#the monkey paw has closed another finger

[old-man-hell]

me, sleep-deprived and shaking: one more........one more obscure role.....

#i found it #i found the cursed grail #the monkey paw has closed another finger #ample footage but sooooo cursed i am SCREAMING #john aprea what were you DOING #i'm...genuinely speechless

[writerscornercafe]

WCC's Round Robin #7 & #8

Thank you so so much to @tommokat (pink) @thinlinez (green) and @beelou (red) for participating in another Round Robin session and writing this amazing crack fic! I hope you all have a great laugh as much as we did!

“Harry. My love.”

“Yes?” Harry singsongs back to Louis, although it comes out like ‘yeth’ from the banana in his mouth.

“Are you going to do anything besides eat bananas with Mildred today?”

Harry frowns at Louis and shares a look with Mildred. “Why would I do that?”

“Because we have a lot to do today. Because we bought a zoo!”

“We bought an animal sanctuary, actually.” Harry takes another bite of banana and passes more to Mildred. “Honestly, between this one and your Frank, I don’t know how we put up with these monkeys, Mildred.”

Louis stares at him. “Mildred is literally a monkey.”

“I mean, if you want to be technical about it, we all are, but I didn’t know we were being pedantic about it.”

Louis sighs and drops his head into his hands. “Just make sure you give some bananas to Frank and Ricco as well, please? They’re not just for your girl time with Milly.” Harry sends him a kiss and Louis knows he’s been heard (and played). “I’m going to go feed the otters and then check in with Niall.” He turns to walk out the office door and completely fails to not laugh at Harry’s shouted ‘Awake the Kraken!’ behind him.

Louis walks down the dirt path, nodding in greeting to the volunteers he walks by. He stops to get the bucket of fish for the otters from the kitchen and is on his way to the otter habitat. How they even got into this is really a blur for him. One minute Harry is looking at properties to buy and the next, he makes the transaction for a zoo. Harry insists on calling it an animal sanctuary, but a zoo is what it is. 

The otters are one of his favorite animals, though. They’re just so cute and have so much personality. Louis never realized that animals could have so much gumption before this. For that, he is grateful to learn. It’s been stressful at times, of course, but all in all, it’s been fun.

A splash from beside the otter habitat makes him look up, bit of crayfish dangling from his fingers as Niall pokes his head up.

"Awake so early?" Louis raises a brow as he teasingly waves the food at the squid whose head was bobbing above the water, huge eyes tracking his every move. "Guess you must have smelled the food, but these aren't for you…" 

Niall does a flip disappearing under the surface and splashing a decent amount of water over the brim of his tank. Louis doesn't get why Niall loves to throw tantrums. He and Harry had especially gotten the huge tank just for him and had even moved the tanks of eels and turtles to the other side of the sanctuary. Niall was too spoiled for his own good. 

Louis shakes his head as he walks away, knowing full well that he would come back soon to give the spoiled squid his full English breakfast. 

“Alright, friends!” Louis calls as he makes it into the otter compound. “Who’s ready for breakfast?”

He takes his time with the little creatures, making sure each of them get greeted with joy and a fair share of the food. There’s 13 of them in total, but Louis wouldn’t mind if the whole zoo was only otters. An otter-only zoo. He has confessed as much to Harry and was told it would be ‘an otter-ly amazing zoo.’ Always with the puns, that one is.

“I shared it with Frank and Ricco. Frank said thank you, Ricco just rolled his eyes at me. I don’t think Ricco likes me that much.”

Louis pats the concrete next to where he’s sitting and wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders when he cuddles close. “Think maybe that’s because you eat all of his food and take the attention of his mother all the time?”

Harry seems to consider it for a few seconds, but ultimately sighs. “No, that can’t be it.”

Louis turns back to the otters to hide his amused grin. He finds a pair of otters floating, little paws clasped so they stay together, a tiny fluff of fur atop the tummy of the longer one. An otter-ly perfect family.

Harry finds them, too. “Look, that’s us.”

“We don’t have a baby, baby,” Louis reminds him. (Yet, he thinks.)

“We have a lot of babies. Niall included.”

Speaking of the devil, Niall comes in with Lewis, twerking into the scene. 

“I heard my name! I am here!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Louis asks, face red from holding in his laughter at the sight. Niall is a terrible twerker. Lewis isn’t much better at all.

“Twerking! What does it look like?” Lewis says, still shaking his arse in the air.

“Well, stop it! You ruined our cute and sappy moment with the otters!”

Niall stops twerking, but Lewis keeps going as he walks out of the habitat.

“Why were you twerking? Wait- I don’t wanna know. It’s okay.” Louis shakes his head. “I was just gonna go find you after I fed the otters. Do you need something? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah everything’s fine,” Niall says but he’s not meeting Louis’ eyes.

“Niall? What’s up?” Harry asks again, noticing the lack of eye contact.

“Thelionandtigermated.”

“What?”

Niall sighs and repeats himself slower. “The lion and the tiger mated.”

Louis has to process the statement for a second, but before he could say anything, Harry is wriggling out of his cuddle and jumping up, curls flying.

"Oh my god! A liger is about to grace our sanctuary! I've been waiting for this moment for so long!" Harry squeals, pumping his fists in the air.

"You have?" Louis' mouth drops open.

"Of course! I mean, there is not a lion on earth who can resist the charm of our beautiful majestic Liam."

"You not only play matchmaker for people but also for your animals? Speaking of which, why don't you play matchmaker for mini me? All I get is an empty tank and is by my lonesome self all the time…" Niall huffs.

"Oi, it's hard enough to find squids around here. We live in London, not on an island." Louis slaps Niall on the shoulder as the Irish attempt to close their distance, shaking his arse again.

"But Lou! We did see that really pretty octopus in the fish market last weekend…" Harry interjects, forest greens misty and thoughtful. "I think he'll still be there if we go back this week."

“Excuse you, Harry, but my Niall boy is a squid. He needs a squid lover.”

Harry huffs, sitting back down with Louis and wrapping his arms around Louis. Louis can tell he’s preparing a comeback, so he rolls his eyes and prepares for the weird best friend crack these two always get into.

“Your boy is infertile anyway, so it doesn’t matter what type of creature his life mate is.”

“Listen, I’m not saying they have to be a match made in heaven, everyone knows those only come around so often–”

“Yes, Louis and I are truly a rare breed.”

“—But if we could find another creature of the same species, that would be great.”

“Sure, Niall, I’ll get right on that. You know, I think Manchester just got a whole buttload of squids in. I’ll just give them a call.”

“Great! Thanks!”

“That was sarcasm, you Irish twat!”

“Aww.” Niall pouts

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he sighs. Niall looks up hopefully. “I’ll have Harry look into getting another squid.”

“Yay!” Niall clapps his hands and lunges forward to kiss Louis on the cheek violently, holding his face in both hands.

“Oi! That was wet!” Louis screeches, wiping his cheek of the slobber that Niall left. But Niall is already twerking out of the room, not having a care in the world.

“Never a dull moment with him, is there?” Louis shakes his head, bewildered.

Suddenly, Harry’s walkie talkie that is slung around his hips cracks to life, startling the couple.

“Hey, H?” Lewis’ voice echoed out from the machine. “Them new lemurs you got are fighting… Again… I think Zayn goaded them into it.”

“Fucking shit!” Louis swears even though Lewis wasn’t addressing him. He could see Harry giving him a disapproving look.

“No swearing in front of our otters!” His husband pouted adorably. Louis sighs, grabbing at Harry’s arm and hoisting the taller man up.

“Time to go stop the fight or else it’ll get bloody… And you’re the only one who can talk sense into Zayn.”

They round the otter habitat and cross the length of a field, passing by the ducks, koalas clinging to trees and kangaroos chilling under the shades.

The lemur habitat comes into view and what a sight it beholds. As always, Zayn is sitting on the top rock, lounging in the sun like a king and surveying the other fellow lemurs who are hissing and clawing at each other beneath him. In front of Zayn laid a single tangerine. Louis deduces that the fruit must be what the others are fighting over.

“Why are our friends the most chaotic fools known to mankind? First Niall and his twerking and his squid junior, now Zayn and his lemur Hunger Games.” Louis sighs and rubs a hand across his forehead. “Next thing you know, Liam will be teaching the penguins how to dance like Happy Feet.”

“Ooh, that would be cute!” Harry exclaims. “You go get him to do that, I’ll take care of Z, and I’ll meet you back in your office in thirty for a little dance lesson of our own.” He waggles his eyebrows in the most Harry way possible and Louis is too fond for this goof to do anything but agree to his silly terms.

“Alright, lovey. You take care of this one, I’ll take care of that one, and we’ll take care of each other in thirty.” He presses a kiss to Harry’s lips and pulls away with a wink.

Harry watches Louis walk away only to be interrupted by Zayn’s drawl.

“They’re fun, right?”

Harry turns around. “What did you do?”

Zayn shrugs, taking a bite out of the apple in his hand. “I fed them.”

Harry closes his eyes, centering himself. The one line responses irritating him to no end. Has it been thirty minutes yet? “Obviously you didn’t give them enough. Look at them! Your mini me is up there teasing them!”

Zayn takes another bite of his apple. “Is that what they’re doing? I thought they were just playing with each other. I thought it was cute.”

“It certainly is not cute!” Harry gestures pointedly at the lemur who took that exact moment to pounce on her neighbor, sending the other lemur flying.

Harry strides up to the fence, whistling so that mini Zayn would look up and catch his gaze. He shakes his head at lemur Zayn, pursing his lips as he points at the tangerine then back down at the fighting lemurs.

Mini Zayn makes a eeping noise before glancing at his human counterpart who tossed the apple core into the grass, straightening his overalls.

“Alright my dude, give the tangerine to your friends, come on.” Zayn orders lazily as Harry crosses his arms.

Lemur Zayn gives Harry another cock of his head before hopping down from his rock throne, grabbing the tangerine and waving it at the rest of the lemurs. They all crowd around their leader as Harry turns to give Zayn a slap on the shoulder.

“Well now that we don’t have to worry about lemur civil war, I need to run back to my otter pups. I forgot to give them their special treat.” Harry fishes a bag out from his pocket, three boiled eggs inside.

“Three eggs for the whole raft of otters?”

“Certainly not. These are for Harry and Louis and baby Pino. Obviously.”

“Your favoritism is showing. You’re almost as bad as me.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Zayn and put the bag back in his pocket.

“I don’t even know why Lou hired you in the first place. You don’t ever help and always stir up chaos. You are in cahoots with mini Zayn.”

“If I’m not around then this zoo will be so boooooooring. And you know Lou hired me coz I’m his best friend.” Zayn smirks as he gives Harry a friendly pat on the back. “Now run along and go find your husband. I overheard you guys earlier… Dancing lesson? You guys are beyond sick.” All of this, Zayn says with a knowing fond smile.

Harry brightens. “Aww, Z, does that mean you’ll help me feed the squirrels, camels and ravens?” “That is one long list… But fine. Go have some quality time with your husband and leave you guys’ children to me then.” One last thing before Harry leaves, he hears Zayn muttering. “Can’t believe these two went and bought themselves a zoo.”

#wcc member fic #wcc round robin #round robin 7 #round robin 8 #hlcreators #hlupdate #hljournal #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #1Dficvillage

[divorce-fiction]

heart of the matter by Emily Giffin

Opening Tally

Marriages: 2 Divorces: 1 Children Out-of-Wedlock: 1

If there is anything to say about Emily Giffin's novel, it's that the hook is impeccable. A bite-sized chapter that wafts the faint scent of a troubled marriage under your nose, before disappearing with a flourish and an ominous promise that the interrupted anniversary date is the canary in this couple's coal mine.

Tessa struggles with her stay-at-home life, managing two kids, and a husband, Nick, who is more dedicated to his job as a pediatric surgeon than anything else in his life. Tessa's easy acceptance of this fact is relieving, preventing the book from retreading the whiny diatribes of other wives. And yet, even as I type this I can feel the Monkey's Paw curling another finger because Tessa suffers from a far worse problem: Being boring. She's a main character, sure, but not really a protagonist.

Valerie, for her part, is doing something. A lawyer whose son suffers a horrific burn at another child's birthday, and his doctor is none other than Nick. She’s looking after her son, she’s falling in love, she’s grappling with herself. Tessa, in comparison, feels too much like a passive character; her narration mostly consists of generic thoughts on society and her social group with very little being said about her own inner life. I have no idea what she wants or what she’s doing to try and get it and this made her chapters more of a slog as you’re slowly steamrolled with all of the details and none of the action of her life.

There’s also the slightly jarring fact that Tessa’s chapter are all First Person POV, while Valerie’s are Third Person. My first inclination is that this is the author’s intention, to make us sympathize with Tessa and the slow death of her marriage, but when Valerie’s chapters are the more interesting ones it just feels like a record skip every time you swap from one to the other.

A very sweet element of the story is the attention given to familial relationships: Valerie with her brother, widowed mother, and darling son, Charlie, and Tessa with her divorced parents and children. Even Nick is given some time in the spotlight to show his paternal deftness with all three children. These interactions were always a joy to read, especially the final meeting where Tessa's parents set aside their festering resentment to reunite and support their daughter.

The quick plot summary can very literally be boiled down to: Nick and Valerie grow close as he takes care of her son, culminating in sex. Nick ends things with her, realizing what he's done to his wife. Tessa finds out 3/4 of the way through the book, despite having suspicions. Tessa meets Valerie and is unimpressed, but decides to try again with Nick.

At the end of the day, this book is well-written, but not particularly interesting. The main conflict fizzles out, reflecting the most responsible choice of real life, and leaves any passionate resolution to happen post-story and out of view. And perhaps disappointingly of all: No, they do not get divorced.

Tessa allows Nick to move back home and they stay married, committed to building a new relationship.

Valerie stays single, but resolves to track down Charlie's father and let him know he has a son.

Closing Tally

Marriages: 2 Divorces: 1 Children Out-of-Wedlock (for now?): 1

Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3/5)

#book review #booklr #divorce fiction #writing #heart of the matter #emily giffin #bookblr #review

[wil-is-done]

Shiny Smily Story - Chapter 1: Prologue

Summary: Tokino Sora, after spending her first few months in hololive as the agency’s sole talent, will finally be joined by new recruits to her group, and she is determined to welcome her juniors with a bright smile and open arms, whoever they might be. 

(…and the monkey’s paw closes a finger.)

Word Count: 2.495

-

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

“Now then, let’s meet again in the next stream! Byeee!”

Sora continues to wave at the camera, continues to wear her brightest smile until the end card rolls up and A-chan cut the audio. She breathes a satisfied sigh. Another stream well done. 

“Aaaaand that’s a wrap for today,” A-chan announces, an eye on the laptop beside her as she puts the stream on the ending countdown. The other two staff members don’t wait long before they turn off the camera and switch off the lights. 

Sora takes the time to bow politely. “Thank you all so much again for helping with the stream.”

“We heard you the first twenty times, Sora,” chuckles A-chan, while the two staff members mumble their you’re welcomes. They’re already moving to pack everything up and store them away. The streaming setup in the studio might not be terribly complicated, but they clearly want to head home as soon as possible.

“And you’ll hear it twenty more times, A-chan.” Sora stretches and relaxes, a cheeky tongue poking out of her lips.

What comes next has become fairly routine for Sora ever since she joined hololive a few months ago. She’ll help tidying up as much as she can, leaving the most vital technical bits to A-chan or the other staff members. After either a tangled cable or a misplaced lens, A-chan will decide she’s getting in the way more than helping, and shoos her away to get changed. Sora will insist on staying, A-chan will get a bit mean, until Sora eventually relents and leaves first.

Give or take fifteen minutes later, A-chan will leave the studio, a pack of equipment Sora’ll need for her home setup slung over one shoulder, where Sora will greet her in the break room, already changed to a casual, comfier outfit. Sora will thank the staff for their hard work, again, and bids them good day and goodbye. A-chan is much more casual about the process, more subdued, but the small salutes she gives to her coworkers as she leaves with Sora still conveys her gratitude and respect.

“Did we do good?” Sora asks as the elevator display crawls from three to two.

“Not bad. We peaked at around three hundred viewers, I think,” A-chan answers, a little distracted by something on her phone.

Sora hums. Something about that number rings a bell. “That’s about the capacity of the auditorium back in high school, right?” she tries.

“Uh, yeah?” The question comes out of nowhere enough that A-chan turns to look at Sora curiously. “Why do you remember that?”

“It was where I did my first live. Technically.” Sora puffs out her chest, stands on her tiptoes for a second. “You never forget your first.”

A-chan rolls her eyes, fondly, the memory twinkling in those light blues like stars, before her attention returns to her phone. “Technically.”   

There is a ding, and the elevator door opens. Sora has to link her arm around A-chan’s to stop her from bumping into the elevator panel, or into the woman waiting just outside, or the wet floor sign in the middle of the corridor. Something on her phone is really taking up all her attention.

“Oh, speaking of,” A-chan starts, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t forget about that Twister punishment game on Wednesday.” 

“I don’t think the chat is going to let me forget,” Sora muses. Her chat is always sent into a tizzy whenever Twister is mentioned, for some reason.  

Sora remembers something about the game. Something interesting, and helpful. She steals a glance at A-chan, still engrossed by her phone, takes a breath, and goes for it. “You know, I heard Twister is even more fun when you’re playing it with someone else.”

A-chan doesn’t look up, but she does stop reading whatever it is on her phone. There is a gleam in her eyes, in the way they dart about for a split second, that clues Sora in. “I heard that too,” A-chan only says, even though she definitely knows where Sora is going with this.

Sora keeps her voice and tone even. “A-chan.”

This time, A-chan does look up. She stops, even. They both do, right before the exit to the parking lot. Sora gives A-chan a subtle smile, loosening her hold on A-chan’s arm, hoping she doesn’t come across as pushy or needy. Hoping she’ll come across only as a girl who wants to have fun with her dear friend.

A-chan averts her eyes, and Sora’s heart sinks a little. “Being on camera like you do, everyday… that takes a certain kind of courage. Courage that I just don’t have,” she says, and the gap between them widens by an inch. Then she peeks up over the rim of her glasses. “I’m perfectly happy with just helping you behind the scenes, Sora. That hasn’t changed.”  

Sora is prepared for this, and tells herself she isn’t disappointed. “Okay.”

“And it’s your punishment game. Don’t go around dragging innocent bystanders into it.”

They share a chuckle, and step outside, leaving the hololive building and the uncomfortable conversation behind, arms no longer linked. 

It’s not a terribly long walk from the office to the station, and Sora knows the way by heart, so she allows her eyes and her mind to wander. Allows herself to indulge in the tightness of her chest. 

She’ll ask A-chan about this again, for sure. When enough time has passed for her to either forget or to get her hopes up again. Or when the ice creeping into her chest and the lump clogging her throat becomes unbearable. It feels strange to say that she’s lonely, even though A-chan and other staff members are always there with her, for her, just behind the camera. Feels silly. Feels selfish. But, as she heard once, the heart will want what it wants. And her heart wants to not be alone, wants someone to be there with her on the stage. 

The walk is over in a flash, and suddenly Sora finds herself on the station platform, the announcement of their usual train’s arrival blaring overhead. The train rolls in, Sora waits for the passengers inside to file out, and takes three steps before realizing A-chan is not walking beside her. 

She turns, and sees A-chan a few paces behind, head down, eyes glued to her phone. She hesitates for a split second - being rough simply isn’t in her nature - but she stomps back and drags A-chan by the arm. The two manage to make it inside only a second before the door closes.

“A-chan, don’t zone out like that,” scolds Sora, but she quickly softens. “This isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”

A-chan gets a little red in the cheeks. “Oh, no, yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry if I made you worry, Sora,” she mumbles, waving off nonexistent flies. “It’s just… management stuff.”

Sora tilts her head. “I’ve seen what management stuff does to you, and it’s not this.”  

“Right. Um.” A-chan stiffly points to the seats. “Let’s sit down first?”

Sora raises an eyebrow, but nods. Thankfully, this line is never terribly crowded at this time of day, so empty seats are aplenty. They sit down next to one another, and Sora waits for A-chan to start. A minute later, as the train slices through the heart of Tokyo, she does.

“So, Sora. A bit of news you should know.” A-chan is talking slowly, carefully. Almost like she’s worried. “Management is thinking of expanding the hololive label.”

“Oh?” Sora’s eyes widen, hairs suddenly standing on end. “Expand it how?”

“By recruiting a new member.”

It takes a second for the sentence to register. And another second for all that sentence implies to hit her like a bullet. Sora isn’t sure if she wants to gawk, or cheer, or do a little twirling dance in the middle of the train car. “Oh, goodness,” she simply says.

A-chan continues, but without meeting Sora’s eyes. “The idea of recruiting a second member has been brewing in the background for a while now, but at the start of this month, for whatever reason, management suddenly decided to… accelerate it.” 

“Accelerate it,” Sora repeats. For her own sake. “As in… you’ll start recruiting soon?”

“As in… we kinda already have.” 

A distant, very distant part of her regrets having this conversation in public, if only because squealing like a banshee and pulling A-chan into a bear hug right now would attract a lot of unwanted attention.

“It’s not quite official yet. There’s still some paperwork to be filled out here and there, but, yeah. Management just sorta… found a very promising candidate and, uh… let’s just say, they more or less hired her on the spot.” A-chan coughs, voice lowering to just above a whisper. “She’s… interesting. Definitely going to turn some heads, that’s for sure.”

Sora almost blurts that she doesn’t care - she’ll be happy to work together with the new member no matter who she is - but A-chan shoots her an apologetic look that stops her. 

“I’m so sorry, I would’ve told you all of this sooner, I swear. It just- god, it all happened so fast…” she trails off, cringing like she usually does when she thinks she’s talked for too long. “Um. What do you think?”

Sora takes a deep breath to calm down, because she knows if she releases all the excitement building in her chest at once she’ll blow out the ears of everyone in this car. She doesn’t hug A-chan, but she still clamps her hands down on A-chan’s shoulders. “I think this is amazing!” 

A-chan freezes for a beat, then breathes out a laugh. Relief adorns the smile on her lips. The sight makes Sora’s own smile grow even wider. Enough to make her eyes water. She has to pat her cheeks, as if coaxing the smile from splitting her face.

“Oh, goodness. I’m going to have juniors again, like back in high school!” Sora’s basically bouncing up and down in her seat. It really does feel like she’s a high school girl again. “This is so exciting!”

Another breathy laugh as A-chan leans back. “Yeah. Guess you could see it that way.” 

“What’s she like?” 

A-chan’s smile freezes, then falls. “I… can’t really tell you just yet.”

That doesn’t quite bring the mood down, but it is an odd, unexpected bump. “You… can’t? Why?” Sora asks.

“Oh. You know. Just a couple dozen NDAs.” The last sentence rolls out of A-chan at double speed, and she continues just as quickly. “But I’m sure she’s going to be a delight to work with! She must be a pretty pleasant person, at least. Can’t imagine anyone would tune into a streamer without any charm.”

Sora narrows her eyes. Connects the dots. “You haven’t met her before?”

“I… sort of met her. In a way,” A-chan answers, but once again only leaving Sora with more questions. A-chan must’ve noticed, because she continues, “Again. Everything’s moving really fast. And we have to keep a lot of things under wraps. We don’t really have any other choice, if we want her to join us. Just- wait a week or two. Everything’ll be clearer then.”   

Sora nods. She still thinks it’s odd, to be this secretive and to have so many precautions. Nothing like this happened when she first joined hololive. But she won’t pretend to be well-versed in the recruitment process of a talent agency, so she’ll simply place her faith on A-chan and the management to know what they are doing. 

A-chan makes a little noise, remembering something. “That goes for you too, now. Keeping this a secret, I mean. If you let slip that we’re recruiting a new member before we make any official announcements, we’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

Sora nods again, with a reassuring smile this time. “My lips are sealed,” she promises. 

A-chan stares at her for a beat, then reaches out to close an imaginary zipper over her lips. “There. Just to be sure.” 

Sora giggles, but indulges her, not letting her mouth open. It’s silly. It’s great.

When the train reaches her stop, Sora’s so bubbly and lost in thought that she almost forgot to take her streaming equipment from A-chan. She pushes the pack into Sora’s hands with a smirk, and walks with her to the door. A-chan’s stop is still three stations down, so it becomes customary for Sora to bid her farewell first. Not that they have any other choice.

Sora turns, standing behind the line. “You’re going to tune into my karaoke stream tomorrow?”

“Missing Tokino Sora’s singing stream? Wouldn’t think of it,” A-chan smoothly says, hands crossed. She’s always cute when she gets the chance to act cool.

An announcement blares overhead. A few people file inside the train a couple cars ahead. None on this door though. Just how Sora liked it.

“See you later,” A-chan calls out as the doors begin to close. “Senpai.” 

When the train speeds off, she feels so light she thought she’ll get carried off by the wind. 

A second member. Someone to stand on stage with her. It feels too perfect, almost. Unreal. Like it’s a dream. But her life has always felt like a dream ever since she joined hololive, so she’s willing to accept this as reality, and not just her unconscious mind playing tricks on her in her sleep. And now she’s bold enough to dream even more. What if management doesn’t stop at two? What if they decide to recruit a third member? Or a fourth? Or maybe even a fifth? 

Whoever they are, wherever they come from, however many they might be, Sora will welcome them all with a bright smile and open arms.

Tokino Sora, soon no longer the sole talent in hololive, takes her first step into a brand new story.

-

So I’m definitely not the first one to think, “What would hololive look like as an anime?” but I haven’t seen very many people actually try to explore the idea, so this is my take on it.

Deciding Sora as the main protag is a no-brainer, but actually writing her turned out to be pretty tricky. Having A-chan with her definitely helped, and the few clips I managed to find of the two interacting together has been a godsend. I think you can kinda tell already what aspect of Sora I’m going to focus on. 

Anyway. Other holomembers will show up in future chapters, in case you can’t already tell. Absolutely excited to dive into the bizarre playground that is the hololive lore. 

Next up, a high-spec robot enters the stage.

#hololive #hololive jp #tokino sora #a-chan #hololive fanfiction #Shiny Smily Story

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hello there. I have a question (more like a thesis): What would have happened if Cas told the Truth anywhere between season 7 and 15? Do you think it would have had the same impact on Dean? Logically speaking Cas could have told him anytime.

Oh gosh, yes. I mean Dean’s reaction in season 15 is still the best it could have been really :P He was in the best place and most accepting of himself and he still had a BSOD for a moment and then Cas had to shove him away so he could go die... (Assuming you take the on screen boring presentation of what happened as canon and not throw in the reciprocation, tears, pull in for a kiss, etc that we know exists either in our hearts or on Jackles’ phone.)

I’ve been thinking about this and the parameters we’d have to apply if we were gonna get something like the show being self-healing back to its self as we know it but we were allowed a confession. Also the show has to be as punishing as ever. So these are my personal theses on each season... 

Season 7 the confession would have to be after Cas comes back, and everything in 7x17 that looked like Dean was jealous of Daphne and Meg textually was meant to be read that way in the set up for the confession. To make it the most painful obviously we still get Cas exactly as he was all through to the end of the season and he never really says anything too different but then right when they’re having the “cursed or not” discussion he’d bust out of nowhere that he supposes it is inevitable Dean would talk him into going on this dangerous mission to get Dick because obviously Cas loves him. And Dean, who is in a weirdly zen sort of place in the remaining minutes of season 7 after Bobby’s send off and final words that helped him go make up with Cas, is in a similarly season 15 oddly okay spot, mental health wise. At least. COMPARED TO ALL THE REST OF SEASON 7. But I still personally have always read it as a genuinely good place for him that could have endured much longer if not for *gestures everything that happened after stabbing Dick* and obviously making up with Cas was step one and a huge part of his process. 

(idk if you’ve noticed but 7x23 pretty much has no Sam and Dean interaction after Bobby’s send off, and their last good broments are really scarce; it feels sort of natural for abrupt calamity and no time for teary farewells in a season with a strong commentary on grief, which also hyperfocuses the attention on Dean n Cas there.)

So I think Dean would maybe be stunned but maybe quirk a sceptical smile like “He can’t mean it like that and anyway he’s currently coo-coo, this doesn’t mean anything hahaha oh Cas :)))” and then idk shake his head and move the story on and Cas just turns one longing look after him like “dammit that didn’t work out like planned” 

Anyway then the exact plot beats of 7x23 follow, exactly as seen on your screens, but we’re left going into season 8 and Carver era with Dean far far more messed up about Cas and it can force clarification in 8x02 in Purgatory where Cas is entirely adamant he meant what he meant and furious at Dean for being mad at him and Dean’s mad at Cas for all the season 8 reasons so they continue angsting at each other but Benny’s reaction shots are just 10x funnier. This is followed by Dean’s reciprocation of “I love you” instead of “I need you” in the crypt scene in 8x17 and from there honestly it’s been built up into canon in such a way that the emotional arc of the show has to go off the wheels and I can’t keep to the self-healing model to continue following the “real” plot and contain this much raw power.

Coincidentally, if the first confession is in season 8, it would be “what broke the connection” after a season 8 where nothing was different up until that point. Cas flaps off while Dean is still processing that the answer was “You. I love you.” and Dean is left yelling at the empty crypt like “What the hell, Cas?!” 

Then he’s as mad at him as he was in canon except instead of being borderline a really bad overreaction into his anger phase which we have to weather as miserable fans tethered to this ship who know sometimes Dean gets mad and yells at Cas for no reason, he’s reacting proportionately. It’s always seemed like 8x22 only makes sense if Dean is furious at Cas for confessing and fleeing except, obviously, in our “”real”” canon, it can only be like Cas confessed and Dean took it that way and also felt embarrassed how far he went with his own feelings only for Cas to run. 

This would make the bar scene with the cupids in 8x23 make a lot more sense too, and after they get the cupid bow Dean’s going to turn to Cas and give him a nervous smile, and then - Naomi flaps in like she does and distracts them away from reciprocation. 

I think this one could go long - maybe even season 13 Cas being dead and Dean being like “FUCK I never got a chance to work things out with him” and 13x06 onwards is where we get any actual work on the ship, because Carver era was so determined to be emotionally gruelling and unsatisfying and relentless from one issue to the next. And the confessions are so bound up specifically in the moments of miscommunication or failed attempts, cut off conversations etc that whether Destiel is canon or not, they’re never gonna get to talk it out under those conditions. Cas is only explicitly the grieving wife and jealous ex to Crowley’s smug take over of Dean’s affections rather than subtextually. 

The season 9 confession... I feel like we’d come perilously close to the Monkey Paw curse we once envisioned of Buckleming making it canon because they love jumping the gun on plot points and making them too obvious. So the end of 9x03, Cas is really blatantly angling to come in with a big “Hey I’m human can I live in the Bunker look at me I learned to do The Sex can we do it now” kind of vibe. All the enthusiasm he was giving to eating that burrito in the background while “Zeke” was trying to get him kicked out, but with lusting over Dean :P 

If we avoid that we can leap to Mr Bobo Berens and his first episode, and have this thing handled by a pro, as it’s already very much about Cas as a homeless queer man with a bad ex he still loves rolling into town where he’s just trying to make a new life and play straight - I mean human - for his own survival. I suspect the confrontation with Iphraim would make it really obvious that Cas didn’t just want to live as a human but had an eye for living as a human with Dean, and then he’d attempt a confession right before Dean would accidentally talk over, like, the L in “love” honestly, to tell him that sorry things do still stand that you can’t come back with me. Leaves Cas utterly devastated but Dean is none the wiser and he drives off and Cas pines piningly at the pine trees in his Gas n Sip. 

Again the end of season probably would force the real confession, since there’s a ready made moment in 9x22 where Hannah tries to force Cas to kill Dean and he gives it all up for one man. Cas can just lower that knife and be like, “No, I love him,” talking to his shoes and Hannah rather than meeting Dean’s eyes. Mark of Cain Dean is fuuuucked up at that point but we still get the moment where Dean carries Cas’s bag into the bunker and sits down with him and tries to care about his health and now also this confession. Sussing out what the heck is up with Cas, and maybe he looks like he’s playing it cool and is still so messed up but Cas is vulnerable, and finally Dean starts to reach across the library table for his hand, and it’s a moment where maybe things could have started to go better for them...... Cue Gadreel walking into the library, Dean going feral, blah blah demon!Dean, blah blah explicitly stated Drowley, blah blah muuuch healing and Cas giving Dean a wide berth for a lil while. Though, in this scenario, 10x22 is far worse but has the reverse crypt scene moment, so Dean can be more obviously unable to kill Cas because he loves him, and then he walks out, followed by season 11 and Cas being returned to them. Unfortunately. Yep. Another finger curls on the Monkey Paw... 11x03 by Buckleming would absolutely be where Destiel goes undeniably canon as it is their first real interactions post Mark of Cain. Our only consolation - directed by Jensen Ackles.

Season 10 confession, hm. Poor Cas. He has the option of 10x03, of confessing and then immediately apologising and walking off to handle stuff with Hannah (thanks Buckleming!) or the Burger Date, where Dean may be slightly less stunned stupid but still likely to laugh it off and not believe it. There’s not much heavy tension between them most of the season so it’s possible that the only time Cas would really get is to confess in 10x22 while telling Dean that he would have to watch him murder the world, and that would suck because I love you. At which point the story dictates that Dean beats Cas to paste so it’s a very bad look. Season 10 destiel confession is the worst. 

Season 11 may be better because Cas has options to be jealous of Crowley and Dean’s connection to Amara multiple times and then Casifer happens and that can really play up things in a season where a confession is coming. 

I think the Beer Run in 11x23 might be the only viable place, where Dean grabs Cas and takes him out for that drive for last drinks before the end of the world. Cas gets the “you’re our brother” thing and just lays into Dean with the certainty of someone who knows this is it - now or nothing - with “You know that’s crap, Dean. You wait until the end of the world and you can’t even say it. Well I can; I love you.” 

Cue awkward tension, well-placed interrupting Moose, and then the world very much not ending so that when Dean n Cas hug and kiss in front of Mary in 12x01. Well. There’s even more explaining to do to her. Since we’ve made it to Dabb era, I believe any confessions from this point onwards can just slot into the show as we got it from there since it’s entirely compatible to start season 12 assuming Dean n Cas are literally married and never be contradicted by the text in their behaviour. But since we’ve had canon Destiel since whenever, obviously the final episodes are good instead of. That.

Season 12... Going to have to go with the first sniff of true canon coming in Lily Sunder with just a few lines leaning even further in the Cas’s Angel Family Are Homophobic Assholes metaphor, leaving Cas’s relationship with Dean even more live wire exposed. Followed by The Mixtape Scene where Cas is going to confess to Dean and get him startled up out of his seat, accidentally knocking the mixtape to the floor and for a moment it’s like, did he throw it is he mad? but then he’s smooching Cas, fade to black, return to scheduled programming but the whole line about Cas stealing the Colt from under Dean’s pillow makes fuckin sense, as well as the fall out argument and how mad Dean was at Cas followed by how devastated he was at Cas’s death. This just means Dabb era continues as planned except we get a kiss in 13x06 under that big glowy cross, and some more smooching here and there when things are good from then on. 

Season 13... Hm. Cas has to do the confessing and I don’t think he’d throw that at Dean on return from death so unlike if Dean was the one who was being made to confess obviously the aforementioned glowy cross scene obviously would be it for him... Cas could keep that bottled up much longer, especially as he has so much to do with Jack this season. It’s entirely possible we go through the whole season and then Cas lobs it at Dean as a final card when he’s making his Michael decision and we actually see the scene that we didn’t get, where Cas has to watch Dean getting possessed. Except Dean is like, tearful and furious like why would you tell me that now, and anyway i’m doing this for you as well dumbass but fuck you but also how dare you anyway I need to be an archangel now and save our - your - son, bye. Cue Cas sitting there not just in total horror at what happened but also kicking himself for fucking up the moment :P I guess this way at least we can have that moment where Dean is un-Michaeled and tells Cas he’s going to shower and finger guns at him, and now we can have Cas wordlessly and furiously follow him. 

Season 14, we get Cas at Rocky’s bar confessing to Dean while figment!Pamela cheers the whole thing on. If there was EVER a time to use the power of love to snap Dean out of it, Cas upsetting his cosy routine with “this isn’t real, I’M NOT HERE IN YOUR FANTASY” is absolutely the time to pull a reverse crypt scene which has such low stakes in terms of neither of them needing to punch each other when Michael is an external aggressor.

My ONLY issue with this is that Sam has to witness the whole thing and we would get reaction shots and I am a weak mortal who will start cackling at them when I’m supposed to be having the transcendent moment of canon and the whole thing would be ruined just because of the way Jared gurns when doing reactions to dean n cas interacting. Wow thanks. Thanks a lot. 

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10.  WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination.  Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work.  It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020.  I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look.  It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves.  Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area.  One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create.  Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself.  This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9.  WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be.  A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam!  Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future.  In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings.  Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us.  She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon.  Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure.  Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do.  It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power.  Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie.  After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8.  LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas).  Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises.  Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons.  The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up.  Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him.  He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero.  Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface.  The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed.  Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in.  One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7.  PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all.  It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers.  Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity.  Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically.  But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon.  This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect.  The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon.  This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away.  Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade.  Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’.  They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story.  Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large.  After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5.  MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year.  The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs.  I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA.  How? Why?  It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be.  Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then?  Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again.  The only catch?  The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances.  As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history.  Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times.  The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story.  Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”.  Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane?  Boy, that’s a tough one …

4.  ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now).  Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way.  Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer.  Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings.  Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady.  Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years.  Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade.  Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers.  Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon.  Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3.  1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed.  Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed.  The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from.  Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league.  It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack).  They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos.  That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING.  I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same.  Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2.  BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen.  It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies).  It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist.  Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to.  Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about.  Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain.  Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy.  My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT.  Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz.  This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms.  It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!).  It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists.  Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020.  Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

#wolfwalkers #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #love and monsters #parasite #parasite movie #the old guard #mank #enola holmes #1917 #1917 movie #Birds of Prey #birds of prey the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #tenet #tenet movie #2020 in movies

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

This can be found on my AO3 page (Use title name)

Word count: 4.5K

Chapter 2 is below cut

The car journey had been rather unpleasant much to Mr Winter’s taste. He normally wasn’t picky but the scent on the car was hurting him and making him feel slightly sick in the stomach. Was he still panic-stricken? He stared down at Rose in his arms, fast asleep with a monkey toy in her clutch. No. He wouldn’t let himself be scared after the car wreckage he went through, instead he’d brushed it off as simple homesickness since the new home was in a neighbourhood filled with those who he was sure to ‘get along’ with well. ‘We will be home soon Rose.’ The blonde thought, turning his direction of gaze to stare at the passing trees. “How long left?” The question slipped through his lips, waiting for an answer off one of the agents that had taken the unoccupied seats around him. Luckily for him, he got the window seat and he did feel a little smug about it.

“There in 5 minutes Mr Winters.” The driver replied, adjusting the mirror at the front to get a better look at the apparent ‘bio weapon’ that was sitting in his car. Ethan looked to be just a normal guy with a daughter, there was no physical difference to him than any other ordinary guy. Well- except from the fact there was scars littering his body on his arms mostly, and the loss of his fingers.

Clicking his tongue and wetting his lips, Ethan sighed and leaned his head against the window having the same sickness feeling wash over him. He just wanted out, to feel fresh air and the ground and to hear something else than the music the agents were playing. Fortunately for him, the rest of the journey was swift and soon the car had rounded off in between trees that had a large dirt road leading further into the mass of woods that seemed to appear as he was just about to doze off. Having a spiked interest in the change of scenery, Ethan pushed himself of the window and looked about. Tall trees hung overhead, turning their leaves into a range of the sunset colours with small flowers blooming and dying mixed together in the grass that settled among the sides of the track the car was driving on. It looked, dare he say, peaceful. How ironic, having a bunch of bio weapons staying in a peaceful area. This was sure to be no peaceful stay if he was going to be surrounded with neighbours off different kinds.

Driving down the path had led them into a circled area, with buildings surrounding the outside edge. The car drove clockwise around the circle, Ethan looking towards the middle the whole way. There appeared to be a small park area settled there Ethan had guessed in the middle of the whole site. It held three benches, a small climbing frame as well as a set of swings. ‘I’m sure the Dimitrescu daughters will enjoy there,’ The father had thought, looking down at Rose with a smile taking hold of his lips. “And I’m sure you will too when you’re a little older.” Luckily no one heard him talk to his dear daughter as the music was still playing, loudly.

Placing his sight back onto the buildings, he saw a mixture of them. There appeared to be 5 houses in total, and he had a fair guessed of whose house was who. The first house was a very large one, elegantly painted in white with a very tall front door. The place had pillars outside it and it seemed to have a total of three floors. At the top there was a balcony that looked to reach around the whole house. Driving past it, Ethan could see the three daughters and their mother stepping out of the car, Bella being the first to run straight into the home.

The next house was a bungalow, making the house to its left (from Ethan’s view) more towering than it seemed. The house was simple, having brick walls and small round windows. What made the place stand out on its own was the moat that built around it. A fucking moat. “Moreau house,” Ethan mumbled, a small strike of cold shifting down his spine at the thought of when he had to fight him and how the other would be constantly throwing up. Unpleasant memories to put it.

The next house, this was the centre house that was splitting the 5 houses, was a really nice modern blue house, having two floors and a porch. The car had stopped right In front of the front porch and the agents had begun to move out of the car after it was securely parked. “Hey Rose,” Ethan whispered down to his once sleeping daughter, awaken at the call of her name and her father's voice. With grabby hands and a tired smile, she reached out to take hold of her father in any way, shape or form. Carefully unwrapping her from his coat, Ethan took his daughter into his arms and reached to open his door only to have an agent open it for him. He stepped out, nodding a thanks in return and looked towards what appears to be their new home. “Look Rosie, this is out new home. You like the baby blue hm?” He asked, seeing his daughter babble random noises and have pleased eyes. Some on-looking agents that were travelling him had silently cooed at Rose’s reaction, looking towards one another with scrunched eyes and happy smirks on their faces. Placing her on his hips, Ethan walked up to the front porch and looked back to see the view. It wasn’t too bad...he could probably make a living of being here. Looking to his left, he looked towards the other two houses. A frustrated sigh left his lips.

The house to the left was two floors like his own, only difference being it had a garage connected to it and the windows were boarded up. “It seemed Mr Heisenberg doesn’t particularly like the light,” An agent pointed out to Ethan as they caught him staring.

“Makes sense.” Ethan replied back, looking towards the last house. The last house was also a bungalow; however, it had a garden with a fence surrounding it. The fence was a deep brown and the garden had a small tree already growing within its square. “I’m sure Lady Beneviento would be there every day.”

Hearing Rose’s babbling had Ethan brought Ethan to coo at his daughter, bringing her to nest smugly in his arms instead of his hip. Holding her close, Ethan walked up to his door and let the agents open it. Inside the home was fairly empty but he could've guessed that before even entering the place. “We will leave you be. Any supplies needed or anything changing just contact us on the home phone settled in the kitchen. You are not allowed to leave this area unless orders of Redfield have been given out. Welcome to you brand new home.” The agent who had been driving Ethan and his daughter there had spoken, signalling the other agents that had decided to walk in after Ethan back out of the house. Being quick to accept orders, they left Ethan to standing in the open hallway of his house. The car leaving was the last Ethan heard before accepting the silence of the new place.

“What do you think Rose, think we’ll like it here?” His eyes caught the stairway that led straight to the second floor on his right, with two doors on the left in his eye sight. More babbling came from Rose as she tried to give her father an answer which Ethan accepted with a laugh. “Yes, you are right my little cub. We should see what we are working with.”

It had been a total of three hours before Ethan had got himself comfortable in front of the television on the couch. It seemed the whole place was coated in the paint of blue and white. It was a fitting theme Ethan had thought, however he felt Rose’s room should maybe be painted a different colour. Maybe yellow, maybe green- he'll ask for paint when he needed to. So far, the father had discovered there was warm water, heater was working however it seemed to be on a timer, there was a master bedroom and a baby room right next door on the second floor, the kitchen had been stocked with what seemed to be a month worth of food and there was a living room along with a study room that was filled with books from his last home.

Last home.

He spent a while fixing that place up with his wife Mia...Ex-wife Mia. The place was their dream home, something they planned for a while into their marriage and they had finally got it, finally settled down-all for it to be taken away because of lies. Ethan had laid on his back, arm draped over his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. The material of the couch under him felt perfect, he could doze of there and then but until he had a baby monitor, he wouldn't be sleeping downstairs until he knew he could be there for Rose in her need. Without realising it, the father had begun to voice out his thoughts to no one but the empty sound of his home.

“I wonder how she is- ha! What am I thinking? She’s going to hate the idea of a divorce. She should be thankful I even let her near our daughter after all this shit. She’s one lucky woman.” A ragged breath forcefully came out of his throat startling Ethan. Leaning up, legs sprawled on the other cushions of the couch, he lunched forward and began to cough into his right hand. Closing his eyes, he could feel a thick substance coat his hand as he coughed into it. Making sure he had his breathing under control, he cautiously opened his eyes to find black substance covering his hand. No- not substance. He knew exactly what it was.  Mold was covering his arm. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” He breathed out, swinging his legs so he could stand and go wash the substance off him.  

Whilst making his way to the kitchen at a brisk pace, it had appeared the Mold was growing further up his arm. Raising a brow and having a feel of sickness was over him again, he collided against the edge of the sink and began to turn the taps to run the water over his arm, watching as Mold fell into the drain below. Strange, the Mold wasn’t coming off his skin. It was like it was a part of his skin. Reaching for the wash cloth with his other hand, Ethan scrubbed hard against his skin seeing the Mold not disappearing any time soon. ”What the!” The exclaim that left his lips had him scarping the cloth against his skin, digging in with his nail and scratching away. Nothing. The black oozed more over until his full arm had become a midnight black. “No, no no no,” The words fell onto the deaf ears of the world around him as he collapsed to the floor, tap still rushing with gushing water and his back touching the cabinets that were sitting underneath.

The sickness that rotted over him fell deep into his stomach, twisting and playing with his intestines. A few dry coughs sent Ethan to feel a lot warmer than normal. He felt like the room he had settled in, the kitchen, had become as hot as the oven that was switched off. His sight became blurred, and the noise of his child was heard faintly in the back of his head. “Rose,” He breathed out, tears stinging his eyes as he let his head fall onto his shoulder. "I need to calm down Rose,” he told himself, as though the Mold covering him could understand him. He could feel it growing, taking his limbs into their own care and covering the skin of his with a protected layer of their own. Weirdly though, it seemed to only cover his arm and the top of his chest. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to hold his young one, to make sure she knows she is safe.

The cries from the baby had increased, sounding more like a tantrum then just a sadness cry. Ethan pulled his legs to his stomach, trying to steady his breathing and clear his sight of the tears that leaked. It wasn’t till he felt the Mold settle down that he could finally move without feeling like spewing whatever food he last ate. Noticing the change of temperature around him, it being settled to a warm but slightly chilly feeling, he made a quick dash for the stairs that were in the open hallway. He moved swiftly on his feet, not wanting to take any chances of falling ill to the Mold before he could reach his crying Rose.

Scrambling up the stairs, Ethan had busted into his daughter room startling the child more than she appeared to be. “Aw no baby, I’m sorry,” He softly spoke, hurrying to pick her up out of a white crib she was nestled in and taking her into his arms. Being thoughtful with is movements, Ethan cradled her head with one hand and settled her body onto his other arm that was still covered in the Mold to keep support of her. “I’m sorry. Oh, baby papa is sorry. Shh, shh, It’s okay. We will be okay,” He repeated, cooing into his daughter’s ear to help her slow her own breathing. The small bounces he gave and the cradling movements of his body was luckily enough to help her stop crying, the odd sniffle taking out of her mouth instead. “There we go, we are okay. I’m sorry Rose. Shh, we will be okay.” Little Rose had held tightly onto her father’s clothing, smelling the familiar scent of him. She rested her own eyes, her cries making her tired then she had already been in the car and before. “That’s it,” Ethan whispered, “Just sleep my little cub. I’m here now, papa is here.” His voice had soothed her down greatly, the voice bringing her to sleep once more before she was drifted deeply off into her mind.

A dry cry came from Ethan’s mouth as he placed her back into her crib, pulling a blanket and pushing her money toy close to her sleeping body. He stood over her crib, watching the chest of his daughter fall and rise. She was at peace, something she so should always be at. Being a single father was going to hit Ethan hard, if he was down there dealing with the Mold then who knows what he could be dealing with next. He made a mental note to get baby monitors for every single room.

It had been another 4 hours before a knock had awoken Ethan from his lightly sleep. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around, seeing he was leaning his head on the kitchen table. Next to him was his laptop as well as a cup of what he guessed to be a now cold coffee, untouched either way. Checking his arm, the Mold had disappeared as he slept. It was after he placed Rose to sleep, he had come downstairs to turn the tap off and steal a book from his study to do some more research on engineering. He just wanted a normal life as soon as possible, the memories of his job at engineering brought great pleasure to his mind of living normally, a feeling he was already missing and it had just been over a day since he last felt like it.

Brushing a hand down his face and scuffing up his hair, Ethan pushed himself out from under the table and stood up, hearing his bones cracking the process. The feeling was great but the noise was uncomfortable to his ears. Hearing the knocking again, Ethan groaned loudly and exited his kitchen, still hearing the knocking. “What,” He groaned out loudly, the empty space of the hallway making his voice bounce about. The knocking had stopped for a second, only to repeat again. “Oh, go to Hell,” Ethan shouted, hearing the knocks stop for a second time. Smiling, Ethan made his way to his front door, hand placed around the handle. Just as he was about to pull the door open, the knocking once again started again. “I’m going to fucking kill you- Heisenberg what do you want?” Just as the blonde pulled the door, there stood the factory man with a bright smile and hand raised after his activities of knocking.

“Hey there papa, missed me much?” He amused, flashing a smile at the other. Ethan stood, hand still on his door handle looking down at the gruff man. His appearance looked worse than he last saw him at the meeting. He was now all sweaty with droplets pouring off him like a dripping tap, oil was staining his shirt he wore and his hands had become thick with saw dust. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he moved himself o rest against his door frame.

“What you need?” Heisenberg blinked at Ethan, before whistling a tune. “If you not going to answer, I’ll be going, Goodbye Heisen-”

“Wait!” The voice from Heisenberg had stopped Ethan's movements of walking back inside. Hating himself for still wanting to feel kind to the other, Ethan looked back at the man who looked desperate to say something, a pleading stance of clasp hands looking up at Ethan had the father feeling a little weak.

“What?” He asked, waiting for Heisenberg's reply.  

“I was wondering...” He started, looking around him as though he didn’t want anyone to hear his next words, “That maybe we should start calling each other by our first names.” The request left Ethan speechless, he stood with furrowed brows trying to read the other. What exactly was he planning?

“First names? Now why would we need to do that?” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, watching Heisenberg huff and look away.

“Because we are neighbours duh? Makes sense. Does it not.” Ethan would have smacked him if it wasn’t the fact he was somewhat right. Uncrossing his arms and rolling his eyes, Ethan nodded at Heisenberg.

“Alright then, what do I call you and the others?” Heisenberg had immediately brightened up, taking a brave move of turning around and sitting on the porch step.  

“Easy! You can call me Karl,” he said, pointing a hand at himself as he looked over his shoulder to see Ethan shutting the door behind himself. He waited for Ethan to sit, to which he had to pat the open space next to him for the father to do so. After Ethan had made himself comfortable with legs straight out In front of him and sat at an arm's length away from Heisenberg, the other had carried on. “Dimitrescu, you can call her super-mega bitch. Next is Moreau. Just call him ugly. And lastly is Beneviento. Just call her Donna because she is somewhat decent and call that wretched thing that moves and talks, sawdust.”  

Ethan had sniffled back a small chuckle at hearing Heisenberg talk. He’ll get the other’s names later, their proper names when he has the chance. “How about I call you the guy who carries a hammer to compensate for something else.” Heisenberg lightly gasp at Ethan’s words, looking over at him with an open mouth.

“How dare you,” He spoke, expressing his offensives to his words. Ethan couldn’t help but allow himself his release of a laugh, finding the moment rather...amusing to be with the factory man. “I would never take you to by a guy like that...to make jokes.” Heisenberg pulled out a cigar from his pants pocket, only to fetch in his other a lighter. Ethan watched as he lit it, suddenly being annoyed with the habit of seeing the man with one. Leaning over, Ethan plucked the cigar from the man's lips and threw it out on the dirt road in front of them. “Oi, what you do that for,” Heisenberg asked, pointing at his cigar a few meters in front of them.

“I have a child, no smoking in or even near my house.” The air around them both changed slightly, dark clouds overhead had slowly begun to invade the space of the blue that was once there. It seemed the sound around them had soon tried to settle in. “I do enjoy making jokes,” Ethan broke the starting silence between them, wanting to keep this conversation going before the upcoming rainfall would ruin it.

“You should act more like that then- seeing you all stuck up is worse than seeing the tree trunk try think of a new name for her new wine.” The older man groaned out, looking at the other once again.  

“I’m just being careful of my kid. I can’t let her be hurt again.”

“You can still be protective and let go of yourself.” The older flicked open the lighter that he had still had in his hand and placed it between them both. Ethan watched as the flame danced, standing at a reasonable height. “See, the flame is surrounded by the wind yet it will stay standing because it has the fuel to do so. Look, it even follows the movements of the world around it. You have the fuel to protect the squirt.” Heisenberg flicked the top of his lighter back down, stuffing it back into his pants pocket before turning back to the other with a small grin. “And you can still let loose. Even if the wind does pick up,” Heisenberg had moved rapidly, wrapping his arm around the young male’s shoulder and brought him into his side. “I’ll be there to shield it.”

Such words and non-thoughtful actions had brought Ethan to look down at his hands. He could feel the burn of his cheeks and the smile that was pulling on the edge of his lips to raise. This. This was weirdly nice, to know someone was there. But that’s what Mia, Redfield and many others had said to him before in the past. “Promise me,” Ethan breathed out, looking up at Karl. Karl raised a brow and tilted his head slightly.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll always be there. And you can’t break that!” Ethan’s tone caught Karl off guard, to the point he had accidently shifted his arm off Ethan’s shoulder and let it fall to the wood just behind him. He swore he caught a glimpse of guilt flash over Ethan’s eyes before his pupils went back to staring at the darkness of his shades sitting comfortable against his eyes.

“Ethan,“ Karl swallowed deeply, noticed by his adman's apple jumping. He didn’t like promises. Never in his life did he have to promise something to someone else. This was big commitment. ‘Promises don’t break. Ethan trusts me to not break something’ he told himself before sighing into the cold air. Using the arm that was behind Ethan, he pulled it around and took Ethan’s chin into his hand. “I promise I’ll always be there. I’m your neighbour, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” He said, laughing as hr watched as dread appeared quickly on Ethan’s face.

“Oh great, looking forward to it,” Ethan had sarcastically said, smacking Karl’s hand away from his face but letting the smile dance across his face. “Thanks though, if you break it, I will not hesitate to ask ‘mega-bitch’ to be there for me.”

“Ey, I said I’ll be there. Anyway, I would do a so much better job than her,” Heisenberg said defensively, huffing and pouting that Ethan would go to her than him. “Just you watch,” He sneered, pointing at the Dimitrescu house in a violent manner, “I’ll be a whole lot better than her.”

Ethan placed his hand on the outstretch hand of the fourth lord, pushing it down gently so it rested between them both n the wooden planks beginning to stain from the rain gathered by the wind. He hadn’t realised he left his hand on top of Heisenberg’s as he spoke, however the other was ecstatic over the fact he felt his hand. “I won’t ask her then. Can’t believe I’m saying this but this your first step of gaining my trust that you want oh so badly,” Ethan teased, looking back to the world in front of them.

“You’ll see. I’ll gain more than just your trust.” Heisenberg peered down at their hands, making sure Ethan didn’t noticed and let out a soft happy hum. This was the first step, he would gain Ethan’s trust and then next, he would gain Ethan’s appreciation. For now, he was fine with this. He looked forward too, after tearing his gaze from their connected hands almost and watched as the rain droplets began to pick up.

“Well,” Ethan was the first to speak, standing up to his feet. Karl pouted at the loss of contact but also stood up, feeling excited on what the father would want to do next. “This has been fun. Now go home.” Or maybe not excited.

“Why? can't I hang here?” Karl pouted, trying to make Ethan feel guilty.  

“You want my trust? Go home and don’t make yourself sick. I suppose you can call me, seemingly they just give out numbers on paper without consent.” Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance, he was sure Moreau had already tried calling him a total of 5 time today in the space of three house, trying to talk his way of how happy he was Ethan saved them all. If only he could block numbers on the rotary phone.

“Okay fine. But you owe me at least a 2 hour call.”

“You get 30 minutes and that’s it.”

“1 hour call.”

“Don’t push you luck...1 hour and 30 minutes and that’s it.” Karl did a mini-fist pump into the air and nodded eagerly. Ethan chuckled and looked away shaking his head watching as Karl tilted his hat down, a way of saying ‘bye’ to the other and made his way of the porch.

“Good talking with you Ethan! Can’t wait for tonight!” He hollered out over his shoulder as he made his way towards his own home, only turning around hallway to see that the Winter male had disappeared already into his home. Feeling very satisfied with his days' work, and it only being the first day, he looked down at his hand and held it in his other, trying to recreate the feeling of when Ethan had placed his hand on top of his.  

“I really am touched starved.” he said before walking straight into his front door.

#Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #ethan x karl #lord heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #the paw of a lion #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #Lord Karl Heisenberg #heisenberg #ethan x heisenberg

[randowolfwriter]

Rocking that Solo (Intro)- Hot Dog Dilemma

Just a little one-shot from my self indulgent Older Warners au. Might consider doing more of these if it gets enough interest. 

Summary: 

A hot dog vendor meets the strangest girl (or puppy) he’s ever seen. Little does he know, she has a few tricks up her sleeve. 

She was a weird child. Probably one of the strangest the hot dog vendor had ever seen.

At first, he figured she had really poofy hair tied back with a sparkly heart-shaped hair tie, but then she approached him and saw that it wasn’t hair, but a pair of really large ears. Rabbit ears maybe? Then he noticed that she appeared to be covered in fur, ink-black with the exception of white that covered her entire face with a red nose that looked awfully a lot like a cat’s. When she smiled, he noticed tiny little fangs that made up her canines, and when she stepped back for a bit, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes—she didn’t need any. Giant white paws were what she walked on all day, much bigger than her front paws that looked more like hands. Then the key indicator of her strange appearance was that she had a tail, a long black one that was hard to determine whether it better belonged on a cat or a monkey. She could have been an animal that just escaped from the zoo had she not been wearing a giant purple sweater with a jean skirt and asking him tons of questions like any girl her age would ask. 

Yes, this indeed was the strangest little girl the vendor had ever seen, and yet, this wasn’t the first time she had visited him that day.

“You seem like a pretty cool guy,” She beamed through what appeared to be a Liverpool accent. “I’d love to have your job.”

“What are you doing back here?” The vendor barked. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“But I know where I am, so how can I get lost?” The girl inferred.

“I told you, I’m not bringing down the price of a dog.”

“But ten dollars is a little much, don’t you think? If I ran a hot dog cart, I would give everyone in the world a hot dog, and then I’d have the rest for myself.”

“Listen, little girl?” The vendor leaned over, trying to size himself up in order to intimidate her. “Are you gonna buy a dog or what? I haven’t got all day.”

Not once did she flinch from the vendor’s harsh demeanor, instead she kept smiling with a glimmer in those dark beady eyes of hers. “Well, I probably won’t since they’re so pricey. I just thought you should know that one of your cart’s wheels is missing.”

“What?”

The vendor tried to examine the wheel from where he leaned, but unfortunately, he couldn't. It was one of the front ones, which led him to move his lazy self to examine it. Clear as afternoon it was missing, despite it was there this morning when he wheeled the cart through the park. He only had a few customers that day, and none had bothered to mess with those wheels. In conclusion, it seemed that not only was this little girl strange, but she was also a wheel thief.

“Alright, where is it?” He grumbled.

“What?” The little girl asked coyly.

“The wheel? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He could hear his voice raise at the girl’s bewildered expression. “I know you have it!” 

“I swear I don’t-- well, I mean I don’t swear because Daddoo says it’s not nice to swear-- but I know I don’t have it. Here, I’ll show you.”

She then reached into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out a bunch of trinkets and trash she had collected over time. “See, I have a bobby pin, two pennies, a piece of lint, a heart sticker…"

As the vendor was preoccupied with the girl, another child appeared behind the hot dog cart. Just like the little girl, he had long ears that drooped like a puppy’s, white fur on his face that covered his black fur like a mask, a red nose, and beady black eyes that made him look more animal than human. The only distinction that he was more human than animal was a green sweatshirt he wore (yet he didn’t wear any pants.) The boy stuck out his tongue nervously as he watched the little girl prattle on to the hot dog vendor about the items in her pockets; it seemed like she had a lot for just two measly pockets.

Seeing that the vendor was distracted, the boy began piling hot dog packs, bratwurst packs, hot dog bun packs, small bags of potato chips, soda cans, anything he could get his paws on and threw them into a random sack that he pulled out of nowhere. Well, more like from behind him. But how he made a sack appear from nothing was really something. 

Meanwhile, the girl did everything she could to keep the vendor’s attention on her at all times.

“See, I don’t have it. I only take things that can fit in my pockets,” she explained.

“Fine, so you don’t have it,” the vendor grumbled once more. “But how is it that it hasn’t been missing all day, and then suddenly you show up, and it’s gone?”

“Don’t know. Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

The boy was taking an awfully long time. Every time he grabbed a hot dog packet or a bratwurst packet, his stomach lurched – the thought of eating meat was the bane of his existence.

Suddenly, the mustard bottle slipped out of his paws just as he reached for it, and rolled right in front of the girl and the vendor. To make matters even more awkward, the vendor stepped on the bottle and it squirted a dark yellow onto the pavement.  

“Huh? How did that get there…” The vendor turned and finally noticed the boy. The boy let out a startled gasp and shivered where he stood. 

“Um, hey! Wanna see me do a dance?” The girl chirped, trying to divert the vendor’s attention back to her. She then performed a couple of twirls seeing if that'd work, but it was too late. The vendor had already noticed the thief at his stand, her partner in crime.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” The boy immediately closed the sack and scrambled out of there. “You have to pay for that!”

“Run, Smakko!” The girl cried as she raced after him. As the boy sped off like a frightened hare and the girl caught up to him in seconds, it was clear that the two were related.

Twins.

She was the distraction, and he was what the hot dog vendor should have been looking out for. Now here they were, little dog-monkey rascals that were better off locked up in a zoo than running away with his product.

“When I get my hands on you two, I’ll make sure you’ll get what’s coming to you!” He roared after them. 

“But you have to catch us first!” The girl shouted with a giggle. 

All through the park, the vendor chased after them. The chase felt like it went on for hours with the kids’ insane energy and the vendor’s determination to get his product back. It wasn’t until the kids ran smack dab into an officer minding his own business that they were finally caught. Immediately upon collision, he grabbed the two kids by the scruff of their clothes and held them up like noisy kittens, mostly pertaining to the girl who kicked in defiance while the boy hung there like a wet rag.

“Are these two giving you any trouble?” The officer spoke in what also appeared to be a deep Liverpool accent. He sounded a little like Ringo Starr. For some reason, upon hearing the officer's voice, the girl settled down. 

“You bet! Those mongrels there stole my hot dogs!” The vendor exclaimed, pointing a large index finger at the two. 

“Not like you were using it anyway,” The girl spat.

“Those two need to be taken back to the zoo where they belong!”

“No worries, sir. I’ll take care of them,” The large officer said, eyeing each of them with a stern glare. “Now give the man back his dogs.”

The boy then handed the vendor the giant sack. It seemed lighter than what he thought it would be. “Well appreciated, officer,” the vendor thanked.

He gave the vendor a small wave, “No need for thanks. All in a day’s work."  Then he gave the kids another stern glare. "Let’s go, pups.”

For some reason, as the officer walked off with the two kids curled in his arms, they seemed too content for having just been apprehended. Well, the boy still had that fearful look in his eyes as if it was stuck that way, but the look on the girl’s face was one that was not expected; she seemed too happy. 

The further the vendor walked away from them, the more he realized that the officer himself looked kind of strange. He looked like any other big officer just patrolling the city and keeping the neighborhood peace, yet then he remembered his face...something was off about it. It was pale, almost like it was covered in fur, he had a big red nose, and he had beady black eyes, just like those kids…

Suddenly, he stopped and opened the sack to find that his cart’s product wasn't in there, just a bunch of stuffed rubber dogs that squeaked.  

He’d been duped. Those weird kids and that weird officer were all related and they made off with his hot dogs. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it that easily. The vendor ran right up to them, his face red as the ketchup bottles that were just stolen.  

“Thieves!” He screamed at them. “Who do you think you are?”

The officer then stopped and set the kids down, “Well, I know for a fact that I’m no Bizzie.” 

Suddenly, he tore off the hat to reveal pierced dog-like ears sticking out of a baseball cap that looked like it had been beaten up over the years, especially with that giant bite mark that ate half its bill. Long unkempt black fur-- or it might have been hair-- flowed past his shoulders, while some even jutted out from his hat. Underneath the uniform, he wore a blue sweater covered with a brown leather jacket, torn jeans, and giant white paws that he walked upon just like the two kids. In likeness, this man could have been a rock star had he not had the black and white puppy-dog face like the kids and stuck out his tongue to compliment the look. 

“What are you?!” The vendor shuddered in bewilderment. He couldn’t decide whether he was some mutated dog or probably the ugliest man he had ever seen.

“Why he’s my Daddoo, silly!” The girl giggled. “I’m Jojo,” then she pointed towards the boy identical to her, “and this is my brother, Smakko." Then she held out her arms and posed, while her brother seemed hesitant to follow suit. "And we’re the Warner twins!"

“I don’t care if you were the Olsen twins. I demand that you give me back my hot dogs this instant!"

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” the man referred to as ‘Daddoo’ asked, “but that wouldn’t happen to be your cart, is it?”

The vendor then turned to see his hot dog cart speeding right towards them. Without a moment to react, the vendor was hit right with the cart and sent flying down the path while the father and his children moved to the side just in time. Luckily for the vendor, the cart didn’t go right into the busy streets of downtown traffic, but it did crash him into a nearby tree, causing the poor man to see hotdogs flying over his head.

“Look sir, your wheel came back,” Jojo pointed out.

“Yes, I see that,” the vendor said dizzily, then passed out.

“Naughty kids,” the father scolded, “who taught you such awful manners?” Then a giant smile appeared on his face, his tongue sticking out once more. 

“Now what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thanks for the hot dogs, sir!” Jojo thanked with a wave. 

“Thank you,” The boy named Smakko only muttered.  

The hot dog vendor perked up from his short comatose just as the father, with both of his strange puppy kids, the girl clinging to him like a koala and the boy clutching the bag filled with his product, walked away. No doubt about it, this was a horrible day, both personally and economically. 

But really, why did it matter? The vendor's cart was surprisingly okay, despite the crash and the strange reappearance of the wheel. Not to mention, there was a lot more product than what the family made off with, but losing those profits was going to hurt him. He'd have to lower the price of those dogs, and bratwursts, and basically everything at his cart just to make up for the stolen product. 

He went to authorities about it, but all they did was laugh, except for one, who seemed to shake in his seat at the mere mention of puppy-kids. Like they were going to be any help. 

Eventually, the hot dog vendor had to shrug off this brash occurrence and continue with his business. People were still going to want hot dogs, and unfortunately be desperate enough to pay ten bucks for it. 

However, this strange moment like a fly in the ear returned to him one day when he was visiting his family. His nieces and nephews were busy watching an old cartoon that he remembered was on when he was a kid called “Animaniacs,” which was considered one of the greatest cartoons of the decade. Of course, he didn’t think much of it now that he was a man in his thirties, but during this particular viewing, there was something that stood out to him.

The three main kids, with those long ears, black-furred with pale white faces, those red noses, and those beady black eyes…they looked exactly like the kids that harassed him at the park. Not to mention, the boy wearing the baseball cap looked exactly like the timid boy who barely spoke a word during their encounter. The boy in the show brimmed with confidence compared to the shy nature of the boy who had the gall to steal his hotdogs, yet had his sister do most of the talking.      

Then another thought occurred to him. The father of those two children also wore a blue sweater, and his head was covered with a red cap similar to the boy’s in the show, except his was worn with age. Then there was that smile, that puppy-dog-looking face with his pink tongue sticking out as if to distract from the fact that he was a freak of nature. He also brimmed with tons of confidence. How could anyone go out in public looking the way he did, with that long unkempt hair, those piercings that bit at his ears, and the strange rock star vibe he gave off just by being near him?           

No, it couldn't be. But maybe? 

Could possibly the middle child, the hungriest, the quietest, and the wackiest of the Warner trio next to his chatty older brother and his sassy younger sister might have grown up into the man he encountered at the park? That strange man with his strange children who were also giant troublemakers like he was. Could possibly the father of those two twins might have been…

Wakko Warner?  

#animaniacs #rocking that solo #wakko warner #jojo warner #smakko warner #animaniacs 2020 #older warners au #animaniacs ocs #abbs writings

[cdyssey]

Unholy Communion

Summary: After the confrontation with Lyra, Marisa finds herself alone on the balcony, drinking.

AO3 Link

CW: Alcohol; Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

—

The starless night drags itself in dark shadows over Marisa Coulter as she sits at the dining table on the balcony.

All alone.

Clenching the stem of her half-empty wine glass as though she has all intentions to shatter it in half.

It wouldn’t take much to do it.

A sharp twist of her fingers.

A scientifically precise modicum of force applied.

And then there’d be glass all over her palms, red wine and blood intermingled across the smooth expanse of her white flesh.

Communion.

She smiles bitterly to herself at this little joke as the monkey growls from his favorite perch on the precarious ledge. He likes to pace it from time to time, slinking along the thin edge that separates him from the fall.

Of course, the fundamental difference between him and Marisa is that only one of them would think about jumping.

“We’ve wasted too much time with her,” she says aloud, tipping her head back and draining the rest of her drink with one unbroken swallow. 

And then, because she wants to get drunk tonight, because she doesn’t want to feel, she pours herself another portion, the neck of the bottle clinking against the rim of the glass in harmonious disharmony.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

“Trying to mold her, teach her manners, raise her by God,” Marisa scoffs, spilling a little wine on the side of her hand with the movement, “because no one else apparently did.”

The irony of this particularly statement is only temporarily lost of her.

When she remembers herself, when she recalls that she spent nearly fourteen hours in labor with Lyra, that she once tenderly and lovingly called her daughter, the monkey whimpers pathetically, his black eyes glittering in the dark.

“Oh, shush,” she snarls at him, taking satisfaction when he cowers. “You know what I meant.”

And Marisa inhales yet another drag of Moscato, ignoring that the monkey cautiously leaps off the ledge and back onto the balcony when she does.

On safe ground now.

Secure.

“And of course she adores Asriel,” she laughs humorlessly, swiping the back of her hand across her wet mouth. Her knuckles come back stained. “Who doesn’t adore that complete and utter bastard?”

She allows the word bastard to luxuriate on her tongue. It’s a borrowing from French word according to the Jordan English Dictionary, adopted by Anglo-Norman speakers sometime in the 1500s—basttard, bastart, basterde.

The intellectualization makes her feel smart.

The primal coarseness of the word makes her feel savage.

She takes another reckless swill of wine.

She deserves to feel savage tonight.

The monkey totters a little on his paws but retains enough composure to stare at her reproachfully—malevolent, insolent thing.

“She was going to find out eventually,” Marisa defends herself, scrunching her nose, “if not from me, then from someone who would have spun some fantastic tale about Lord Asriel’s greatness and heroism and personal tragedy. They would have elevated his name to the stars”—she raises her glass in mock reverence—“called him Father of the Year for doing the bare minimum of impregnating—”

She stops short, her breath hitching, the natural end to this sentence almost unbearable to admit.

“... me.”

And there it is again. 

The implicit recognition of her own motherhood. 

The love that swells so horribly inside her chest. 

The adoration. 

The warmth.

The peculiar sensation that she would give up nearly anything just to wrap Lyra in her arms again and never let her go.

It’s all so terribly disturbing.

Marisa drinks again like she’s a woman dying of thirst in the desert, swallowing each droplet like it’s holy.

“She doesn’t need to know who her mother is,” she shakes her head at the monkey, who’s accusing her of hypocrisy with his eyes. “Not yet anyway. I’ll save that for when she’s old enough to realize... to understand...”

But by then, it might be too late. Dust will have enveloped her. Pantalaimon will be forever fixed, a visible manifestation of Eve’s sin and the sin of all subsequent humanity.

Marisa closes her eyes against this horrid eventuality.

“And if that’s never,” she continues hoarsely, “then so be it. As long as she understands who her father is and what he’s made of.”

Lust and greed and unconscionable ambition. 

Coldness. 

Anger. 

A death wish to defy God. 

“I don’t have to be her mother... if today was any indication, perhaps it’s for the best if I’m not in title as well as deed.”

She opens her eyes again, flicking the back of her free hand across them violently as though chasing a bothersome fly, and is surprised to find that her knuckles come away wet this time instead of stained.

The monkey stares at her sadly but doesn’t dare to come any closer. Marisa takes another hefty swallow just to spite him, to ache his tiny head.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps. “It’s insufferable. I can’t suffer it. Go away. You have vents to be in, I believe.”

Her dæmon knows when he’s been dismissed. Dragging his tail across the floor, he leaves her alone on the balcony, going slowly, teetering.

And when her chest wrenches with the inevitable distance of him, Marisa pretends not to feel it.

#marisa coulter #his dark materials #lyra silvertongue #f: his dark materials #reginianwrites #alcohol tw #self-harm tw #let me know if you need more tags on this one!

[loudlypanickinginvenezolano]

Animalistic.

Trigger warning for this chapter? Yes. I talk about dead animals, and got into some detail. So, be warned you all.

Shadow centric. Sorry not sorry. 

CHAPTER NUMBER 1.  also in AO3

If the alarmed squeal that had left his mouth had not been embarrassing enough, the sound he made when he fell right on his bottom, and hurt a bit his tail, definitely signed his name in the waiting list for a hole to appear and swallow him.

Right.

After making sure that no one had witnessed his embarrassing fall… besides the chirping ravens, that is… he allowed a sigh to make its appearance, rubbing a hand on his heaving chest.

Now he knew things WERE alarmingly weird, and not just him being a paranoid idiot, as his mind has been trying to reassure him. When he first had stepped into the forest he had noticed a particular lack of sound, of— of everything.

Don’t get him wrong, this was no normal forest, more akin to the very own of Angel Island, and the fauna was ever shifting, however, it wasn’t common for there to be such a lack of birds or rabbits or foxes or anything running around. There were moments, yes, but this one… It did not sat right with him.

His gloved hands grazed the thick and old trunk of the trees as he walked, branches and fallen leaves creaking loudly under his boots.

If he went out of his way just to step in those that looked extra crunchy, there was no one to say. Mostly, because there was no real “way” he was following. At this point, it was more wandering that other thing, leaving his paws take him to wherever they wanted, wondering quietly to himself what he may found today, what may have changed since yesterday...

That was, though, until his gaze fell in the scurrying fox not so far away.

Coming closer, he noticed and could hear clearly the chittering and snickering of three foxes. He stared for a while, deciding that, yes, he knew these foxes, and that yes, they were acting more nervous than usual. And that was saying something.

They jumped away once they noticed his presence, darting in different directions, leaving him only blinking in astonishment, as this was the first time they had reacted so fiercely to his presence. It was also with a pang that he realized that they almost seemed scared.

They had… never been scared of him like that.

Before he could ponder too long about it, a known black flashed on his peripheral vision and a grin made its way into his face. He sprinted towards it, leaping over fallen branches, rocks, and trees, scurrying under the thick foliage and water-filled lianas, sometimes squashing under his paws fallen fruits and some mushrooms he did not care to dodge. It was fun, not running because he needed to, or because he was racing someone. It was… a normal mobian that is just kidding around kind of run.

It was amazing.

Just as he thought he was going to succeed in catching the bird, they turned into another corner and… well.

He fell thanks to a dip he hadn’t noticed…Right in front of a sleeping bear.

A big, big growling bear.

It took him a moment to calm his lizard brain, realizing that, no, he wasn’t in danger, and that it was a half dead bear, not a sleeping or resting one as he had initially believed.

…On second thought, just-a-quarter-alive bear?

It was kind of pitiful to see, and once again he felt his breath leave him completely once the picture completely dawned on him.

Shadow blinked in direction of his winged friend, even though there was nothing to gain by it. It was not like he could ask what had happened, or why he was leaded here, if he was leaded at all or was just coincidence…

The raven was practically crooning at him, shaking his tail feathers and hopping into his spot.

Cute, indeed, but it didn’t answer any of his questions. He felt like glaring in frustration at his unhelpful company, and being honest, he almost did, however, the groan the bear make shifted his focus into the more pressing matter at hand.

Really, how was the thing still alive? It certainly had…a number…done on it. The blood pooled around it, and he was sure half it face was missing. Though, it most likely was because of the ravens it was still trying to spook.

Or maybe the culprit was a monkey? He was sure he had seen a few 4 days ago, but even so, if they were still here or not was a complete wild card.

Shadow stood, albeit hesitantly, telling himself like a mantra that just because he didn’t feel safe next to bears it meant he was going to die or suddenly get hurt just because he got close to a very clearly dying one. He had fought in an alien invasion, for fucks sake! How come he still feared this dumb things?

It really didn’t help his uneasiness, nor settled his knotted stomach, but his step did not waver once, and his fingers never shook, so he was counting this as a success.

His eyes widened as he fully took in the state of the bear. He could not tell wherever it was a male or a female, and the still pawing limbs of the bear were most likely not going to let him check. He didn’t think it mattered that much, but it could be nice to know.

The bit marks though. His eyes always found the way to them, not matter how much he was trying to check for other injuries. They were nothing like something he had ever seen before. On the actual animal kingdom, at least.

It wasn’t a wolf or any other territorial bear attack as he had thought at first. It was most likely a new animal, or well, creature, that had found its way into his forest. It wasn’t uncommon.

That didn’t make the view of its teeth and claws marks any easier to see. Whatever it was, it was big, a predator, and vicious. The maw was…all wrong, and claws this size and this thick… the markings all around the place, as well! It got dragged, but to what purpose? From where? Scare others predators?

“Oh, thingy.” He mumbled, reaching up to plant his hand on the strong back of the beast. He didn’t think it appreciated his try at comfort, and to be honest, Shadow himself wasn’t sure HE would have liked it either. It was all he could think of, though, so they would have to endure. “I am…sure you did your best.” He could see the guts of the bear from his kneeling position, and there was no point in trying to heal the neck. It was beyond destroyed. It… they were huffing, dark eyes glossed over and flickering to everywhere.

Dark eye?

Shadow noticed a lost ear, and that the jagged cut along their hindquarters showed bones. Broken, most likely, judging by the looks.

“Hey, gumdrops, would you be so kind in stop picking at it? Thank you” He reprimanded at the disrespectful raven, blowing at him so he would fly away. His ruby eyes went back to the bear face, and stroke it with sadness even in his fear. Their claws were prickly, but didn’t hurt as much as what he knew he needed to do. “I don’t have something to say, but… I do wonder why you ended like this…I’m sorry, I guess…”

He forced himself to stare at the beast eye, as he ended everything in the quickest and painless way he could muster at the moment.

Trying to heal them would prove futile, and even if he did succeed in making them survive the day, the pain they were in, plus the blood lost, the broken bones, the neck, and face injuries… making it survive and live what most likely wasn’t going to be a happy existence, if they made it for longer than a week…

Shadow couldn’t make it. He knew he was usually seen as someone cold or, whatever the fuck Amy had accused him of being last time, but this was… cruelty beyond everything he could think of. Stopping their pain was a mercy. What the fuck, it was the only option he had!

He wondered for how long have they been like this.

He wondered what could have hurt the bear like this, just to leave them, barely nibbled on and broken beyond repair to rot…

He discarded his gloves and racked his fingers over the fur, seeing the cuts and old scars that littered the skin. He also checked the face, noting the lost teeth and bloodied gums. The maw hanged loose in an unnatural way, and he found a very strange thing inside its mouth, piercing the tongue and palate.

It was a spine. A short one, but sharp and strong, a dark blue that became white by its end.

He had stashed it into his leather strap thigh bag, where he had also kept his gloves, untrusting the ravens and others beast of the forest that he may not see, but knew where watching or running everywhere, and deciding that, no, the guts were in that state by blunt force or maybe stepping in, but not by ravens or any other animal when he heard something… strange, to say.

By this moment, the sun was shining brightly and strongly over the ground of the forest he had made home in, unlike earlier when he first stepped in, and the light could barely made it through the thick fog. It was a change he welcomed happily, as it made it easier to walk the terrain. Following the noises, and having a clearer view, it didn’t take him even 5 minutes to found 3 young bear cubs, trying to scare away a menacing wild cat.

Shadow stomach plummeted down.

So that was why…

#Sonadow #Shadow the hedgehog #This just the first chapter im sorry #STH #Sonic the hedgehog #forest #not unleashed #not Sonic unleashed #Sonic the werehog #Shadow is taking care of the babies #they are going back to the forest once he is sure they can survive on their own #The werehog is feral #Animalistic #my writing

[stryfeposting]

there is a frank fic out there that technically has many, many things i like but all delivered in the most unlikable, actively off-putting way. whenever i'm *this* close to voicing a thought into the world like 'big meaty scarred-up frank attempting to play homemaker housewife is kinda hot to me' i have to immediately pump the brakes in case the monkey's paw that hangs over my head like a fucked up sword of damocles closes another finger and someone inadvertently ruins my day by reminding me that that story exists.

anyway on an unrelated note merry christmas. also how good is the mental image of big meaty scarred-up frank attempting to to play homemaker housewife? pretty good, imo.

[ohshitmomitsawritingblog]

GIMME SOME GIYUU AND WAVES PLS. POR FAVOR. WILL GIVE U A LIMB FOR IT

-finger on the monkey’s paw curls-

Iyuu—

The morning is cold and distant, a broken, slanted view of his sister’s body smeared into tatami mats, the gore of her body slowly rotting the silk of her kimono. Her face is too pale, stretched into a soft smile even in death, the muscles having gone rigid after muscle had cooled and freezing her mouth into an upward position.

What they didn’t tell Giyuu about the dead: they turn black very soon after the heart stops and the blood that had pulsed through them - powered by heart and lungs and brain - becomes a servant of gravity and sinks into limbs and fingers and toes. It bruises the very body it inhabited, black and purple replacing the warm pink of life. Decay is encouraged by the sticky heat of summer. Flies buzz over his sister’s head by sunrise.

Cicadas scream outside.

This is the first dead person Giyuu sees.

G-iiiiiyu—-uu

He cups her face in his hands. The flesh is tender, like overripe fruit. How easy it could tear.

Her face looks like a million dead faces. Old men, young girls, a boy of mine, a man of twenty - he sees them all in her face. His sister’s smile grows, revealing pink teeth. The coal miner’s boy and his sister, a rounder, younger mirror to her brother, much like he was a mirror to Tsutako. The smell that comes from her would make any man gag; a mixture of rotting fruit left out in the sun, and pork that has soured some place darknand wet. Congealed blood gushes out of her fanged mouth, and Tsutako’s neck cracks and crunches as it shifts, kissing the palm that holds her.

Giyu—

Her body stays limp, her bones too broken to to move the meat that twitches and spasms around them. He feels something sharp poke at his palm: he knows, rather than sees, her teeth gnawing at the flesh of his head. He feels waves of his blood pulse out of his body, and his sister, who was so much like his mother, laps it up with greedy slurps. He hears the crunch of something important, something irreplaceable. But no pain.

I love you,

I love you

Giy—-uu I love—

Water cashes over his head in a cold rush.

“GIYUU!” Is her irritated cry. The Giyuu in question blinks, and then rubs his eyes.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice mild as ever.

“You were spacing out. Again.” She huffs.

As Giyuu blinks again, the figment of his home is replaced by something else: his bathroom, the one supplied by the Corps, situated in an estate all his own, personalized to his taste. Spacious rooms kept modest, deprived of decorations and momentos. Simple, roughly hewn walls make up the bathing area, and a modest well supplies fresh water. It is a quiet place, with wafting steam and condensed water clinging to every surface as it’s put to use. Giyuu’s lover, if she could be called that at the moment, tosses a small bucket down onto the floor. It clatters, almost painfully loud, against the stone floor.

“Was I?” Her fingers run through his hair. He doesn’t have to even look up to see the pinched look of worry on her pretty face, but he does anyways. He wonders what she sees: Indifference? Tears?

“You were.”

The worry that rolls out of her body at that admission was like a wave crashing against some weather hewn rock, desperate for leverage that will take hundreds of thousands of years of erosion to create. He makes no move to comfort or reassure her, unsure of what to do. And then, like that, he feels the worry recede back into her body, the force of it making her fingers tremble against his skin.

She’s a good woman, Giyuu thinks absently, taking one of her hands and kissing the crook between her pinky and ring finger, as if it was an afterthought.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds cool, as if he wasn’t sorry at all. “I’ll try to pay more attention.”

He face crumbles, but does not break. This woman isn’t like Tsutako or the other female Hashira. She hides everything, refuses company and tears and humility, as if these things would choke her if swallowed peacefully. Yet, she asks for nothing. She cares for him like a wife, and yet does not ask to marry him. She watches over his estate, as if she is the head maid, and yet refuses payment. She tends to his bed, and yet seems unconcerned when he’s gone for weeks, or months at a time. An enigma to the enigma, people say.

“You worry me, stupid.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says. He’s never paid attention to love and the things that go on between two people. If they ever did marry, he imagines himself as a rotten husband. Cold, distant like a cloud, always a keeping her at arms length. He considers the last wedding he was even in somewhat close proximity to, and then shakes his head sadly.

“I’m sorry.” This time, his lover presses her fingers to the crown of his head, and cranes his neck so he’s looking at her directly. She kisses his forehead, and he feels his throat tighten.

“Oh, Giyuu,” she sighs, her hair brushing his forehead as she traces a pattern - he can’t tell what. He’s more focused on the way her eyes seem to soften and shift with something he can’t quite pin down in the half light of the morning. Was it fustration? She seemed frustrated earlier. “,what am I going to do with you?”

“Take a bath with me?” He asks, head tilting to the side.

She laughs at his confusion, her hands bracing his head and pulling him to her chest as she almost doubles over. It’s a sweet sound, and he presses his nose to her collarbone.

“Gods man! You’re so silly, you know that, right?”

“N-no?” He’s taken aback by this. She’s the only person who ever seems to find him funny.

“Well, now you do,” her fingers massage the crown of Giyuu’s hair, and he feels his shoulders slacken at the feeling. When’s the last time he’s been touched before he met her? He swallows, his eyes sliding shut.

“...You should also know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” his voice is almost a whisper, and she has to kiss the furrow in his brow away, lasping into a quiet that does nothing to settle the air between them. Giyuu catches a wet strand of hair that has stuck to his chest inbetween his pointer finger and thumb, and worries it between the digits.

For a moment, it is quiet, and then:

“What happens if you dream like that when you’re hunting, Giyuu? It’s getting worse, not better—“

“I won’t.”

“But you could.”

“But I won’t.”

Her anger flairs, and she pulls him close to her body, as if proximity will protect either of them. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because,” Giyuu’s eyes open and he captures the line of her jaw in his hand, aligning her face to his, as if he’s whispering a secret that crawls from his mouth to her’s, vile and acidic, “I’m just not able to die before the people I love. That’s all there is to it. I’d have to bury you before I died.”

Her face contorts into something like horror, and not even the kiss her presses to her unresponsive lips erases the sickly paleness of her face, or the way her fingers cling to his hair.

“That’s a terrible way to tell someone you love them,” she whispers, a tear running down her cheek.

Gyiuu swipes at it, his jaw clenching so tight that he feels the muscles in his head jump and scream. He forces himself to relax enough only to say: “Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Would it help if I kissed you more?”

She makes a soft ‘mmm’, almost childish and plaintive, but mostly, it is raw, and needing.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her forehead.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her cheek.

“I love you,” Giyuu says, pressing a kiss to her other cheek and then another, and another, and another on her mouth.

She lets out a sob, and tears land on his face, rolling down his neck and into his hair. “I thought you said you wouldn’t cry if I kissed you.”

“I lied,” she whines, and he feels something like a smile forming on his mouth.

“Should I make it up to you?”

#tater-tati #spring drabble 2020 #kny #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka

[yeeharley]

8 and 11 for Halloween prompts please🥺

Of course, dear! I really hope you like it!

8: came to investigate someone screaming next door

11: dog chased me up a tree when I tried to knock on the door

Isn’t it a major Halloween faux pas to follow the sound of extremely loud, shrill, terrifying screaming and find out what it is?

That feels like a bad idea. It feels like the moment a clown jumps out of the bushes and chops your head out. It feels like Harley is about to die a bloody and horrible death.

But it also feels like he really wants to know who’s making that awful noise, so. Onwards and upwards.

Armed with a baseball bat from his little league days and an amount of trepidation that could kill a horse, Harley creeps out of his apartment and closes the door behind him as quietly as he can. The screaming is quieter, further in between (which probably isn’t great).

The sound of a dog barking has joined it.

Don’t the Robertsons have a dog? A german shepard?

Yeah, they do.

Is the Robertsons’ dog mauling somebody to death?

Maybe, Harley thinks, creeping along the boundary of bushes between his house and his neighbors’, baseball bat still slung over his shoulder and gripped between white knuckles.

He would rather not have to hit a dog. He’s always liked them, but if someone is being actively attacked, he’s probably going to have to.

Abby would kill him if she found out.

She’ll have to never find out.

There aren’t many trick-or-treaters out anymore, which is probably a good thing considering the amount of attention screaming on Halloween would draw.

Harley crosses the yard, bare feet crunching against short-cropped grass, and makes his way around the driveway. The barking is louder now, more frequent.

And there it is.

Yeah, it’s the Robertsons’ german shepherd (Gertrude, he thinks, but it could also be Giselle or something else that starts with a ‘g’. Probably Gertrude). 

“What’ve you got?” Harley shouts, breaking into a light jog as Gertrude comes into view. She’s barking up the side of a tree, one paw set against its trunk, jaws moving quickly to reveal really sharp teeth (dear God, that’s terrifying). 

There’s another shout from the canopy of the tree. Then, “Hey, would you mind helping us get down?”

A boy’s voice, lower than that of the screams. So there are… two people in the tree? 

Okay. Okay, he can deal with this.

Harley reaches down to grab Gertrude by the collar and pulls her back, gritting his teeth as she tries to move closer. She’s big, strong, but not as strong as him. He’s able to pull her back to the house and attatch her leash (she must’ve gotten off of it) to the doorknob before turning back and peering up at the top of the tree.

Just as he’d guessed, there are two people clinging to the slim branches. One is a little girl in a Spider-Man costume- sans mask- with teary eyes and a bag of candy clutched between her little fists.

The other is a boy who looks to be around Harley’s age. He’s not dressed in a costume, just a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt, and his curly hair droops down around his eyes as he peers down at Harley with a nervous grin on his face. 

“Uh- hey,” The boy says, freeing up one of his hands to wave. “Can you help us out?”

The little girl chokes out another sob, gripping the boy- her brother, maybe- like he’s her only lifeline.

“Yeah, I got you.” Harley drops the bat to the dewy grass, shaking his hands out before stretching his arms up above his head. He can reach just shy of the girl’s feet, but it’s high enough for the boy to lower her into his grip. 

The minute she can, she wraps her arms around Harley’s neck and attatches herself to him like a little monkey. He chuckles and bends down so her feet, clad in light-up sneakers, can reach the ground.

“I’ve gotta get your brother down now, okay?” He says gently, before nodding at her bag of candy. “Eat some of that while I help ‘im.”

She nods eagerly and digs into the bag with relish, fear clearly forgotten. “Thanks, mister.”

Main problem taken care of, Harley turns back to the boy in the tree and tilts his head, trying to figure out how in the world he’s supposed to do this. He can’t weigh that much if the branches can hold him, which is good, but he’s still just a little bit too far above Harley’s head for this to be easy. 

“What’s your name?” Harley calls up, neck craning uncomfortably.

The boy blinks, bites his lip. “Peter Parker. That’s Morgan.”

Sounds familiar, but he can’t seem to place it. 

“Alright, Peter.” God, this is hard. “Uh- can you come down a little so I can reach you?”

Peter grits his teeth, shakes his head. “I, uh, don’t think so?”

“You’re stuck?”

“In a way.” He shrugs before reaching up to grip the branch above his head. 

“Think you could jump?” Harley asks, spreading his arms wide like he’s about to catch something. “I won’t drop you if you do.”

From the way Peter’s face pales, he’s not exactly fond of that idea. Nontheless, he swallows convulsively and nods, staring down at Harley like he’s his saving grace. 

There’s a nasty scrape on the side of his face. It’s dripping blood into his eyebrow. Looks painful.

“Alright,” Harley says quietly, carefully. “Go ahead and jump. I’ll catch you- promise.”

He sees the minute Peter’s legs tense. He swings out, eyes clenched shut, and drops neatly from the treetop into Harley’s arms (he really doesn’t weigh that much, so it isn’t terribly difficult).

There’s a pair of arms around his neck and a pair of eyes fixed on his, glimmering with something akin to surprise. Harley stares, dumbfounded, as Peter tilts his head slightly to one side and makes absolutely no effort to get down.

He’s awfully cute. 

Even with the steady trail of blood making its way down to his eyelid.

“You’re bleeding,” Harley mutters. 

“Scraped my face on the tree when I was trying to get her up.”

Absently, he reaches up to brush his thumb over Peter’s eyebrow, wincing as the boy hisses and blinks rapidly. “You alright?”

He shrugs, eyes fixed on the red that stains Harley’s finger. “I think so.”

Harley stands there, still holding Peter securely in his arms, transfixed by the pink color of his lips, until there’s a quiet cough and a hand tugging at his pants.

“You got candy at your house, mister?” Morgan asks impatiently, staring up at him and showing off the little spider insignia painted onto her right cheek. “You gonna put Petey down?”

Harley chokes out a strangled laugh and sets down Peter as quickly as he can, leaning down to pick up his baseball bat. Peter brushes himself off, cheeks faintly pink, before turning to look down at Morgan.

“He’s done enough, Morg,” he says gently. “I think it’s time we go ahead-”

“Yeah, I’ve got candy,” Harley says. Smiles and jerks his head at his own house. “And first-aid supplies. You shouldn’t walk back with your head bleeding like that.”

If it’s possible, Peter’s face seems to get even redder. “I couldn’t impose on you like that-”

“It’s not an imposition if I invite you.”

Morgan laughs, high and clear, before attatching herself firmly to Harley’s leg and looking imploringly up at Peter. “He’s got candy!”

It’s obvious that he can’t say no to her; Harley recognizes that- he’d felt the same way about Abby when she’d still lived with him. Peter nods slowly, the corner of his lips curling up, before he reaches down and slips his hand into Harley’s.

Oh.

Oh.

Oooooooh, okay.

Harley leads the siblings (maybe?) back to his house, head turned away from Peter to hide his smile, before depositing his bat beside the front door and leading Morgan to the stash of candy under his kitchen sink. She happily starts to fill her bag, stuffing handfuls of candy into her pockets and under the neck of her suit.

He loves kids. God, he loves them.

When Morgan’s happily occupied, Harley sits Peter down at the counter before pulling his first ait kit out and digging through it for butterfly bandages, alcohol, and cotton pads. He perches on one of the stools a foot or so away, leaning in slowly and dabbing at the cut as gently as he possibly can. 

Peter still hisses and grits his teeth, but he doesn’t move, allowing Harley to finish his work and tape the bandages over the cut, holding it closed. The bleeding has pretty much stopped at this point, only a slow drip of red, and Harley leans back with a satisfied hum.

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, reaching up to poke at his forehead. “I appreciate all your help.”

“No problem,” Harley says. He packs up the kit, closes it, and pushes it aside.

He does impulsive, possibly stupid things all the time.

This might be one of the most impulsive and stupid of them all.

He grabs a pen off of the counter, pulls a napkin out of the nearest drawer, and scribbles down his number before pressing it into Peter’s hand.

“Text me when you get back to wherever you’re supposed to be goin’,” he says with a smile. “So I know you got back safe.”

Peter nods and grins back at him, folding the napkin into fourths and shoving it into his pocket.

“Thanks.”

Thirty minutes after they’ve left, Harley’s phone vibrates twice in his jacket pocket. His stomach erupts into butterflies as he pulls it out and reads through the messages, eyes wide, a warm feeling growing in his chest.

hey it’s peter? we got back safe so

also i was wondering if you’d maybe want to get coffee with me sometime? totally fine if you don’t but i figured i might as well pay you back

Harley blinks, biting his lip. He feels like a lovesick teenager about to go on his first date- is that a date? That could totally be a date, right?

Yeah, I’d really like that. You free Saturday?

absolutely.

#silver-bubbles' fanfic #prompt #request #blurb #peter parker #harley keener #peter parker x harley keener #parkner #keenker #harleypeter #morgan stark #cute #halloween #halloween prompt #ask

[serrj215]

Family

The night was angry, rain punished the earth, and lightning cracked the sky again and again. Trigon was gone. The king of demons was trapped in his own little corner of reality. Still that didn’t stop him from making an occasional appearance in his daughter’s dreams. It was 4:00 am when Raven had jumped out of her skin. A summer storm shook the windows and rattled on the roof above. Raven looked down her body to see a pair of sleepy annoyed green eyes.

She jerked her leg in waking up. Sweet Potato yawned then went back to using Raven's left ankle as a pillow. The small orange cat was asleep in moments. It was about 6 years ago when the cat adopted them.

~

"Rae!"  Beast Boy shouted, "The landlord didn’t mention this!"

Raven came out to the balcony of their new apartment. To find her fiancé sitting on the cement floor an orange kitten in his lap. He looked up at her.  "Free cat!" he said with a smile almost too big for his face.

"Garfield, where did that come from?"  She asked as she started messaging one of her temples.

"Well Rae, when a Mama cat and a Daddy cat love each other ver-"

"You know what I mean!" Raven snapped. It had been a long day already. The furniture they had ordered hadn’t shown up. Their living room was just a mountain of boxes. She was hungry, tired, sweaty, and just knew the boxes with her clean clothes were probably buried under all their other belongings.

Beast Boy got up cradling the cat in his arms. The animal barely reacted like all of this happened every day.  Before she knew it, he had closed the distance between them, and she was holding a purring orange ball of fluff. The cat started rubbing his head against her chin, his motor running on overdrive.

"Gar," Her hands of their own volition started petting the cat. "We really can’t have a pet right now. WE! don't even have a place to sleep tonight." The cat was doing its best to charm her "Besides I already have you. "

"Ha. Ha." He said as his hands joined hers in the cat’s fur. "Well don’t think of him as a pet, he can be our training kid!" That remark was enough to bring Raven to her senses and she pushed the cat back into Beast Boy's arms.

"OH No!" she said sternly "He can stay tonight but is going to a shelter in the morning! We don't need a training kid, we are renting an apartment together, we are engaged, do not get ahead of yourself!" Raven stormed back inside to rip apart boxes.

That was six years ago, and the cat later named Sweet Potato for his color had decided to become Raven's near constant companion. Whatever room Raven went in, a small orange puffball followed. The cat didn’t demand attention often, he was content to take up watch from the bookshelves as Raven meditated, or to supervise her from the top of the fridge when she made her tea. Despite being able to sleep just about anywhere most nights he preferred the small valley between Raven's feet.

Despite the cat's comfort, Raven started to get up to check on the baby. She stopped when she realized that the little one was closer than she thought. Four-month-old Luke was asleep on her husband's chest. The little boy was quite content with Garfield's hand on his back holding him protectively. Luke was facing her, his face scrunched up in sleep.  He was wearing that blue onesie that said, “I am a baby not an Engineer” That his father put him in at almost every chance he got.

~

"Raven he is beautiful" That’s the first words he heard as the medication started to wear off. Garfield was sitting in a chair next to her hospital bed. He held a blanketed bundle to his chest.  

It was over a full month before Raven was due. The last thing she was expecting was her little boy to show up that night. Beast Boy knew it would be months before they could have some time to themselves, so he surprised her with a night on the town.

It was a pleasant evening in early November. The air was just starting to chill giving her husband another reason to hold her close as they walked down the street. They had gotten a table at a nice café in town and just when the soup arrived Raven's contractions started. The next thing they knew plates were flying with black energy and she was loaded into an ambulance.

"Are you alright?" Raven asked from her hospital bed.

"I am not the one that had the emergency C-Section, how are you?" Beast Boy took Raven's hand.  

“I am wonderful, but that might just be the painkillers." She craned her neck to look at the small face hidden between blankets and her husband's chest. “Luke Logan" she said.

"He looks just like you Rae."

Raven didn’t see it.  Luke had his father’s green skin and pointed ears; his head had whips of fine hair that looked almost black.  Just like their daughter Luke had gotten his fathers more prominent features.

“He must take after you though, showing up 5 weeks early.”  

"He is amazing Rae. I can't believe that we get to keep him." Beast Boy stood up bringing the baby closer to Raven. "I can't stop looking at him."

"You were the same way with Leia, Gar have you slept?" She asked gingerly sitting up. The sun was a shade of orange coming through the windows. It had to be just past dawn. Raven really didn’t have to ask. Her husband's eyes were red and had some bags under them. The button-down shirt he was wearing for their date was an untucked wrinkled mess, and his hair was all over the place.

"I couldn’t, I mean every noise he made I kept checking on him. " The baby started to fuss a bit. "Here is Mama." Beast Boy laid their son into his mother's arms.  "You going to be good for visitors? Robin said he can't really hold back both Star and Leia for much longer. "

Thunder clashed and the little girl stirred. Leia had climbed into their bed again. She lay on her side between her mother and father holding onto Raven's leg like a teddy bear. She was in her white feety pajamas with the green monkeys on them.  Raven ran her fingers through her daughter’s dark hair. Just her brother Leia's skin was green like her father’s, but her hair was like her mothers. Raven knew that her daughter was a bit jealous of her baby brother.

~

"Rae are you alright?" Beast Boy pounded on the bathroom door. His wife had been there for nearly half an hour. Sweet Potato was attempting access by sticking his paw under the crack of the door.

"Raven I am coming in!" He quickly looked down at the cat. “Cover me” he said before shifting into a banana snake and slipping easily under the door.  As soon as he was in, he shifted back to his normal form. sink, toilet, bathtub, no Raven? He was ready to bolt out thinking that he had been pounding on the wrong door the last 20 minutes till his nose told him different. Raven’s scent was still strong here, it was tainted with stress.

Beast Boy pulled back the shower curtain and found his wife laying in the empty bathtub. She was clutching something to her chest with both her hands. He wasn't sure but she looked paler than usual and her eyes were puffy and a bit red.  He sat on the edge of the tub not sure what to make of this. "Rae you’re scaring the cat." He said quietly Raven was silent.

"Okay…Now you're scaring your husband" He reached out to her hands and Raven recoiled turning herself into the wall of the tub.  Beast Boy was not going to let her hide from him. So, he climbed into the tub with her. It was a tight fit his chest to her back.  "Rae I am not leaving.” He gently rubbed up and down her arm. “Talk to me whatever this is, we are in this together"

Beast Boy's mind ran the gamut, Trigon was returning, She saw the end of the word, green tea was declared a controlled substance, she was dying, Starfire was dying, He was dying, he jumped from one worst case scenario to the next. Then with shaking fingers she passed a white plastic object over her shoulder to her husband.

He took the white plastic stick with the small window that has a dark blue + sign in it.  Beast Boy had never seen one before but knew exactly what it was.

"Raven…this is amazing! I didn't think we could…I mean oh god! I hope she is just like you!" He said burying his face into her shoulder giggling like an idiot.

"Don't you get it I ruined our lives!" she said into the porcelain. "We can't do this we can't be parents and Titans and..,and" That’s when the tears came.

Beast Boy pulled her tight to him.  "So, we stop being Titans, or I stop and stay with the kid or I get a job or open an ice cream shop whatever it takes, whatever you and the baby need."

"You’re really happy about this." shock was coming though the sobs.

"Happy, scared, excited, petrified it's like that rush when the roller coaster goes over the first hill times like a billion."  

They held each other in that empty bathtub for nearly an hour. It was the start of what Beast Boy's called a 9-month roller coaster. Anyone that says you can be ready to be a parent they are lying. But he was there for every diaper, sleepless night and doctors appointment. He cried more then baby Leia did when she got vaccinated.

The windows flashed with lighting and the boom was so loud, the strike had to be right outside. Raven's hand found her husbands, brushing the bracelet around his wrist before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Rae?"

Raven looked up into her husband’s barely opened eyes.  "You ok?" He asked.

Raven just nodded slightly. Beast Boy pulled his wife's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palm. Then settled back into his pillow, his hand rubbing Luke’s back before coming to a rest.  

~

Beast Boy didn't know what to think. Things were going so well or he thought.  He had been dating Raven for nearly a year and somehow, he didn’t screw it up. Oh, he had made mistakes, still upset her from time to time but things were good.  At least he thought they were good till this week.

He woke up one day and it was like the last 12 months never happened. Raven would barely talk to him. She would leave the room whenever he walked in. Raven even cut her hair short again, she had been growing it out and it was just past her shoulders. But now it was as short as the day they met. The last three nights he had got to her room knowing she was behind the door trying to apologize. Beast Boy had no idea what he did wrong. But he would cop to global warming, the Lex Luthor presidency, and Hawaiian Pizza if his girlfriend would just talk to him. But the door would not open.  Leaving Beast Boy to shift into a terrier to sleep at her door.

On the 4th day, his phone chimed.  Raven had sent a text. “Please come to my room tonight, at 8:43pm sharp.”  

That was it. A simple grammatically correct text message to let him know that they were done.  He knew it was coming. After all she was amazing, he was a freak. She was lovely, he was a green gremlin.  He should have known that Raven would want better, she deserved better. All that was left to do was show up at the time Raven requested, take it like a man, then go back to his room bawl like a baby in private.

For the first time in days Raven's door opened for him when he knocked.  Raven stood in the doorway wearing a white flowing robe that went all the way to the ground.  A small smile on her face. She put out her hand "Come with me please." Beast Boy dumbfounded took her hand and let her lead him into the darkened room.

In the center of the room in front of the bed was a low small table. On the table was a black cast iron bowl full of green flame.  It was the only light in the room, the fire gave no scent or smoke. Raven led him over to the table, holding his hand the whole time. They knelled across the table from each other. That’s when Beast Boy noticed a purple braid next to the iron bowl. He recognized it right away as Raven's hair, the length she had cut and now interweaved. This was getting stranger by the second.

"Raven what is going on?" He asked finally remembering how to talk.

"Garfield do you love me?"  She asked, looking into his eyes.

Beast Boy could feel his heart in his throat "Yes"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes" he said, and he meant it. Despite the last few days he would still walk through hell for her if she asked.

Raven with her free hand took the braid of hair.  "To you, I offer myself, my love, my wish to walk the path with you." She wrapped the bracelet around his wrist. "Will you accept me?"

Beast boy's eyes were as wide as saucers.  He had no idea what was going on, just a tingle down his back. His mouth had gone dry and if you asked, if he would be able to remember his name, it would be Bob. But on instinct alone he breathed out "Yes, please." As if he was just offered a cold drink which he could have used at the time.

Then in one motion Raven passed their hands over the bowl of fire. The bracelet caught the flame and was instantly engulfed. Beast Boy jerked his hand back in panic, but Raven held fast. The flame had no heat and only lasted a moment. When he looked at his wrist the braid of hair was gone. What remained was a bracelet, a braided chain made of a silver colored metal with a slight purple tint.  

It took Beast Boy a few moments to process this. "Rae, what did we just do here, did we just get married?"  He said wide eyed "Because it feels like we just got married."

"This is an Azarathan betrothal ceremony"

“So were engaged?"

"Yes, is that not acceptable?" she said quietly.

"Yes! I mean No! I mean I always thought I would ask you, and this last week I thought that you didn’t want to be with me anymore.” The words came out in a rush. Beast boy went from feeling like the weight world was across his shoulders to being in free fall.

"I am sorry Gar" She offered and took both his hands. She stood and pulled him to his feet. "It was all part of the tradition." A moment later the room was lit by dozens of candles that were scattered about. "On Azerath the woman chooses a suitor. When she does, she lets her hair grow out. If the relationship does not work, she cuts her hair short until she meets someone else.” Raven fingered the bracelet on Beast Boy’s wrist. “However, if the relationship does work when the hair is long enough the woman will cut her hair and fashion this bracelet. During which she cuts herself off from her suitor to see how he reacts. Trust me this was just as hard on me as it was on you. "  

"Would it still be okay if I still got you a ring?"  he said timidly.

"Of course,"

Beast boy kept looking at the chain that now wrapped his wrist.  "Um Rae, there is no clasp on this."

"Of course there isn't, you are mine now." She kissed him deeply, removing whatever sense he had left.

"We’re getting married." He stated. He needed to say it, he needed to hear it, to make sure that this was real.  

"Yes, but that comes later” She said walking over to the bed. She turned to face him, “there is one final part of the ritual." with one motion she undid a clasp at her throat and the white robe fell from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. All that she was wearing at that point was the flickering candle light.

Raven let her head ease back onto the pillow she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the rain. Trying to let the rhythm soothe her.  For years she thought that she would be alone. Who would accept a demon? Who could love a monster? She truly expected to fall asleep alone with her nightmares for the rest of her life.  But thanks to a scrawny, green, pointed eared, boy that couldn’t resist a pun. She was not alone. No matter what her father conjured in her dreams she would wake up next to the man she loved and the family they built.

Still in the morning, Raven was going to talk to her husband about getting a bigger bed.

This was a work created for another project that do to unforeseen circumstances did not happen. You will also find it on A03. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019136   It was a shame cause I got to work with some really creative people.  

#bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #serrj215 original

[seekstrivefind]

can i get some jamilton laser tag????

You sure can! Disclaimer: I haven’t played laser tag in 15+ years and I haven’t written Jamilton ever.

Want a Hamilton mini-fic? Prompt me!

Jamilton, laser tag, 1907 words

“Okay, so. Here’s our strategy—”

Alexander’s jaw is set, brow furrowed in determination. He’sgot his vest strapped on, the blocky plastic laser-gun held across his body,and he’s addressing his friends like a general addressing his gathered troops.Lafayette is listening intently. Hercules is shoving John, who’s bouncing onhis toes, eager to get going and barely paying any attention at all.

“—how about ‘lose graciously’?” drawls a familiar voice frombehind Alexander. Alexander scowls. Hercules rolls his eyes and John gives anaudible ‘ugh’. Lafayette’s face lights up as he waves.

“Thomas!” he exclaims cheerfully, and then catches sight ofAlexander’s murderous expression. “Ah, sorry. I forgot; we are enemies.”

Lafayette taps the blue of his vest, and nods towards thered of Thomas’. Alexander lets out a steadying breath, and turns on his heel toface their opponent.

Thomas looks ridiculous. Despite knowing that they would bespending the afternoon running through a darkened room with laser-guns pointedat each other, he’s wearing a button-down and a tie. An actual tie. The veststrapped over the top tapers towards his narrow waist and hips, the laser-gunswings idly from one long finger. His hair is pulled back, something thatAlexander has seen only rarely, and it seems to accentuate the high line of cheekbones,the slender column of elegant neck, and did Alexander say ridiculous?Because he’s not even convincing himself. His scowl deepens.

“Any tips for losing graciously, Jefferson?” he snaps. “Ohno, that’s right—you’ve never done anything graciously a day in your life.”

“Never lost anything, either,” Thomas remarks coolly, oneeyebrow quirking up.

“Dunno, pretty sure you lost big when they were handing outfashion sense,” John pipes up from behind Alexander.

“Oh, you trained your monkey to talk?” Thomas remarks, fauxsurprise colouring his face as he presses his hand to his chest. “You couldmake real money off that little trick. Finally buy yourself a decent suit.”

“Fuck you,” John says, and Alexander hears a brief scufflethat sounds to his experienced ears like John Laurens being held back by oneHercules Mulligan. Thomas takes a step closer, and Alexander remembers to makea conscious effort to untie the knot in his tongue and come up with some wittyrejoinder.

“Yeah, fuck you,” is what he actually manages, which—notexactly his best work. But Thomas is stalking towards him with an almostmesmerising poise, and Alexander’s mouth is suddenly as barren as a desertwasteland. He swallows. It’s distinctly unfair that Thomas—an arrogant,pretentious, privileged son-of-a-bitch determined to put Alexander down to getahead—is also a complete wet dream, like somebody somewhere went down atick-list of Alexander’s desires and then slapped a faulty personality inlast-second.

Makes arguing with him properly real difficult, and this ishardly the first time that Alexander’s been trapped in the confused placebetween anger and arousal.

Thomas extends a finger, and prods Alexander in the chestwith it, leaning down so that they’re face-to-face.

“We all know who’s going to come out on top,” Thomas says witha smile, and Alexander sinks a sharp tooth into the side of his tongue in a determinedattempt not to think too hard about that phrasing. “Might as well cometo terms with it now, Hamilton.”

And then he’s gone, sweeping past them without even a secondlook.

“—well!” Lafayette says brightly before whatever collectionof inventive curse-words John has been stringing together can leave his mouth. “Ifor one am looking forward to this. Let’s go, shall we?”

Alexander, still glowering darkly and trying to calm the jitteringthump of his pulse, follows his friends without a word.

It’s chaos once the buzzer sounds. Any strategy they’d beenrelying on quickly falls apart as grown men and women start sprinting andshrieking, hammering plastic triggers and swearing sharply when their vestsflash to show they’ve been hit. Hercules ducks away without any of the rest ofthem actually noticing him go. John gets hit from behind and takes off with awar cry in pursuit of his attacker, determined on revenge. Lafayette is laughingdelightedly, and it’s not long before Alexander is separated from him, too.

Not that any of it matters. It’s just team-building,a stupid day out with colleagues that they’re forced to endure once a quarter.It’s laser-tag, for God’s sake, it’s for children. Except that the office livesand dies by the winners of the team-building games, and Alexander’s departmentare on a winning streak that he’s determined not to break.

He tucks himself into an empty corner, listening to the mayhemand deciding on his best strategy now that he’s alone. Points-wise, finding agood spot and staying put, sniping his competition as they move around isprobably the most efficient, and judging by the bedlam of the first sixty secondsof the game, they’re going to need all the points they can get.

He ducks out from the corner, advancing down a narrowcorridor, staying low. He hasn’t been hit yet, and that’s a badge of honour initself; a hard one to keep hold of in these games.

Alexander wouldn’t have noticed the branching corridor if anarm hadn’t come out of nowhere, practically clotheslining him before grippingthe strap of his vest and pulling him bodily into it.

“What the f—”

That’s as much as he gets out before there’s a hand clampedover his mouth, and Alexander is blinking rapidly up at the face of ThomasJefferson.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas says flatly. Alexander makes asound that’s close enough to what for, asshole? to be interpreted, and Thomastips his head just as a knot of red-team vests tumble past, whooping andhollering. It’s a long moment before he removes his hand.

“What,” Alexander repeats, tugging on the bottom of his vestto fix it, riding up askew on one side where Thomas had pulled on it, “is yourgame, Jefferson?”

“What, a man can’t do something nice for a colleague?”Thomas asks, and there’s a sharp glint to his smile, preternatural in theglowing blue lights of the course. Alexander narrows his eyes.

“A man? Sure. The devil himself dressed in a person-suit?Not so much.”

Thomas tuts, leaning back against the wall and folding hisarms as Alexander finishes brushing himself off.

“You think so little of me, Hamilton.”

“And every time I think I’ve hit the lower limit, you find away to prove me wrong,” Alexander mutters.

“You think I’m playing an angle?” Thomas asks, apparentlyexamining his fingernails idly, though the low light must make it impossiblefor him to see much other than the vague outline of his hand.

“Obviously,” Alexander retorts. Thomas pushes himself upfrom the wall, and Alexander steps back reflexively as Thomas advances on him oncemore. In this narrow recess, there’s nowhere much to go; he feels his back hitthe wall. Thomas doesn’t stop, not until they’re toe-to-toe.

“Then ask yourself this, Hamilton,” Thomas suggests, leaningone hand on the wall next to Alexander’s face and leaning close. “Why are youstill here?”

There’s a long and laboured silence, tense despite the lowthump of the shitty electronic music that’s being pumped in through too manytinny speakers, cut through by the sound of two dozen adults behaving likekids. Thomas is close enough that Alexander can feel the heat rolling from him,the warm dance of Thomas’ breath against his own lips. Another shift and they’repractically chest-to-chest, and either Alexander is having a delightful aneurysmor Thomas’ knee is pressing between his thighs.

Alexander swallows hard against the tightness in his throat,gaze hooked on Thomas’ own. And he might be imagining the feather-light brushof fingers against his hip or the way that Thomas presses yet another half-inchcloser, but he knows he’s not imagining it when Thomas’ eyes flicker downtowards his parted lips.

“You seem to know everything,” Alexander says, faintly. “Youtell me.”

Thomas kisses him with a slow deliberation that chafesagainst Alexander’s impatience. When he runs his tongue across Alexander’s lipsit’s with unhurried intention. He laughs, a low and curling chuckle thatAlexander feels echo between his ribs, rattling between his lungs, whenAlexander tries to push up against him, to coax something more urgent from him.Thomas won’t be moved, won’t be pushed. He only waits, smiling into Alexander’sfrustration until Alexander is forced to meet Thomas’ terms, to move at Thomas’pace.

Thomas finally licks in behind Alexander’s teeth, suckslightly on Alexander’s tongue, drags teeth against his lower lip, and Alexanderis almost dizzy with want, hands pawing slackly at Thomas’ chest, frustrated bythe bulk of the vest that means he can’t feel the smooth curve of muscle thathe knows hides underneath.

“You lose, Hamilton,” Thomas murmurs against Alexander’slips, half pulling back. Alexander chases the kiss, freezing when he feelssomething jammed against his chest. He hears the descending bleep, sees theflashing of his vest as it illuminates Jefferson’s predatory smile. “Again.”

Alexander looks down in disbelief at the laser-gun pressedagainst his chest, and then back up at Thomas.

“You absolute fucking cu—”

“—ah, ah,” Thomas says disapprovingly, presses his lips againstAlexander’s once more to cut off the obscenity. Alexander tries to bite down,to drag sharp teeth against Thomas’ lip, but he’s already pulling back, a lookof smug satisfaction on his face. “What I did tell you about losing gracefully?”

And then Thomas is gone, and Alexander stands there, utterlyenraged and hopelessly turned on, heart jack-rabbiting in the cage of his chestand laser-gun hanging loosely by his side.

Once the lights come back up, Alexander finds the others inthe lobby. John is wild-eyed, bordering on the manic. At some point, his hairhas come loose and his curls are splayed wide around his face, a mess of darkhair that Lafayette is laughing fondly over, doing his best to finger-comb itinto some semblance of order.

“Why the long face?” Hercules asks as Alexander approaches,knocking a punch against his shoulder that rocks Alexander onto one foot for abrief second. Alexander glances at the screen, where the team scores are yet tobe listed. It flickers to display individual high scores, and John whoops whenhis name appears at the top, punching both fists up into the air.

“I am amazed he did not get hurt,” Lafayette laughinglytells Alexander. “He was running wild; shooting people point blank. Like Rambo.”

“I wish they’d let you have two guns,” John says, mournfully.

“Hey, man,” Hercules says, pointing up at the screen wherethe teams have been ranked in order. “We won!”

There’s assorted whoops and groans throughout the room as people,breathless and sweating, celebrate victories or bemoan defeat. Money changeshands, as is common. Alexander catches sight of Thomas, vest and gun alreadyabandoned, talking to Madison. He notices Alexander, and grins widely, closingone eye and stretching out an arm to aim one finger like a gun right atAlexander’s chest.

“I’m not so sure,” he mutters to himself under his breath,and then deliberately turns his back to Thomas to watch John slap Lafayette’shands away from his hair.

“Celebrations are in order!” John proclaims. “Let’s get wasted.”

And yeah. Yeah, Alexander can get behind that plan.

#jamilton #hamilton fic #mini fic #things I write #cut for length! #Anonymous #shout out to my fav asshole for the 'john laurens idiot savants his way to the top' angle

[graaythekwami]

To be Loved (ML Fic, Ch 1)

Summary: It's been five years since Hawk Moth's defeat, five years of peace throughout Paris, and five years since Adrien lost everything. He lives a life nearly identical to the one he grew up in, hidden away in his family's mansion, but with a young Emma in his life he still has a reason to keep pressing forward.

Rating: General

Also read on ao3!

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“Thank you, Ezra,” Adrien said as the limo pulled up in front of the Agreste Mansion, the vehicle slowly came to a stop. His driver said nothing, merely grunting in acknowledgement, looking at him through the rearview mirror. 

Ezra, who he had fondly knew as ‘the Gorilla’ in his childhood, still towered over him in height and muscle as he got out of the car, holding his door open for him as he stepped out. Adrien adjusted his suit coat once, before looking up at his house with a neutral expression. He usually preferred to work from home, but today he had been dragged out to Gabriel headquarters for multiple meetings, mostly with investors. It had been long, tiring, and he still wasn’t sure how he put up with such short sighted people at times.

Adrien didn’t know why they acted like he was the brains of Gabriel– that was the designers’ job. All he did was manage the business side of things, kept the company from collapsing in on itself, while the fashion line continually pushed out new products. 

He let out a long sigh as he climbed the steps to the house– but it had been a long time since he had ever considered it home. He pushed the front doors open unceremoniously, stepping into the empty front room. A black figure zipped out from his front pocket, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched.

“Well, that was absolutely miserable,” Plagg grumbled, flying in front of Adrien as he headed towards the stairs. “Could have left me here instead of your stuffy pocket, you know, wouldn’t have made a difference with anything.”

“You’ve never complained before,” Adrien said coolly, eyes staring up ahead at the blank wall, where a painting of father and son had once hung.

Plagg had enjoyed Cataclysming it.

“Because reasoning with you has gotten us places before,” Plagg said sarcastically, making sure to hover right in front of Adrien’s face as he climbed up the steps. His holder tried to wave him away, but he simply turned intangible in those moments, Adrien’s hand phasing right through him.

“Stop that now,” Adrien said sharply, a edge of a hiss in his voice, the magic of the Miraculous forcing Plagg to go still. The Black Cat let out a huff, before settling to hover above his shoulder.

“I want cheese,” the kwami declared loudly.

“You know where to find it.”

“Well I–“ Plagg began as they walked past one of the door’s to Adrien’s old room, when they heard an excited gasp from within. Adrien paused, and without another word his kwami vanished into his pocket once more, a mere black blur as the door was thrown open.

“Adrien!” An excited voice squealed, a small figure sprinting out of the room, slamming into his legs. He looked down to see a head of messy black hair and a pair of large blue eyes, the young girl grinning up at him. “You’re home! Ms. Manon said you wouldn’t be home until I was asleep!”

“That’s because you should be asleep right now,” a voice said from the doorway.

“Hello Emma,” Adrien said calmly, and small arms wrapped tighter around his legs as Manon took a step closer. “It’s nice to see you.”

The little girl beamed at these words, swinging around so she was on the other side of Adrien’s legs, sticking her tongue out at her nanny. “I told you Adrien wanted to see me, Adrien isn’t upset at all!”

“I am so sorry, sir,” Manon apologized, hurrying forward to pry the young girl from off of him. “I just couldn’t to get her to go to sleep tonight no matter what I did, she kept saying she wanted to stay up until you got home.”

“I see,” he replied evenly, watching the child as she was scooped up into Manon’s arms. She let out a laugh, leaning back so she could give Adrien another smile. “Well, I am home now, Emma, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be listening to Manon right now.”

“I wanna play!” Emma replied. “Will you play with me, Adrien? We never play any games, Adrien. It would be so much fun, wouldn’t it, Adrien?”

She put an emphasis to his name each time she said it, as if everyone in the room would forget if she did not declare it each time. She kept twisting in Manon’s grasp, forcing her nanny to constantly adjust her grip on her so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. Perhaps he should look into ordering a set of monkey bars for her room, watching as she tried to climb up onto Manon’s shoulders.

“Perhaps another time,” Adrien said. “You should be in bed, and I have a lot of work to do.”

Emma deflated in Manon’s arms as he said this, the spark in her eyes leaving as she went limp, forcing her nanny to lower her to the floor. “You always hafta work.”

Adrien watched her for a moment, and with a small sigh he knelt down so he was at her level. He ruffled up her hair, catching a glimpse of a small smile as he did so, and he couldn’t help but feel one tug at his own face.

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow,” he said after a moment of consideration.

Emma lit up instantly, blue eyes going wide, bounding forward so she was inches from his face. He pulled back slightly, her smile growing. “You promise, Adrien?”

“I promise.”

“Woo!” She let out a cheer, her cry echoing through the empty halls, and she wheeled around to face Manon. “We need to get to bed right now– if I sleep then we can wake up and have breakfast!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Manon said, holding out her hand. “Come on then, let’s go tuck you in.”

“Okay!” Emma chirped, turning to face Adrien with a grin. “Goodnight, Adrien! I love you!”

Adrien had been pushing himself to his feet, but completely froze up as those three words left her mouth. His eyes went wide, stiffening up in shock. His head whipped towards the young girl, but she didn’t seem to notice his reaction, just skipping over to Manon, slipping her hand into hers.

“What?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them, and Emma paused as she was lead back into her room, looking over her shoulder innocently. Blue eyes blinked once, and she tilted her head as she gave another smile.

“I love you!” She repeated happily, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

For a moment he was silent, but after a moment he managed to stutter out a few words. “I- I see.”

Plagg twisted in his pocket, and he could see Manon giving him an unreadable look, but Emma didn’t seem to find anything strange about this reply. She just gave him another smile, and with a small tug she pulled her nanny back into her room. Manon hesitated, looking at him, before slowly closing the door. Adrien was left kneeling there on the ground, completely still.

“Wow kid, five star performance,” Plagg drawled, coming out of the pocket as soon as his holder was alone.

Adrien closed his eyes. “I just– she–” he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. “...Let’s go.”

Plagg stared at him in disbelief as he continued up the steps, heading to the third floor. His kwami hovered there for a moment– before rushing after his holder with a low growl.

“That’s all you say?” He asked, bolting in front of him. “Just walk away? I don’t get you kid! That’s not how you’re supposed to handle things! Have you ever heard of something called a proper reply?”

Adrien said nothing for a moment, before sighing as he pushed open his office door. “What was I supposed to say?”

“That you love her too!” Plagg cried, paws thrown up in disbelief, and he went still went as Adrien didn’t say anything. “You... you do love her, don’t you? You love her, right?”

Adrien looked back at Plagg, green eyes unreadable. “Emma is the most important thing in my life.”

Then without another word he sank down behind his desk, pulling a laptop towards him. The kwami stared at him, as if wanting something more, but Adrien only settled down as he began to work. Fingers typing at the keyboard, earnestly doing something he hated, gaze unfocused as he worked away. Plagg’s ears went back, and he slowly pulled away.

He slipped into a cupboard, grabbing a wheel of Camembert cheese before drifting towards the desk. He sat down on the edge, Adrien not even blinking as he took a bite of his favorite food. Plagg watched his holder, tail curling uncertainly.

His eyes fell to the silvery ring on Adrien’s finger– his Miraculous– which he hadn’t called upon for him to transform in years. Plagg didn’t know why the man still wore it, why he bothered keeping him out of the Miracle Box when he barely seemed to even tolerate his presence.

Plagg knew they would be up late into the night, because that was what Adrien did every day. There were few tasks he delegated to workers below him, because work was the one thing he’d bury himself in. From up in the early hours of the morning until late at night, only eating when food was brought to him, and often times it was Plagg ordering those meals for him.

But tomorrow he knew they would be down in the dining room, having breakfast with Emma– because when Adrien made a promise to that kid, he never broke it.

Plagg was glad that he was able to do one thing right.

#to be a father au #my fics #adrien agreste #ml adrien #miraculous ladybug #ml plagg #plagg #ml emma #ml manon #manon chamack #ml gorilla #ml next gen #ml fanfic