#but we have sort of an admission of what was already so clear

[inafieldofdaisies]

just so you know, monkey is my dog!!!!! Yes I will admit it we have copied! And we are truly sorry. All the hate comments isn’t necessary! But we do understand! We have deleted the blogs because we’ve realized what we’ve done. Please, understand this will not happen again.

Dropping these for anyone keeping up with the saga and asking if their accounts are gone for good, etc. My take is: they do not regret any of it, still refuse to admit it's just one person while taking subtle jabs at my post exposing them (ofc you wouldn't agree with something showing your wrongdoings). They also were well-aware they were doing something wrong way before I ever said anything, hence why the constant alt account making and deleting of posts, editing bios, switching faceclaims, you name it. My advice is to still be on the look-out for suspicious accounts following you in the near future, because they have the habit of popping back up.

To whoever is behind this really, I'd say making a new profile and adding a John ship that rips off Sabrina's little sister's name (Savannah Donovan, wrong spelling again, to be sneaky) is another level of low and shows how 'truly sorry' and aware of your actions you are. She is ten years old, for context, and John is the closest she gets to a father. So yeah, fucked all around. Especially since those two are always so precious in their interactions.

You're not sorry because you suddenly realized you did something wrong, just sorry because you got caught and called out. It's why you deleted everything, too. Also, I never thought I'd have to spell it out for ya Swiper, don't be coming into my DMs, asking for help after stealing and trying to rattle me by taking jabs at my characters. You made your bed, now lie in it. It's as simple as that.

Original post that started this for anyone that might need context.

@corvosattano @florbelles @cassietrn @voidika @theelderhazelnut @onehornedbeast @direwombat @jillvalentinesday @henbased @madparadoxum @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @purplehairsecretlair @mrdekarios @nightbloodbix @simplegenius042 @aceghosts @stacispratt @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @strafethesesinners @strangefable @unholymilf @josephseedismyfather @shellibisshe @macs-babies

[kitkatscabinet]

As you wish

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: You and Aemond have been by each other's side since childhood. He'd drop everything for you, bending to your whims with an 'as you wish.'

Or

The five times Aemond says 'as you wish' + the one time you do.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: I couldn't not do it. There’s no mature content don’t know why this got slapped with a label :(

One.

"Aemond!" your gleeful shout of his name pulled the boy from the book he had previously been enraptured in. Looking up towards the source of the call he couldn't stop a small smile from forming. You were running towards him, skirts hitched up in your hands and a grin lighting your visage.

Aemond felt his stomach flutter at the sight of the smile you had reserved for him, at the sheer glee you were exuding just for him.

"Aemond, you must come quickly," you said, panting slightly from your run and hauling him to his feet with surprising strength. The prince could do nothing but stumble after you, a slave to your whims.

"Where are we going in such a rush?" he asked while continuing to let you pull him along.

"We're hiding from septa Cerelle. I'm supposed to be attending lessons but I'd much rather spend time with you." Aemond's breath caught slightly at how easy the admission had come.

"You'll help me hide won't you" you questioned, smiling sheepishly in his direction, and Aemond's mouth was moving before his mind could properly register.

"As you wish." The blinding smile and quick hug he received in return left him feeling oddly floaty for days after.

Two.

Upon returning from lady Laena's funeral Aemond had refused to see you. The queen had gently taken you aside to explain the dreadful events that had taken place on Driftmark. Naturally, you had been appalled, but not for Aemond's supposed ruined looks, but for the wild injustice that had befallen your best friend.

You had instantly marched yourself back to his chambers, banging against the door and yelling to be let in. You had stayed planted in place for what felt like days before the door finally cracked open. Causing you to let out an undignified shriek as you tipped backwards, having sat to lean against the wood earlier.

Looking up you were disconcerted to see that Aemond had already turned and fled, hiding his face from your view. Pushing yourself to your feet you quickly closed and barred the doors behind you.

Your heart shattered even further as you finally looked at your friend. Aemond had always been a quiet presence but was nonetheless proud, posture tall and refined. Yet now, hunched over in a chair by the fire you saw none of what made Aemond himself. He seemed so small, vulnerable even as he resolutely stared away from you.

"Oh Aemond" you gasped, feet swiftly moving to kneel in front of him as you grasped at his hands. Forcing yourself not to react to the bandage that was still wrapped around his head. Still, you gained no reaction and fuelled with spiteful anger on his behalf you spoke again.

"I'll beat him up" you promised nothing but sincerity in your tone. Though you hadn't mentioned a name, it was clear who you meant. That finally elicited a slight upwards quirk of his lips. Nothing like the reaction it should have.

Queen Alicent had told you of the large beast her son had claimed, fear clear in her being and in that moment you saw no other option.

"Will you take me to meet Vhagar?" For the first time since you'd entered his chambers, Aemond looked up to meet your gaze. And seeing no apprehension in your smile he shakily exhaled.

"As you wish."

Three.

Aemond hated grand events. Feasts and balls were overcrowded and far too loud, and people expected him to dance. There were few things he despised more. He was acutely aware of the fearful and disgusted stares that would pass over lady's faces as they saw his.

As a second son, he had no great need to socialise or search for a betrothal. Both actions he had zero interest in. As such these sorts of events presented no enjoyment for him

You on the other hand, for reasons he simply couldn't fathom, adored such events. Relished in the opportunity to drink and dance whilst parading the newest gown his mother had graciously gifted you. You were an ethereal vision in the dark emerald satin, and though he couldn't remove his gaze from your form, neither could many other lords. Lords that practically tripped over each other in order to win some of your time. Forcing him to watch as other men placed their hands on you, another reason for him to hate these events.

His outrage was steadily growing as he threw a frosty look at the lord that had monopolised your attention for the last three dances. He was some minor lord from the vale, hardly worthy of your attention. Yet you had seemed to genuinely enjoy his presence, going so far as to laugh at something the man had whispered by leaning far closer than appropriate in your ear.

Aemond is spared from wetting his hands with blood and the lord his life by the song ending, and you parting from him. So focused on making sure the lord was indeed walking away from you he had barely noticed your approach. Only when the familiar scent of your preferred oils caused his head to spin did he see your dazzling smile. The real thing. Not the painfully and politely plastered thing you offered your many insufferable suitors. The one you had also offered lord deserved to die.

He could not however be angry at you, and the frost in his gaze immediately warmed into something reserved only for three people in existence as he greeted you.

"Dance with me?" you asked, briefly surprising him. You knew how much Aemond hated to dance, to be at the centre of attention and as such never asked him. Yet even so he finds himself taking your arms and leading you towards the dance floor barely a second later.

"As you wish."

You danced with no one but him for the rest of the evening. Leaving Aemond forced to admit to himself that dancing wasn't all that bad.

Four.

He'd heard it from one of the guards casually conversing in the hall. Aemond couldn't recall a time he had been as frantic as now, running through the keep and snarling at anyone that moved out of his way too slowly.

You had been attacked during one of your usual trips visiting the smallfolk. Aemond could not say he was fond of said trips, even if your kindness and generosity only endeared you further to him. You had always assured him you were completely safe, under the watchful eye of both the kings guard (courtesy of himself and his mother) and the city watch. Yet someone had still managed to get far too close, and once Aemond found out who had allowed such a thing heads would roll. But for now, you needed him.

One look at his menacing glare was all he needed to get the guards to your chambers to step aside before he was throwing the doors open. Chest heaving from the fast pace of his run his feet only stopped long enough to identify your location within the room.

Both his mother and sister were by your side, whispering soothing words to your obviously shaken form. Helaena was simply holding your hands, as one of her ladies in waiting the two of you had grown close, whilst his mother rubbed your back.

The relief he had felt for a few seconds quickly morphed back into fury as he took in your still-shaking form. At his arrival, Helaena stood, and after levelling him with a knowing stare announced her leave. Although more hesitant than her daughter, his mother followed suit, but not before glaring at him to 'fix this.'

Hands scrunched in the fabric of your skirts you didn't address his arrival, not even when he gently sank onto the mattress next to you. Slowly, to gain your permission, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest when you didn't deny him.

Aemond wanted to scream, to yell until he was red in face, to hunt down and slaughter the men that had come so close to taking you from him. He did none of those things, however, forcing himself to remain calm and gentle for your sake.

As if his arrival was the final catalyst, you instantly burst into tears. Shaky hands fisted into doublet as you shuddered against his chest. Aemond could do nothing but pull you closer, moving one hand up to stroke your hair as he tucked you into him as best he could. His sheer helplessness in the face of your terror distressed him so greatly that he became aware of his own shaking.

Even when you had cried yourself into exhaustion he couldn't bring himself to let go.

"Please... stay" you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him desperately.

"As you wish" he whispered back just as gently, before kissing your hairline in an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability.

Five.

It hadn't been the first time you had gone to Aemond for consolation, tears in your eyes that only he could remedy. It was beginning to feel as if it could be the last, however.

The queen had come to you, gloom dampening her visage as she informed you of the betrothal your father had recently arranged. You had been horrified, at the match and had begged for her interference. Unfortunately, she had already tried, but your father was a stubborn man and had already made up his mind.

You had devolved into a fit of rage, throwing a vase at the nearest wall as you screamed. Which of course, had sent the queen into a quick exit as she called for her son.

Your anger had faded into resignation, and by the time Aemond arrived, you were two cups deep and slumped in a chair staring listlessly into the hearth.

In a mirror of your actions so many years prior, he silently crossed the space, coming to kneel in front of you as he fully witnessed your melancholy.

"Aemond. I don't wish to marry him" you needlessly confessed, pausing briefly before adding "or any of the other lords my parents would foist me upon."

Your confession hung heavily in the air and you watched as Aemond's face hardened with resolve.

"As you wish." He elaborated no further, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze before he stalked out of your chambers with purpose. Leaving you to blink at his retreating form in stunned and confused silence.

When he returned the next morning, a smug smile adorning his face and the promise you wouldn't have to marry any you wouldn't choose you could do nothing but launch yourself into his arms. Heart hammering in his chest at the feel of his satisfied chuckle and enveloping warmth.

One.

Despite the fact that you hadn't wished to marry some lord twice your age, you couldn't help but feel despondent at your unmarried status. Many of the lords and ladies your age were already wed, babes in their belly and children underfoot.

You thought you hid it well, but you had yet to realise that there was almost nothing Aemond didn't notice about you. He noticed the longing in your gaze when you stared after the few happy matches that paraded the keep. His stomach twisting at the thought of you happy and in love with another.

"Aemond!" the scolding tone of your voice pulls him from his thoughts. Blinking, he looked down to where you lay in the grass, pout on your face as you caught him looking elsewhere, and presumably not focusing on you.

"Are you even listening to me?" you whined in a way that from anyone else he would have found annoying, but from you it was incredibly cute.

Your nose was scrunched up and he couldn't help the amused huff that escaped him when you smacked his thigh.

"Aemond." you drew out his name, "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Something about how dashingly handsome I am?" he joked, leaving you to gape up at him in astonishment.

"Not even close" you objected with a scowl before a mischievous look replaced it and you rolled closer to him, "though if you wish for me to sing your praises all you had to was ask."

Aemond could do nothing but stare, mouth suddenly as dry as Dorne. While your tone had been teasing, there had been something in your gaze that indicated you spoke nothing but the truth. His tongue was led, eye darting between your enchanting eyes and perfect lips.

Evidently, he had been staring at your visage for too long, your face crinkling in concern "Aemond? Are you alri-"

"Marry me" he blurted breathlessly, not an ounce of jest in his being. He watched with mortified anticipation as your face lost its smile and your eyes widened in shock.

Yet as what seemed like an age passed and you offered no answer he felt embarrassment like no other burn in his chest. Just before he can make a hasty retreat in order to lick at his newly acquired wounds, your hands snaked out lightning fast and claimed his.

"As you wish" you replied confidently, taking delight at the look of wonder on his face. It was your turn to be breathless as he closed what little distance remained between you. Pulling you into the first of many time-stopping kisses.

TAGLIST: @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest @kaitieskidmore1 @eli1fict @rainerax @dsl1999 @uno7 @shine101 @xinyourdreamsx @targeryenmoony @thelittleswanao3 @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker

[birdiewriteslit]

“driving me crazy”

eddie roundtree x fem!reader

you and eddie have never gotten along. is it because you hate each other, or is it because you’re both to proud to admit something?

enemies to lovers😏😏 also idk how long this is bc tumblr doesn’t have a word count smh but it is longer than my other stuff

warning: making out at the end (spoiler lol), suggestive

part 2

EDDIE: Y/n, man. That woman is no joke. We hated each other, at least for a while.

Y/N: He was always such an ass to me. Eddie, I mean. I really hated him. (pause) Until I didn’t.

The burning hatred Eddie felt for you started the day you auditioned for the band. Chuck had just left for school, and Eddie wanted to move from rhythm guitar to bass.

Like always, Billy shut down his request and decided to let people audition for the position. In his words, he wanted someone to “earn it.”

Eddie was already irritated from seeing Billy act like the previous performances were better than what he could do, so you can imagine how he felt when one actually was.

The last audition of the day. You strode up the driveway, big sunglasses over your eyes, sporting jeans and a tight tank top, but definitely not a smile.

Eddie just knew. There was no way he was getting that spot. Your playing didn’t even shock him. Of course, it was fantastic. Just great.

After that, it was all cold stares and angry glares. He wanted to make it very clear that he didn’t like you. He made a considerable effort to stay out of your way. He wouldn’t speak to you, look at you, or even think about you. Well, he tried very hard not to.

One night, a few weeks after your admission, you fell into step with him as he walked home after a rehearsal that ran long. He was moderately surprised by this and figured you would go away if he just ignored you.

You didn’t. You pulled out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. “Have a light?” you asked.

He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what you were doing. After a moment, he nodded, pulled out his lighter, and lit your cigarette.

“Thanks,” you said. “So, is there any reason why you hate being around me?”

He was so taken aback that he stopped walking. “Sorry?”

You looked at him from over your sunglasses. It made him sort of angry that you were wearing them at nine p.m. when it was pitch black.

“You gonna answer the question?”

“Yes, there are many reasons.” Bullshit. There was only one and, honestly, it wasn’t a very solid one.

You said nothing and walked back up to him, removing the cigarette from your mouth and putting it out on his denim jacket, burning the material.

Eddie was more bewildered than mad when you pushed the glasses to the top of your head and smiled at him like you’d just done him a very nice favor. He never noticed your eye color before then, or how it looked in the moonlight.

“By the way, that jacket really reminds me of Billy.”

Okay, now he knew he was mad. He struggled to come up with a comeback and just moved his mouth in a stupid way that made you laugh when you left him standing there.

EDDIE: She knew exactly what she was doing. She’s always been good at that, making me mad on purpose.

Y/N: It was really funny. He doesn’t think so, but I was laughing about that for days.

The two of you continued throwing insults at each other for the months leading up to LA. Eddie’s favorite thing to do was comment on every mistake you made, much to everyone’s dismay.

He was just jealous of your abilities and, deep down, he admired them. You always knew just what to say back to him, adding unnecessary fuel to the fire.

More than once Billy had to yell at you to stop fighting. You both would resort to sending each other hateful looks and crude hand gestures for the rest of practice.

Driving to California was the real hell. Being cooped up in that van with Eddie for that long made you restless.

If it weren’t for Camila holding you back, there would’ve been several times where you launched yourself at him.

It was so nice to have another girl around. Camila was a good mediator for the two of you. You missed that when you went on tour.

Karen also knew how to break up a fight, but sometimes she would let you hash it out for the fun of it. Not like you minded, she probably knew how much fun you had while messing with Eddie.

Soon enough, things went downhill. Camila had the baby, which was good. Julia was such a sweet baby. Billy went to rehab, which was also good, for him and his family, but bad for the band.

The tour was canceled. A lot of money was lost. It was not a very fun time.

You sympathized with Billy. He had been going through a lot, and you understood how hard it was for somebody to recover from that level of drug abuse. Addiction was a gene that seemed to run in your family, with your mother being absent for most of your life and your father having to pick up the pieces.

Billy and Camila were the only people who knew about it. You didn’t think the others needed to know when none of them could relate to your situation.

Eddie didn’t understand. He went on and on about how bad of a guy Billy was. It made you furious the way he implied that Camila should leave him.

The rest of your fights were petty compared to the one you had on the day Billy got out of rehab. Eddie started complaining about Billy’s nerve or something along those lines. You flipped out. You told him he had no idea what he was talking about and stormed out of the room.

That shut him up. He stared blankly at the door you just walked out of and thanked God that it had only been the two of you in the room before.

He was relieved that no one else heard what he said because realized he was being childish. Even though he hated Billy he should still be proud of what he overcame.

He rushed out of the room to find you locked in the bathroom. He knocked once, twice, three times before a sharp, “What?” came from the other side of the door.

“Y/n, come out and let me talk to you.”

He heard your muffled scoff. “You’ve said enough.”

“I want to apologize.”

He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows rose involuntarily. You undid the lock and opened the door. Your arms were folded over your chest as you nodded at him. “Keep going.”

“I’m sorry I said all that crap about Billy. It’s been a rough time for him. For all of us,” he said, sounding genuine.

This was shocking to you. He had never apologized to you for anything he said, even if it happened to be cruel and borderline disrespectful. He had this vulnerable look on his face that made you feel like you could tell him things.

“I’m not just upset about Billy,” you admitted. “This whole thing just reminds me of my life growing up. You don’t know this about me, but my mom was not the best at, well, being a mom. Unlike Billy, family wasn’t enough to pull her out.”

You weren’t sure what he was going to say. Then, he said nothing and pulled you close to his chest. His arms were around your shoulders, and you hesitated to hug him back.

He smelled of pine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from inhaling his scent. You stayed like that for a few minutes, until you heard the front door open and sprang apart.

Warren and Graham announced their arrival, and Eddie cleared his throat before joining them in the kitchen. Now it was you who stood alone in bewilderment.

EDDIE: This girl that hated me was trusting me with something, and I didn’t even know why. That was the first time I saw her for the woman she was, and not for the competition she used to be. As it turns out, I didn’t really hate that woman.

After that debacle, things were kind of weird between you and Eddie. He would still act like a dick, but in a different way.

Instead of, “Wow, could you be any worse at this?” he would say, “Wow, could you look any hotter right now?” He used the same douchebag tone for each, but his comments became flirtatious as time went on.

You usually had a witty retort to fire back at him, but there were some times that his words left you flustered and unable to think properly.

Karen noticed this first, giving you a questioning look from the other side of the studio. You waved her off and rolled your eyes at the thought of Eddie seriously flirting with you.

Warren and Graham caught on next, teasing him about it whenever they got the chance. He denied all allegations of being into you.

You refused to acknowledge Camila’s allegations either. The dynamic you shared with him now was different, but you kind of liked it. You would never admit it though, wanting to keep up the illusion that you still hated his guts.

Eddie walked into the kitchen and grabbed a muffin from the table you sat at. “Morning, smokeshow.” He smirked as he looked back at you from over his shoulder while crossing the room to the fridge.

“Shut up, Eddie,” you said with a mouth full of cereal. Shamefully, you felt heat climb into your cheeks.

He snickered as he sat down across from you. “Really? That’s all you got?”

You swallowed your food and glared at him. “Give me a break. It’s eight in the morning.”

He gave you his signature smile before flipping through the magazine on the table. Karen walked into the kitchen and sent you a knowing look once she saw you and Eddie being civil.

She made her own breakfast, and took Eddie’s seat when he left. “So, anything interesting happen recently?”

“Besides having a hit single, not much. I do really like that Daisy girl, though.”

Karen stared at you blankly. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You placed your fingers to your temples and closed your eyes. “I sense something brewing between Karen Karen and Graham the Man. Nothing else between any other band members, so it would be pointless to ask.”

She laughed. “I sense nothing of the sort. I’m letting Camila deal with you. I just can’t anymore.”

Y/N: Looking back on it, we were pretty insufferable.

With Billy and Daisy writing songs by themselves, you and the others had some time to kill. Karen and Graham were off at the beach while you hung back with Warren and Eddie.

They really loved Rollerball. Either that or they were really high. You were willing to bet on the latter.

By the third showing, you didn’t fail to notice how close Eddie had gotten to you. His arm brushed against yours, and he leaned his head close to yours.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, moving away from him and bringing your arm off of the armrest.

He frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Both of you knew something just happened, but refused to acknowledge it. The tension in the air was thick.

Once back at the house, you went to your room immediately. You planned on calling Camila and bothering her with questions about what all these shenanigans with Eddie mean.

What you didn’t expect was Eddie following you into your room and closing the door behind him.

You glanced up from the phone. “What are you doing? Get out, I’m busy.”

The phone rang twice before Camila picked up. “What are we?” Eddie asked. You hung up before she could get a word out.

“What are you talking about?”

He looked more annoyed than he did angry, but the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “Well, one second you’re rubbing up against me in a movie theater and the other you’re acting all pissed about it.”

You physically cringed. “‘Rubbing up against you?’ That is not what happened.”

“Then what about all those times you tell me I’m hot, huh?”

“You’re the one who initiates that!” you said exasperatedly. “All I do is respond. If you’re trying to insinuate that I flirt with you, then that’s all you.”

He marched up to you until he was mere feet away. “You’re so hot and cold that it drives me insane. Do you want me or not?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Pretty bold of you to assume I would want you.”

He made a wild gesture with his hands and ran one over his face. “You’re exhausting. You make me so mad, and I hate that I like you.”

“Shut up, you don’t like me. We hate each other.”

“Oh, my God, you don’t get it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I think about you. All the time. When I see a stupid joke in a magazine, I think of you. When I hear a John Denver song, I think of you. You drive me fucking crazy, Y/n! People who hate each other don’t think about each other like this, don’t act like this. I like you, for God’s sake.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You listen to John Denver?”

“That’s all you have to say?” He tried sounding angry but he was laughing too.

“I thought you were a rockstar.” You mocked him by holding up two ‘rock on’ hand signs.

“You don’t even care about the sentiment.” He rolled his eyes.

“Be quiet.” You were smiling when you kissed him, cupping his face while his arms snaked around your back.

You tangled both hands in his hair as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head and letting his tongue enter your mouth.

Your fingers messed up his hair before moving down to tug on his shirt collar, pulling him impossibly close.

He tapped your thigh and pulled his lips from yours to whisper, “Jump.”

You complied. He held onto your back with one hand as the other gripped your thigh while your legs wrapped around his waist.

Your hands came back up to rake through his hair, tugging it softly. He continued kissing you feverishly as he made his way to your bed. He almost dropped you when he lowered your body to it.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you, kissing down your neck while you gripped his shirt.

“It’s quiet,” Karen said, sitting on the couch, no longer hearing the near screaming match happening in your bedroom.

“Too quiet,” Graham agreed. Warren stood up and pressed his ear to the door, his mouth dropping open.

“Guys, I think they’re boning in there.”

“Warren, please refrain from saying ‘boning.’”

[ponett]

I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

[jinna-aka-ninja]

Calling of the Souls ~ Poly!LostBoys X Fem!Reader Part 8

Word Count: 2,222

A/N: Okay so I kind of dropped the ball lately, sorry guys. I swear I was going to write on my last days off but a huge storm hit and knocked out the entire towns power, then a giant tree fell in my backyard and crushed one of the cars. It's been a mess. But i'm here! On with the program!

How could this guy be so utterly shameless? Y/N was fuming. Her eyes narrowed at Tyr as she felt Marko’s grip around her waist tighten.

Tyr was testing them. Having said such a thing surrounded by humans on the boardwalk, with her in the arms of a vampire, he wanted to know what they would do to her had they known that she knew without it having been them who had told her.

“You know if you hurt her then I’ll have to fight you, right?” Tyr asked, wanting to make it very clear they would not have the chance to harm her before he got involved.

“We wouldn’t hurt her, you on the other hand, we wouldn’t mind hurting.” David growled the words out in warning.

Dwayne had finally looked to Tyr when he had made it known that Y/N knew. Then he looked back at her, “You’re not scared.” He commented, a little surprised, “You do look angry though.”

“You’re damn right I’m angry! Tyr! I wanted to tell them!” Y/N said to him though thanks to the ever growing tightness of the grip Marko had on her waist she had finally started to wiggle her way out of his grasp.

Marko didn’t seem happy with that attempt though. His eyes snapping to her, “Where are you going?” He asked, feeling wary that she was going to head back to Tyr and stay away from them.

“I’m bruising.” Y/N said to him calmly now because she knew that snapping at these four would be entirely uncalled for. At the admission, Marko loosened his grip but had not let go of her completely.

“Now you can stay.” He said as if it was the most understandable thing. If she was no longer bruising from his grasp then she could stay in his arms. Y/N huffed but didn’t fight it any more.

“This is not nearly as fun as I wanted it to be.” Tyr groaned as he watched them practically group around Y/N as if trying to protect her. “Maybe we can play hide and seek?”

At the mention of the game Y/N’s eyes grew wide, “Tyr, don’t you dare! I mean it! If you do it I’ll be really really mad!” She warned him making the demon slump his shoulders in defeat. She was already on edge thanks to his actions and words and if he pushed it too far then he knew she would be upset.

Hide and Seek was one of Y/N’s favourite games to play when she was younger. With a snap of his fingers, Tyr made himself vanish and she had to find him through whichever place they chose to be their playground of sorts. When he had mentioned it now, Y/N knew Tyr would have made herself disappear to see how long it would take them to find her. “You’re no fun. It’s your favourite game. I thought you liked being chased.”

“This is not the time to play games.” Y/N said to him glad that he had not attempted to go through with it. “Please, Tyr really is just a friend. I promise.” She assured the guys who looked at her curiously now as realization had seemed to set in.

“Why in the world would you willingly go into a vampires den?” Dwayne asked her. It was one of the dumbest things he could think of. It was dangerous, what if they had not been her mates? Would she still have done such a thing? Did she know of mates?

Tyr laughed when the question had been asked; mostly he was wondering the same thing. Y/N was strong, but she didn’t know how to unlock that power in its full extent yet. With the amount of time they had known each other Tyr had tried to help her learn to control her abilities, it just felt like something was holding her back. Maybe it was humanity. So it really had been stupid of her to go into a vampires nest. Mates or no mates, it was stupid.

Y/N couldn’t help but feel that everyone was looking at her like she was an idiot making her bristle with indignation under their gazes. “I knew you would not hurt me.”

Paul grinned from ear to ear and swiftly took her from Marko’s grasp into a hug, “Of course we would not hurt you! You’re our girl! But you have to drink from the bottle okay?”

“No!” Y/N said a little too frantically making the four vampires stiffen. She clearly knew what was in the bottle now.

“You won’t even taste it, I promise!” Paul said thinking that maybe this was the reason she didn’t want to drink the bottle. Who would really willingly drink unknown blood? “Or... is it because you would rather drink ours?”

“I’m not going to drink any blood.” She said quietly looking around since they were still somewhere too public, and yet Tyr didn’t seem to want to leave the public setting. Clearly he was still too exhausted to fight them willingly and wanted to be able to have a backup plan.

This was not something that failed to be noticed by Y/N. This man was still far too tired and needed rest and yet here he was trying to stir trouble. It was like he wanted to cause strife between the boys and Y/N. It made sense, Tyr hated anything without a soul as he put it, or with ‘dead souls’.

David, Paul, Marko and Dwayne were consumed. She knew what they were, she knew that they would not age and yet she would refuse to drink their blood?

“Since Tyr seems to believe that there is no need for us to keep secrets then I might as well say that I am not exactly human either.” Y/N spoke up feeling odd at saying such a thing out loud. It had been practically taboo of her to mention this.

Y/N wasn’t wrong because the moment she said these words Tyr acted and took a hold of her wrist and quickly pulled her away from them all the while muttering to her about how she was throwing her life away by saying that out loud. “You cannot say that out loud ever again!” Tyr said to her, “You are human, okay? If anyone asks, you are human.”

“Why can’t I say that I’m a demon like you?” Y/N asked Tyr turning around seeing the four vampires hot on their tail. They were not about to let them get away. Not after hearing her say those words. They wanted answers and they had to get them one way or another. “Tyr, they are my soulmates. They will not do something to me. I don’t think I have any need to keep myself hidden from them.”

“You have to stay hidden from everyone. You know the importance of it.” Tyr reminded Y/N but she didn’t know! He had never told her the details of it all. From the very moment that she was able to comprehend she wasn’t human he never told her why it was so important for her to never say it out loud.

“You’re keeping secrets from me, aren’t you?” Y/N asked him as she tried to tug her wrist out of his.

 They had managed to get somewhere secluded and that was when the boys struck. Dwayne pulled Y/N into his arms, holding her close as if he was trying to shield her from the world using his body.

David had grabbed Tyr from the collar of his coat and shoved him against a nearby wall. “You will not take her from us. Do you understand? She does not belong to you, so don’t you dare drag her away.”

The words sounded almost sweet... for a moment but Y/N didn’t fail to notice that David didn’t say that she didn’t belong to anyone. “David let him go!” Y/N demanded trying to pull herself from Dwayne’s grasp but he only held onto her tighter so she couldn’t get out.

“Stop, he needs to show him he cannot just take you from us.” Dwayne spoke quietly into her ear. Y/N felt a shiver go down her spine from how deep his voice had gotten when he whispered into her ear like that.

“But he cannot hurt him!” Y/N said to Dwayne, “Please Dwayne, he’s my best friend. Please.” She pled to the vampire hoping that he would understand how much Tyr meant to her.

“Tch. David. Don’t hurt him.” Dwayne said out to David who rolled his eyes in response.

David growled and released Tyr who didn’t seem in the least bit scared of David, “Don’t you touch me Vampire. You don’t understand the troubles that can come if you know more than you should. I spent nearly her entire life keeping her life safe. Making sure that she would never feel the hurt that could come if anyone were to know. I won’t let you ruin it because of some soulmate bond. She’s like family to me, and I will protect her with my life until I take my last breath.” Tyr growled to him as the area around them seemingly started to grow darker and darker. Tyr was growing angry and draining the area around them of light to fuel him enough to fight for a short while if he needed to.

This was becoming far too dangerous. I was worried and didn’t know who I was more worried about at this point. The boys were strong but so was Try, I just didn’t ever want to find out who would get hurt the worst if a fight did manage to break out between them.

“Tyr, David, Marko, Paul...” I said seeing the other two vampires starting to move in closer to Tyr like a pack closing in on their target. “We can work this out peacefully. Let’s just talk it out, okay? Things will be better for all of us if we just put aside our anger and worked it out in a way we can talk about why it’s upsetting us so much. I know there are secrets that we all have but the sooner its worked out the better.”

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?! Let go of her!” A voice called out and Y/N cursed under her breath seeing Michael coming over, more like sprinting over to Dwayne and Y/N. Why the hell did this guy have the absolute worst timing? He was only a half vampire! He would definitely be the one who ended up getting hurt the worst in a fight.

“Michael I swear, if you don’t stop right where you are, things will get ugly.” Y/N warned Michael try to ensure that he remained at least a couple feet away from the ever growing tension.

Maybe Y/N’s luck wasn’t entirely terrible because Michael did in fact stop just a short distance away. Close enough to hear just about everything there but far enough that he would not be accidentally hurt if they did end up starting a fight.

“We are trying to be diplomatic. So let’s all just... calm down and go somewhere more private. This place is kind of secluded but people can still come here.” Y/N tried to point out to the guys who were slowly trying to calm themselves to stop them from doing anything wrong.

Y/N was sure that the vampire boys weren’t actually fighting with Tyr because they truly believed Tyr would be no match for them and didn’t want Y/N to be angry at them if they were responsible for hurting him. Tyr was avoiding trying to use physical force by any means necessary because he didn’t want to drain himself further.

“Fine.” David spoke the single word while turning to Y/N and placing his gloved hand on her cheek after making his way over. “We will go back to the hotel. That place is plenty secluded.”

“Oh sure, we are just going to go to the vampires den! So safe.” Tyr said rolling his eyes. Even Michael seemed on edge with this.

“No, you want her to drink the blood.” Michael said not knowing exactly what was all known at this point.

“Keep up Mikey.” Paul said patting his back, “She already said no. We want to know why.”

“We are going to the hotel.” Y/N said to them, making up her mind. It was the best place that she could think of. Whether it was their den or not, it was the closest to ideal. With that, we started to make our way back to the hotel. Everyone was on edge. Tyr insisted that Y/N ride with him but the two of them didn’t have bikes. Y/N rode with David who wanted her close and Tyr rode with Michael who believed that Tyr was the closest one to want to be on his side on Y/N not being a vampire.

It was the most awkward drive. Usually when they rode it was fun, exciting and all the feelings that came with the thrill but this time it felt like they all felt this tension that had been slowly building right back up as they rode closer to the staircase that would lead them down to the cave they called simply, the hotel.

Taglist: @simplyreading96 , @bloodywickedvamp , @cocopuffs1450 , @vxarak , @kristel1990 , @sagis116

A/N: Am I missing anyone in the tag list?

[jamiesfootball]

When I finished reading The Beautiful and Damned, I had a fuckton of thoughts about it. I even started writing an essay about it.

But then I had people come over for dinner and I was tired and I never finished the essay nor do I remember where I was going with it. Since then it's just been crowding up my drafts.

So here is the first part of what was going to be that essay. From here on out I'll just add bits as they come to me.

(Side note: I have not changed it from my original essay format at all. Have fun with that)

I have just finished reading The Beautiful and Damned and BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ON HOW IT RELATES TO JAMIE.

Another long one for you, folks.

[Charlie meme]

First of all let’s just admit and accept that I have officially dedicated more time and thought into this book choice for Jamie than the writers likely did. Got it? Good. Now I’ll start with the painful admission—

This book on its surface isn’t actually a bad choice for Jamie. The book anywhere below the surface is an awful choice for Jamie, and I despise it as a choice for him.

If we’re looking at it from Ted’s and the writers’ perspective (presuming the writers’ had one), I can see why Ted chose this book. There are some clear parallels between Jamie and the main protagonist, Anthony Patch. Both are wealthy and live the sort of shameless lifestyle that comes with it. Both have a choice in partner that supports the image of that lifestyle. Both have a clear superiority complex – though it stems from different things (Anthony Patch, classicism; Jamie, actual talent).

Neither character shows any indication of forethought as to what their life will look like in the future.

As a cautionary tale, the book makes sense. Here is someone else who wasted their life and chances because they were so invested in the perceived future they thought they were owed, that they neglected to do anything of meaning with their present opportunities.

From the writer’s perspective, there is even an amount of foreshadowing to the choice with regards to the upcoming hints they would show about Jamie’s dad. Because Anthony Patch doesn’t just ruin his life, in doing so he becomes a temperamental, angry, emotionally abusive alcoholic. So it’s a cautionary tale in two folds – not just in regards to his lifestyle but also the possibility that Jamie on his current path may eventually become someone who repeats the cycle.

But.

BUT.

Even from the beginning, there is big, BIG discrepancy between Jamie and Anthony Patch that even Ted, not knowing much about Jamie at all, should have been able to pick up on, and that is that ANTHONY PATCH HAS NEVER HAD A REAL JOB IN HIS LIFE.

The Anthony Patch’s of the world don’t become professional footballers. They don’t become professional anythings. Anthony’s whole arc is spent waiting for the good thing to happen to him, and in doing so squandering the many, many opportunities he was given.

Whereas when we first meet Jamie, he has already seized the good thing for himself.

And here’s where the rest of the essay was going to be. Whoops.

[something something interesting coincidence that at some point Anthony refers to “his last club – The Amsterdam”]

Potential talking points regarding Ted’s books of choice for Roy, Jamie, and Sam, including but not limited to: target audience, lesson given, lesson needed, prose style, ease of prose, ease of lesson, additional obstacles (vocab, triggering subject matter), the -isms, relatability, effect on character

The Keeley of it all (how dare you, Ted)

[ae-azile]

Progression Preview - Chapter 19

It is nice to spend time with Ma in a space that is hers. She seems more comfortable and outgoing, and she also has some semblance of control over her environment that Porsche simply hasn't witnessed until now. She even makes them Kai Jeow and cuts up fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, and cilantro to garnish it, something he hadn't expected her to do without someone assisting her. When Porsche had tried, she shooed him out of the kitchen. 

“This is really good, Ma,” Porsche tells her honestly as she watches them eat, “I remember…”

As Porsche trails off, he decides it's best not to say he remembers her making this when he was young. He doesn't know what kind of reaction that would invoke, or if it would invoke one at all. There have been times he tells Ma good, benign memories he has, hoping it might make her remember it too, only to get very little in response. 

“It's good,” Porsche just says again, “I think Kim would be impressed. Maybe one of us should go over and get him and Khun up since you made extra.” 

Ma shrugs at that, “I don't think he is there. He is probably with Chay, because Chay is not a cheater.” 

Ma has to spell the last sign because Porsche doesn't know it and Kinn is a little confused too. But once they understand, Porsche nods in agreement. 

“You're right. Chay would never cheat on Kim,” Porsche says, then grumbles, “I just want him to openly admit they are a thing. I got so close last night-” 

“He basically told you, Porsche,” Kinn says. 

“I want a clear admission!” Porsche says insistently as he leans into Kinn, “And that will lead to a brotherly heart to heart where we talk about the brothers we are madly in love with.” 

That gets a small smile out of Kinn. Good. He's been smiling so much less this last week, and Porsche doesn't know if Kinn even realizes it. Porsche definitely has. Kinn’s unguarded and unfiltered smile is his absolute best feature, and Kinn has so many great physical features. But when he smiles? It lights up a room. No, it lights up the whole compound. Porsche remembers the first time he saw him smile - his real smile, the one he lets himself show when he isn't trying to be a poised mafia boss. 

Well, he sort of remembers. It had been at Yok’s, back when Khun rented out the bar for the first time. He remembers being completely drawn in. His intrigue had already spiked when Kinn tried to pull him out of the way of that bullet, but his smile is what drew him in. Once he saw it again in the forest - after Porsche taught him how to spear a fish - he was a goner. Kinn’s eyes were bright with excitement and he looked so youthful and happy. That is his absolute favorite version of Kinn - the one who is so happy that he is grinning until his cheeks hurt. 

It's a version that had been coming back after Kim started getting better, and after Porsche’s arm started getting better too. But he hasn't really been around recently, and it's getting to a point where Porsche feels like he needs to sit down with Kinn, tell him his observations, and really talk with him. More specifically, get Kinn to talk to him about whatever is getting him like this. 

“There’s that smile,” Porsche whispers, lifting his hand to run his fingers through Kinn’s hair. Kinn glances at him, but doesn't say anything. He does, however, lean in slightly when Porsche puts his arm around him. That will have to be enough for now. 

“What are we doing today, Ma?” Porsche asks as he meets her eyes again. Ma stands up to pace, as if she is really thinking about it, then faces them again. 

“I want to make a cake,” Ma signs, “Maybe Kim can help me, but I want to decorate it myself. It can be a late lunch. We can play video games too. Chay wants me to play the Switch he got me. And then we can go out. Explore.”

Porsche smiles at that, “Okay. That sounds like a really nice day. I'm in. What about you, Kinn?” 

“I have a meeting at 11, but nothing besides that,” Kinn says, “It sounds like a good day.” 

Ma smiles at that, “I'm glad you will be free. I want everyone I can trust here for my cake. I am going to work really hard at it. It's important." 

“Ah, are you making one that's really fancy?” Porsche asks, smiling back at her. 

Ma nods, “I want layers and colorful icing. I will have someone get the things I need from the kitchen. I have something called YouTube on my television. I searched for ideas, and I know exactly what I want to do.” 

Once Ma makes her signs clear, Porsche raises his eyebrows at that, “You were searching cake tutorials up on YouTube?”

“And other things. It's very useful!” Ma signs, “But I do want Kim here. He is a good cook. He knows about food.” 

Porsche looks down at his phone, “It's 9:30 now. I’ll text the group what you would like to do.” 

Porsche: Morning! 👋🏾 Ma wants to make everyone a cake for a late lunch. 🙂 It sounds like we are basically eating dessert first, and then will go out for dinner together later if everyone is okay with that. She planned this herself, so the more people who can join, the better. Kim, she would like your help with making the cake if you are available. 

Arm: I am tending to some training overviews this morning with the guards, but should be done by 1. Is that okay?

Porsche: That should be fine! 

Khun: I’ll join! Cake for lunch sounds marvelous! 🎂🔪🍽️🍰🤤😋 Pol is with me right now, and he says he will join too! 

Porsche: 😁💙

Khun: I shall go prompt my sweet, innocent baby Kim! 🧑‍🍼👶🏻 So that he knows his assistance is being requested!

Khun:...Sweet, innocent baby Kim is not in his room. 🤔 Is sweet, innocent baby Chay in his?

Porsche: No. He's not. 🙄 I’ll give them fifteen minutes, then blow up their phones. They can't even get frustrated about it, since they are included in this group text. Timer starts now. 

Porsche keeps to his word. He gives both of them fifteen minutes before picking up his phone again. When he sees no response from either of them, he calls Chay. On the third ring, Chay answers. 

“Hello?” Chay says, sounding like he is half asleep. Porsche looks at the phone, then stands up and goes over to Chay’s suite door to open it. It's empty. 

“Where are you?” Porsche asks, his eyes narrowing. 

“I told you I was going to the gym,” Chay mumbles. 

“Yeah, you told me that almost four hours ago,” Porsche says pointedly, “And you still aren't back. On top of that, you sound like I woke you up from a dead sleep.” 

“I worked out,” Chay says, “I’m tired now.” 

Porsche narrows his eyes with suspicion, “Uh huh. Kim isn't in his suite either.” 

“Huh?” Chay murmurs, not sounding concerned at all, “I wonder where he ran off to?”

“Chay, who is it?” Porsche hears Kim’s fatigued voice say quietly. 

“He ran off to wherever you are because I just heard him,” Porsche says with a huff, “You're such a faker.” 

“We worked out together and went to my old suite to gather some things,” Chay says, “But we were exhausted, so we took a nap. Like I said, we worked out. So hard.”

Porsche opens his mouth, only to feel his mind freeze at the memory of telling Pete how hard Kinn punished him when the reality had been so different from that. 

“Chay,” Porsche says, feigning patience, “I am not dumb.” 

“I never said you were, Hia. Did someone tell you that? I want a name,” Chay says.

“Just…you…” Porsche gets out, lets out an exasperated groan, “Ma wants Kim’s help in making a cake. Check your texts. You didn't answer. That's why I called.” 

He hears Chay telling Kim to check his phone before Chay responds. 

“We’ll be there soon. Sorry for missing them. I had the alarm set for 10. And I wouldn't have left if you weren't there.” 

“I know that, but…” Porsche starts, then just decides to say it, “Chay, you don't have to lie. I realize you are an adult. I hate it, but I realize it. You don't have to tell me you were working out if that's not what you were doing, especially when I have given my approval of you and Kim very clearly.” 

“It wasn't a lie,” Chay says, sounding like he's stretching, “It really feels like I worked out.”

Porsche isn't going to touch that. Nope, he is not. He isn't even going to give Chay a reaction, because that is most likely what he is looking for. He's so good at getting them too. Porsche refuses to give him the satisfaction. 

“Wonderful. Glad you got your cardio in,” Porsche forces himself to say instead of some mixture of sputtering and screeching, “Please come back to your new suite with your boyfriend in tow. Make sure you look presentable.” 

“Okay,” Chay says, “Love you, Hia.” 

And while Porsche feels his heart grow at the sentiment, he does not miss Chay not even bothering to deny or deflect the boyfriend thing. 

“Love you too.” 

As soon as Porsche hangs up the phone, he looks at his own boyfriend. 

“They snuck out of their suites to have sex. Chay sounded exhausted, so they were up to some freaky shit. I know it.” 

“Hm,” is all Kinn says. 

“Maybe you should check in with Kim,” Porsche suggests, “Give him another sex talk if he needs one.” 

“If he exhausted Chay that much, I doubt he needs one.” 

“Ew, Kinn!” Porsche says, then tries to scrub the last seven minutes out of his brain. 

[kaitou-kid-my-beloved]

A Little Ghost in a Bowtie (@livmadart's Phantump Conan AU)

(Chapter 2 of 4) (Prev) (Next)(Ao3 link)

Heiji and Lucie caught the first bullet train to Saffron City the next morning, with only a brief ‘goodbye’ to his mom and a note explaining where he was going left on the kitchen counter. He’d get an earful for his recklessness later, but that was nothing new.

Paying admission for Tropical Land was annoying, but worth it for the juicy evidence he was sure to find there. After all, no pokemon had been found at the scene, but that didn't mean that none of them had witnessed it. The police would never think of questioning wild pokemon- it was one of the best advantages Heiji had.

Even in the daylight, the space behind the ferris wheel operations building looked like a place where shady stuff would happen. One side of the area was just a cold, concrete wall, and the other side was enclosed by foreboding trees, reaching out over the grass with wooden fingers. Still, creepy or not the presence of nature here was good for his chances of finding something.

Heiji peered between the trunks- soon spotting his prize. A Pidgey nest sat there, neatly nestled between two branches- in perfect view of the clearing.

“Hey!” Heiji called. He could barely see the top of a feathered head- so he knew it was occupied. “You over there! Feel like talking for a sec?” The feathers moved, but the pidgey didn’t respond.

“Let me try,” Lucie said, stepping forward.” “Hey,” She growled loudly. The pidgey jumped, standing on the edge of its nest defensively.

“W-what do you want?” It squawked back.

“Information,” Lucie responded, her voice returning to a low, cool rumble. “A few months ago a human boy was killed here- do you remember?”

“Oh yeah, nasty stuff,” The pidgey chittered, calming down a little. “The blood made the grass stink for weeks!”

Finally, a new lead! Heiji felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the thrill of the case rolled over him.

“Did you see it happen?” He asked eagerly, taking a step forward. The pidgey just looked at him blankly. Ah, right. By now, most Pokemon in Goldenrod had figured out that he could talk to and understand them- but anytime he went anywhere else, there was a bit of a learning curve.

“He understands us,” Lucie shrugged. “Answer his questions too,” She ordered.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah I did,” The pidgey nodded, and Heiji clenched his fists in anticipation. This was all he could have hoped for. “Two guys wearing black clothes bonked him on the head, and then fed him something weird.. And then they left. A few of us got worried about the other guy, since he was screamin’ a lot, but by the time we got to him he was already dead,” it twittered sadly “But it’s not so bad, since-”

“You said they fed him something?” Heiji cut it off, focusing on possibly the most interesting bit of that.

“Wha- oh, yeah, they did,” It nodded again, and Heiji put a hand to his chin in thought. So, Kudo had been poisoned. That made sense- but what sort of poison didn’t show up on such a thorough autopsy?

“There were two culprits?” Lucie added, bringing them back to the other important tidbit.

“Sure was,”

“Can you remember anything else about them? Other than the fact they were wearing black clothes?” Heiji prodded. The color of clothes honestly wouldn’t be that helpful in tracking them down.

“Uhh… One of them had really long hair. I remember being impressed- well, at least until he killed that guy,” The pidgey said, making a sort of pantomime gesture of how long it was with its wings.

“That I can work with!” Heiji grinned, noting down the new information, and its source, in his notes app.

“Happy to help I guess, but if you really want the good stuff, you should be asking Conan- not me,” The pidgey said, ruffling its feathers and settling back down into its nest.

“Conan?” Heiji blinked at it. That was a western name… the name of another pokemon, maybe?

“Yeah- he’d know a lot more about the situation than I would,”

“Where would we find this guy?” Lucie interjected.

“I’m pretty sure he said he was gonna go live with that girl- the one the humans in blue brought here, uhh, I think her name was Mouri? Yeah, find that girl and you find Conan,” The pidgey nodded, mostly to itself.

Ran Mouri- the current Kanto champion, and the only witness to the murder of Shinichi Kudo. Of course they’d have to go to her. Heiji hadn’t really wanted to bother her- but he’d also known that they would need to. Other than the surrounding pokemon- she was their best chance of answers.

“So you question the girl, and I find and question this pokemon of hers, right?” Lucie growled at him, confirming the obvious course of action.

“Yeah, I guess,” Heiji sighed. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too upset with them- they were just looking for justice for her friend, afterall.

They left Tropical Land, mourning the admission cost for only a moment before carrying on. Though, that place looked pretty fun. Maybe he’d have to take Kazuha sometime…

The Mouri Detective Agency loomed large over them, foreboding and cold. Speaking to people who’d just lost loved ones was the hardest part of the detective job- in Heiji’s opinion. This one was almost worse, since two months had passed- Heiji felt like he’d just be ripping open a newly closed wound by being here.

“Can I help you?”

Heiji jumped at the voice, and Lucie rumbled in a laughing way. Behind them on the sidewalk was a girl riding a venusaur- her long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, with a green headband positioned fashionably behind her bangs- possibly to hide the strange way her hair stuck out closer to the front- almost like a horn. Heiji recognized her; this was Ran Mouri, exactly who they were looking for.

“State your business,” The venusaur rumbled threateningly.

“Uhh-” Heiji tried to answer Ran-chan’s question, but Lucie cut him off to answer the venusaur first.

“We’re here to investigate the murder of Shinichi Kudo- A little pidgey told us we’d find a pokemon here called Conan who would give us more answers,” Lucie nodded- and for some reason, the venusaur seemed to find that funny.

“Right, uh-” Heiji tore himself away from the pokemon’s conversation to pursue his own. “My name is Heiji Hattori, I’m… I’m a highschool detective, and I thought-”

“Oh, you’re here to ask about Shinichi, aren’t you?” She sighed, and slipped off of her venusaur.

“...Yes,”

“Well, Chives seems to like you guys, so I’ll humor you,” She said, her voice colored with a deep exhaustion, even as she gave her venusaur- Chives, a fond pat on the head.

“Conan should be inside- I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to talk to you,” Chives said, a wide grin splitting across his face.

“And I’m sure we’ll be thrilled to talk to him,” Lucie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Should we go inside then?” Ran-chan asked, recalling Chives into a pokeball.

“Oh, sure,” Heiji nodded. He wondered just what kind of pokemon this Conan was.

[trainsinanime]

The Movie

Under a cut because I don't know how to spoiler tag this, and I will spoil all of it. I know it's called "Awakening" in some markets, but not where I watched it so it wouldn't occur to me to block it if I were wanting to avoid spoilers, and it's a stupid title anyway.

What I will say without spoilers is: The concessions area in the Belgian cinema I was in was something else. They scan your ticket, and then you walk essentially into a small supermarket full of all sorts of snacks, including popcorn and nachos, but also bags of chips, sausage, cheese, sushi and some merch. Then you walk past cash registers and pay there before you get to your actual movie. Fun experience, but sadly the nachos didn't taste great and, according to my sister, the popcorn was kind of stale.

After that, there was a huge activity area where small children could take pictures together with cardboard cutouts, and makeup artists were painting Ladybug and Chat Noir masks on their faces. That was very adorable.

On to the movie!

Yeah, it was fine! I had a good time watching it. I really recommend watching it on a big screen if you have the chance (RIP to Americans), because the main point of the movie is that it looks really pretty. And it does! It's all so, so pretty!

The characters are all adorable. The city is way more beautiful, and it feels big and alive in a way the show could never match. The special effects are great, the fights are really nice, the scenery is amazing and the animation is so full of life!

Story-wise, I'd say it's okay. I know there are people on Twitter who say that the movie is way better than the show. These people are insane. The movie story is good, but to fit it all in, it has to squash and compress everything in ways that don't always make sense. It's very clear that this material wasn't meant for a movie. For example, exactly one character gets anything approaching a full character arc, and it's Gabriel Agreste of all people. Happens very randomly, too.

In a lot of ways, I feel like you could have done more with this. The bit of conflict that Ladybug and Chat Noir briefly develop is kind of stupid and easily forgotten. The songs (you knew this was a musical, right?) are beautifully animated, but they feel a bit perfunctory. Many of them feel more like "Let's put an I-want song here because that's how musicals go" rather than really motivated based on characters.

I don't think that's a huge problem. The charming qualities of the movie easily carry it over all the stuff that isn't that well developed. But if you ask me what the point of the movie was, the specific main story or the specific main idea, I couldn't answer. The movie doesn't really have anything like that. It is Miraculous Ladybug: The Movie, for better or worse, and it's mainly an excuse to give us beautifully rendered charming sequences tied together with the bare minimum of string to make the plot work.

Again, all that sounds so negative, but that's just because it's easier to write about the things that didn't quite work in the story department than about the great visuals and how much I just loved seeing the characters. The reality is that this movie isn't a big revelation, it isn't a much better reimagination, it's just a nice, very pretty movie that shows us stuff we already like done exceptionally well. In my opinion it was well worth the admission and the drive to Liège, and I can totally recommend it.

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 17

A/N: Idk about y’all but I had to binge read this to remember where I left off, and this is usually the part when I say “I’m coming back!” but…in all honesty, I’m not sure how consistently I’ll be around. There’s been A LOT going on this year and I’m once again making some life changes and refocusing on things I enjoy doing (ie: this), so…basically hi and thanks for sticking around!

Warnings: References to past violence, death/murder, assault. Betrayal, emotional trauma and distress, weapons, reference to future violence, death/murder, and assault. Basically, there was and there will be more violence😅

My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

“All right, so where should we start?” Superhero asked.

Baron turned the question over in his mind. His eyes roved over the armory he’d built in the cabin’s basement. The light of the lantern wasn’t nearly enough to see the whole space. It wasn’t even enough to see more than a few feet in front of them, but Baron knew what he had. “Personally, I think we should start with the GeoSat and see if we can locate Supervillain’s base and blow it to smithereens, but there isn’t a lot of data to go on and I doubt the bastard has one single base of operations. And that would be too dependent on them actually being there. So I guess…we need to grab one of everything? I’ve got a rocket launcher around here somewhere.”

Superhero sighed. Their voice was tight with exasperation. “Do you honestly believe Supervillain can be stopped with a rocket launcher?”

“I desperately wish that was the case,” Baron snapped. “Obviously we don’t know what to use because we don’t know what’s happening. We’re completely cut-off from everyone and if we come out of hiding, we’re dead. Supervillain won’t let us escape alive next time.”

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question, a fact that only made Baron’s blood boil.

“And you aren’t?”

“Terrified, actually,” Superhero shrugged. The admission nearly knocked Baron to the ground. “But we can’t let that get the better of us. We need to keep our heads and sort this out so we can stop Supervillain. For all we know, they’re planning something bigger and getting rid of us was only the start of their plan. We have to try and send word to the Agency again. They should’ve come at our SOS signal.”

Baron clenched his jaw.

It was a miracle they’d made it out of the court’s safehouse alive. The invasion had turned into a blood bath. In spite of the horror and panic, Baron couldn’t help but focus on Mirth’s use of her powers. How she’d become an apparition, only to reappear long enough to grab an unsuspecting henchman and disappear again. She’d tossed them around like ragdolls. It was the first time Baron had felt a tremor of fear at the mere sight of her.

Mirth was a force to be reckoned with.

It was amazing—and terrifying.

And it was clear to him that her actions had already begun to haunt her.

“You said you had a GeoSat?” Superhero’s question broke through Baron’s analysis of the earlier battle.

“Yeah, why?”

“Is it always watching?”

Baron scoffed. “Of course. What good would it be if I couldn’t recall historical data?”

“Pull up the footage from safehouse. I want to trace the henchman back as far as we can.”

“Easy enough,” Baron smirked, already moving toward the satellite’s command module. “Well, easy so long as there isn’t any interference. Supervillain would need someone almost as good as me to jam the satellite though.”

“Yeah,” Superhero said. “I’ve heard GeoSats are top-end. How’d you get one, anyway? Steal it from someone? Hack into an enemy government’s?”

Baron laughed almost maniacally. “I invented it.”

Superhero sputtered.

“Honestly, your shock hurts me. You do realize I’m an engineer, right?” Baron side-eyed the superhero beside him. Did everyone forget that he wasn’t all shock and awe, that he was more than his electrokinesis?

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be, given how many of your inventions have been taken into evidence.”

“Ah, so there’s hope of retrieving them,” Baron sighed wistfully. He hoped the Agency had taken good care of them. The amount of money he’d had to steal to buy the materials alone was a hassle. Not to mention the actual act of sourcing the materials. It often brought him into contact with worse individuals than himself.

Individuals like Supervillain.

Baron clenched his jaw. Was it possible that Supervillain had planted a bug in any of the materials Baron had bought from him? Could Supervillain had had access to his lab this entire time, unbeknownst to him?

*

Exhaustion clung to every fiber of Mirth’s being. Her bones ached. Her muscles strained with each and every moment. Even her eyes stung from the day’s overexertion.

But it wasn’t over.

No matter how badly Mirth wanted to collapse, she knew she couldn’t. Supervillain had made their move. They’d targeted the safehouse, and if Mirth had to bet, she’d guess that wasn’t the only thing they’d done tonight.

Supervillain had been building an empire right under their noses. They’d managed to either plant or coerce someone inside the agency to spy for them. And—if she was right—Supervillain had also created or found a source within the city’s court. They wouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble to eliminate three people. Least of all her and Baron. Superhero, maybe, but to attack them all the way out in the safehouse?

She shook her head.

It just didn’t add up. Superhero had essentially been exiled. They wouldn’t be able to patrol or take on many missions for three years. Essentially, Superhero was no longer a piece on the board.

But didn’t that make it the perfect time for Supervillain to act on whatever their plans were?

Mirth sighed. So long as they were holed up in Baron’s safehouse, they were isolated from the world with absolutely no idea what was happening. All they would be able to do, would be to let their thoughts spiral until they believed the worst possible scenarios had become reality. And Mirth couldn’t stand that. She needed to know what was happening. She couldn’t hide any longer.

They needed to take the fight to Supervillain.

Mirth didn’t allow herself to wait a single breath for the fear she’d talk herself out of it. There was no time to practice temperance. They’d almost died today. Supervillain was ready to make their move, whatever that was.

The Agency needed to be warned before it was too late. That is, if it wasn’t already.

As the weight of her limbs faded, Mirth wondered why no one had come to their aid. Superhero had called, hadn’t they? If she was in her solid form, Mirth knew her stomach would’ve twisted at the thought. But as it was, her molecules could do nothing but ripple as she slipped under the bedroom door and floated down the hallway like a ghost. Wholly invisible and equally unnoticed, she slipped from the cabin without a word or sign to let Baron and Superhero know of her plans. Not that she saw them as she left. She didn’t let herself wonder where they’d gone. She couldn’t.

She’d hopefully be back before they even knew she was gone. And when she returned, Mirth hoped it was with answers and a clearer plan than the simple idea that they must stop Supervillain at all costs.

Mirth’s Ebenezer Taglist: @Heroes-villains-side-blog @selene-stories @violetcancerian @kaiwewi @averyconfusedhuman Just let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary!) You can also add yourself using this handy dandy form 😊

[weirdmarioenemies]

Alright, class, that’s all for today! Your parents are waiting to pick you up outside! I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day, and I’ll see you tomorrow! Remember, tomorrow’s our quiz on sprockets!

...Ah, I love my job as a Robot Kindergarten Teacher. It’s so rewarding, helping to nurture the next generation of automatons, putting them on the right path toward reaching their potential, whatever their dreams may be! Yes, it is a wonderful full time job which I have, and have had this entire time, and-

Oh! I’m sorry, Clown Junior, I was lost in thought! What’s the matter? Your father is just outside, I saw him pull his self into the usual parking space.

...You’d like me to write... a letter of recommendation? For Clown College? Wow! Well, you have quite a long time to go until you have to worry about that! But... I know how serious you are about your clowning. You mean this. And I’m not one to dash the ambitions of any child! I’ll do it! Your ambition is going to knock the polka-dotted socks off of those admissions office clowns! Now, let’s not keep Mr. Car waiting, I’m sure he’d love to hear all about your day at school!

Name: Junior Clown Car

Debut: New Super Mario Bros. Wii

Junior Clown Car is, to get straight to the point, a top-notch clown. Clowns, as we all know, are all about containers. They come from containers (clown cars). They themselves are containers of things (colorful handkerchiefs). So as a clown car and a clown itself, we can expect Junior Clown Car to both contain clowns, and contain all manner of wacky things!

Junior Clown Car can contain not a clown, but some sort of strange, mischievous turtle child! And what better way to spice up a routine of clownery than to Keep ‘Em Guessin’? Everyone would expect a clown in there. This turtle is Junior Clown Car’s go-to sidekick, always tagging along on its tours, and the two play off of each other quite well! A truly great clown recognizes that performing as a group is not a sign of individual weakness. It’s a show of trust, of confidence, of the potential to improvise, and bounce off of a potentially unpredictable companion. That’s a very mature way for such a young clown to be thinking!

And what about props? What does Junior Clown Car have up its sleeve? A whole lot! It can even pop out some arms, allowing it to literally WEAR sleeves to have tricks up! Its go-to routine has it sporting a pair of boxing gloves, some of the silliest gloves out there- a real slapstick clown! And you know what it does sometimes? It plays tennis. This is not just a clown playing tennis, which would already be impressively wacky on its own. This is a clown, who is also a flying vehicle, containing a turtle, playing tennis, while wearing boxing gloves. There is so much going on here! Something for everyone!

If you’ve been worried about Junior Clown Car’s facial expression range, worry no longer. It can do much more than a simple smile. It even has a real flesh tongue in there, and a real flesh tongue is one of the cheekiest parts a clown’s face can have! Maybe not as iconic as a honky nose, but we have made it clear at this point that Junior Clown Car is not afraid to break traditions.

Even at such a young age, Junior Clown Car is undoubtedly an inspiration! Just look at this mass-produced model in its likeness. This different weird turtle guy is even performing acts of clownery with his! Truly, Junior Clown Car is bringing in a whole new generation to the art of clowning!

And lastly, this is a clown who can perform Fire Blast Attacks. Just another example of its wacky slapstick capabilities!

In conclusion, Junior Clown Car is the greatest clown I know, and it is just getting started. Any teacher should be HONORED to have it in their class. I know I certainly am! It may be a very long time before it will reach Clown College, but that just goes to show Junior Clown Car’s passion for the art. Maybe it will change its mind. Maybe it will someday want to be a Baseball Player Car, or an Electrical Engineer Car. But for now?

For now, Junior Clown Car is the best damned clown I’ve ever met.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Miller's Girl (2024)

I suspect that on another day, my rating for Miller’s Girl would vary wildly from the one I’m giving it now but that’s ok. Sometimes a movie hits you at the right time. There are too many flaws for me to call it "good". It's not "so bad it's good" and it's not a fascinating trainwreck, but it is the kind of movie you keep watching even when you recognize all the flaws.

Cairo Sweet (Jenna Ortega) has to write a college admission essay for Yale University when she realizes she has nothing worth writing down as “her greatest achievement to date”. Her best friend Winnie (Gideon Adlon) suggests having an affair with a teacher - she’s trying to do the same with the school’s gym coach, Boris Fillmore (Bashir Salahuddin). Cairo chooses her creative writing teacher, Jonathan Miller (Martin Freeman).

Miller’s Girl is an erotic thriller, though admitting that makes you feel a bit dirty. At first, the film comes off as simply weird. Cairo Sweet lives alone because her parents (whom we never see) are wealthy lawyers working in some faraway country at the moment. Their house is an enormous mansion on the side of a large forest perpetually covered in thick fog. Everyone talks like they’ve been pulled out of a classical novel - not a bad thing, but it does make it feel more otherwordly than it normally would. Combined with the premise and the heavy emphasis on the written word, this film often feels like the novelization of some provocative short story… but it’s an original piece written and directed by Jade Hally Bartlett. Until Cairo decides to tempt Mr. Miller, you don’t think Winnie is seriously trying to seduce Mr. Fillmore so you have no idea where things are headed. Then, we get a clearer picture of Miller’s home life. His wife, Beatrice (Dagmara Domińczyk) is a successful writer that’s too busy for him. He's only written one book and that was years ago. When Cairo gives him extra attention, all sorts of alarms start going off because you think you know where things are going… but you can't say for sure and you're not certain if you should be creeped out or not. In your defense, the film never tells you how old Cairo is supposed to be but Jenna Ortega is 21 and as performers who have to convince us that an affair might happen, she and Freeman have good chemistry.

The thing is, Miller’s Girl is not a romance film; it’s an erotic thriller. Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman may be attractive on their own but when put together, you're supposed to forget that. You’re supposed to dread what might transpire because your pheromones aren't more powerful than your brain. You recognize how creepy a scenario this is. Depending on the scene Mr. Miller or Cairo might be the villain and before you call foul, let me explain. You might think that the teacher is the adult, that he’s completely in the wrong until we learn some things about Cairo that prove she’s a high-school femme fatale - if that wasn’t already clear from the fact that she’s looking to wreck a marriage and destroy a career out of boredom.

Although Miller's Girl kept me invested, there are several aspects of it that I have to call out as being either disappointing or problematic. I once again find myself quoting Promising Young Woman:

“It’s every man’s worst nightmare, getting accused of something like that.” “Can you guess what every woman’s worst nightmare is?”

I’m not going to say that you can’t make a story about some innocent man who gets entangled in a nefarious sex thing by a young woman but your story better be airtight if that’s the subject you’re tackling. Miller’s Girl has plenty of leaks. Even if it was a steel trap for most of its 93-minute running time, the conclusion is unconvincing, unsatisfactory and unrealistic. It’s not conventional - which is something - but that’s not the same as great.

Something about Miller’s Girl appealed to me when I saw it. I know I’m in the minority. I would have a hard time defending myself to anyone who asked me why but it's not like I’m the only person on earth calling it watchable (we'll say that it gets a mild recommendation but a recommendation nonetheless) and I bet I won’t be the only one. (July 13, 2024)

[aristobun]

032. a quiet hospital room . (Ice/Mav)

@cmdrbee | pete + tom

Tom had taken ill some days before his admission into hospital but he seemed to be improving as each day went by. They had been chatting for the last 45 minutes and counting as Pete did not wish to leave his wingmans side through his sickness. If he had been asked to go home and wait for news, or Tom’s return to some sort of normality, he would have made it known there was really nothing important for him there.

It had been just the two of them, for the last 30+ years and he would be damned if he was going to miss a second of life with the man he cherished. They were very open about their status as one anothers partner these days, but back then they found it pretty difficult to even show affection in public, let alone the idea of indulging in a kiss.

Pete was more than willing to act on those impulses now, however and though he wished he could, right in this very moment, he went for the forehead instead.

Tom had been unwell for the last couple of weeks, but it really had gotten considerably worse over the weekend, which was when Pete suggested a hospital trip just to be on the safe side as he didn’t want to take any chances.

Though he was always known as the biggest risk taker throughout his career, when it came to his relationship with Tom and Bradley, the daredevil in him slipped into the shadows in favour of caution.

They hadn’t been informed yet about what was wrong, so the pair simply waited in Tom’s very own room, which was a nice, albeit unexpected treat at such a busy time of year. Festivities had been few and far between since Tom had been bed bound for the better half of a month but was eating and drinking with no trouble, so they had assumed a really bad case of the flu.

Just as both of them were discussing their plans for the next day, a Doctor finally appeared again, after five hours waiting to hear back about the tests they had insisted on when they first arrived earlier.

There was a look on her face that didn’t need a lot of words and Pete almost found his jaw tightening before she even opened her mouth. Tom seemed to handle things a lot better than him, but that was to be expected, because he’d always been the more together of the two.

Even if it was his own health they were finding out about, Tom sinply smiled and nodded through it all. It was by no means a happy smile, but something polite, to indicate he understood and simultaneously appreciated the information.

Pete found it hard to look up from the ground even when the Doctor finally left the room, allowing them both privacy once more. It wasn’t until Tom cleared his throat after a cough and roughly spoke to him, that he lifted his gaze slowly to meet the others.

' It’s gonna be fine, Pete, ' he says, a smile somehow reaching his eyes as well as he sat on the edge of the uncomfy bed he had been provided for the brief stay.

' How do you know that, Tom? Were you even listening? ' he’s already got tears pooling in his eyes as he answers, shuffling his chair closer before choosing to stand instead.

' I was listening. There’s only two ways this can go, so I figure we better hope for the positive outcome, ' he chuckles, lifting his arms to pull the other male into an embrace.

It seemed that in that moment, it was Pete who needed that extra comfort and reassurance, as opposed to Tom, who had just received the most unpleasant news concerning his health. He was very sure, however, that the right attitude would mend all that was broken and was ever so thankful to find out it was early stages and they now caught it so quickly.

The road ahead was going to be rough for both of them, but it would be a fight they fought together right through to the end, much like the last thirty four years of their lives.

[lupinnsa]

why choose to be mean?

i’ve had a few bad experiences and discoveries over the past year, and one of those revelations included a weird, uncomfortable observation: that while I strive for kindness in casual conversation, often times the people in the world around me… do not.

i’m not talking about silly, comedy-tuned mockery of friends or anything either. i’m referring to, at least, semi-serious discussion about anything you could have opinions about, from other people, to current events, to trending products.

no matter how positive or negative my opinions are, i strive to voice them with as much respect as possible to those involved with the subject. i might overemphasize my positive opinions and refrain from spending too long on my negative ones, for example. More importantly, I try not to belittle other people casually just because they “aren’t in the room”. When they are, I try to be direct and honest without exaggerating my point. Negative opinions and disagreements are already difficult enough, and there’s no need to salt the wound; I try to remain kind even when discussing events or persons that actively harmed me. Even when I’m pretty sure no one else will see.

If I realize my opinions are flawed based on incorrect or outdated information, I always try to own up to those sorts of errors, and change my opinions accordingly. I try to leave room for personal growth or change to make a difference. I try to keep my expectations from coloring my attitude.

Recent events have made it very clear that others are not so interested in that same effort. I suppose it is easier to be unkind if the expectation is that the subject will “never know.” Or perhaps there isn’t enough consequence for “being mean” to choose words with care. Or perhaps this aggressive behavior comes from the increasingly antagonistic perspective of those beyond one’s personal boundaries. Or perhaps it simply costs more energy to keep your filters on.

I’m not free of this sort of sin myself. I’ve said unkind things before, especially when I was younger, especially when I was less informed, less sympathetic. Even recently, I’ve said unkind things to my own close friends simply because I was in emotional turmoil, because I was desperately craving the minimum closure I could ask, for one of the most egregious accusations I’ve ever been the target of on a larger scale. A simple, genuine, apology.

When I realize that something I did or said was hurtful beyond necessity, whether it was from the heat of the moment or a moment of carelessness, I try to genuinely apologize for it. But I’ve seen that others are all too willing to double down on their aggression instead, punching deeper without indication of a second thought. Without restraint.

Someone once said that people don’t like to own up to their mistakes because saying stuff like, “I was wrong,” is an admission of guilt. That no one wants to be guilty of being a jerk, because then they would be a jerk. And I think overall, that observation seems pretty spot on, if deeply disappointing.

I obviously want people to be more kind, passively, to other people in general. But I especially want the mindset of admitting you were wrong to change: not, “I was wrong and I am a jerk,” but, “I was wrong, I was a jerk, but I want to do better.”

Obviously there’s a lot of nuance to be had here. Like, what about the consequences of actions? Why not fight back if something isn’t interested in giving you a chance to defend yourself? How do we learn to be kind and sympathetic in a world that is, for some reason, becoming increasingly intolerant?

I wish I had the answers to all of that, but I don’t.

I just want people to choose to be kind.

[a-strange-inkling]

why do you have nancy and jonathan ending up together? at the end of s4 it seems pretty clear that she and steve will be something in the future. especially because eddie is convinced of their connection with the whole “she didnt waste a second” quote to steve.

Ooo good, good ask! Sorry if this is a bit winded and feel free to disagree, this is just my humble opinion... I obviously have more thoughts about this than I thought lol

So, I did it for Steve really.

I think that boy deserves better than what he had with Nancy. Not Nancy herself, but the relationship they had. I mean, she left him for Jonathan (and kind of cheated on him 😬). She's also still with and seemingly in love with Jonathan at the end of season four and I just didn't want Steve to be the second choice for a SECOND TIME if you catch my drift. I like Stancy fine, it's cute and there's good chemistry and if it happens and it’s better, cool, I guess. I just think he deserves better than being Nancy's rebound. They also want really different things out of life, and I want to Steve to be with someone who wants the RV and the kids and that family life he's dreaming about... Nancy doesn't seem to want any of that.

And I don't know about the true love thing based solely on saving him... if she loved him, she wouldn't have left him or hooked up with Jonathan?? Keep in mind that I don't have a crazy passion for either ship at this point. I liked Jancy well enough in season one and season two, but I now do not remotely care who she chooses in season five (if all three of them are still alive by the end to even choose from... I'm worried about Steve). But the Steve and Nancy reconnection in season four kind of felt like love triangle fodder and red herring-ish to me (which they did already at the end of season one, I don't know why they're doing it again, but whatever) and I'm fairly sure we're still getting Jancy in the end. Just my theory, could be wrong. Again, sadly, do not care.

And while I love Edward, he doesn't really KNOW these two people or their dynamic or their history, by his own admission, and his take feels a little more spurred by losing Chrissy. To me it felt like: 'I didn't get my chance man, but you should take yours while you can’ sort of thing. But, hey I could be wrong. Maybe it really is foreshadowing for Stancy. And that's cool!

But the whole jumping in after him like... that's sort of a stretch... I mean, any decent person would DO that for a friend without question. Are we really going to accept the fact that Robin cares less about Steve and she won't jump in after him immediately because she's simply not in love with him romantically like Nancy supposedly is?? That doesn't make sense to me.

Eddie must not have great friends if saving someone from certain death is the equivalent of true romantic love and nothing else. It's human decency, sir! And I get it's the quickness and the thoughtlessness of it... but still, that's kind of who Nancy is. I'm certain she would do the same for Jonathan, Barb, Robin, Mike, any of the kids, hell even Eddie. She'd jump without a second's hesitation for any of them too. She's a leader and a fighter. It’s what she does.

Anyway, that’s why I went in the direction I did.

Thanks for the ask! 💖

[storyunrelated]

Bad Dreams - Part Three

I saw a man. A man perhaps a little older than Rose and myself, and clearly not in a good way. 

A man who had, at some point, decided to have only a loose relationship with eating and with hygiene and who, as a result, had got both angular and pungent. Greasy in places, dark under the eyes and pale just about everywhere. He did not inspire confidence.

Sorry to judge by appearances, but you can tell quite a bit about someone from these things sometimes and context is important - the scrawny, pale man in the dark house with newspaper on the windows makes the mind go certain places.

All of the above was also elevated to new heights by the final detail of the man being shirtless, but being shirtless in such a fashion that suggested it was more because he’d entirely forgotten about putting shirts on, rather than by having made an active choice to be shirtless.

Top to bottom the immediate, overwhelming impression was of someone who’d become so focused on something other than themselves they’d rather let it slip from their minds that they were there in the first place.

Not a great start. Oh well.

“Evening,” I said, giving a wave with one hand and putting the other hand behind my back. The other hand was the one holding the crowbar. Best to try and make as good a first impression as possible, being an intruder in the man’s house notwithstanding. 

The man did not move a muscle. He then blinked, which counted as moving a muscle in my book.

“Who are you?” He asked. Surprisingly restrained given the circumstances.

I could have answered this, but instead I chose not to.

“Terribly sorry, we were expecting to find a witch,” I said instead.

“I am a witch,” the man said, maybe a touch testily, as though this was something that he ran up against a lot. Though maybe it was also because we were in his house. Maybe a bit of both.

I looked him over, tip to toe.

“...where’s your hat?” I asked.

“We don’t have to wear a hat,” he said and this time he was definitely testy and it was definitely about the witch thing.

I looked Rose over, tip to toe. Particularly the tip, where the hat was. Where the hat almost always was. In fact, no ‘almost’ about it - where the hat always was. Not a day had passed since she’d got the thing when she’d been without it. I thought those had been the rules.

“I like my hat…” she mumbled.

The man cleared his throat to get attention back on him.

“My next question - before I call the police - is going to be why are you in my house?” He asked. 

You’d think he’d sound less calm, being confronted by two housebreakers. I certainly wouldn’t be so cool and I was one of the housebreakers. Right then I was mostly running on nerves and gut impulse, my brain clinging on for dear life and only able to react after I’d said anything.

Maybe he got a lot of this sort of thing?

“We’re here about the dream skimmer you got sticking out the chimney,” I said, pointing upward, in case there was any confusion about where the chimney was.

He went very quiet for a moment. I think I heard him swallow.

“Ah,” he said, at length.

He looked like a man who knew he’d been caught out. Because he was a man who had been caught out. 

“Still feel like calling the police?” I asked.

“No, ideally.”

“Would that be an admission of guilt?” I asked. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

“That would suggest I have anything to be guilty of in the first place, which I reject. I’d just rather not get any more people involved and stomping about the place,” he said.

“Naturally. But since we’re already here and stomping about the place you’ll humour us?” I asked.

“If that is what it takes for you to go away,” he said through gritted teeth.

“How very obliging of you. How is the dream skimming going, just to ask? Well? Skimmer doing what it’s meant to be doing? Skimming?”

I could tell my breezy attitude towards what he plainly considered his hard work had got under his skin almost immediately, as much as he might have tried to hide it. Him and Rose too - witches were a touchy lot when it came to their witchy-business, weren’t they? Presumably it’s important to them.

Fair play, I guess. Must be galling to pour work into something and then have someone like me come in and be a smartarse about it. Would I like it if someone broke into my house and started undermining my confidence? Probably not.

“It is performing a little over what I expected,” he said, coolly.

“Delightful. Show me.”

His mouth worked a little. Whatever he’d expected it hadn’t been that.

Why else would I be here?

“I don’t think you’ll be able to appreciate the mechanism, especially given that you are not a witch and wouldn’t even be able to perceive half of the work that’s gone into it. You wouldn’t understand it. You can’t,” he said.

I didn’t think I was missing much, honestly.

“Humour me,” I said, pulling my crowbar hand from behind me and proceeding to stare him down.

Normally I’m not very good at staring anyone down and it’s not something I have a lot of call to do, but this was a special occasion and so I really poured myself into it, really meant it. I imagine that I was holding a crowbar helped a bit as he folded pretty quickly, all things considered, breaking eye contact and seeming to collapse in on himself a little bit, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Fine, fine…” He said turning around and gesturing for us to follow.

The very picture of sullen, he was.

“Come on,” I said to Rose, who squeaked.

“Really?!” She hissed.

“If all else fails I’ll crowbar our way out,” I said.

“That is not reassuring!”

She still followed, however unreassured she was, and we went up the stairs after the man. Cautiously, admittedly. I’m relaxed but I’m not an idiot. Hence the crowbar.

Downstairs had been house-like. In need of a clean, but house-like. Upstairs had been mauled. Doors were removed, plaster was exposed, holes had been knocked through walls, tubes and cables and wires ran everywhere and while I was getting nothing the wince on Rose’s face suggested a lot of magical jiggery-pokery going on.

The man, still sullen and now also mixed with open annoyance at us lollygagging, was stood waiting for us by an open doorframe.

“In here,” he said.

“After you,” I said again, giving him the nod. He glared but went in, and we followed again.

Was this going how I expected it would go? Not really. But it seems to be going well enough.

I think. I have no precedent for this sort of thing. Feels like an adventure though. I think.

We entered into what was one room that had plainly been two rooms before he’d had his way with them. He’d apparently knocked through a wall to link the two together. Not properly, I should point out. Bits of the wall remained here and there and the whole affair was held up by bits of wood the structural capacity of which I did have much confidence in. Professional it was not.

But that wasn’t the main thing, nor was that really the thing that I was paying attention to. The reason why he’d mangled the rooms together was on account of the great, sprawling, tinkling, hissing, gurgling thing that had been built and which took up most of the available space.

The dream sifter, presumably. Really didn’t look like much this close. Look like a still had had a run in with a milk churn and then left in the rain for a day or two. It was leaking in more than one place. Leaking what though was harder to say. Something.

“Very nice. Should it be leaking?” I asked, pointing to the more prominent leak. He looked, hissed, and swept up a roll of gaffer tape and quickly and liberally applied it. From the looks of the thing this was his standard response. There was a lot of tape, not to mention discarded rolls piled up in the corners.

Probably should have just made it less leaky, really. He’d save money on tape.

“Right. You’ve seen it now. Go,” he said, tossing the tape aside and glaring some more. He wasn’t getting out of this that easy.

“Hold on, hold on,” I said. “Explain this thing to me. What does it actually do?”

“You really wouldn’t understand,” the man said.

“Well, you can try. And if nothing else I’m sure Rose would appreciate hearing it. Right?” I asked, looking over to her. She was really coasting on this whole thing so far and leaving most of it to me but, in fairness, this whole thing had been my idea so I could hardly blame her.

“Um. Sure,” Rose said. She was squinting. The man was too, I noticed. Presumably the room was swimming in witchy nonsense that I was entirely unaware of, being so mundane and inert and all.

I looked back to the man and he stared at me in open, exasperated disbelief for a moment before his shoulders slumped.

“Fine. But will you then please leave me alone?”

This was another question I chose not to answer. Just gave him a winning smile instead.

He tried to explain it and I tried to follow his explanation, I really did, but I am as has been said magically inert and on top of that I’m also not that bright, so he got about three words in before I lost the thread completely.

Broadly speaking, I understood what he said something like this:

The bulk of the sifter sat in the room where we were, looking at it. It was the big ugly thing which was leaking. The delicate, sifty bits went up the chimney. Those were the bits we saw wafting about over the house, doing the sifting. 

Alright, that made sense, I could follow that.

The sifty bits sifted. Shocking, I know. They sifted dreams out of the air and snatched them before they reached their proper destination and then drew them down into the main part. He did not explain how or why or where or when or anything about why dreams were just floating about loose instead of being entirely inside people’s heads but that was fine, I was beyond that, I was comfortable knowing I’d never know.

Magic. Whatever.

And then once in the main part of the sifter the dreams were condensed and distilled and filtered and whatever whatever. Basically the thing took dreams and through a series of arcane and fiddly processes turned them into some kind of liquid. Dream liquid, liquid dreams. 

And this stuff was good stuff, he said. You could use it to do a variety of dream-related activities, apparently. Dream whatever you wanted. Live whole imaginary lives doing the impossible. Marry a cloud and have a whole family of raindrops, whatever tickled your fancy.

I thought you could just learn how to lucid dream. Couldn’t people do that already? Maybe that wasn’t good enough?

The man did mention, offhand, that a side effect of people having their dreams sifted or intercepted or whatever was that the ensuing void tended to invite bad dreams to come in and fill the space. Again, how that worked was something that was glossed over completely but here at least we finally had our explanation as to why any of this bad dream business was happening in the first place.

It was happening as a side-effect. This wasn’t the intention at all. The intention was this dream liquid the man wanted. The bad dreams were a consequence of the process. Somehow that’s even more galling than if it had been on purpose. Poor Nisien’s screaming and exhaustion and my bad nights were an afterthought. 

In fact, no, not even an afterthought, not even a thought at all. Just background noise.

Grr. 

I felt I’d heard enough.

“Why?” I asked, cutting in as the man warbled on about some point to do with the bottling process. He blinked at me.

“Why what?” He asked.

“Why did you decide to do this?”

“...I don’t understand. I did explain how it worked, didn’t I?”

“Well enough, sure. I mean why did you think this was something you had to do? Dream liquid? Why did you build this instead of just not building this? Why aren’t you playing pinball right now or literally anything else?”

Not a complicated question, I thought. He blinked at me again as he was having some difficulty working out where I was coming from. I could see him working through a slow formulation of an answer in his head, trying to hack his reasons down into something someone else might understand.

What works in our head is often difficult to put into the heads of others. Often it doesn’t survive the journey. I’m aware of this. I gave him time.

“With access to the raw, distilled essence of dreams I’m able to fully control the dreamscape. Lucid dreaming is a crock and a waste of time and beneath me, anyway. Total control is the real deal, I can do whatever I want, anything at all,” he said, eventually, slowly.

This was not a compelling answer to my not-very-complicated question. It was barely an answer at all. I pointed to the sifter again, just for emphasis.

“So this machine is sucking in the dreams of just about everyone within a however-many square mile radius, leaving a void that bad dreams rush into, and you’re basically melting all those dreams you’ve effectively stolen down into something that you fiddle about with and inject into yourself so that you can have whatever dream you want?” I asked.

“That is a ridiculously oversimplified and crude way of-” he started, but I did not let him finish.

“It’s a yes or no question and I’m holding a crowbar.”

His eyes flicked to the crowbar.

“...yes.”

The crowbar gets results. Humanity really did peak with that one.

Certainly a crowbar was infinitely superior to this dream-snaffling whatever. All these dreams all sucked in so one person can benefit? Those numbers are shocking.

“That’s spectacularly inefficient,” I said.

“Yes, but-”

I wasn’t finished though:

“Not to mention overwhelmingly selfish.”

But that should have gone without saying.

I mean honestly, I’m not even sure how anyone could get anywhere with a plan like this. How could you even start? How could you not run through it in your head, see how horrendously selfish it was and realise that, as an exercise in theory it’s diverting but in practise it would just be disgustingly self-indulgent and therefore something you shouldn’t do?

Was I missing something? Was this just me?

“Selfish?” He asked, as though the word had been a slap in the face.

“Well, yeah. If you can’t figure that out on your own I’m not sure where to start. If you eat someone else’s lunch that’s also selfish, did you know that?”

“It’s not selfish,” he said, pouting. Actually pouting.

“Feels pretty selfish from where I’m standing,” I said and he bristled a moment before replying.

“I’ll admit it’s unfortunate that some people are having bad dreams but there’s really only so much I can do about that.”

Big of him to admit that it was unfortunate.

“You could always not do it. You could do that,” I said.

He ignored this.

“It’s only in it’s prototype stage. I’ll admit it’s far from perfect now, but it’s getting better every day. Soon, pretty soon, I’ll have the ratio all the way down to one-to-one. That’ll just be one person maybe running the risk of having a bad dream - which they might not even remember anyway! - so I can dream whatever I want. Do you have any idea what I can do in those dreams?” He asked instead.

“I shudder to think.”

That took him a second.

“Not like that!”

“Hmm.”

I was thinking. I was always thinking, obviously, as are we all, but right then I was thinking about this whole thing, this whole business. Thinking about it and what I should do about it. Clearly I should do something, shouldn’t I? But what, and why?

Questions, questions.

This was a bad thing he was doing, yes? Yes, I think I can comfortably say that. Deciding that your personal enjoyment ranks above the discomfort or outright suffering of however many other people. Especially since this particular type of enjoyment is the explicit cause of that discomfort. That’s a bad thing.

I think I can follow this so far.

With that being the case what was I meant to do? Was I meant to do anything? Were any of us meant to do anything? 

Maybe I’ve got a bit beyond the scope of the issue, there. Let’s pull back in a bit.

Let us say that he is right when he says the thing can be improved. Let’s assume that for a moment. Even if he got that machine down to one-to-one efficiency that’s still ensuring someone else has bad dreams so he can have good dreams.

What if he rotated who the machine picked? Isn’t it likely someone is going to have a bad dream anyway? Where’s the harm, really? Would they even notice? In the grand scheme of things, does it even matter?

Yada yada. Questions like these serve to pluck away at your energy, slow you down and divert your attentions, make you doubt yourself. Sure, if you ignore them you might make a mistake, but if you listen to them all you might end up doing nothing, and doing nothing is usually what someone doing something they shouldn’t wants you to do.

Sometimes a Gordian knot just needs cutting. Sometimes you just have to say bollocks to compromise and go full-on hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle.

So no dice. Decision made. No dream stealing. Not on my watch.

You want to have good dreams you wait for them like anyone else. Or do it in a way that doesn’t attract my attention, and the attention of my crowbar.

“Rose, you might want to step outside,” I said, which seemed to snap Rose out of whatever quiet funk she’d slipped into. Seriously, she’d really clammed up ever since we broke into a guy’s house and been confronted by the guy whose house we’d broken into.

“Huh?” She asked.

“I’m going to draw a line under this,” I said.

“Oh, right. Okay. I’ll just - I’ll go. Meet you outside,” she said, shuffling out of the room with only one or two backwards glances. The man was suddenly just a touch nervous. I could see this.

“Where’s she going? What are you talking about? What do you mean draw a line?” He asked.

“You’re a clever fellow, I’m sure you can figure it out,” I said.

Though of course I actually started smashing his sifter before he figured it out. Ain’t I a stinker.

I’m not an expert at smashing but I like to think I did an alright job. I aimed for one of the leaking spots with the pointed end of the crowbar, wedged it in, heaved, and managed to lever off a good half of the thing away from the other half. Made an awful noise and sloshed clear liquid all over. Seemed a good start.

“What are you doing?!” The man squealed, lunging but clearly unsure what to lunge at. Did he lunge at me to stop me or lunge at his machine to try and save it? He hesitated, and while he hesitated I kept going. I pried more bits loose, I whacked the crowbar into the bits that looked like they’d crumple best, I hooked the curved part over dangling bits and yanked.

I made a frightful mess. And in a very short time, too. Maybe I have hidden talents.

In a few seconds what had been a ticking, whirring, leaking device was now several bits of wheezing, leaking, non-ticking, non-whirring junk strewn across the floor and sat in puddles of clear whatever. Presumably that stuff was dreams? Condensed, liquified dreams? Didn’t look like much.

“How selfish of me,” I said. Zing.

The man was on his knees, scrabbling. Again, he obviously didn’t know what to scrabble for first and was just halfway scrabbling at everything in his hysteria.

Sort of ineffectual for a witch, you’d have thought. Maybe if he’d had his magic rod to hand he might have had better luck in beating me off. Aha. I imagine he just found the whole thing a bit overwhelming. Everything’s easier after the fact, isn’t it?

“Do you know how much that cost?!” He wailed at me, eyes glistening. I think he was about to cry.

And I wasn’t sure what this was meant to make me feel, this line about cost. Was I meant to feel worse because he’d spent more money on the thing than I might have suspected? If he’d been frugal, should I have felt less bad? Is a questionable decision that costs more easier to defend? Hmm.

If people wanted to spend money doing something they probably shouldn’t that’s perfectly allowable. Just not clear why it has any bearing on what I do or think. Value is, after all, largely subjective, is it not?

I don’t really know.

“Lots?” I asked.

“Yes! Lots! Fucking lots! Oh God, most of those components were bespoke, too!” He shouted, holding up a handful of bits that had fallen out of loosened casing. The bits glistened. They certainly looked fragile and fiddly.

“What a shame,” I said.

The man deflated, a sob wracking him. He looked down at the puddle he was kneeling in.

“And you wasted all these dreams! Wasted! You wasted them!” He said, angry now, pointing at me.

“Yeah, sure. This was all my fault.”

Mean, this exact thing was my fault, I’ll admit. The smashing bit and the making a mess was my fault. But the greater blame really can’t be ignored or moved here, come on. This is like when the bad guy says it’s not their fault they murdered people, but the fault of the good guys for trying to stop them. 

Not quite like that, but similar. Right? I know what I mean.

“Strictly speaking you wasted them. I just made your dream-wasting machine fall over. But that’s splitting hairs. In future if you’re going to make my housemate’s life miserable so you can enjoy yourself, don’t. Pleasant dreams, now.”

If I’d had sunglasses I’d have put them on then. I don’t care if it’s nighttime, that’s a great sunglasses line. Kind of felt bad to waste it, but chances to drop lines like that don’t come around often and the real waste would have been saying nothing.

My hands were tied.

He didn’t say anything after that, which was good because if he had it would have ruined the moment. So I left him sniffling in his puddle of dreams and went back outside to try and find Rose.

I couldn’t find her out back because she’d gone out the front and was there standing under a streetlight looking like she’d prefer to be anywhere else other than on a street waiting under a lamppost.

“Well that’s sorted,” I said, cheerfully, giving her a wave as I wandered over.

“What did you do?” Rose asked.

I considered saying something else pithy and cool but I was far too tired to come up with anything else off the cuff so just stood there gormless and silent for a second before just coming out with it.

“Smashed his thingy with a crowbar,” I said, waggling said crowbar just so Rose knew which crowbar the thingy had been smashed with. Rose did not look impressed.

“How very direct,” she said.

“It did work pretty well. Last I saw he was crying on the floor so I think we can write this one up as a roaring success.”

“Your definition of success…” Rose tailed off and sucked her lip a moment. “I don’t know how to finish that sentence.”

“That’s fair. You were very quiet in there,” I said.

“You seemed to be on a roll. And I couldn’t really think of anything to say. Felt weird being inside someone’s house when we weren’t meant to be, even if he was, you know, doing something like that. It was kind of nerve-wracking.”

Now that it was done I could feel the tension that I’d been ignoring starting to get the better of me. The trembling had nothing to do with the encroaching chill of night, let me tell you.

“You’re not wrong,” I said, looking at my hand.

Oh God, what had I done? What had any of that been? What had I been thinking? Had I done the right thing? Had I done the right thing the wrong way? Had I done the wrong thing? Was I going to get into trouble? Was he going to tell anyone? Had it even worked? Had I just wasted an evening? Why did I feel so sick all of a sudden?

Eurgh. Worries. I hate those. I stuck my hand in my pocket and bit my tongue.

Ow.

“Can we go?” Rose asked.

“Probably wise.”

So off we went. We didn’t talk as we went. There wasn’t much to say that we hadn’t said before we set off home and besides it was late. Wouldn’t do to be talking in the street and waking people up. Proper sleep hygiene had been the motivating force behind this whole endeavour, after all.

Hadn’t it?

I bid Rose a good and restful night once we got to hers and then carried on back to mine on my own, thinking about the evening, about what had happened. Was that what an adventure felt like? Was this what you were supposed to do after one had concluded? Just go home? Was there something else I should have been doing? Was I going about this all wrong?

Was there a book I could read?

By the time I’d got back home and got in and put the chain on the door I’d stopped worrying about it. Or, rather, I was still worrying about it but was confident that a proper night’s sleep without any nightmares would make me feel a lot better about it. That is to say, everything would make sense in the morning and there wasn’t anything to be gained fretting about it in the dark.

Everything is always the worst it can be in the dark. This is pretty widely-known.

Nisien was still on the sofa, but had clearly rolled around enough to dislodge the blanket I’d laid over him, because that was on the floor. Despite this, he actually looked quite peaceful. Certainly looked more peaceful than he had any night that I’d seen him recently. Sleeping happily, comfortably.

That made me feel much better about the evening. That was an accomplishment. I might have done adventure wrong, sure, and maybe I’d made lots of mistakes, but I’d still fixed what I’d set out to fix. If nothing else, Nisien was going to get a proper night’s sleep. And this was good.

Objectively good. In my book.

I put the blanket over him again, obviously, because that was the nice thing to do. He stirred as I did so.

“Nngh? Wassis? Sorry, sorry...” he mumbled blearily, blinking, squinting. I patted him on the head.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” I said.

“N’okay…” and he did.

Yes, definitely an objectively good thing. Solved a problem for a friend. People might question my methods but my results are impeccable.

And so to bed. Knackered me out that adventure. Popped the crowbar back under the bed, stripped off most of my clothes at least until I ran out of energy, crawled under the covers and did my best to quiet the churning, raging thoughts rattling around inside my head. All the loose ends could be sorted out tomorrow. Didn’t have anything else that needed doing, and it was unlikely there’d be another adventure so soon.

Well that was exciting.

END