his mouth to be washed out. Someone came behind him and dumped a bunch of listerine into his unsuspecting mouth. Sputtering from the numbing taste of strong original mouthwash, Supervillain allowed his head to dangle- black hair wetted by the flowing hot water.

Next, his soiled clothing was removed- even his pants- and replaced by a faded pair of shorts. His torso was left bare.

The next movement was of him being laid across a metal table, his limbs once again being held in place by the four-point restraint system- padded metal contraptions barricading any form of movement or escape from the inevitable pain that was to come.

"Patient is restrained, begin procedure."

Nurses bustled around, two on each side of him, one by his feet, and one by his head.

"We are going to force the water out of his lungs," another voice, one that was not owned by any of the nurses surrounding him. Out of the corner of Supervillain's eye, he saw the doctor. The doctor, pacing around not even once looking at the stretched out patient before him.

"This will be painful, but we need the patient entirely conscious for this to work," the doctor instructed. "We are going to insert a tube directly into his lungs- on both sides-, piercing them, and using a sort of plunger instrument to force the liquid through his trachea. To ensure he does not choke, Medic and Nurse, once the plungers are released, you ladies need to unrestrain him and roll him over to his side. We go slow and the second all the fluid is expelled, we need to anesthetize the patient to due emergency surgery to stitch the lungs back together. Estimated recovery time is a couple days with the rapid-healing drug we will administer. Any questions? Prep the IV, Nurse2 be ready there."

The hairs on Supervillain's arms stood up and goosebumps picked his skin. The order from the doctor made him struggle against the restraints, pulling aggressively against them.

"Oh please don't do this," he blubbered, tears spilling from his ducts. "Don't do this. I can't do this. Oh please, please, please, please." He started sobbing, terrifed, as a nurse stuck his elbow with a needle.

"Prepare insertion."

Two sharp metal pieces found their home right below Supervillain's rib.

"Ultrasound."

A cool gel was squirted between the two sharp pricks before a rectangular object was placed upon it.

"Ultrasound ready."

"Begin incision."

A buzzing sound, right before a knife cut in his skin. No, not once, that was a lie, but two.

Two sharp, agonizing knives.

Supervillain screamed, wailed pitifully, as his body thrashed around.

"Stop, stop!" He begged, picking his head up only for hands to shove it back down. His fingers stretched out, clenched, anything for the torture to end.

"Left, move yours towards the ribcage a bit so you don't cut the liver."

Supervillain tensed, clouded thoughts coming to the surface. Cut my liver..., he thought before attempting to evade the knives cutting into his body.

"Don't, don't, don't!" he screeched. "Please."

"Prepare to pierce the lung."

Supervillain shoved himself downwards, but it did nothing with the unrelenting cuffs keeping him close to rock still.

The pure agony that he felt when the knife pierced the lung, then the way the knife evolved into a plunger, was indescribable.

Supervillain screamed. Screamed so loud that even the practiced nurses flinched. The doctor though stayed still, watching the procedure with his authoritive gaze.

"Release the patient."

His wrists and ankles were quickly let free by the wave of a card. He tried to curl in on himself to avoid the operation, but professional hands kept him stretched out.

"Start pumping at Level One to begin."

The horrendous feeling of the machine inside of Supervillain changed into a coveted one when the same machine started to pump. A plunger hit the liquid, sending it up and into his trachea.

Supervillain coughed, rolled over to his side. At first, he imagined that the left plunger would quit working as if it was kinked, but found out that it must've been electrically powered.

Mucus, blood, and water shot up through his trachea. Pain forgotten, Supervillain gagged and coughed the abhorrent liquid out until blackness began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It clouded his thoughts, but he body still involuntarily gagged, coughed, and spat all of his lung's content out.

"Stay awake," a rough voice sounded as his body was shook. Supervillain complied and returned to his coughing fit, agony once again returning to his veins and muscles.

Then, as soon as it started, the pressure ceased as soon as it started.

"Administer the anesthesia promptly."

A dial clicked, though Supervillain hardly registered it. Even before the sedative started pumping through his veins, he was losing consciousness.

A mask was placed above his mouth just as the world descended into blackness.

[saphyhowl]

Chapter one: Encounter

Here it is. I know it’s not very long but I will continue tomorrow for part two. The fic I asked your thoughts about. Hope you like it. Again sorry for the long wait.

Edit: I added part two

“And on your right, you may admire the work of Jacques-Louis David, “the Coronation of Napoleon” painted in 1807. It took the artist two years to finish the painting. It is not only imposing because of its size but also by the…”

A young woman in a formal suit guided a group of visitors through the gallery in the Denon part of the Louvre museum. While the visitors admired the painting, the guide waved discreetly at a young man standing on the sidelines. He looked visibly bored but managed a timid smile as the woman waved at him. He strode towards her, his boredom noticeable even in the way he walked.

“I’ll be done in a few hours, why don’t you grab something to eat or maybe take a stroll outside. I know museums are not the funniest thing to see for a 19-year-old,” the woman said with a chuckle.

“No worries sis, I’ll grab something to eat at the “Paul” bakery. Text me when you’re done?” the young man answered.

The sister nodded and went on to describe the other paintings to her group. She glanced one last time at her brother’s figure among the visitors. The young man put his headphones on as he strode towards the exit. He scrolled through his phone to find the playlist that would suit his mood and nearly bumped into an elegant-looking man.

“Sorry,” he mouthed at the elegant man and continued walking.

A moment later he sat on a bench munching on a sandwich. Someone sat next to him but he paid them no mind. A tap on his arm. He looked up. It was the elegant man from before.

“Well, we meet again,” said the elegant man.

The brother smiled politely and took another bite from his sandwich.

“You can call me Comte,” the gentleman added as he stretched out his hand.

“Louis,” answered the young man as he stared at Comte’s outstretched hand, visibly refusing to shake it.

“What is your favorite painting in the Louvre museum?” Comte asked.

“None. I don’t like museums,” Louis answered as he immediately took another bite from his sandwich. Hopefully, that way the weird man would stop talking to him.

“I thought so. A pity. Paintings are a heritage, they have many stories to tell us,” Comte commented.

“I am sure they do sir,” Louis said as he looked away in annoyance.

“Le Sacre de Napoleon is a masterpiece. However, you must visit the Musée d’Orsay as well. The paintings there are filled with life,”

“I will,” Louis said with a loud sigh.

“Make sure to go with a knowledgeable guide, otherwise you might miss a few gems,” Comte added.

Louis nodded and continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Well, then Louis. I bid you farewell. Take in my beautiful city of Paris, she has yet to offer you plenty of treasures,” Comte nodded his head and walked away.

“What a freak,” Louis mumbled to himself.

He was about to reach for his soda bottle as he noticed a leather wallet next to him. Louis cursed under his breath as he knew what he was about to do.

A few hours later.

“Are you sure he never left the Denon area?” a young woman asked the security guard as he replayed the security footage.

“No Mademoiselle Sophie,” the security guard answered.

Sophie saw the footage for the fifth time. There was her brother passing through the gates leading to the Denon area at 1:32 pm. She held her head in her hand.

“This cannot be happening,” she whispered.

“It’s been past closing time Mademoiselle. Have you tried his cellphone again?” the security guard inquired.

She nodded and took out her phone. She tapped on her brother’s contact and held her phone to her ear.

“Come on. Come on. Answer idiot…”

She heard the familiar beeping that announced her call had gone straight to voicemail.

“Maybe he went already home Sophie?” suggested someone behind her. It was Alicia, one of Sophie’s colleagues.

“Maybe you are right Alicia. I will go check and if not then I will go straight to the police. He knows nothing about Paris and it’s getting late,” Sophie decided as she went to grab her bag and coat.

Sophie watched the city lights pass by the window as she sat in the subway. The closer she got to her stop the more nervously her knees jumped up and down. She practically ran towards her tiny apartment. She dropped her keys a few times because her hands trembled with anticipation. She opened the door and shouted her brother’s name. She shouted again as she entered her apartment. The apartment was dark and was exactly as she had left it before heading to work this morning. She shouted her brother’s name again storming into each room. No one.

Sophie crouched down and called her brother’s phone one more time. Voicemail. She looked at her phone and selected another contact. The sharp light from her phone hurt her eyes or maybe the tears she held back started to sting her eyes.

“Hello?” a voice came out of the speaker.

“Mom? I-I lost Louis,” Sophie managed to say before bursting into tears.

A few hours later, Sophie sat in front of a police officer, telling the middle-aged officer what had occurred. Sophie tried her best to recall any detail that could be decisive for the investigation. Another officer handed her a paper cup with what seemed to be coffee. She gave them a faint smile. The middle-aged officer spoke with Sophie it took her a moment to understand their explanations. All of this seemed surreal. The busy police station even at night, the neon lights. The office was busy with people doing paperwork. Sophie was sitting there filing a missing person report for her younger brother just like in any trailer movie. However, the heavy truth was nowhere comparable to what any series could transmit. She had lost her brother for whom she had always looked out for. Sophie felt as if part of herself went missing for good that day as well.

The police officer gave her a business card with a number on it.

“If you need to talk, we have a few people here who are specialized in helping families cope with the situation,” the officer explained.

Sophie took the business card and thanked the police officer.

“We will be at the Louvre tomorrow to investigate possible leads. We will let you know if we find something,” the other officer added.

Sophie managed to blurt out a few words of gratitude and exited the station. She caught sight of a familiar man leaning against a car.

“Antoine,” Sophie whispered and smiled.

The man named Antoine held out his hands to take hers. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“This is a nightmare,” she said as series of sobs took over.

Antoine held her in his arms until she had calmed down a little.

“It is not your fault. He will show up again, ok? Let’s go back to your place and get some rest,” Antoine suggested as he opened the door of his car.

The next day, at the police station.

“Our colleagues have scanned every profile of the visitors and staff on that day and none of them match with the man we see here,” explained the policewoman to his lieutenant as she circled the zoomed face of an elegant-looking man.

The lieutenant gazed at the different screenshots from the security footage showing the missing Louis with an unidentified man.

“How could anyone pass the heavy security of the Museum?” the lieutenant wondered.

“We found something else,” the policewoman showed him another screenshot.

The lieutenant looked closer and recognized Louis. The young man was following the suspect through a door.

“Where does that door lead?”

The policewoman turned pale.

“Now now Marie, it cannot be that bad,” the lieutenant encouraged the policewoman.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“What do you mean exactly with nothing?” the lieutenant asked.

“A storage room for flyers and whatnot. There are no windows, no shafts, nothing that could lead them out, except the same door they went through,” Marie explained.

The lieutenant sat back in his chair. He had seen a lot of cases in his lengthy career. However, this one was fairly new and slightly worrying.

“I’ll make a call. This, dear Marie, is bigger than I anticipated,” the lieutenant added before getting up to make a call. This case was out of his hands.

 #Trouverlouis

Paris was on fire. At least the social network was. The social media of every Parisian was showing and sharing one hashtag, a plea for help from a desperate sister. Sophie was in the kitchen, her phone on the table could not stop buzzing ever since she had followed her friends' advice. She had placed her faith in the algorithms of Instagram and every other network that might help to obtain hints on her brother’s whereabouts. However, after a month, the shares and posts resulted in lots of public empathy but few leads.

Sophie sat on a chair and stared at a picture hanging on her fridge door. The unidentified man who took away her brother Louis. She remembered the day she went to the police station with her mother this time. After they had told them another unit had taken over the case because of the lack of leads, her mother had thrown a tantrum. She insulted every policeman with every imaginable name. However, all the commotion dulled out as she saw the portrait one police officer had handed to her, explaining that she was allowed to use it to see if anyone in her circle could identify him. Ironically, no one recognized him.

Sophie looked at the portrait, eyes filled with pure hate. The pure-hearted, art and history passionate Sophie had made a vow to personally strangle the life out of this man. She grabbed her purse and went to the Louvre as she did every day for work. However, this time she went to stand for the umpteenth time in front of the door through which her brother never came back.

The door looked insignificant as usual, noted Sophie. She was alone in the area, it was yet too early for the storm of visitors to invade the halls of the Louvre Museum. Sophie sighed. The police had explained that it was a mere storage room of two square feet. She had looked at it many times during the past weeks. She lazily put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door, she knew what to expect.

Sophie let out a scream. The stack of cardboard from yesterday was gone, the pile of flyers and maps as well. The storage room looked more like an old corridor from the Louvre with a velvet rug, old paintings on each side of the walls.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” a voice whispered. It came from the far end of the corridor.

Sophie fumbled with her purse and took out her phone to take a picture.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” the voice repeated.

Sophie searched through her phone and was about to leave a voice message to her boyfriend Antoine.

“Sophie” another voice whispered.

Sophie shuddered; she knew that voice very well. It belonged to Louis.

“Antoine, I think I found a lead. I’ll send you a picture,” Sophie whispered on her phone, her voice a mix of fear and joy.

She released her finger from the recording button. She was about to tap onto the picture she had just taken to send it to Antoine. Something or someone pushed her into the corridor causing her to drop her phone. The door slammed behind her and Sophie was drawn towards the other end.

“No no no no. Let me out! Let me go! Please let me go! Alicia! Anyone! Get me out of here, please!”

On the other side of the storage door, Sophie’s phone rested on the floor. The screen shifted as a call entered, the name “ANTOINE” appeared on the screen. The phone buzzed in the still empty museum.

[crowdvscritic]

round up // JULY 21

‘Tis the season to beat the heat at the always-cold theatres and next to fans set at turbo speed. While my movie watching slowed a bit with the launch of the Summer Olympics on July 23rd, I’ve still got plenty of popcorn-ready and artsy recommendations for you. A few themes in the new-to-me pop culture I’m recommending this month:

Casts oozing with embarrassing levels of talent (sometimes overqualified for the movies they’re in)

Pop culture that is responding or reinterpreting past pop culture

Stories that get weEeEeird

Keep on-a-scrollin’ to see which is which!

July Crowd-Pleasers

1. Double Feature – ‘90s Rom-Coms feat. Lots of Lies: Mystery Date (1991) + The Pallbearer (1996)

In Mystery Date (Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 6/10), Ethan Hawke and Teri Polo get set up on a blind date that gets so bizarre and crime-y I’m not sure how this didn’t come out in the ‘80s. In The Pallbearer (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), David Schwimmer and Gwyneth Paltrow try to combine The Graduate with Four Weddings and a Funeral in a story about lost twentysomethings. If you don’t like rom-coms in which circumstances depend on lots of lies and misunderstandings, these won’t be your jam, but if you’re like me and don’t mind these somewhat-cliché devices, you’ll be hooked by likeable casts and plenty of rom and com.

2. The Tomorrow War (2021)

I thought of no fewer movies than this list while watching: Alien, Aliens, Angel Has Fallen, Cloverfield, Interstellar, Kong: Skull Island, Prometheus, A Quiet Place: Part II, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: The Revenge of the Sith, The Silence of the Lambs, The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and World War Z. And you know what? I like all those movies! (Okay, maybe I just have a healthy respect/fear of The Silence of the Lambs.) The Tomorrow War may not be original, but it borrows some of the best tropes and beats from the sci-fi and action genres, so much so I wish I could’ve seen Chris Pratt and Co. fight those gross monsters on a big screen. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6/10

3. Dream a Little Dream (1989)

My July pick for the Dumb Rom-Com I Nevertheless Enjoyed! I CANNOT explain the mechanics of this body switch comedy to you—nor can the back of the DVD case above—but, boy, what an ‘80s MOOD. I did not know I needed to see a choreographed dance routine starring Jason Robards and Corey Feldman, but I DID. All I know is some movies are made for me and that I’m now a card-carrying member of the Two Coreys fan club. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

4. Black Widow (2021)

The braids! The Pugh! Black Widow worked for me both as an exciting action adventure and as a respite from the Marvel adventures dependent on a long memory of the franchise. (Well, mostly—keep reading for a second MCU rec much more dependent on the gobs of previous releases.) Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

5. Liar Liar (1997)

Guys, Jim Carrey is hilarious. That’s it—that’s the review. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10

6. Sob Rock by John Mayer (2021)

It’s very possible I’ve already listened to this record more than all other John Mayer records. It doesn’t surpass the capital-G Greatness of Continuum, but it’s a little bit of old school Mayer, a little bit ‘80s soft rock/pop, and I’ve had it on repeat most of the two weeks since it’s been out. Featuring the boppiest bop that ever bopped, at least one lyrical gem in every track, and an ad campaign focused on Walkmans, this record skirts the line between Crowd faves and Critic-worthy musicianship.

7. Double Feature – ‘00s Ben Affleck Political Thrillers: The Sum of All Fears (2002) + State of Play (2009)

In The Sum of All Fears (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), Ben Affleck is Jack Ryan caught up in yet another international incident. In State of Play (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), he’s a hotshot Congressman caught up in a scandal. Both are full of plot twists and unexpected turns, and in both, Affleck is accompanied by actors you’re always happy to see, like Jason Bateman, James Cromwell, Russell Crowe, Jeff Daniels, Viola Davis, Morgan Freeman, Philip Baker Hall, David Harbour, Rachel McAdams, Helen Mirren, Liev Schreiber, and Robin Wright—yes, I swear all of those people are in just those two movies.

8. Loki (2021-)

Unlike Black Widow, you can’t go into Loki with no MCU experience. The show finds clever ways to nudge us with reminders (and did better at it than Falcon and the Winter Soldier), but be forewarned that at some point, you’re just going to have to let go and accept wherever this timeline-hopper is taking you. An ever-charismatic cast keeps us grounded (Owen Wilson, Jonathan Majors, and an alligator almost steal the show from Tom Hiddleston in some eps), but while Falcon lasted an episode or two too long, Loki could’ve used a few more to flesh out its complicated plot and develop its characters. Thankfully, the jokes matter almost as much as the sci-fi, so you can still have fun even if you have no idea what’s going on.

9. Double Feature – Bruce Willis: Die Hard With a Vengeance (1995) + The Whole Nine Yards (2000)

Before Bruce Willis began starring in many random direct-to-DVD movies I only ever hear about in my Redbox emails, he was a Movie Star smirking his way up the box office charts. In the third Die Hard (Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), he teams up with Samuel L. Jackson to decipher the riddles of a terrorist madman (Jeremy Irons), and it’s a thrill ride. In The Whole Nine Yards (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10), he’s hitman that screws up dentist Matthew Perry’s boring life in Canada, and—aside from one frustrating scene of let’s-objectify-women-style nudity—it’s hilarious.

10. This Is the End (2013)

On paper, this is not a movie for me. An irreverent stoner comedy about a bunch of bros partying it up before the end of the world? None of things are for Taylors. But with a little help of a TV edit to pare down the raunchy and crude bits, I laughed my way through and spent the next several days thinking through its exploration of what makes a good person. While little of the plot is accurate to Christian Gospel and theology, some of its big ideas are consistent enough with the themes of the book of Revelation I found myself thinking about it again in church this morning. (Would love to know if Seth Rogen ever expected that.) Plus, I love a good self-aware celebrity spoof—can’t tell you how many times I’ve just laughed remembering the line, “It’s me, Jonah Hill, from Moneyball”—and an homage to horror classics. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10

July Critic Picks

1. Summer of Soul (…or, When the Television Could Not Be Televised) (2021)

Even director Questlove didn’t know about the Harlem Cultural Festival, but now he’s compiled the footage so we can all enjoy one of the coolest music fest lineups ever, including The 5th Dimension, B.B. King, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Nina Simone, Sly and the Family Stone, and Stevie Wonder, who made my friend’s baby dance more than once in the womb. See it on the big screen for top-notch audio. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

2. Good Morning, Vietnam (1987)

Robin Williams takes on the bureaucracy, disillusionment, and malaise of the Vietnam War with comedy. Williams was a one-of-a-kind talent, and here it’s on display at a level on par with Aladdin. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

3. Against the Rules Season 2 (2020-21)

Michael Lewis (author of Moneyball, adapted into a film starring Jonah Hill), is interested in how we talk about fairness. This season he looks at how coaches impact fairness in areas like college admissions, credit cards, and youth sports. 

4. Bugsy Malone (1976)

A gangster musical starring only children? It’s a little like someone just picked ideas out of a hat, but somehow it works. You can hear why in the Bugsy Malone episode Kyla and I released this month on SO IT’S A SHOW?, plus how this weird artifact of a film connects with Gilmore Girls.

5. The Queen (2006)

Before The Crown, Peter Morgan wrote The Queen, focusing on Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren) in the days following the death of Princess Diana. It’s a complex and compassionate drama, both for the Queen and for Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen, who has snuck up on me to become a favorite character actor). Maybe I’ve got a problem, but I’ll never tire of the analysis of this famous family. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9.5/10

6. The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

This month at ZekeFilm, we took a closer look at Revisionist Westerns we’ve missed. I fell hard for Roy Bean, and I think you will, too, if for no other reason than you might like a story starring Jacqueline Bisset, Ava Gardner, John Huston, Paul Newman, and Anthony Perkins. Oh, and a bear! Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

7. New Trailer Round Up

Naked Singularity (Aug. 6) – John Boyega in a crime thriller!

Queenpins (Aug. 10) – A crime comedy about extreme coupon-ing!

Dune (Oct. 1) – I’ve been cooler on the anticipation for this film, but this new look has me cautiously intrigued thanks to the Bardem + Bautista + Brolin + Chalamet + Ferguson + Isaac + Momoa + Zendaya of it all.

The Last Duel (Oct. 15) – Affleck! Damon! Driver!

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (Nov. 11) - I’m not sure why we need this, but I’m down for the Paul Rudd + Finn Wolfhard combo

King Richard (Nov. 19) - Will Smith as Venus and Serena’s father!

Encanto (Nov. 24) – Disney and Lin-Manuel Miranda making more magic together!

House of Gucci (Nov. 24) - Gaga! Pacino! Driver! 

Also in July…

Kyla and I took a look at the classic supernatural soap Dark Shadows and why Sookie might be obsessed with it on Gilmore Girls.

I revisited a so-bad-it’s-good masterpiece that’s a surrealist dream even Fellini couldn’t have cooked up. Yes, for ZekeFilm I wrote about the Vanilla Ice movie, Cool as Ice, which is now a part of my Blu-ray collection.

Photo credits: Against the Rules. All others IMDb.com.

[joker-dreams-blog]

Joker Dreams: The Treehouse

Background: Based on a dream I had. Jerome makes good on his childhood promise to you. Not edited for grammar, etc.

Jerome Valeska x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only; stalking, creepy behavior; mentions of childhood; mentions of a weapon, shooting, violence, killing, death; unwanted advances (touching, holding, kissing)

You were running through the forest and refused to look back. You weren’t sure where you were going, but you just kept...running. You had to get away. The sun was beginning to set and you knew night time would soon be on your side. Eventually, you made your way to a clearing and noticed a woodworking shed towards the perimeter. You figured this was a safe place to hide in the meantime and catch your breath. 

You entered the workshop and found the regular tools lying about...a hacksaw...hammer...nails…along with an assortment of empty beer bottles and adult magazines strewn across the floor. Before you had a chance to look around any further, you could hear your pursuer calling your name in the distance. You quickly hid in a metal locker, and left the door cracked so you could assess the situation. 

Jerome entered the shed and called your name, letting it ring throughout the empty workshop. When he got no response, he shrugged, grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, rolled up his sleeves, and began whittling away at a piece of wood like he was right at home. Turns out, this was his workshop. 

You watched as Jerome whistled and sang as he worked. It reminded you of when you were kids back on the circus grounds and Jerome would crack a joke or two while repairing the odds and ends of your ratty little family trailer. Seeing him back in his element was almost nice. You hadn’t seen him in years. But this wasn’t the same Jerome you once knew. This was a monster. A monster who had made it on every front page of the Gotham newspaper, and who had every intent on hurting you. Consumed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Jerome had stopped whistling. 

“You know…” Jerome started, “you don’t have to hide from me, doll. If I wanted to hurt-t ya I would’ve done it by now…” You pretended you didn’t hear Jerome. It was a game of cat-and-mouse, and he was just trying to get you to give up your hiding spot. “It’s okay...you can come out...c’mon I just wanna show you somethin’...” he teased. You covered your mouth to hide your breathing. Anxiety was getting the better of you.

“Knock-knock, anyone home?” Jerome said in a sing-song voice, knocking on the outside of the metal locker where you were hiding. You jumped and hit your head on the cold metal. Jerome bursted out laughing, amused with his prank. He flung open the door and greeted you. “Hi, how are ya, toots? Long time, no see. I look a little different since the last time ya saw me. Got a makeover. You like it?” You looked back at him in horror, about to cry, or scream...whatever came first.

Jerome rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “C’moooooon, don’t be such a downer!” he whined. “I just wanna...show you something,” he said in a deeper, more serious tone, revealing a knife in his other hand. 

He pulled you out of the locker and secured an arm around your waist. You didn’t fight back. Mainly because you were too scared to. Jerome led you out of the workshop and into the woods. He stopped when you approached a large oak tree and...a treehouse?

“Ta-da!” Jerome exclaimed. “Just like I promised you when we were kids. I told you one day I was gonna build you a treehouse, y/n.” 

Jerome had both of his arms wrapped tight around you. He didn’t intend on letting you go. You could tell he was beaming. Proud of his work. Happy to have you back. “It’s almost done,” he continued. “But it needs one last finishing touch…” He took his knife and carved both of your initials into the tree. “There...perfect-t,” he purred. 

“How about we take a look inside? Ladies first!” Jerome helped you up the ladder of the treehouse and followed closely behind. Once inside the empty treehouse, he sat you on his lap and wrapped his arms around you, making sure there was no opportunity for you to escape. A few tears then ran down your face and you began to cry. 

“Hey...hey...it’s okay. Don’t cry,” Jerome insisted, wiping the tears from your face. Misunderstanding the reason for your tears, he continued, “I know you’re mad at me. And I know you’ve missed me. But I had to leave you,” Jerome said with an honest sigh. He stroked your face and pressed a kiss on your temple. “I’ve been working hard to make Gotham a better place...for us.” 

You pulled away from Jerome suddenly, disgusted by his words. You couldn’t help your reaction. His statement was the farthest thing from the truth. “You haven’t made Gotham a better place, Jerome,” you snapped. “All you’ve done is hurt people. You’re a monster. The Gotham Times says you’ve killed twenty innocent people!” 

Jerome let go of you. He actually looked hurt by this comment. Like a kicked puppy. Deep down inside you knew the old Jerome was in there somewhere. The Jerome you once loved. The Jerome who could actually feel something. Maybe you were getting to him. Or maybe the papers were wrong? Blowing things out of proportion? Maybe Jerome was actually trying to make Gotham a better place for you? Your train of thought was quickly interrupted by Jerome...

“Twenty-four…” he muttered softly. “What?” you shook your head, confused. “Twenty-four,” he spoke up. 

“Twenty-four...I’ve killed twenty-four people, actually.” You stared at him, horrified...and he began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Eventually, he noticed you weren’t laughing. Instead, you were crying. Sobbing. This confused Jerome because you always used to laugh at his jokes. But he realized that things had changed. 

Jerome backed off on the antics for the rest of the night and attempted to console you. Not that you noticed. You were too busy freaking out. Jerome could tell you were scared. Terrified. You really did think he was a monster. You believed everything that the papers had said. Jerome had hoped that a few years apart wouldn’t change your opinion of him. But it did. Even after all those years, he never stopped loving you. He was hoping for the same. 

Eventually you stopped crying, and passed out from exhaustion. Jerome took this time to enjoy laying with you and watching you sleep. It was bittersweet. All he wanted was one last romantic evening with his girl. He tried to make the best of the situation. At least he was finally able to make good on his promise to you... 

You woke up the next morning to an empty treehouse. Jerome was gone. You read in the newspaper the next day that Jerome was dead. Fell off a rooftop in Gotham after a shootout. It was sad, but the Jerome you knew had already died a long time ago. You were tired of mourning. 

You didn’t visit the treehouse much, but every once in a while you did return. It was nice to reminisce and remember the good times with the Jerome you once loved.

[redqueen-hypothesis]

yearning ➳ kiro (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x kiro (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 1818

➳ GENRE: slight angst, fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: you miss kiro

➳ REMARKS: i forgot i can’t w r i t e... here have some word vomit

yearning /ˈjəːnɪŋ/ (noun): a feeling of intense longing for something.

Yearning shows itself in the way that everything reminds you of him.

You’re walking along the street on your way to work, footsteps hurried as you type out a message to Anna, instructing her what documents to prepare for you so that work can start smoothly when you arrive at the office. A little out of breath from how quickly you’re walking, you’re about to cross an intersection when the bright rays of the morning sun catch your eye.

It’s a beautiful shade of soft orange today, its gentle light dappled as it filters through the leaves of the trees planted along the roadside. The warmth seeps through your skin, down to your very bones - just like Kiro.

The moment only lasts for a brief second, the lights turn green, and you pull out your phone to snap a picture of the early dawn before continuing on your way across the road. While you continue down your way to work, you post the picture on Moments, captioning it with ‘I’m waiting for you to come back, Kiro!”

In the cafe, waiting in line to buy coffee for yourself and your colleagues, you find yourself pondering what to buy as you glance over the chalkboard menu. There are all sorts of treats for offer, and while you already have a drink that you would normally get, you see one of Kiro’s favorites illustrated with chalk in a rainbow of eye catching colours.

Caramel macchiato. Without much thinking, you get it together with the rest of your drinks. You can’t remember how many times you’ve snuck this specific drink into Kiro’s trailer as an encouragement for him while he’s filming, and recall the sweetness of his smile, the way his azure eyes light up when he sees you at the door, clearer than a summer sky devoid of clouds.

As you sip at the drink on your way to work, the sweetness spreading over your tongue, you hope your smile is bright enough to make up for the absence of his.

Work is a tiring affair - it leaves you exhausted, boneless like a wrung out cloth, and you’re slumped over your desk counting down the minutes down to sending Victor your monthly financial report. While you’ve learned to navigate the CEO’s tongue and of the softness it is capable of - barbed as it may be - you’ve still never quite gotten over the nerves that handing up a report entails. Perhaps it’s the perfectionist in you that demands only the best that you can offer, but if Victor finds a mistake with a piece of work you’ve reviewed so many times, you’d feel awful about yourself and your capabilities.

Victor informs you of three typos and a mix up of values between revenue and expenditure barely ten minutes later. You groan and curl up in your office chair, too discouraged to review the report. Victor has extended the deadline for the submission of the revised edition, but you can’t quite find the energy to look over the same words all over again when they’re practically swimming off the page.

“I want to call Kiro.” You mumble absentmindedly into the stack of papers on your desk. That cheerful smile of his, just imagining it gives you the tiniest bit of energy. You desperately want to hear his voice, listen to his encouraging words as he tells you not to worry. You want to come to work the next day and find a bag of chips in your favourite flavour, left at your desk by an anonymous sender whose identity you already know. Your desire translates into a something unbelievably simple, and yet so deep you can feel its ache in your chest with each breath you take.

You want Kiro.

On your way home from work, you spot a bunch of sunflowers outside of the florist’s, bright yellow and fresh. You look at it for a second, and before you know it, you’re walking out of the shop with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand.

Flowers that always chase after the light of the sun.

You press your lips to the petals, and your mouth curls up in a sad smile. “I’ll have to make do with these till you get back, Kiro.”

Yearning shows itself in the way you can’t sleep without him at your side.

You lie awake in the middle of the night, seemingly unable to fall asleep. You’ve tried to, listening to white noise, trying to tire yourself out before bed, but none of them seem to have the same effect as the sound of Kiro’s soft breathing next to your ear, and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you.

A sigh leaves your lips as you roll onto your back, gazing up at the darkness of your ceiling. The bed feels too big without him, and you look longingly at the small brown teddy bear sitting on the pillow Kiro’s head usually occupies.

He’d given that to you after winning it from a carnival the two of you had gone to together, his hood pulled over his head to hide his bright blond hair and a mask drawn over his face to remain as your Kiro, not Kiro the superstar. Still, neither had been able to hide the sheer warmth that Kiro exuded, as if he were the sun itself.

Kiro had managed to shoot all four targets at a game stall (you were still in disbelief, you’d played it moments before and had become convinced that the game was rigged) and had won the teddy bear as a prize. Right after that, however, he’d plopped it into your arms with a big grin, hoping that it would give you as much comfort as he did in his absence.

Now when you look at it, its glass eyes stare back at you mournfully, as if it were Kiro himself wishing he could be by your side. You reach out to tug it against your chest, squeezing it softly, hoping the affection in your touch could somehow reach him, wherever he is.

“He said to wait for him to come back.” You murmur to the teddy bear, stroking a finger over the stitches in its ears. “I promised him I would.”

You fall asleep to the softness of the teddy bear held close, seeking him out even in your dreams.

Yearning shows itself in the way that your heart feels like it’s torn without him.

It’s been a month of radio silence from him.

Every day, you send messages and pictures of things that invariably remind you of him, from a cat napping in a sunny spot or a new flavor of a packet of chips being released. And yet he replies to none of them, not a single call or text to at least let you know he’s doing fine.

Your heart is fraying at the edges, pained and torn without him. It’s like he’d taken a piece of it when he’d left, and you want to kiss away the distance between the two of you, fold that map edge over edge until your heart is back where it belongs - next to his.

He told you to wait, and you have promised, but waiting hurt. You thought you could, thought you were strong enough to do it, but you realise the truth now: that you’re not strong enough to do it alone.

Loneliness tugs at your heartstrings, unraveling you quietly when you watch couples from your window walking along the street hand in hand, smiles the very picture of bliss. A month ago, you and Kiro had looked like that, and you can’t help the pain that takes root in your chest, sprouting into poisonous ivies that strangle the air from your lungs - you feel suffocated.

In that moment, you curse how much you love him, the pain that it brings. Would it have been better for you to never have known him, to never have met him? Would you exchange all your precious memories if it meant that you could get rid of this agonizing longing in your chest?

Unable to answer the question, you move to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, only to see the vase of sunflowers sitting at your windowsill. You’d bought new ones from the florist weekly, to make up for the absence of brightness in your home. And yet, these sunflowers are starting to wilt as well, their heads drooping. You touch it gently with a finger and one of petals go fluttering to the ground.

“I’ll wait till the last petal falls.” You murmur quietly to yourself.

And yearning is how love shows itself - absence makes the heart grow fonder.

You pick the sunflower stems from your vase, holding them together tightly in your hand. The last petal has fallen, and it’s time to let go. It had clung on stubbornly, one last shred of hope, but in the end it had still lost to the relentless flow of time.

Moving to throw the stems in the trash, you hesitate - and in that moment, the doorbell rings.

A little bemused, you move to the door of your apartment, stems still tucked firmly in your hand.

“Hello, how can I help you-”

He stands outside your door with a smile. His blond hair is a little disheveled and he looks thinner than you’ve ever seen him, dark circles under his eyes and a weary slant to his mouth, and his smile is still the brightest thing you’ve ever seen.

It’s your Kiro.

“Sorry I’m late-” He doesn’t manage to finish his words before you’ve thrown yourself into his chest, sobbing at the sight of him, at the warmth of him. Your yearning makes itself known in the tears that soak into the fabric of his shirt, and his arms come up to wrap around you, pulling you flush against him until you can feel the steady ba-dump of his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Miss Chips.” His voice is hoarse.

You don’t need to apologise, you want to tell him but words would fail you right in this moment, so you only bury your face into his shoulder and hold him as tightly as you can. You must be squeezing him hard enough to suffocate, but the laughter you feel as his cheek rests against your hair tells you he doesn’t mind.

“Were you sad waiting for me?” He whispers gently, and the memory of it all vanishes like a nightmare in the morning light. Just a bad dream.

So you shake your head and pull him down into a kiss proper, feeling the softness of his lips on yours, the warmth of his mouth, and you don’t even notice the sunflowers dropping to the ground as he returns your affections tenfold.

Leave them be.

You don’t need them anymore.

[adultswim2021]

Sealab 2021 #20: “Tinfins” | December 8, 2002 - 11:00 PM | S02E09

Hey everybody. How are you? Miss me? Sorry for the lack of updates, but I live in Portland where a historic heatwave caused me to abandon my wife and cat so I could get in the car and drive to California and stay in my parents' house and sleep in an air conditioned room. It was either that or spend another night sleeping under a damp towel, which I'm pleased to report actually works pretty well, but I could not handle the existential horror of it all and spent an entire night sobbing quietly. Fun!

So maybe I owe the next sentence to my fragile mental state, but here I go. I just realized something about this episode and that it's actually great.

Listen: it's not without it's problems. Sealab's detestable art-style is all over this one. This one is, in fact, mostly new animation and it's all pretty hideous. But at this point in the series we should all be used to that simple fact. So I decided to focus on the audio of this episode and THAT is the thing that saves it. The script, which is imperfect but very funny, and the sound design are abso-lutely what make this episode great. In fact, here's a million-dollar idea: you know how people do those exquisite corpse style re-animated versions of cartoons? Buncha animators divide up sections of the thing and all re-animate it in their own style? DO THIS ONE AS ONE OF THOSE. Seriously. It's RIFE with possibilities and if the right people are involved, it'll be a blast to watch.

I'll get into this more: this episode takes the form of an entertainment news program covering the upcoming release of a film called Tinfins, which is a schlocky action blockbuster spin-off of Sealab 2021. The program is frequently interrupted with commercials that are either for Grizzlebees (a tacky Applebees style family restaurant), or some other tacky tie-in which also usually includes Grizzlebees in some way. Each ad is explicitly designed for a different demographic, including a fake news brief about how Americans aren't getting enough onion in their diet (the signature dish of Grizzlebees is a Bloomin' Onion style appetizer).

You ever get your oil changed at an auto-lube place and have to wait in the waiting room? If you're lucky, they'll merely be playing Fox News or tacky daytime programming on the wood-paneled television mounted in the corner. But even at the little mom and pop shop I used to frequent they eventually had their television get taken over with a proprietary closed-circuit feed that looked a LOT like this episode with Byron Allen interviewing celebrities on a promotional circuit sandwiched between insanely frequent ads and, yes, authentic-looking fake newsbriefs about how great Pennzoil is.

On top of the concept being solid, the lines are also good, actually. Capt Murphy just blurting out “This is my wife” at the end of a Wilford Brimley-esque ad aimed at patriotic rural boomer types that romanticize traditional values (pictured above). Or the animator clarifying to the audience that “Dr. Quinn is black”. There's also subtle little bits of bad editing, like when the fake news segment gets slightly cut off at the end, and the line Captain Murphy gives in the trailer where he says “Welcome to Sealab” in a particular way that seems like it was sliced out of a longer line, so it sounds SLIGHTLY unnatural. I believe the line is actually from the episode Little Orphan Angry. I know I recognized it earlier and made a mental note of it, but movie night starts in ten minutes so I need to wrap this fucking thing up and refuse to check on it now.

In a weird bit of synchronicity, I went back and read my old review of this episode. I confirmed that I never liked this episode much (before now!) despite liking some things about it. But I also complain about having to watch this one on my laptop, which I typically avoid like the plague. Folks, being at my parents house currently means that I watched this very same episode on my laptop YET AGAIN.

♪ We found love in a hopeless place ♪

MAIL BAG:

"Dumber days are here again, As the summer evenings grow. I got my flower, I got my power, I got a woman who knows." Do you think Matt and Dave we're thinking of that when they came up with that title for the episode?

My dad is actually a big rock fan so I asked him... he said “yes please”!

Princey-poo Kon writes:

Worth noting that "Zorak falls in love with what he thinks is a woman that turns out to be a dude" had already been done 7 years earlier, in the SGC2C episode Urges. That's a different case where that's a man purposely disguising himself as a woman to keep Zorak from falling in love with an actual woman and getting his head eaten, which somehow is simultaneously more progressive AND regressive, and still feels a lot fresher in 2021 than the way Pepper plays out.

I forgot about that, or I would've brought it up! Allow ME to be the one to say... “yes please”!

[roseyserpents]

Hostage

Summary: you're taken by the Ghoulies while walking home one night and it's up to the Serpents to get you back.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, near drowning

Word count: 1,876

A/N: I haven't posted in a while so have something I haven't edited (this is rly bad sry not sry)

Posted: January 14, 2020 1:27 P.M. CT

"What are you doing all by yourself so late?" A voice asks from behind you, a chill running down your spine as you turn around. You see a man you'd seen many pictures of and heard many stores about, Malachi the leader of the Ghoulies.

"Ah, you're a Serpent." He grins, referring to the tattoo below your collarbone. "Are you the princess I've been hearing everyone talk about?"

You stay quiet and put on a face of stone. A Serpent never shows cowardice, You think, cursing yourself for leaving your knife at home. Malachi scans your figure and expression, looking for a chink in your armour.

"Well as you know it's not very safe to walk around the South alone, so I guess we'll be your company."

"What--?" You say right before someone behind you holds a rag against your mouth, your hands and feet viciously attacking the person holding you but the chemical in the rag was slowly taking away your strength until your eyes roll back in your head.

-

Toni checks the time on her phone after being woken up by someone knocking on her door, groaning when they don't stop. She stands up and trudges down the hall, opening the door and being met with Jughead.

"Uh hey Jughead? What're you doing here so early?" She asks.

"Is Y/n here?" He questions, peering slightly over her shoulder to look for himself.

"No, last I saw her was school Thursday. She probably stayed over at someone else's house."

Jughead nods before saying a quick goodbye and moving on. His fear got worse and worse after each person told him you weren't with them. He assured everyone he talked to everything was fine even when he knew it definitely wasn't, especially when he crossed off the last name on his mental list with Cheryl.

"Hey Sweet Pea can I talk to you?" Jughead asks, Sweet Pea finishing a conversation before walking towards him in a quiet corner of the Wyrm. At that point you'd been gone about three days and concern was growing in Jughead's head. "Y/n hasn't been home. I don't know where she is."

Sweet Pea stiffens at Jughead's words, worry displayed in his eyes though he tried to hide it. "Where do you think she is?"

"I don't know, but it must have something to do with the Ghoulies." He replies, referring to the increasing tension between the two gangs.

"We need to tell the others." Sweet Pea says glancing at Toni and Fangs playing pool.

"No, if we do it'll just make things worse. Only me, my dad, and you know."

"Well then we need to schedule a meeting with Penny."

-

Sweet Pea, Jughead, and FP sit gathered in the Jones trailer as FP sets down a phone in the middle of the table, the three Serpents waiting anxiously for someone to pick up.

"Took you long enough to call." Penny's voice says after she answers the phone.

"I'm not playing any games Penny." FP hisses. "Where's Y/n?"

"Don't worry your precious little daughter is safe. Or atleast for now."

"I swear to God if you lay a hand on her-"

"If you want your princess back," she cuts him off, "Meet me at the East side of sweet water."

"How do I know you have her?" FP asks, tapping his finger on the table and leaning on it.

"Here." There's rustling on the other end before you speak into the phone in a weak voice, "Dad?"

"Y/n, we're coming okay?"

"Hurry they're not-" you're cut off by the sound of skin on skin, a small whimper following it.

"Don't touch her!" Sweet Pea yells, slamming his fist down on the table.

"East side of Sweetwater. Friday eleven sharp." Penny says before hanging up, leaving the Serpents on the other end frustrated and scared for your life.

FP had announced to the rest of the Serpents the Ghoulies had kidnapped you that night, anger rising amongst the members. Everyone in the Whyte Wyrm that night prepared for a war against the Ghoulies the tensions preparing to snap.

-

Friday approached slowly for you. The two days after the call the Ghoulies had treated you worse than before, more bruises and cuts littering your body including a large gash on your upper side where your Serpent tattoo used to be. You'd lost a few pounds due to lack of food and heavy bags sat above shallow cheeks on your face, dry blood trails caking your face. A bag had been thrown over your head before you were thrown into a van, a bumpy fifty minute ride follows before you're thrown out, the bag being ripped off your head. You're kneeled down in front of Penny Peabody, someone tying your hands together with thick rope.

"The snakes are really desperate to get their princess back." She smirks, tapping the end of a knife in her hand. She nods to the person behind you who hoists you to your feet, you nearly collapse due to being so weak. "Not much left though."

She grabs your arm and harshly pulls you to the side, bruises forming under her fingertips as she wraps her other arm around your shoulders. The knife in her hand lies on your collarbone, the cold blade chilling your skin.

Hope blooms in your chest as you see multiple motorcycles pull up to the bank, Serpents jumping off of them and approaching the scene. The first people you see are your dad, your brother, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni, and you never thought you could be more relieved to see them. All of their gazes are set on you and Penny, her knife now held against your throat.

"Let her go." FP growls, stepping closer causing Penny to step backwards and closer to the harsh current of the river the cliff you stood on overlooked.

"If you get any closer in cutting her open and dumping her into the river like Jason Blossom." She says, you closing your eyes and swallowing the tears building up in your throat.

"What do you want, Penny?" Jughead asks, your eyes opening again to watch the fight to see which side would get you.

"I want more power." She answers. "The Ghoulies have lived in your shadow for far too long. I want more of our territory back."

"Fine. Take your territory and give us Y/n." FP says, gesturing to you.

"I'll take that but you won't take her." Penny says. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. She pulls the knife away from your throat, a small trail of crimson blood dripping down your neck where it was. She pushes you backwards, sending you right into the black waves of Sweetwater. The part of the river you all gathered by was one of the strongest, the current easily pulling you under more than you could stay above due to your strength being deplenished. You thrash around, taking breaths as much as you though you started breathing in water more than air the longer you are in the river. Your clothes weighed you down, trying to drag you to the depths of the water. You hear people call your name but you can't respond, only focus on trying not to drown. You see a log reaching into the water from shore, your arms wrapping around one of the brittle branches as if your life depended on it - which it practically did. You desperately look around for someone, finally seeing Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni run towards the tree. The look frantic as they try to find a way to reach out to you without breaking the branch you clinged to. Eventually Sweet Pea inches as close as he could, lying down on the dirt with one of his hands reached out towards you. You try to grab it but almost get swept back into the current forcing you to wrap your arm back around the log and your eyes to squeeze shut.

"Y/n, you need to grab my hand." Sweet Pea yells over the sound of the rushing water.

"I'm gonna fall." You say, almost to quiet for him to hear.

"I won't let you. You just need to trust me." He tries to reason, the sound of wood cracking ringing through the air. Reluctantly you reach out again, this time your shaky hand getting hold of his firm one. "I've got you." He says, pulling you out of the water and onto shore. Once you are on land, you throw your arms around him and shake with an exhausted sob, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms snake around you, holding you firmly against him after pulling you both further away from the water.

"Come on." He says quietly, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to where the Serpents had chased away the Ghoulies. He sets you down, FP and Jughead running up and pulling you into a tight hug, a weak smile spreading on your face.

"Thank you." You whisper before pulling away. "Can I um spend the night at Peas?" Your dad looks from your disheveled appearance to Sweet Pea standing a few feet back before sighing.

"Don't take your eye of her, boy." He says, pointing a finger at the boy next to you. Sweet Pea nods, wrapping an arm around you and leading you to his bike.

It's a short ride back to the trailer park, Sweet Pea giving you some of his clothes to wear. The two of you sat on his couch for about an hour while he patched up the cuts and bruises and other marks left on your body from the Ghoulies, his hands gently working with each one until he's done. After he puts away the first aid kit he leads you by your hand to his room, both of you lying down facing each other. You could hear a party being thrown outside most likely for the victory over the Ghoulies, but neither of you bothered to look or go out.

"I thought about you a lot." You whisper, looking up at Sweet Pea. "It's like the only thing that kept me going, that I knew I'd be back here."

Sweet Peas arms tighten around you and pull you closer into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head after he presses a kiss to your hair. Your legs tangle with his, your eyes shutting in peace.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice quiet. "I should've walked with you instead of making you walk alone."

"It's not your fault." You say, pulling away slightly to look at him. "I'm the daughter of the King of Serpents and the girlfriend of a higher up, I'm a target. Something like this was bound to happen."

"How did I get so lucky as to end up with the strongest girl I know?" He asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Same way I got so lucky as to end up with the absolute perfect boy." You smile, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, warmth spreading through you.

"I love you." Sweet Pea hums against your lips.

"I love you."

[matildainmotion]

Extreme Times, Transitions and Your Extreme Powers for 2021

This time last year I wrote a piece entitled ‘An Encouraging Blog about Despair’ – this was in early January, before the pandemic. My son loves that moment in a story when someone says, “Well, at least things can’t get any worse,” and then, right on cue, a whole lot of worse-ness happens. This year I am not going to attempt to be encouraging – I think we need something else, to match the gravity and uncertainty of the times, that recognises all the worse-ness that has happened. But what? Right now I am not sure. Let me see if I can write my way to find it.

The thing that has saved my sanity through the year has been the working on and writing of a novel. It has kept me sane but also driven me mad, but at least it has been my madness, of my own making as opposed to the world’s. It has been astonishingly difficult. Often, I have felt more articulate about the toughness of the process, than about the story I am trying to tell. The images I have used to describe it have included marathon running, mountaineering, white-water rafting and tightrope walking. I am struck by the extremity of these metaphors. I have done none of these things in real life, and yet I have had a visceral sense of their accuracy. Most of my writing has taken place where I am now, crouched on the children’s bedroom floor. I do not look like I am engaged in anything wild or dangerous, but I like the idea that both my making and my mothering – activities that are often seen as domestic, docile – are in fact extreme sports. 

Photo credit: Viola Depcik, as part of the online exhibition: Portraits in Motherhood and Making during lockdown.

For now, I have come off the mountain of the book. Come January I will set about editing it – an attempt to turn the manuscript into something someone might actually want to read. This morning, I am in a moment of transition. What to write in the dark bedroom, before the children wake? Christmas wish lists and new year’s resolutions are the traditional seasonal texts, but I notice I have two counter impulses to these – two very different lists I want to write. 

The first is not a wish list, but a list of the unwished-for. A backwards-looking list of some of the worse-ness of the year, not as a plea for sympathy, empathy, not out of a need to confess, or because I am looking for advice, but because it feels important to name it. In these last months, on those precious trips out of the house, I have had many two-metres-apart exchanges of the “How are you doing?” kind. “Okay. We’re surviving,” I reply, and then come away, with my groceries in hand, my mask hanging round my neck, feeling desolate, surprised that I should feel it so deeply, when I was not expecting any more from the exchange. I think it is because I want to lay bare the utter ugliness of the year, like when you pull the fridge out and expose the amazing accumulation of dirt underneath. I know that we have been lucky, so when I list some of our un-wished for times, I do it in full recognition that others have had it worse, much worse. 

Here is a selection of my unwished-for list:

Easter – everyone in the house either shouting or crying or both. Still ill. My husband and son red in the face. My mother and daughter, white. 

Then the times – more than one -when my son, who is on the autistic spectrum, needed a play fight, to channel the aggression he displays when he feels threatened (and a threat may be as slight as a joke he did not understand, a small change of plan). I offer to fight him, and as I face him, hold his wrists, the energy in his body, but also in mine, is far from playful. 

A recent one - a double meltdown – my daughter screaming whilst we are Xmas shopping because she and I cannot remember something I said three days ago about her and a bauble she was hanging on the tree. Meanwhile it is raining. She is refusing to wear a coat. She runs away from me, up the pavement, beside a busy road, whilst my son, who cannot bear loud noise, lays down on the concrete and puts his hands over his ears. I am caught between the two of them – one on the run, the other on the ground. Masked people watching me, the rain coming down, the dark coming on. 

Three in the morning and no one is screaming or sobbing but me – the children are sleeping peacefully, and I am not. 

There is an edge to this – it is allowed to be hard, but it feels dangerous to expose the difficult details. It has not all been like this, but I do not want to sweep these times aside and hurry on. So I set them down, one by one, on the page. Then I can begin list number two. 

This is a list not of changes I resolve to make in the new year, but ones that came on their own, and are ongoing, unresolved. A list of the transitions already underway. Because these arrive unbidden, this is a list of the moments when I understood that change is happening:

When I find I cannot read the instructions on the side of the ‘stuffing mix’ and I realise I need reading glasses. 

When my period is two weeks late one month, and two weeks early the next. The skin on my eyelids grows dry. I read this too can be a symptom of the perimenopause.

When my daughter is at last weening (shhhh, don’t tell her, or she will object) and her favourite game is to play at being a ‘dumb baby’ who cannot remember where its mummy’s boobies are. She runs about the room, looking behind bookshelves and under covers, until eventually the baby realises that the boobies and the milk are on its mother’s chest. She does not want the milk now, she wants to play at being the silly baby, because she is turning into such a competent ‘medium big girl’ (her current definition of her size).

When my mother (granny) no longer wants to cook meals for us, but would rather that I cook for her. 

When my son starts to grow a greater awareness of his separateness to me and I find him in tears one night because earlier in the day he heard The Beatles song “She’s Leaving Home” and grew afraid that this might happen to him – that he would leave one day, leaving only a note behind.

When my husband and I realise we are going to need to move again, find somewhere we both want to be, to settle, where we can grow older.

When the children wait for snow, go out keen to find the ice on top of puddles to crack and splinter, but the winter stays mild, wet. 

And then there is the ‘transition period’ the whole of the UK is supposed to be undergoing, moving out of the EU, whether we like it or not. Lorries, stationary, but in long lines of transit, waiting to cross the border. And then there are the transitions- endless- from one tier to another to try to control the virus. 

I think of others’ transitions too, of friends, and friends of friends: people waiting for a baby to be born; waiting for a loved one to recover, or die; transitions of age, gender, status. 

What to do in response to these unchosen changes? I almost admire my daughter’s wish to fight them. Her maxim is not ‘to keep calm and carry on,’ but rather to keep screaming, whilst being carried. I am impressed by the volume of rage in her four-year-old frame as she attempts to stop things:

“You have to stop the car now,” she cries from the back seat, when we are in the middle of the road, “Right now. You have to do it. You have to, you have to, you have to…Mummy stop! Now! You have to stop!” It is a work-out of the will that can go on for hours and which leaves us both exhausted. It is extreme, and it makes me think back to the extreme metaphors for which I found myself reaching in trying to describe my writing process with the novel. 

I counsel her in acceptance, but I recognise my own desire to scream against the times, to stop the world. Perhaps I need to flip things round - to harness the power of the scream, even as I accept the ways things are. Often I think of acceptance as passive, equanimity as cool and quiet. But I am not sure balance, as figured in this way, is the right metaphor for our times. The feat of balancing required now is that done by the tightrope walker, cliff face climber, white-water rafter – an athletic equanimity, a muscular form of acceptance that takes all our might, all our will. 

Maybe it is time to reclaim the male image of the superhero. I like the way in the film of The Incredibles, the superheroic is recognised as a form of divergence from the norm, a daring difference, how the super ability can become a disability if the surrounding culture judges it as such. The image helps me to see my differences as potential superpowers. 

A third and final list then comes to mind, a forwards-looking one, that might support me through the transitions of this time, and on into 2021 – a list of my extreme powers. If it comes to needing to grow food, hunt, light fires – wilderness survival skills – I will be useless, but I can do the following:

I can survive on little sleep. 

I can hold onto the thread of a creative project or conversation through multiple interupptions and across many days.

I can imagine disaster, very fast, in almost any situation.

I can mother two intense children, both often awake till midnight.

I can name the elephant in any room. 

I can write a novel in the hour per day when my children are watching TV (this is a slight exaggeration - when school was happening I had a little more time, but on a list like this you are allowed to exaggerate). 

That’s it for now. I do not think we need to know or understand how our superpowers, our athletic abilities, can be put to good use. I do not think it is our job to calculate this, but rather only to keep in training. Ready. Skills honed. And also to notice, name and honour one another’s skills. I think I should write a list of my children’s superpowers too. As I write this, the children have woken and my husband is now showing my daughter the trailer for the latest Wonder Woman movie. My daughter likes her outfits, especially the golden bracelets. A glittering dress sense will be on my daughter’s list of wondrous powers. 

The other day my husband shared with me a quote, from a Hopi leader in the year 2000, which seems relevant to my three lists as 2021 begins:

“There is a river flowing now very fast.  It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.  They will try to hold on to the shore…..The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water.  And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.”

Writing a novel has felt like white water rafting, but actually being alive right now feels like that too. This year I offer, not encouragement amidst despair, but something more extreme - a call to arms, to your arms, my arms, arms that can carry children, stir soups, make stories - superhero arms strong enough, not to grip, but to let go of the shore. Mid river as we are, I want to celebrate each other’s extreme, extraordinary abilities. So, tell me your lists: the list of things you did not wish for, the list of changes underway, unresolved, and then the list of the superpowers you are hiding, honing, as we are swept along. What powers, however ordinary, bizarre, or seemingly superfluous, do you have to offer?