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dftea · 5 months

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Follow me, Eurydice

Geralt is auctioned but Jaskier is there - hurt/comfort, geraskier/geraskefer/family of destiny

[read on ao3]

Geralt jolts awake, the tingle of magic itching at his skin. He is upright, barely, leaning against a cold pillar of stone with his wrists chained around it.

Around him, through a shimmering shield, he can hear a crowd of murmuring shadows, echoing strangely in the cavern surrounding him.

He reaches for the memory of how he came to be here, but it’s blurred in a thick fog, part magical and part related to the clot of blood he feels tugging at his hair. His bad leg is throbbing in protest, and he has a dozen half-healed injuries that speak of an intense and bloody fight.

The shield abruptly falls, and the cavern hushes, but it is still too bright, too loud. He doesn't remember taking a potion but he feels sensitive, disorientated.

“Who will start the bidding at one thousand crowns?”

Geralt thought the underground auction house was merely a rumour, but he should’ve known better than to doubt a story that spread so far and wide.

If Jaskier has taught him anything…

Jaskier.

Where is his bard?

The memories hit him sharply - the ambush on the road, the sheer numbers of them, telling Jaskier to leave him and not believing for a moment that he actually would.

Did he run for his life, like Geralt demanded? Was he another lot in this perverse auction? Or was he lying dead in the road, abandoned by the auctioneer’s mercenaries as not worth the effort?

He tries to look around, but the lights are blinding and he cannot get his bearings. The auctioneer is taking bids, but Geralt has lost track of how much these cretins think he’s worth. Of how much they think Ciri's location is worth.

He will die first, of that he is certain. A slow and painful death, but he endured the Trials as a mere human child - he can do this for his daughter, for his family.

If Jaskier is gone, it will make it easier to die.

“Who will give me–”

“Fifty thousand crowns.”

The voice is loud and resonant, cutting straight through the muttering and excitement - and Geralt would know that voice anywhere.

He’s going to kill him for this - after he's finished crushing him to his chest like a drowning man.

At least he’s alive to pull this stupid stunt.

Geralt tries to follow the sound, but he can only make out the silhouette of a ridiculous hat adorned with long feathers - the master bard is putting on a show for the crowned heads of the Continent, for the Emperor who hungers for his prize.

The auctioneer is momentarily stunned, not expecting such an escalation in the bidding, but he smoothly recovers.

“In coin, you understand, sir. The coin in your possession, tonight.”

“Oh, I am good for it,” Jaskier says, confidently, and Geralt doesn’t need to see him to know that he is giving the eye to every one of the competition. Impressing upon them the degree of their stupidity if they failed to account for him.

Geralt could kiss him. And then lightly shake him for a fool, for robbing whichever bank gave up that kind of money.

“Fifty-two thousand,” another voice calls - a mage, if Geralt isn’t mistaken, but he cannot place which one. Of course, the nobility hadn’t come themselves - it’s the surviving court mages and spymasters who are playing this game.

“Sixty thousand,” Jaskier says, easily.

Another silence, the soft jingling of coins in pouches. Trying to scrape together something to match that outrageous bid.

“Sixty-one?” comes a tentative venture, even as a hissed whisper tells the man to wait.

Jaskier scoffs. “Sixty-five.”

Geralt senses the defeat, the quick calculations regarding potential alliances - all dismissed. They have the money back in the palaces and vaults, but not here in this cavern, not tonight.

“Going once… going twice…”

Geralt feels the surging anger, the crackling of undischarged chaos - and whatever is holding it all at bay. An ancient dimeritium mine, perhaps.

The mages could probably break through its effects if they worked together - but they won’t, and they can’t burn their bridges to this place and its valuable treasures.

“Sold, to the Viscount de Lettenhove. If you will just bring your coffer, sir.”

The solid thud of a wooden chest hits a slab of rock, and Geralt hears the counting commence, by magic and by hand.

If he listens carefully, he can hear Jaskier humming, the gentle strumming of his lute. He vaguely recognises the song, he thinks, and that is likely the point. Jaskier is reminding him that he’s near, that he’s still able to breathe, to play.

“It is all verified genuine,” the auctioneer declares, clearly a little surprised. “You may remove the lot now.”

“And the auction house guarantee?” Jaskier says, a little sharply.

The auctioneer sighs, before reciting the words dully. “Not for ten years may the same lot pass through this house, dead or alive.”

“Quite right,” Jaskier says, and he’s clearly intimidating the other bidders again, heedless of their relative power.

The wind don’t cower to powerful men.

The bindings release, and it takes everything Geralt has not to collapse to the ground. Jaskier may be strong, but he can’t carry him out of there. They cannot afford to show any weakness to these predators and their masters.

The auction guards clear a path between him and his new owner, who he still can’t see all that clearly. Is he well? Favouring injuries? Everything within him longs to know.

Someone laughs in the crowd. “He’ll fall before you’re free, little bard. And then we’ll have him.”

Suddenly, Geralt feels something descend over him, very like a cloak. The light and sound is muffled again, and the crowd roars as if deprived of a spectacle.

“The lot will be concealed for ten minutes only,” the auctioneer intones. “After that, the auction will end and all participants may depart.”

Jaskier, apparently unperturbed, bows to his audience - and turns his back on Geralt. And he walks away, playing the same tune again and humming, not even glancing back over his shoulder.

Geralt stumbles after, concentrating on keeping his feet under him. He thinks it must have been some time since he was rested and fed, because his body would usually tolerate magic and deprivation better than this.

The tunnel is narrow ahead, and he bumps against the walls occasionally, keeping his eyes fixed on Jaskier. The bard is singing now, and Geralt finally recognises the Song of the Seven. Because Jaskier cannot help but prod the lions in their dens.

Every step feels like an eternity, but Jaskier doesn't speak to him, doesn’t run - he just swaggers onward, playing and singing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

At first, he thinks he imagines the faint glow of light ahead, but as it grows, he recognises the silvery fall of moonlight. They are nearing the end, their escape.

He hopes Jaskier has a plan, because he isn’t sure he could fight a kitten right now.

Jaskier steps out into the full night, but still does not turn. He plays a few more notes, as Geralt doggedly follows, step after agonising step until he is just behind the bard.

A roar of sound rushes up the tunnel behind them, and Geralt feels the cloak of magic fall away.

Jaskier finally turns, his face lighting up as he sees Geralt, naked relief on his face and infusing his scent.

He steps forward, an embrace and a necessary intervention to stop Geralt falling to his knees.

Geralt hears the urgent whisper - “Yen, I have him.” - before the telltale light of a portal opens before them, lilacs and gooseberries spilling out into the clear night.

Jaskier drags him forward, all but carrying him, and Geralt feels Yen’s lips brush his cheek with the briefest touch.

But it does not stop there - another portal, and another, and yet another, each carrying a different scent and another dizzying, nauseating blow to Geralt’s self-control.

Finally, he stumbles into a room that radiates safety, Jaskier hauling him over to a bed he calls his own.

“--barely conscious, could hardly–”

“--risk with potions. I would need–”

“--promised she’ll be back before I could miss her, and she always–”

The fragments wash over him, and he allows his eyes to close.

When he opens them again, he finds himself propped up in bed, with Jaskier’s chest for a pillow and Ciri’s hands warming his, as she sleeps in the chair. Yennefer is busying herself by the table with Vesemir, sorting through various ingredients and tinctures, quietly debating what will and won’t work for whatever ails him.

A gentle kiss brushes against his ear. “Welcome back,” Jaskier murmurs.

His voice draws Yennefer and Vesemir’s attention away from their alchemy, and Ciri stirs at their movements. Geralt feels minutely scrutinised and overwhelmingly loved, which he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

“How…?” he rasps.

“Drink first,” Yennefer says, producing first water and then a series of potions in consultation with Vesemir, before he leaves to prepare…breakfast? Geralt has no idea what hour it is, what meal he should eat, or even what day or month.

The potions all taste awful, but he can feel them working within him, knitting him back together from the inside. Still, Yennefer hovers close by, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch over him.

Jaskier is back to humming, rocking him very gently, and Geralt can smell the stale fear, exhaustion, and guilt on his clothes.

He means to tell him that he did the right thing in running, that he was unbelievably stupid to come and rescue him, and that he’s glad to be home.

Instead, he says, “Sixty five thousand crowns.”

“We actually had sixty-seven,” Ciri pipes up, excitable in a way only a child could be when discussing the budget of a small kingdom. “So I think you were a bargain, really.”

“How?” he says, again, because he doesn’t know how to ask why?

“Oh, this and that,” Jaskier says, evasively, as if this were the kind of spare change one found in the bottom of a pack.

“I sold four manor houses,” Yennefer said, rolling her eyes at Jaskier, which slightly dulled the blow of four manor houses. “And I called in some favours of a financial nature.”

“Yen…” he says, though it comes out rough, his body fighting fatigue and foundering with it.

Her hand strokes over his arm, catching on a bandage, and he belatedly realises he’s bare-chested save for bandages. A great many bandages.

“Please. What need have I for manor houses when I have a winter holiday home in the mountains?” She gestures to the room, which Geralt’s brain sluggishly informs him is his bedroom at Kaer Morhen. Their bedroom.

“But Jaskier…” Ciri begins, then trails off.

Geralt can almost feel the intensity of the look Jaskier is shooting her from beside his ear, and he tries to turn his body to catch sight of his bard’s face.

But he really is too tired even for that small movement, and instead submits to drinking more water and some kind of bone broth that uncomfortably reminds him of recovering from the Trials.

“I think they kept you in some kind of cursed sleep for the past two weeks,” Yennefer says, with distaste. “Not a proper stasis, which is why your body has barely healed and you’ve lost so much strength - amateurs.”

That’s why it feels as if Jaskier is holding him up, why that familiar embrace feels so much more like support.

That, and the sum of sixty five thousand crowns smothering him.

“He’s brooding,” Yennefer teases, fondly, directing the remark over Geralt’s shoulder. “You’ll have to tell him.”

“When he’s better,” Jaskier says, firmly, trying to shut down the conversation again.

But that comment only worries Geralt more - what can’t he be told now, in his present state? Is he really so frail, or is Jaskier’s secret so terrible as to destroy him?

“He looks pretty upset now,” Ciri says, dubiously.

Jaskier sighs deeply, knowing when he’s outnumbered.

“I sold my title,” he says, blandly, as if talking about some cheap trinket. “The title, the holdings, my place in the succession for the Earldom. It’s not like I was doing anything with them anyway.”

Geralt knows very little about Jaskier’s noble life, but he knows enough to see that this is not some trivial thing. A noble title is currency, power and privilege. “I’m sorry, Jask.”

“Oh, really, Ferrant will be a much better Earl. Don’t get all emotional on me again.”

Geralt still can’t see Jaskier’s face, but he can see Yennefer and Ciri well enough. He’s missing something here.

“That…doesn’t add up,” he says, quietly. Even with the addition of the manor houses, he doesn't see how a minor Earldom in Redania could raise that kind of capital.

A quieter, more subdued sigh. “And Valdo Marx paid an extortionate sum for me never to play in a tournament or court again.”

Geralt cannot help his involuntary gasp, searching Yennefer and Ciri’s faces for the truth of it.

“You didn't.”

“Geralt, I don’t care about accolades half as much as Valdo does. I haven't entered a tournament in three years. No court will pay me after I just swiped you out from under their noses.”

“We got what we wanted,” Yennefer says, softly, her eyes boring into his to make him understand.

“And we wanted what we got,” Jaskier adds, quietly, pressing another kiss to Geralt’s ear and drawing his arms tighter around him.

“It’s too much,” Geralt whispers, brokenly. “I’m not–”

“If you dare say you’re not worth it,” Ciri says, sharply, “I’ll remind you of all the times you've told me never to say that or to even think it.”

They close in around him then, Yennefer and Ciri enfolding him in their arms, as Jaskier continues to hold him. His family, a fortress greater than any built of stone or silver.

He feels his breath hitch in his chest, even if the tears that should fall deserted him long ago.

“How did you know…I was there?”

“The auction house broadcast their finds–,” Yennefer begins, but Geralt shakes his head, trying to find the right words.

“After, with the spell?” He turns his head slightly towards Jaskier. “You knew I was there.”

To his surprise, Jaskier huffs out a laugh. “I’m supposed to say something grand here about true love and destiny and that sort of thing. But the truth is that I could hear it. I was playing so I could hear the echoes in the cavern - I knew there was a solid something blocking the sound behind me and I just hoped it was you.”

“That is appallingly clever, bard,” Yennefer says, clearly impressed.

“That was scarily complimentary, witch.”

“I love you. All of you.”

It takes him a moment to realise that he’s the one who’s spoken, but then they fold themselves around him again, closer. And he feels that perhaps he could be worthy of it.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskefer #geraskier #hurt/comfort #family of destiny #dftea writes

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ninjastormhawkkat · 7 months

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Fair City vs The Facility Revised

Matthew felt someone tug at his clothes. He looked down and saw an anthropomorphic monkey girl stare at him with pleading eyes. Matthew sighed. "Really again?" He asked in a slightly annoyed tone of voice. The little girl didn't seem to notice and just nodded her head vigorously. "Okay hop on." Matthew spoke in a defeated tone as he bent down and let the monkey girl climb on his back. The little girl put her arms around Matthew's neck gently but firmly so as to not fall of while he walked. Matthew tenderly got up and began to catch up with the other members of the party who had stopped when they noticed him and the girl lagging a bit behind. "Everything alright?" Carl asked with some concern. Matthew just gave a shrug towards his former partner. "She wanted another piggy back ride. She's probably getting tired again." Matthew stated. He didn't mind giving the strange child a piggy back ride. It brought back fond memories of when he did it with his own kids. But that was back when he was younger and didn't have to walk for so many miles on foot. Carl gave him a sympathetic look. He knew that they were all getting exhausted and a bit hungry as well. It didn't help that he and Matthew were both old men in their sixties. His nephew Steven, the young girl, and the bizarre looking monkey could make it on foot better than they could. Sadly even the youngest members of their group were also feeling the effects of hunger. Unfortunately none of them could right now afford the luxuries of finding a place to stop and eat nor hitchhiking with a kind stranger. For good reasons. They had fled a week and a half ago from a horrible place that could be described as hell on earth. A well hidden lab facility where each of them were taken and basically kept as prisoners. 'Well in Matthew's case it was more of a transfer.' Carl thought. Though deep down he still dreaded to think what would have happened to Matthew if they were still back there. He and Steven were kidnapped and forced to work for that facility twenty years ago. They were treated no better than the prisoners with the exception of not becoming latest test subjects if they behaved. Matthew was transferred there about a month back which was how he met his ex again. Carl was aghast and more enraged with these people. Were his tormentors not only power hungry but also stupid? Carl would soon realize that his views of the facility would be very accurate. Sometime ago an explosion had occurred at the facility. During the chaos and confusion, Matthew broke out and rescued Carl and Steven. None of the trio of men knew what was causing this outbreak until they ran into a young girl. Not only was her abnormal monkey appearance a surprise, but the fact that she was floating in mid air like nothing also caught them off guard. Carl believed he and the others shared the idea that this poor girl had caused the explosion that lead to their escape. Who knows how long she was a prisoner at that awful place. The three men were able to escape with her and were soon joined by a genetically altered monkey who seemed to take particular interest in protecting the child. The group set off to find a way to get to a safer location and far away from that facility as possible. They had to avoid any help out of slight fear of running into people that worked at the facility who survived. It was also difficult to seek aid due to the appearance of the monkey and Matthew who would for sure cause an unnecessary mass panic. Carl also had another mission in mind. He hoped to find the family of the little girl and her monkey friend. That too proved difficult as she couldn't speak in human tongue nor did she seem to understand much of what they said. Carl and the others took note with both anger and sorrow that the young girl and monkey seemed wary and fearful of Carl and Steven at first. Carl didn't realize why until he looked at Steven and his own lab gear. He saw how the girl and monkey seemed to be transfixed in fear at the clothing. @erraticeris @dualnaturedscientist

#wordgirl #wordgirl au #fair city vs the facility #rp #maddrix the malicious #carl woods #the last superheroes au #angst #bob/captain huggy face #becky boxleitner

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raccoonfallsharder · 16 days

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hailbound. .⋆☁︎:･꧂

[anticipated 5/24]

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 10/25+ | wip | wordcount: pending.

pearl adopts a stray. rocket falls for a sovereign. warnings below.

When they’d parted ways, he’d tucked a comm in the pocket of her leggings — warm fingers tugging at her pants in a way that had made her skin sing — and had told her to use it if she ran into any trouble, and not to talk to strangers, as if she were a child. She’d glowered at that — glowered, an expression she’s sure hasn’t made in years — and it had startled her to feel it. Rocket had only grinned tauntingly, but then followed the smirk with an, “I’m frickin’ serious, doll,” before loping away in the other direction. And now here she is, with two soft stretchy pairs of shorts rolled up and gripped in one fist and a bottle of morningtea palmed in the other, pausing at every painted cupboard door inlaid in the quartz-streaked rockface walling the city streets. She’d noticed the cupboards the other day, and she had been curious, but all that curiosity had been forgotten in the blissful chaos of the clothes and the food and the hair. Now that she has a chance to study them, she marvels. The few cupboards that are open this early in the morning reveal small stadiums of fifty or sixty clear-glass and tin-smithed cups, each cradling a votive as blue as a pale spring sky on Terra. Anywhere between five and ten candles are lit in any given cupboard, and little tin plaques are anchored into the rock walls beneath the cupboards, etched with the tactile written language of Cyxlore as well as Kree, Shi’ar, and Skrull translations. SHRINE OF THE SYBILA NIX ORA Pearl tilts her head, shuffling through the glossary in her head, trying to find the name — but she comes up empty. Herbert hadn’t cared much for planets like this one: no real political or cultural merit, he’d usually sniff dismissively. She tries to interpret the little shrine, and a shadow moves across the space, making the delicate flames seem brighter. “I am Groot.”

from chapter eleven. hailbound. ✩ cicatrix masterlist.⋆☁︎:･꧂

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

WARNINGS for this chapter: still just rocket's anxiety.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

#cicatrix #fanfiction preview #rocket raccoon smut #rocket smut #gotg rocket #rocket raccoon lemons #gotg x oc #rocket raccoon x oc #angst with a happy ending #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #rocket gotg #gotg rocket x oc #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocketraccoon #rocket raccoon x original character #oc x rocket raccoon

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msclaritea · 6 months

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Here’s Why Willy Wonka Is An Autistic Icon | Medium

Here’s Why Willy Wonka Is An Autistic Icon

In celebration of the release of the new Wonka movie this month, I recently rewatched, for the billionth time, the original film — Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Wonka media has been a special interest of mine for the past seven years — -an autism-related term used to refer to topics and subjects that occupy headspace constantly, meaning I know more about Willy Wonka and his crimes against humanity than any sane person really ought to.

While watching the film, I was once again struck by how much I related to the character. His odd mannerisms, his disregard for small talk and social niceties, and his fixation on a self-constructed world all reminded me of a lot of my own experiences growing up as a quiet, book-obsessed, undiagnosed autistic kid. Although I was recently diagnosed at the age of twenty-one (it’s never too late!), the sense that something was always a little off has dogged me since childhood — in my odd tendency to repeat words and phrases, my limited and intense interests, my awkwardness in conversation and struggle to make friends. And as I sat there, watching Wonka spout off nonsensical phrases, constant literary references, and the occasional bit of wisdom, I finally got the urge to lay out, once and for all, what an autistic icon this character is, and has been for the past sixty years. Let’s dive into a world of pure imagination together.

A Little Nonsense

Autism, since it is formally classified as a disorder by the DSM5, has a whole host of medical definitions that try to sum up, in as digestible a form as possible, just what exactly is wrong with you or your child. Instead of pinpointing one definition, I’m going to temporarily throw the psychological jargon out the window and focus on the single term “disorder.” Disorder, classically defined, is a state of confusion or messiness — usually a form of existence that runs counter to broad definitions of harmonic living. Although unintended, I find that the literary definition rather than the scientific one fits my, and Wonka’s, experience of living as autistic. Disorder is chaos, it’s doing things just because.

Take this excerpt from Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, the rightfully-maligned sequel to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory:

“I have never met a man,” said Grandma Georgina, “who talks so much absolute nonsense!”

“A little nonsense now and then, is relished by the wisest men,” Mr. Wonka said.

Many autistic people are told at one point or another that the way they think and act does not make sense. For example, in many adaptations of the story, visiting the chocolate room for the first time leads the parents to question why it came to exist in the first place.

In the original West End musical adaptation, the conversation goes something like this:

Mr. Salt: Well if it isn’t for anything, and it doesn’t make money, then why on Earth does it need to exist at all?

Wonka: You really don’t see, do you?

A painter needs no reason

To make a thing of art

Yes, there’s no switch to stop and start the flow

Willy Wonka (Douglas Hodge) in the Chocolate Room from the 2013 West End production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

We live in an unprecedented age of unthinking consumerism — our lives, from the get-go, are predicated on beneficial transactions. If I am to create something, I better be able to justify its usefulness in the language of monetary gain. Entertainment has become inextricably linked to the words content and consumption — creators make content, and we now consume the art we once admired. This implies a one-sided relationship to the way we engage with art — when we consume something it no longer becomes a conversation between creator and viewer, but rather a passively made, ready-to-eat distraction on which the viewer can project anything and everything they like. To make art for art’s sake or simply because we find it beautiful, is, in today’s age, an indicator of disordered living. Thus, Wonka making the chocolate room, or his factory for that matter, just because is, to most people, nonsense.

Again, from The Great Glass Elevator:

“He walked slowly towards the chocolate waterfall. It was an unhappy truth, he told himself, that nearly all people in the world behave badly when there is something really big at stake. Money is the thing they fight over most.”

The us vs. them mindset suggested by the phrase “nearly all people in the world” is one commonly adopted by autistic people, who feel that their perspective and lived experience do not align with that of their peers. Wonka, in creating a world of his own, has effectively made a safe haven for himself where the things he loves can exist without justification — a form of escapism I often engaged in as a child. In Wonka’s factory, the oddities that would make him an outcast in the external world are, to him, “simply second nature” — the name of the song in which he extolls the joys of being different:

It’s no blessing, It’s a curse

No wait…strike that and reverse

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What’s a Social Cue?

In the 2017 Broadway adaptation of the book, Wonka opens the boisterous and breakneck-paced song “Strike that, Reverse It” by, muttering:

“Now let’s get the small-talk out of the way.”

The word “small-talk,” for context, is said as if it is the single most loathsome word in the English dictionary.

Though every adaptation of Wonka is unique in some way, all seem to share a love for their craft that is only rivaled by their hatred of social conventions. From the 2005 Wonka’s disastrous introduction and awkward giggling to the original book Wonka’s fidgety and sporadic movements, none of the Wonkas have exactly come off as approachable. Even the new Wonka, played by Timothée Chalamet, has his moment as he practically screams “You’ve never had chocolate?!” to his sidekick Noodle, who answers his outburst nonchalantly. All of these traits: poor conversational skills, fidgeting, volume control, and a dislike of small-talk are all classic characteristics associated with ASD.

Autistic people also often struggle with echolalia, or the repetition of words and phrases for seemingly no reason. Gene Wilder’s Wonka, with his near-constant rattling off of quotes from classic literature parallels this condition, especially (and most entertainingly) when he pedals a bike in the inventing room.

Similar to symptoms associated with ADHD, many autistic people will also find that their hyperfixations and interests make it difficult to focus on daily tasks for long periods of time. Wonka is so fixated on making chocolate that he has actually built a factory where he does nothing but make chocolate, and has been doing so for decades. Take also these lyrics from “Must Be Believed to Be Seen”:

No magic spells, no potions

Forswear legerdemain

My kingdom’s created from notions

All swirling inside of my brain

The manic delivery of “swirling inside of my brain” in both recordings of the song speaks to the sometimes uncomfortable intensity of creative thinking. I want to note here that I’m aware of the “it’s not that deep” factor that plays into all of this, but I kind of shoved it in the back of my mind the second I decided to write an analytical article about Willy Wonka. Besides, I know I personally struggle with a constant barrage of thoughts here and there — sometimes to the point where I have trouble falling asleep at night. Hence these lyrics from Simply Second Nature:

The mind is such a wonder to explore

And though some nights I dread

All the voices in my head

I’d rather be this way than be a bore

I also made a compilation a while back of the mannnyyyyy (and I mean many) times 2017 Broadway Wonka displays some of the physical symptoms of ASD, often referred to as stimming.

Autistic Solidarity

I know I’ve been harping a little too much on the Broadway adaptation, but I promise there’s a good reason.

In this version of the story, rather than just being a decent kid who, for the most part, minds his own business, Charlie is awarded the factory because he thinks as Wonka does. This kind of connection is also implied in the 2005 adaptation, where Charlie is seen to have built an impressively large model of Wonka’s factory made entirely of toothpaste caps, but is only made explicit in both musical versions. This Charlie draws up fantastical ideas instead of doing his homework and spends his remaining free time endlessly pestering his Grandpa Joe for stories about Willy Wonka. Wonka, to this Charlie, is essentially a special interest — he hardly goes five minutes without bringing his name up, or delivering an excitable song summarizing the man’s life history.

Wonka, of course, sees a lot of himself in Charlie. In the song, “Must Be Believed to Be Seen” there’s a section in the middle where the tempo slows and Wonka wistfully sings:

Despite the man seen at these doors

My childhood home was bland like yours

But I knew how to look, to find

A world that wasn’t colorblind

This is the first time (and only until the end of the show) that Wonka makes a genuine attempt to reach out to Charlie — and he does so with language relating to neurodivergent thinking. The musical doesn’t exactly turn to diagnostic criteria for sourcing lyrics, but the use of the phrase “a world that wasn’t colorblind” is once again suggestive of the us vs. them mindset, offsetting the ordinary blandness of the “normal” world with the vibrancy of the neurodivergent imagination. In the same sequence, Wonka also sings:

But in the end there’s quite a prize

If you can see with more than eyes

Autistic people are often hypersensitive to their environments and engage with the stimuli around them more keenly than their neurotypical peers. Exploring the world with all senses, and often with a detail-oriented mindset literally allows many autistic people to see the world with much more than eyes. Often small and irrelevant elements in an environment become points of interest for those with ASD where they might otherwise be ignored by neurotypicals.

Lastly, I want to finish with a brief discussion of one of my favorite lyrics in the musical, this time from the closing song “The View From Here”, where Wonka takes Charlie up through the atmosphere in his glass elevator:

When a boy has just a touch of odd

And he walks the streets without a nod

He should know that odd is a gift from God

Like this starry blue chandelier

Willy Wonka (Christian Borle) and Charlie Bucket (Jake Ryan Flynn) in the Glass Elevator

Most neurodivergent people will be the first to tell you that living as they are isn’t easy. For me, I have trouble finding humor in the same things my friends do, making conversation, focusing, following directions, empathizing, etc. Sometimes things that seem easy or mundane to others are nearly impossible for me. Worst of all, these aversions and behaviors are inexplicable too. I cannot put into words why I am what I am, I just know that I have to learn to accept it. However, for every moment I spend hating myself for what I cannot change, I strive to find more moments where I love living as I am.

I listened to “The View From Here” for the first time in many years recently, and I’m not ashamed to say that I cried a little (maybe more than a little). To quantify one’s differences not as a mistake or a joke or a fault — but as a gift is to accept that they let us do impossibly wonderful things. We need to stop looking for ways to fix or mask autism, and instead make society a more accommodating place for neurodivergency to thrive. Only then can autistic kids dream less about faraway places where they can live as they are, and instead live those dreams in the here and now. And we can start by reaching out to that touch of oddness in each other, and recognizing what the embrace of pure imagination can do for us all.

THERE IS A WELL-DOCUMENTED HISTORY OF NAZIS EXPERIMENTING ON PEOPLE WITH AUTISM.

IT HAS BEEN NOTED BY PROFESSIONALS THAT MANY PEOPLE IN THE TRANSGENDER MOVEMENT HAVE AUTISM

BLOGGERS, CLAIMING TO BE AUTISTIC, HAVE ENGAGED IN VERY AGGRESSIVE BULLYING.

THEY RELENTLESSLY ACCUSED A CERTAIN ACTOR, WHO, HIMSELF SUFFERS ANXIETY OF BEING ABLEST, IN AN EFFORT TO TARNISH ONE OF HIS BEST STAGE PERFORMANCES

THAT SAME ACTOR WAS BEING ENCOURAGED TO DO PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, WHICH I SABOTAGED, AND I'M GLAD I DID, BECAUSE WEEKS LATER I CAME ACROSS AN OLD ARTICLE, WHERE THEY SAID, EMPHATICALLY THAT THE PHANTOM MUST HAVE BEEN AUTISTIC. THE POINT?

IF SAID ACTOR HAD PLAYED THE PHANTOM, HEEDLESS OF THIS THEORY, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ATTACKED, AGAIN.

AND THAT IS WHAT THIS ARTICLE BELOW IS; AN INTENTION TO ENCOURAGE PEOPLE WITH AUTISM TO SEE WILLY WONKA AS BEING AUTISTIC.

AND WHEN THE NEXT ACTOR WHO PLAYS WONKA, ISN'T AWARE OF THE FACT THAT AUTISM HAS BEEN LOWKEY ADDED, THEN THAT PERSON WILL GET RIPPED TO SHREDS.... BECAUSE OF MANIPULATING ARTICLES, LIKE THIS ONE. THIS IS NOT HARMLESS. THE SAME THING HAPPENED ONLINE WITH BBC SHERLOCK. BLOGGERS ERRONEOUSLY ATTRIBUTED HIS PERSONALITY TRAITS TO AUTISM, THANKS TO THE WRITERS ON THE SHOW. IT WAS ENCOURAGED, TO THE POINT WHERE IF YOU DID NOT AGREE, YOU WERE ATTACKED FOR IT.

THE RIGHT BUILDS ARMIES, AND THEY WILL USE ANYONE THEY HAVE TO.

#Willy Wonka #Timothy Chalamet #Hollywood Has Been Adding Autistic Traits To Characters That Originally Had None #BBC Sherlock #Phantom of The Opera #My fucking GOD!

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sweetbillwriting · 9 months

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Love Just Happens

A New Chapter - Part 10

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Setting: This story is set in the future but because it's hard to say how the world is then (and it isn't that important for the story) the future is similar to our time now, even with fashion and so on.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, ageism, pregnancy, family problems, emotional chaos.

The older man next to her had a white beard that made him look softer and kinder. He was in his sixties and looked at her with wise blue eyes. He made her feel calm just by his looks. Maybe he wasn't even a nice man but at that moment she was totally sure of it.

Aurora looked at the doctor while he felt her stomach. He listened with a cold stethoscope and smiled a little. Bill looked at his smile and wondered if it meant he could calm down. He sat on the couch with Aurora's head in his lap while the doctor examined her. Curious eyes looked at them from the doorway. His ex, his three daughters and his oldest daughter's boyfriend. They all were an audience while the doctor sat by Aurora's side.

"False alarm, your little daughter is happy and calm in there. I think you can feel her kicking? She seems like a lively one," said the doctor with a smile. It was the archipelago's doctor, he had come with his boat as soon as he got the call from Aurora's doctor.

"Are, are you sure?" Asked Aurora with shiny eyes.

"I'm sure," said he and with a smile he laid Aurora's hand at the spot where the baby was kicking. She could feel it without him doing that but in the pain she couldn't say it was kicking. "It's just contractions, nothing to worry about."

Bill made a sigh of relief and took Aurora's hand in his.

"But I think you should take it a bit calmer now in the last weeks? It can be a sign that the baby wants out a bit early so don't do things that can provoke it."

Aurora nodded like a well mannered student and looked down at her big belly.

"Does she need to be on bedrest?" Asked Bill. He sounded more like the student that wanted to show how much he already knew.

"No, no. But maybe you can take care of your wife a bit extra? Doing life easy and pleasant. Maybe some massages and a bubble bath?" The doctor smiled playfully and Bill did the same until he saw his middle daughter in the doorway. She talked with her mother without looking at her dad and his wife.

"Hm?" Said the doctor to get an answer from Bill. Aurora gave his daughter a fast look too but looked away. For the moment she didn't like her so much. She stressed her and made Bill give their baby less attention. She was just a child, Aurora knew that but she was so worried for their baby while Bill's attention just drifted away.

Bill looked at Aurora who sat up on the couch, none of them had answered the doctor and the doctor looked more and more worried.

"Bill? I hope you know it's important for you to be there for Aurora right now. This must be your priority," the doctor said to Bill who looked at once bashful.

"Of course. Of course."

He swallowed dryly and began to help Aurora to sit comfortably but she thought it was halfhearted and once in a while he looked towards his middle daughter. He didn't even notice that his oldest daughter's boyfriend stood with his jeans unbuttoned.

Before the doctor left he said once again to Bill that he should care about his wife. Bill nodded with a strained smile. Of course he would take care of her, even if there were a lot of other things to think about.

"We're going now… Us two," said his ex when he had turned around from the outer door, waving at the doctor.

"What? No?" Bill said, shocked and upset and looked at his daughter.

"She needs to relax and it doesn't seem like she can find that here…" his ex nodded towards the couch where his other daughters sat with Aurora. Aurora was crying and they tried to comfort her with pats and hugs. Even the teenage boy sat on the coffee table in front of her and patted her knee. He felt bad by seeing it because he should be the one comforting his wife but right now he didn't have time for it.

"You will call when you feel ready, right?" Said his ex and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"But…" Bill said and tried to stop them from opening the door.

"Mom?" His oldest daughter stood suddenly next to him and Bill gave her a confused look. His ex and middle daughter looked at her with the same type of expression.

"Isn't it better if you're here? We are, we’re actually trying to be here for Lou right now. She's upset right now because she feels out of control and you don't make it better!" She said to her younger sister, upset. Her younger sister looked down at the rug.

"Don't talk like that to her, she's upset too," said their mother but Bill was quiet.

"What are you even upset about? What is it that you want? To have dad for yourself? For him to be with mom?"

"Stop it now, let her be!" Said their mother and Bill laid a calming hand on his oldest daughter's shoulder.

His middle daughter gave her older sister an angry look and tried to find the words she wanted to spit out.

"I just want a normal family!! I will never get that if he has a kid with Lou! He can never just divorce her and move on!" She screamed and pushed her way forward to the door. Their mother gave her oldest daughter and Bill an upset look and then ran after the girl. Bill dragged his hands over his face and leaned forward with his hands on his knees.

"Mom and you really must begin to see that she's just stupid. She is blaming Aurora for this weird ass period in her life. She is the one that must change."

Bill sighed, he didn't know if he should listen to her or not, either way he just wanted things to be easy again. All three of his daughters had loved Aurora and thought she was the best girlfriend he could have. They had even fixed the two of them together but suddenly his middle daughter seemed to think everything with Aurora was wrong. He walked into the living room where the others were. His youngest sat and patted Aurora's belly while Aurora sat close to Ahmen with his arm around her shoulders. He had buttoned his jeans now and looked respectable but Bill didn't like to see him there anyway. Ahmen was nineteen years old, a good guy but something with him comforting his wife felt off for Bill and he gave him a bit of an annoyed look. Not like he thought he made a pass on his wife, the boy just made him feel small.

"Thank you Ahmen… Can I take over now?" Bill said with a strained smile and Ahmen nodded carefully and looked down at Aurora. To both Bill and Ahmen's surprise, Aurora stood up instead and walked away without looking at Bill.

Bill pressed his eyes together with a frustrated face. He sat down on the coffee table with a sigh. Of course she would get angry now. To have so many females in his life could be a struggle because even if he felt he did everything right something was always wrong.

"Shouldn't you walk after her?" Said his oldest daughter, annoyed at her father.

"I think she may need some time alone…" he said with a resigning voice.

It wasn't meant for him to look at Ahmen but where he stood next to his daughter he saw his judging eyes. Like he knew anything about being married.

"Oh, right. She's mad that you don't care about her so your solution is to leave her alone," said his daughter with a growing anger in her voice.

Bill bit his jaws together and looked at her angrily. It was just too much to get berated by her in front of her boyfriend.

"I know you care about Aurora but sometimes you must understand a marriage isn't always as easy as you think."

While they were deep in their argument they didn't notice the youngest girl walking away, up the stairs to look after Aurora. She found her in the armchair in the nursery with her legs thrown over the armrest and a Bambi stuffy in her arms. Aurora looked at the girl with big eyes and wet cheeks.

"Hey…" she tried to smile and dried her cheeks. "I'm sorry for making a scene like that…"

Bill's daughter gave her a small smile and sat down by her side, on the floor. She laid her small girl hand on Aurora's belly and patted softly. Aurora smiled at her warmly and then looked down at her nails. They were glittery from their day together at the saloon.

"I'm sad sometimes too," said the girl and stood up on her knees to be able to pat her belly better.

"Why?" Asked Aurora worriedly and played with her step daughter's hair.

The girl shrugged her shoulders with a smile.

"I hope you know you can come to me and talk if you want," said Aurora.

She nodded and looked down at Aurora's belly.

It was quiet between them a minute or so until the girl said her youngest big sister made her sad sometimes. Not because she was mean to her but she acted strangely.

"Your sister is in a tough age now, it happens a lot and she grows fast," said Aurora. The girl nodded and then smiled towards Aurora.

"That's probably why she is so weird towards you too. And the baby."

Aurora smiled. It was actually comforting hearing that from the young girl.

"I love you, sweetie," said Aurora and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you too, Lou."

Bill's youngest daughter was different from her sisters. While Bill's oldest was mostly alike their aunt Eija or a female version of Bill himself, their middle daughter was more alike the women on their mother's side. His youngest was harder to put a finger on who she was alike. She missed that Scandinavian shyness, the pensive ways and the control of her feelings. She wasn't fully alike Aurora either but she had more in common with her than her parents. Maybe she had been affected by Aurora or she just had an idol. Aurora didn't really notice it was that way because the girl was happy and sweet to everyone.

She had a hard time understanding why her older sister was like she was towards Aurora. For her, Aurora wasn't an addition to her family but just as a natural part of it as everyone else. And the baby just made it all better. It was exciting and she loved the small clothes and the thought of having a soft baby to hug, bathe and play with.

And Aurora was the most talented person she knew and she didn't think anything about Aurora's history of doing quite daring photoshoots. All celebrities did that, even their dad.

"I think you're the best," the girl said to Aurora and laid her head on her shoulder. Aurora felt her eyes tear up again.

"Honey…" she said and kissed the girls head several times.

When she looked up she saw Bill standing in the doorway, looking at them with love in his eyes. He also looked a bit sad and worried but didn't say anything, like he didn't want to interrupt.

"Hey…" he said carefully and dragged his hands over his hips nervously. He knew he was in the wrong but didn't really know why or how. He needed to say sorry but couldn't say how he would have done anything differently. Aurora looked at him and then down at his daughter.

"I should probably talk to your dad…"

The girl nodded, gave Aurora's belly a kiss and then left the room on running feet. Bill would otherwise tell her to not run in the house but now he let her be. He sucked his lips so his dimples became prominent but not of joy as they usually would deepen by.

Aurora dragged her hands over her belly without looking at him. The baby moved around and she could feel a faint pain again, a contraction. She knew that now but it still hurt.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were stressed and sad… But…" he sighed and sat down on the round white rug. "But I don't know what to do with her…" Aurora knew he meant his middle daughter and looked at him with sympathy but sadness.

"You know, this is just as much your daughter… Will you leave her again when one of your older daughters starts drama?"

Bill made an offended sound and dragged a hand over his face.

"You make me sound like the worst…"

"The doctor had just said our baby can come early, that's not good and you know it too but instead you give all your attention to her and left me alone, stressing me when it is the last thing I need."

Bill looked down at the rug. He heard that it was bad but he hadn't seen it that way when looking at his daughter's distant expression.

"She is just so far away and angry and…"

"I'm sorry but I will say the same thing as your oldest daughter. What has she got to be angry about? She has parents that love her, a big loving family, friends and money. The only thing she doesn't have is a round room and married parents."

Bill sighed and looked at Aurora. He heard what she was implying, that his middle daughter just was jealous of her unborn sister. He nodded and scratched his forehead. When he looked up at Aurora his eyes were glassy and she could see he actually held back tears.

"Baby…" she said lowly with a worried tone and crawled down to the floor to him with some struggle with the belly. They hugged closely with Aurora on her knees in front of Bill.

"I just don't want to be a bad father to any of my girls…" he dragged a hand over Aurora's belly and she looked between his hand and his pained face.

"You're the best dad, you must just learn that your daughters, all four of them will try to manipulate you in all ways to get what they want. You could only imagine what I did to get what I wanted of my dad. Do you really think he would have fixed a record deal for me when I was sixteen if I wasn't on him all the time?" She said with a little smirk and Bill looked back at her amused.

"And think about all those times your dad let Eija do things while you got berated."

Bill laughed and hugged Aurora closer to him.

"Okay, okay. I get it… I'm going to take off the silk gloves."

Aurora gave him a strange look and he smirked with a shoulder shrug.

×××

Bill and Aurora sat in the security car outside of the school. It was a discreet black car so nothing anyone would think would hide two international celebrities. Bill played with Aurora's hand while waiting for his two youngest daughters to come out from the school. Otherwise they walked down to the ferry by themselves where Bill met them by the harbor but this day Bill and Aurora would meet them by the school so he could talk with his middle daughter and get her to come along to their granddad's big Skarsgård dinner party. All of Bill's siblings were in Sweden for the moment and his father took the chance to gather them, even if he was now a bit too old to cook for so many people and instead got help from his kids. Bill's two youngest daughters loved when they got to meet all the Skarsgårds (his oldest had her own plans) and he knew his middle daughter would probably want to come, even if she was angry at him and his wife at the moment. He had just been able to talk with her on the phone a couple of times the last two weeks and had now decided to force her to see him, even if his ex didn't think it was the best idea.

When he saw his daughters he jumped out and walked towards them with a smile. He could feel people look at him but they let him be. The kids in school hadn't really seen anything with him and the adults wanted to be respectful towards the two pupils' dad and had also seen him before.

His youngest ran up to him and he lifted her up in his arms. She was always so happy to see him, even if he had forced her to eat porridge for breakfast that morning. His middle daughter looked at him annoyed but she seemed to be too conscious about the people surrounding them to make a scene.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, don't you remember? It's grandpa's dinner today," said he with a smile, pretending like everything was like it used to be. His youngest made an excited scream. Bill could see his older daughter also got excited and she nodded a little until…

"Oh shit, there’s Aurora Lou…"

Even if the young mom believed she spoke with a low voice several people on the school yard heard her, including the Skarsgårds. Others started to whisper and some kids even ran towards the black car. Aurora stood outside of the car, dressed in her 20s inspired black fringe dress and a white coat. Her har laid in perfect glossy dark waves and she had burgundy colored lipstick. Even with the pregnant belly she looked like a glamorous doll, in high heels. Bill's middle daughter made an angry grunt and looked at Aurora taking photos with her classmates. Bill swallowed a sigh. Of course Aurora should be able to get out of the car and he had no right to say she couldn't walk like she wanted but right then and there?

"Let's just go to grandpa?" She said sourly and Bill put her sister down and took her hand.

The kids had left when they came up to Aurora and she smiled brightly. She got a hug from the youngest daughter and she gave her a lip gloss from her handbag. She knew she wanted to have it if they should do something special. YSL, Lush Coconut.

His middle daughter just gave her a look, zooming in on the dark lips and the long manicured nails.

"Can't you just look normal for once?" She said to Aurora with an annoyed tone before jumping into the car.

Aurora stood totally still, looking out into the air. She smacked her lips and laughed sarcastically. Bill and his youngest daughter looked at her. They were also shocked his daughter had actually said something intentionally mean and afraid Aurora would start to cry.

"Hey… You are so beautiful, she doesn't mean…" said Bill and took her hands before she interrupted him.

"It's okay. I don't care. This is me. She just must get used to it."

Bill nodded but looked at her with big eyes.

"You're the prettiest in the whole world!" Said his youngest while putting on more and more lip gloss. Aurora smiled towards her and Bill kissed his wife's cheek and temple.

"You really are," he whispered and breathed in her sweet perfume.

"Hello? Are you coming?" His middle daughter had opened the car door and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but you, after the party we're going to talk about your attitude," said Bill authoritatively and with a serious look. She just rolled her eyes and closed the door again.

×××

The dinner was successful as it usually was, with good food, discussions and silly jokes. Bill had always liked that Aurora found her place so fast in the setting. She didn't try to be intelligent or theatrical as his exes had tried, instead she was sweet and curious. It was also obvious she came with knowledge they didn't have about music, fashion and gossip. To many's surprise, Stellan loved all the gossip she knew but he also had a weak spot for Aurora because of her looks. He was still a man even if he was old and his other son's girlfriends were also pretty but he had liked sensual brunettes and especially those who laughed at his jokes, or when it came to Aurora, giggled.

Bill and Aurora left quite early because she once again had problems with contractions. They even went down to the car before the kids so Aurora could be in a calmer setting.

Bill looked at her while she made pained noises in the back seat and pressed her eyes together, even the security guy looked back at her.

"Do you want me to drive to the hospital?" Said the security guy.

"No, no. It's okay, okay…" said Aurora out of breath and hugged Bill's hand. "I just want to go home."

Bill nodded and let her go but he looked at her worriedly. The doctor had said it was natural.

"I’ll go up and get the girls," he said and then ran up to the apartment again. To his surprise he met his middle daughter at the stairs.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"Noo… They’re just talking about politics…"

"Oh, go down to Aurora then, but she's still in pain, so you know," he said and then ran up the stairs. The girl sighed and walked down to the car. She furrowed her brows in confusion when she saw the security guy standing outside of the car, looking in through the backdoor.

"What is it?" The girl looked at him then at Aurora who had crawled up to a ball and cried.

"She says it's alright…" said the security guard but looked at Aurora worriedly. The girl looked at Aurora too. Her dad had said she was in pain, but this sort of pain? Would he leave Aurora like this?

Aurora made a loud pained sound and sobbed while tensing her whole body.

"This can't be okay?" Said the girl and jumped into the seat next to Aurora.

"Lou, Lou? I must just get dad…" to the girl's surprise took Aurora her hand and looked at her in panic.

"Please don't leave me!"

Bill's daughter didn't say anything but felt her heart beat in her chest with worry, both for Aurora and the baby. It wasn't time for her to give birth yet.

"I’ll call him okay?" She said but Aurora just cried.

Bill stood and tried to put on his youngest daughter’s outerwear on her. She was high on sugar and wanted to stay with all the others. Who left a party first?

"Aurora is really tired…" he started to explain when his phone rang. He looked at it and saw his daughter's number. His thought was that she was angry or even had run away so when he answered he tried to sound really calm.

"Dad, there’s something wrong with Aurora. I think she is about to give birth!"

It wasn't time yet. She was in week 34. Six weeks to go. The doctor had said it was okay but he had also said she shouldn't stress. Had he stressed her? Maybe the family dinner wasn't a good idea?

The thoughts spun in Bill's head while he ran down the stairs, even jumping down the final steps. His father and his wife had offered to take care of his daughters while he and Aurora went to the hospital so the youngest was still in the apartment.

As soon as he came out in the darkness of the autumn evening he heard Aurora's pained cry from the car. The security guard walked in a nervous circle outside of the car. Clearly child birth was something the beefy guy was afraid of. His daughter sat in the car next to Aurora and tried to make her breath calmly. Bill looked at her with big eyes and could see how engaged she was in helping Aurora.

"Hey honey can I…? He said to his daughter, meaning he wanted to come inside. She walked out but looked worried, like she believed her father wouldn't be able to help Aurora as well as her. She and the security guy jumped into the front seats of the car and he started to drive to Södersjukhuset, the hospital in South Stockholm. Aurora had been there with Bill one time before.

"Take it easy," said Bill while sitting close to Aurora.

"Take it easy? Take it easy?? Easy for you to say! It's not you who feels a head coming out from your genitals!" She screamed and cried. For a second Bill saw the image of himself she painted up in his head and he made a small laugh.

"Are you laughing??" Said Aurora with hurt feelings.

"No, no. Of course not. No… Now we breathe together, okay?"

They breathed together a while and Aurora looked at her husband who looked so calm.

"Have you any idea how often you’re having your contractions?" He asked softly. Aurora looked at him with big eyes and then she started to cry again.

"No!"

Bill tried to smile. He knew he must be really calm with her, if he needed to be calm with his ex he needed to be ten times calmer with Aurora, especially because it was so early to give birth. He reminded her again to breathe but she started to cry hysterically again.

"I think that was the water..!"

"That means the baby is coming, right?" Said his middle daughter and turned back towards them. Bill hadn't realized she sat there with them.

"Didn't you go up to grandpa?" He said stressed while dragging a hand over his face.

"No? You didn't say anything about that?" She said with attitude but got a scared expression when Aurora made a pained sound again.

"Just let her be, let her be," said Aurora and dragged her hands over her belly. "Have you called the midwife?"

She had her own midwife at the private hospital. They paid good money so they would be able to contact her whenever they needed her and now it was time. Bill took up his phone and tried to find the number with stressful hands while his daughter helped Aurora to breath. Just when Bill had found the number the car stopped and then the security guy opened the door for Aurora. They were by the hospital, Södersjukhuset, the wrong hospital.

"No, no, no..! This is wrong!" Cried Aurora.

"I'm sorry but you must get out. I can't handle this!" Said the security guy. Bill took down the phone and looked at the guy confused while Aurora continued to cry.

"This is your fucking job!" Said Bill angrily.

"Not to take care of screaming… Whatever!" Said the guy and crossed his arms.

Bill felt the heat blow up in his face and the anger exploding in him.

"Your going to jump into the car right fucking now or you will soon lay on one of those fucking stretchers!"

The guy looked at Bill. He wasn't really afraid of his threat but he realized who he was talking to when he saw Bill's murderous gaze. He was on his way to close the car door and jump in again when Aurora made a loud cry.

"I think it's coming! Now!"

The security guard froze again.

"Just give dad the keys!!" Shouted his daughter to the security guy and made him look at her puzzled.

"Give him the keys!" Screamed Aurora and finally the man gave Bill the keys to the car.

Bill drove with one hand and called the midwife with the other. His twelve year old daughter sat in the back trying to make Aurora breathe slowly and when Bill hung up after talking to the midwife he heard them breathe softly together.

"Continue to breathe… I'm just going to say that she is on her way and there are two nurses at the hospital so in a few minutes we will be there okay?" Bill said calmly and looked back at Aurora in the rearview mirror. She nodded while hugging his daughter's hands hard who answered with giving Aurora a little smile. She wouldn't confess it but she was so happy being a part of this and while looking at Aurora being in such pain but still continuing to fight she promised she would never be mean to her again. And soon she would have a little baby sister.

×××

The first part of the birth had gone so quickly so it seemed like they would have a baby just a few hours later but then suddenly it calmed down and the contractions stopped being as painful. Bill sat in an armchair in the hospital room while Aurora walked around in a big white silky shirt. She had refused to have the hospital's nightgowns so she had bought silk men's shirts and Bill had got them from home. His middle daughter sat in the other armchair looking at Aurora with big eyes. Bill had called her mother but she was out with friends and the only one who could get her by car was Sam but he would be off work in two hours so for now she was there with them.

"I didn't know you had decided a name," she said and bit her thumb nail.

"We have an idea but we want to meet her first," said Aurora and smiled a little towards Bill. He smiled back with his cheek in his hand. He actually loved the name, it was Aurora who had come up with it but it fit the little girl he thought they would get. That she would have big Bambi eyes was obvious.

When the midwife came in, Aurora looked at Bill's daughter.

"Now I want some privacy, okay?"

"Why?" Said the girl, disappointed.

"Because the midwife is going to put her hand in my pussy," said Aurora bluntly and Bill laughed awkwardly.

"Okay, honey, you don't need to see that!" Said Bill and stood up from the chair.

"I don't mind?" She said and shrugged her shoulders. Aurora laughed a little.

"You're weird as hell."

The girl smirked.

"So are you! Having a kid with my old dad!" The girl joked. Bill laid a hand on her shoulder and laughed with the three women in the room.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now we go out and wait so…"

"I can get a hand in my pussy," filled Aurora in and made his daughter laugh again.

That was the last Bill's middle daughter saw Aurora that night. Gustaf had borrowed Sam's car and got her. Bill was by his wife's side the long, hard delivery and 11 hours later he watched her birth their little, tiny baby girl.

Isadora Li Paula My Skarsgård.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #lou

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jackjackattacks · 4 months

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jack parr is based on jack-jack from the incredibles. they are a 26-year-old superhuman and temp. they use they/them pronouns. they have the power of polymorphing, telekinesis, teleportation, laser-vision and self-duplication. they are portrayed by liv hewson.

BASICS.

full name: jack j. parr.

nicknames: jack-jack, jj.

age: twenty-six.

gender: non-binary.

pronouns: they/them.

sexuality: (vague hand-wavey gesture).

occupation: temp @ the chronicle.

date of birth: tba.

face claim: liv hewson.

parents: bob parr (father), helen parr (mother).

siblings: violet parr (older sister), dash parr (older brother).

powers: polymorphing, telekinesis, teleportation, laser-vision, self-duplication.

SUMMARY.

jack was last to the party that is the parr family and is therefore the perpetual baby of the family, for better or worse.

on the one hand, it gets annoying feeling like you have to catch up on everything that happened when you didn't exist - or were learning to walk and talk - and feeling like you're always going to be seen as a child who needs to be taken care of or managed.

on the other hand, they love the attention and being able to get away with things if they play it right. they had the waterworks down when they wanted to get someone in trouble (usually dash), at least until they got old enough for that to stop working.

their powers came a little late, but they made up for lost time with variety and quantity - though, luckily for their parents' sanity, the list was not as endless as it first seemed. more than anything, they were full of potential - bursting with it.

as they grew up, they grew into their powers and themself. the chaotic mess settled into something they could control, even though all that energy is still waiting under their skin.

they figured out the gender thing around the end of middle school. dash was the first to have any indication, mostly because he was jack's authority on "boy things". then violet (the authority on "girl things"). their parents were the last to know, mostly because they wanted to be able to explain it properly.

despite feeling there were some things they'd missed out on, they still know they belong in their family. and the older they got, the more they got right in the middle of things and ensured they wouldn't miss out on any more. they only got more confident as they got more comfortable with their powers and themself. they grew into someone who could light up the room, who could help people, and who would follow their big brother into trouble (it's not their fault if he's a bad influence).

then came evermore.

they might as well have always been here. it's the only home they remember. they kept their memories of their family - thank god - but the control over their powers took a hit and that was... well.

they've done their best to avoid their family finding out their power struggles. they aren't hiding it exactly... well, okay, they are but they try not to actively lie about it. they just keep thinking about the stories they've been told about the chaos they caused when they were little. they don't want their family to worry, and they don't want to be a problem. they're not a kid anymore, they don't need to be managed. they'll be fine. it's not like they're thrown into emotional turmoil too often, anyway, right? they'll figure it out.

TIDBITS.

they stopped going by jack-jack a while ago. or tried to. that's never really stopped their family, no matter how much they insist it sounds childish. (they don't actually mind, but they've gotta put up some protest.)

they listen to music when they're working if they can get away with it. it's a habit picked up from their auntie edna, and helps them focus. when they're practising their powers, they tend to listen to mozart.

they like watching old movies from the fifties and sixties.

they're a mediocre cook but make a killer mac and cheese.

they collect fashion magazines and fabric samples. if they have a free weekend and don't know what to do, they'll make a fashion mood board.

the smoke alarms at their place are all switched off. don't worry about it, though. it's fine. (if anything catches fire it'll be them and they'll be very aware of it without any loud beeping noises, thank you very much).

skater kid. can still do all the cool tricks. no, it is not cheating to use telekinesis to make yourself look cooler, shut up.

they shamelessly steal clothes from both their siblings' wardrobes. they are not subtle and they are not sorry. if anything, they are judgmental.

they like reading comics. partly just because they think they're cool, but partly out of an almost morbid fascination with what other people think the deal is with superheroes.

they have an eclectic collection of stuff left over from hobbies they started and then forgot about. yoga, origami, jewelry making, who knows what else. they'll circle back around to it all eventually.

they are more of an ambivert than most people would assume based on first impression - they are energetic and friendly, yeah, but sometimes they need to slow down and breathe before they explode. on their quiet days they curl up with a book or a project, sometimes wordlessly crashing on a friend's (or sibling's) couch if they don't want to be entirely alone.

they keep their hair short, but still long enough that they can ask violet to braid it. maybe they're too old for that now, but it helps them calm down and feel close to violet without making her talk to them.

they were homeschooled for a little bit during elementary school. it seemed like the safer option - both for jack and the other kids. and better safe than sorry seems best when your kid can burst into flames.

they tend to feel things with their whole body, especially now their control of their powers is messed up. if they let it, their feelings can become a self-perpetuating cycle; getting upset, their powers getting volatile, getting upset about their powers, and so on. bottling things up never works well for them, so they try not to.

it's not that jack wishes they were normal, exactly. they just wish, sometimes, that things were easier. that their powers were only ever exciting, rather than a responsibility. that the world could take care of itself for a little bit. it's almost a guilty pleasure, not having the weight of the world on their shoulders at evermore.

their powers - especially their polymorphing - work intuitively, which is both a blessing and a curse. relying on instincts and feelings is good when it turns your body to steel when someone tries to punch you. the real problems are in everyday life, when you don't want to burst into flames because you got excited or shoot laser beams when you glare at something. the trick they're trying to relearn is balancing instinct with caution and, you know, thinking. and making sure they don't let their powers build up so much that they explode.

#evermorehqsintro #ABOUT.

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darkfinch · 2 years

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how was the Lethal Weapon viewing experience? I remember you mentioning Convergence a couple times, and of course the Kittyfangs Saga has been a whole thing, but I don't remember if you've talked about Lethal Weapon. (I've never seen any of these and don't intend to, just curious.)

I do not think you are prepared for my response to this question unfortunately i am So sorry

……..sigh. the thing about lethal weapon is that it is fundamentally, structurally batshit. it is not a television show. it is an ordeal

* tw for suicidal ideation , suicide, depression, child death, pregnancy, bad television. also some spoilers for lethal weapon *

so in theory lethal weapon is a "television show" based on the 1987 film of the same name, where buddy cop character #1 (played by damon wayans) is a normal suburban dad with a cool wife and some cool kids (AND AN EXCEPTIONALLY ADORABLE BABY) who is heading back to work after getting a pacemaker.

buddy cop character #2 (played by our own mr crawford) is one hundred and sixty-seven layers of trauma bundled into one openly suicidal thing of pure chaos, currently transferring in to this police department after having suddenly lost his wife and baby a few months earlier

the thing is, damon wayans was brought in on the premise of this being a like, a funny lighthearted feel-good show primarily focused on his character and his character's adorable suburban family

clayne crawford was brought into this on the premise that they were going to let him do some absolutely gut-wrenching character shit (his most cherished thing to do, guy loves 2 be a man with problems) and a lot of fun action scenes

instead of blending these two concepts together into any kind of coherent media experience, what happens is that the creative team on this show (with help from a ton of behind-the-scenes bullshit no one will ever have enough time to dig through) ended up essentially making TWO INDIVIDUAL TELEVISION SHOWS and then stapling them together and praying

the results: *muffled distant screaming over upbeat pop music*

i genuinely cannot stress enough how much these two halves of this television show refuse to interact with one another on any level. Like. i am talking about clayne crawford experiencing beautifully shot sequences of suicidal ideation to sad indie music, hard cut, sitcom hijinks with this cute suburban family

the imperceptible Effect that this creates is that clayne crawford is doing all of his incredible fucked up character shit, experiencing grief in his illegally-parked trailer, walking along the edges of rooftops, casually mentioning that he wants to die, detailing his plan for how he’d kill himself Out Loud To His Partner with absolutely minimal prompting — and no one is allowed to engage with it, because they’re operating on funny show logic, and that would be a Bummer

i am not kidding :^) they're genuinely all just like "oh weird" *smash cut to drone footage of, like, LA or whatever, to upbeat pop music*

Iike i cannot convey what is happening in the show. The extent of it. wayans walks in on crawford holding a gun to his own head and it's treated like "oops i walked in on my coworker doing something awkward" they are ONE step away from awkward sitcom music, it is Not discussed in any meaningful way,

crawford’s OUT LOUD like "i have nothing to live for" and wayans (who is not a good coworker or a good friend) is like *offended voice* "well if you think THAT then maybe you SHOULD go kill yourself" *storms out* HEY HI HELLO. WHAT IN FUCK

unsolicited example number 3: crawford’s having a Bad Night, and he goes out and deliberately provokes a bunch of dudes in a bar into beating him half to death (possibly so that he doesn’t have to go to the family dinner he’s been invited to by wayans, who has a house and a family—AND a baby the same age his own kid would be if his pregnant wife had not died On The Way to the hospital to give birth, less than a year ago). Wayans calls him while he’s bleeding in the middle of the road to chew him out for missing the dinner. Wayans is like “this is really hurtful to me, you’ve hurt me” which is very extremely funny because crawford is physically hurt right now. Later crawford shows up to work beat up and wayans is like “oh weird” and they don’t have a real conversation abt it MOVING ONNN FUN SOUNDTRACK

but don't worry they're friends they're so so close they're Dude Buddies, Guy Friends, Family Even, HURT NO COMFORT TELEVISION SHOW,

This "television" "show" will not stop talking about mental health but the mental healths of the show are bad. For instance:

This man lives off of classic depression meals Exclusively, he visibly does not take care of himself, he’s barely getting out of bed in the morning, he says he likes weekends because he can lie on his couch and dissociate for 48 hours without any societal expectations, (HE’S, AGAIN, OPENLY DISCUSSING THAT HE WOULD LIKE TO NOT BE ALIVE), and it takes most of a season for his cop-assigned therapist to be like “wait holy shit?? like i might be reaching here but…..have you considered that you might have…………..The Depression. Textbook even. woah” and i lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling and netflix autoplays the next episode

It really only gets worse as the show goes on, because the people in charge of this production had to lie to and finagle these actors into working together again for season 2 (nonono don't worry, wayans reeaaaally wants to be here, we're gonna make this one single coherent television show don't WORRY)

we find out in s2 that crawford’s character’s life has been horrifying from the jump and he has never had even a goddamn SECOND of peace, but because he can’t talk through this information with any other character (because they don’t care on more than a surface level, because that would be weird and a bummer) he’s having these entirely internal character arcs and backstory revelations and they are CONTAINED EXCLUSIVELY within solo scenes and flashbacks in his half of the show

but also for it to be a heartwarming buddycop scenario, he has to hang out with the suburban family and get to know the wife and the kids etc etc, which he does —but they can’t know Him or anything about his situation, because that’s not suburbia-sitcom-vibe-appropriate, so they don’t. Faux found family. Found family like how your employer’ll be like “we’re a family here” and you’re like “uh oh”

(like. you know how people are like "well my dnd character wouldn't ever talk about his tragic backstory and wouldn't really want to work with people" and it's like okay jeremy, but this is fiction, so if you want the story to work you sometimes have to find a way to Make Them Do That. that's one of the thousand curses of this televisioned showe)

AND THE THING IS, the thing is, right, this show is actually so fucking good at times. I’m saying it i will say it it has SHINING MOMENTS of brilliance. Mr. Crawford’s hair is wonderful. The traditional cop show side characters are a delight. The soundtrack is fun. The suburban wayans family are my family and i love them. There ARE cute buddy cop moments it IS fun i DO love the antics i DO love mr crawford nailing the “comedic manic glee -> ohhhhhh im weeping abt lethal weapon” quickchange

(AND, if we take a step to the left, the show can be read as a stumbling commentary on the isolation that often comes with mental illness and grief etc etc. if we squint and offer more credit than is deserved)

But the dialogue is frequently Quite bad, one half of the main buddycop duo comes off as being entirely apathetic and self-centred and just bizarrely Incurious, the writing is........writing (my FAVOURITE scene is where crawford’s lad has a drunken one-night-stand, feels like he’s cheated on his wife, goes to a crime scene feeling extremely Crisis about it, and then wayans sees him and goes “sinner”. And crawford points to himself like :’0 “me?” but it turns out “sinner” was carved into the victims’ chest I TAKE IT BACK i love this dumb fucking show)

(also. it imploded behind the scenes, which i'm not going to go into here because it's a lot of unnecessary nonsense, but end result was that The Powers That Be were like "crawford's the problem we're replacing him" when in reality wayans didn't want to be there and everyone was miserable and nothing was working. his Section of the show ends weirdly, and then they do one (1) season with a new character in his place, and no one watches it, and then the show ends dlksjhflkjsh)

Anyway lethal weapon is a Harrowing thing to witness and perceive especially if you have struggled with depression or know folks who have, but it is also funny and ?? fun ??? clayne crawford has been given fun angst bones to chew on in his acting enclosure he is doing Such a good job, it also put him off of non-indie projects completely and is Bad and i cannot in good faith ever recommend it but i did binge watch 1.5 seasons of it TWICE so like maybe it just gives you brain damage idk. Hate it tho. Hate the media

TLDR: it sure is something

#yes but if u see mr crawford please ask him if his back still hurts from carrying this show for 2 seasons.....#stop making me want to rewatch lethal weapon it was a terrible media experience. mr crawford did a good job tho & so did the suburban kids #mr crawford also now makes movies with a bunch of the cast & crew from the show which is nice i guess #finchtalks

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silversiren1101 · 1 year

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Sensory prompts: 45. The creak of leather for Mino please?

TW: Whipping and not the fun kind! This is a moment that will happen in the pre-game canon long fic... A rather formative moment in a young Hellknight's career. This is rather dark so feel free to skip if it's uncomfy!

She didn't know what kept her from giving the reaction he was clearly looking for. As Maralictor Ryvel crossed the "ten lashes" threshold then for the third time over, she still didn't react. At first, it had been a matter of acceptance and deference. She'd spoken out of turn, and while she didn't believe what she said had been wrong--

"You can't just expect us to leave comrades to die in such a situation?! Won't that just sow chaos and distrust among units and ranks?"

--she had spoken out of emotional impulse, guided by anger rather than logic, rudely interrupting him in the middle of exercises. Now, she was being punished for it, a reprimand as she had rightfully earned--but that 'rightfulness' had now twice additionally been violated. Ten lashes had turned into twenty without announcement, and now they were lapping on thirty. She hadn't reacted to a single swipe across her back at all, because the punishment had been rightfully earned and she was taking it with grace, as she thought was expected of a would-be Hellknight. That had apparently been wrong, as the growing frustration in her Maralictor's grunts and the increasing harshness of the whip to her back told her he wanted her to cry out.

It had started as respect and as grace, but what was it now that kept her standing firm? That expression on her face hard as she breathed evenly and tuned out the stinging heat running down her spine, barely anything compared to the wax and tar and blades she'd taken there before as a literal child? Spite, maybe. Pride, also maybe. All she knew was that this and he were wrong, because everything she'd read so far in the Chain told her that punishment wasn't for cruelty's sake, and he clearly wanted to see her react in pain. He was breaking the contract he'd implicitly set up between them and she willingly submitted to: ten lashes for her disruptive outburst and disrespect of rank.

As the lash count steadily reached forty, still, she did not react. The dead nerves and scars already down her spine lended themselves to her well here as she stared straight ahead into the increasingly unsettled eyes of the other armigers made to watch this as a 'lesson.' Some were worried. Some were nauseous. Some were afraid. Others... others were angry, she could see that anger, this perversion of the power an officer had over a subordinate. Good, she assumed they agreed with her, the reason she didn't just cry out and make it all end.

Pride? Spite? To make a point? No. To stand by the burgeoning ideals each lash was scarring into her soul right here and now? Something like that.

Fifty.

Sixty.

There was a ringing in her ears but still she stood, and unfortunately, for Ryvel she barely felt any individual swipe anymore over the angry, burning, stinging mess that was her entire back at this point. The wet heat on the back of her legs told her it was a bloody thing, but it was almost easier to tune out this way when it was one mass rather than individual impacts.

Seventy.

The sun had already started to set over Rivad's battlements, plunging everything into cold shadow. It was harder now, to keep from shivering from the wet blood turning chill. That would be too close to being mistaken as the reaction he wanted and she refused to give him because this wasn't what they had agreed upon. Ten lashes for speaking out. Nearly a hundred for refusing to kneel to pain and whimper for him like a good little girl? Could she actually make it to one-hundred, she wondered?

Eighty.

There was a tang in her mouth by this point, something like bile and acid. She'd stopped seeing those eyes staring back at her by now, vision a swirl of haze and cloudiness. Did they still agree? Couldn't Ryvel see this would only sow that distrust she had spoken of? If they couldn't expect fair, consistent punishment, wouldn't that encourage lying and disrespect for him? Was he so cruel as to be stupid...? But still, no one had stopped him...

Ninety.

...why had no one stopped him?

She didn't feel anything anymore. She didn't see, either, just heard that sound. That whip crack, the snap of leather, the wet sound of her back immediately after chased by the soft exhale of her lungs from the impact. No one had stopped him so. Was she in the wrong here? No, no this wasn't what the books said... wasn't what the other officers had so far told them and taught them... But why was no one doing any--

"--HUEAGH!" The choked gasp escaped from her unwillingly on lash ninety-six, as the leather bit into something deeper than just ruined flesh. Her entire body convulses, played like a jerked marionette by the nerve exposed and struck. The ground was cold as her chin struck the dust dirt, and only then did she feel each and every individual lash Ryvel had cruelly given her as her body jerked involuntarily a few seconds longer.

Over it all, as something dark rushed in the claim her, she could hear him barking something. Orders? No... it was in that lecturing tone again and sounding so unaffected aside from the slight husk of exertion. Whatever it was he'd said was lost on her as he wound the whip about his gauntleted fist, and that creak of leather chased her into the dark.

She will wake up in the infirmary after, her wounds healed despite Hellknights having a policy of no-healing after punishment and reckonings as otherwise that defeats the point. She is ordered to report to the Paralictor's office to "discuss her part in what happened" where she learns that multiple onlookers did rightfully report Ryvel for gross breach of duties and excessive punishment, and she gets to have a candid talk with the Paralictor on the meaning of lawfulness and the responsibilities of leadership over subordinates, and that cruelty is just a troublesome and corrupting emotion as love or mercy. It also shapes a lot of her personal ideals as a leader and gets her noticed among the higher ranks... and by her peers.

#silversirenwrites #oc: minovae arangeir #tw: torture #tw: whipping #hellknights #pwotr pals #wrath of the righteous

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princesssarisa · 1 year

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Character Ask: Yakko, Wakko and Dot (Animaniacs)

Three of my favorite characters from childhood! Thank you for this!

Favorite thing about them: Where to start? They're hilarious. They excel at every form of humor from broad slapstick to sophisticated wit – they're like a cross between Bugs Bunny and the Marx Brothers, and are worthy successors to both. They're wonderful agents of chaos who make fools of stuffy authority figures and others who take themselves too seriously. Yet they have enough warmth and friendliness to make them endearing to us even as they annoy people in-universe, especially because they (usually) only annoy people who deserve it. Last but not least, they sing so many great songs!

Least favorite thing about them: Probably the "Helloooo, nurse!" gag – the way Yakko and Wakko catcall and throw themselves at any sexy woman they see. Though I don't find it as offensive as some viewers do, since Dot's annoyance whenever they do it shows that in-universe it's not supposed to be okay. But then Dot always does it herself whenever a well-muscled man shows up.

Three things I have in common with them:

*Like Yakko, I can be sarcastic sometimes.

*Like Wakko, I love food.

*Like Dot, I seem girly and sweet on the surface, but you shouldn't mess with me.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm an only child.

*I'm not nearly as witty as Yakko or Dot.

*I've never lived in a water tower.

Favorite line: Too many to list, especially from Yakko.

brOTP: Each other.

OTP: None. They flirt with many, but would lose some of their essential chaos if they committed to one.

nOTP: Each other in any combination – I don't do incest shipping.

Random headcanon:

(1) They could have left the water tower at any time during the decades they were imprisoned there. They can teleport, after all. They just chose to wait sixty years and then stage a big "escape" because it was more exciting and dramatic than if they had just teleported straight out.

(2) When they filmed Wakko's Wish, Yakko's tears in Dot's "death" scene were real. Even though it was only a movie, and even though within the movie itself Dot is faking it, the idea of losing his little sister really was emotional for him. Dot and Wakko still tease him about it to this day.

Unpopular opinion: I haven't watched much of the current reboot (only a few episodes, which just didn't have the magic of the original series for me), but I think it was unnecessary for "Dot is cute" to be replaced with "Dot has wit" in the theme song. Yes, I know, we don't want to define female characters just by "cuteness" anymore... but Dot was never defined just by her cuteness. She's always been humorously aware of her cuteness, arrogant about it, and willing to use it to manipulate people, as well as (yes) witty, smart, sassy, feisty, and hot-tempered. Calling her "cute" in the theme song is no more reductive than "Yakko yaks" and "Wakko packs away the snacks" – there's much more to Yakko than his motor mouth and to Wakko than his eating, but I don't see anyone complaining about those lyrics!

Song I associate with them:

It's hard to choose because they've sung so many unforgettable songs, but I'll pick the songs that are most iconic for each of them.

"Yakko's World"

youtube

"Wakko's America"

youtube

"I'm Cute"

youtube

And of course, the theme song.

youtube

Favorite picture of them:

#character ask #animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #ask game #fictional characters

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rise-alchemy · 2 years

Text

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts as I watch Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Episodes 3-4

I’m already getting Five Night’s at Freddy’s vibes from this episode.

That kid trapped in the claw machine is surprisingly supportive.

How is it April’s fault that Alberto broke down after a kid threw an entire pint of root beer into his mouth?

Where is the manager? This kind of thing should be his job!

How many times have the boys masqueraded as birthday robots to get free pizza from this place?

“I upgraded my upgrade in the middle of my upgrade.”

Honestly Donnie’s upgrades to the band are super cool - just look at that fluidity!

Ah. Yes. There’s the chaos.

Poor Alberto…

WHERE is the kitchen staff? Freddy’s is better staffed than this!

OH GEEZ HE’S SENTIENT NOW

“You know what? Turns out I cannot fix this.”

“Who wants to play a little game of ‘Running to Safety’?”

Seriously, WHERE is this manager? This kind of detachment from the business day is SUPER unprofessional.

You know what, better question: WHERE ARE TIMMY’S PARENTS?!

Has that poor child been trapped in the claw machine this whole time??

PRESIDENT PEPPERONI???

That wasn’t even the highest scoring slot in Skeeball! I should know - that game used to be my jam.

The manager absolutely bought himself that trophy.

“I’m gonna crack you open like a birthday piñata!”

“You can’t be the king of birthday parties without having one of your own!”

APRIL NO! Donnie actually got through to him with that cake and song.

Ugh. With the way that cake crumbled, I think the birthday kids dodged a bullet by not eating it.

The manager sure isn’t happy and April lost her job, but at least Timmy had the best birthday of his life.

Do we ever circle back to Alberto not being 100% dead? That’d be pretty cool.

---

Aah! This is where the worm guy comes from!

EW GROSS DON’T KISS THAT MIRROR! Do you see those stains?!

How is this man able to pay the rent for that apartment as a giant worm.

Raph is really attached to that hippo suit.

WHY does Donnie have a bottle of female hippo scent?

WHERE did Warren get a piece of flypaper that big?

D’aww! Mikey in the background just vibing out on the spring ride.

LEO WHAT DID YOU DO-

“He was ON my HEAD. I PANICKED.”

Pfft! The boys just leave Warren in the park to regenerate with his insides on the outsides.

WHERE did Warren get those fully functional non-integrated prosthetic legs?

Yo Warren don’t throw Clem’s phone at him! He was nice enough to let you borrow it in the first place!

“You ruined that woman’s 95th birthday.”

Raph: “Be careful.” *shoves Mikey through a hole in the roof to a 20ft drop*

OH. OOOOH, NO. NO NO NO. I HATE WARREN’S BUFF WORM LOOK-

“He’s Current Occupant!”

“I am Current Occupant!”

“Finally! The thing we actually care about!”

“This has been the WORST mating season!” Hypno have-…have you been through more than one…?

I am absolutely stealing Hypno’s hypno scream for later use.

WAS HYPNO GOING TO JUST DISEMBOWEL MIKEY RIGHT THERE ON THE FLOOR? GOOD LORD!

Gotta say, I’m a sucker for villains fighting to protect heroes because “I’M the only one allowed to kill them!”.

WARREN! Put those worm nips away!!!

Leo absolutely knows who Warren is. He’s just messing with him at this point.

---

How fast were these Jupiter Jim movies being churned out if there were sixty of them made in, like, just a few decades?

“OH NO! A MUTANT! …oh, wait. We’re mutants, too.”

These boys don’t understand how money works, and that’s a Vibe.

I want to know how Repo Mantis holds things with those claws.

Aaaaa! A Tototo reference!!!

So…are all of these mutants the result of the Oozesquitos? Or were there mutants/Yokai living in and around New York before then?

PUPPIES! PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PU-. Ahem. Yes. Puppies.

“That honestly tastes exactly like sunshine.”

Donnie: “We’ve got to be tough with him. Hard as nails!”

Mikey: *finishes his lemonade* “Hard as nails!”

Todd hasn’t made a payment in two years?? My GUY, how do you still have functioning utilities?!

“I’m in something squishy. I AM IN SOMETHING SQUISHY.”

Even that umbrella is threadbare…

I love that it was Donnie’s idea to build a brand new puppy sanctuary to trade for the RV.

WHERE did all of this raw material come from??

ngl the end result is pretty darn beautiful.

Was that moon buggy always fully functional and fully fueled? Or did Repo Mantis fix it up himself?

WHY DOES THAT MOON BUGGY HAVE A FUNCTIONAL TURBO MODE???

Those pedestrians are having a terrible day, but honestly? They’ve probably had worse.

So uh…how is Donnie planning to get that moon buggy down into the sewers?

---

Do the boys have an entire arcade room all to themselves in the Lair? That’s so cool!!

Splinter has the cutest darn sneeze I’ve ever heard and that’s not fair.

Splinter: “I feel terrible. Do I look terrible? Be honest.”

The boys: *all screaming*

Raph, lying through his teeth: “You look great!”

I absolutely do not trust Donnie with uranium.

I’m with Leo - matching unicorn onesies would be adorable.

“Buckle up, boys. It’s about to get weird.”

How fast does Splinter’s fur grow back if, every year, when he inevitably gets sick and feels too hot from the fever, he shaves himself bald?

“He loves pizza in confined spaces you can barely breathe in!”

These stage names are killing me but in the best way.

How badly did these bouts of sickness go for them before they figured out these elaborate plans and procedures to deal with them? Did one of the boys miraculously miss out on the bug one year and saw the chaos from the outside?

Stage 6: Fan Fiction.

Listen. Listen. I know a couple spoilers about this show. How could I not? That said: IS SPLINTER WRITING FAN FICTION ABOUT HIMSELF???

Leo just becomes a big ol’ cuddle bug when he’s sick.

I don’t believe stage seven lasted nearly as long as the boys think it did. I think Splinter was messing with them.

#OOC #rottmnt #((this one got a little long...))#((maybe I should start cutting these))

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