#which might involve stealing toys from children | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2-cute-4-school · 4 years

Text

𝘕𝘊𝘛 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴

requested by the lovely @m4rshm4llow (*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ)

Mark Lee

i think mark is quite good with children too when he’s not frozen in awkwardness

but i wouldn’t trust with him alone with a kid for too long tbh

like i see him as someone who could probably entertain a kid for a couple of hours succesfully but taking care of them?? yeah no (˵¯͒ བ¯͒˵)

so let’s say he had to tag along with you to babysit because he didn’t want to waste any time he could spend with you *let my boy receive his love*

but he’s not thaaaat excited he just hopes that the kid will get K.O.-ed early in the night so he could have some alone time with you( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°).... TO CUDDLE ya nasties

so when you arrive at your cousin’s house and you come in

he surely DIDN’T expect a kid to literally throw himself onto you and cling to your legs while chanting your name o(*^▽^*)o

the only way you can get him to detach so you can walk is if you pick him up in your arms

“y/n, who’s he?” mark just stares at the chubby finger pointed at him and produces an *HIGHLY AWKWARD* smile like (*′☉.̫☉)

“oh this is mark, my boyfriend”

*silence* “ew”

now hold on rewind

did a kid just ‘ew’ at mark (｡☉︵ ಠ╬)

and then he had THE AUDACITY to cling to your neck while rambling about his new robot toy and mark had to THIRDWHEEL the entire night

now he’s sure you have superpowers how could you tame that!!??!?! even haechan could be considered mild in comparison to... this ʕ •̀ o •́ ʔ

he’s pouty the entire evening while you play and take care of the newly spawned devil in town who HOGS your attention the entire time

so when he finally runs out of energy a bit later than mark would have hoped for, he’s quick to envelop you in his arms and drag you into a well deserved cuddle session ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

“what took you so looong?”

“sorry sorry, i had to look under his man for boogeyman”

“pffft i think boogeyman is the one looking under his bed for that kid”

but he does melt when he remembers the way your eyes sparkled as the child giggled excitedly on your lap while imagining himself in the picture too (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

Huang Renjun

renjun as we all know is just a bit short tempered so i’m not sure where he stands in his relationship with kids 눈_눈

but also he brings up his younger cousins quite often and he seems very fond of them whenever he talks about them

so i guess he likes kids but like good kids ya know Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

so let’s say you’re shopping in like one of those bigger supermarkets

and you hear cries

your mother instincts literally GO OFF LIKE CRAZY

renjun doesn’t even have the time to blink before you’re dragging him in the direction of the noise with such precision you might as well have a radar at this point ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ

turns out a little girl was lost between the tall aisles

renjun is a lil bewildered cause what is he supposed to do? not like he’s tall enough to see other the aisles in his dreams maybe

but you seem to know EXACTLY what to do as you crouch down in front of the girl and speak to her so gently not even renjun can hear properly

and then as if nothing happened she stops crying

just like that so renjun decides to try his luck too o｜◕ˇ▽ˇ◕｜ツ

“come on, let’s go find mommy and daddy”

and lemme tell ya the little girl sprung into your arms and clung to you with everything she had as she mumbled into your neck

“i only wanna go with miss” (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

his eye twitched a lil ngl （；¬＿¬)

and that’s how you end up taking a stroll to the announcement desk with a whole child gripping onto your hand

renjun would have never imagined his grocery run to turn into this

he only wanted some damn carrots not a frickin child ಠ╭╮ಠ

thankfully it didn’t take long for the parents to run over and thank you for returning their child safely but there was only one problem left

getting her to let go of you

that was a whole ass dramatic goodbye

poor renjun was left exhausted after this he gave up any grocery run he intended to do and dragged you home pronto (ﾉTдT)ﾉ

he admires you so much for how you handled the situation and how you seemed to be so natural and in your element he can only think of how great of a mother you will be in the future with his beside you hopefully

Lee Jeno

one word, his greatest asset: PATIENCE

i see jeno as a man of patience which is more than just helpful when it comes to handling children ❀.(*´◡`*)❀.

he’s also volunteered in all these programs that involved children and he did really well if you ask me soooo he’s a good ally to have (︶.̮︶✽)

and you really REALLY want to volunteer together at one of those like emergency centres for children or something

and who is he to deny his love? he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, you’re too cute in his eyes so he lets you get your way anyway

so before you step inside one of the caretakers gives you some advice

warns you that the new kid, a little girl still in primary school, is still very closed off and wary of everyone

but as you step inside the kids get drawn to you like moths to a flame, swarming around you and asking you questions while dragging you in the living room to play with them

jeno just trails behind, watching the entire commotion with his soft eye smile as he understands (◍•ᴗ•◍)

he knows that you just have a way with people, he’s been in the same position mesmerized by you, it’s one of the reasons he loves you so much and seeing you so purely happy surrounded by children

MELTED HIM ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡

eventually you drag him into the happy circle too and he seems to fit in just right by your side with giggling children everywhere around you

he ends up using his muscly arms ᕙ[ ˵ ͡’ ω ͡’ ˵ ]ᕗ as swings

“hey!! i’m stronger than you!!! let’s have a fight!!!!”

you just giggle as you colour some pictures with a few kids but stare at your boyfriend from the corner of your eye

jeno is so simply happy and comfortable he doesn’t even notice when you disappear from the crowd at first

but when he does his eyes search wildly for you like a lost puppy Σ(ﾟﾛ､ﾟ;)

but then he spots you

curled up on a small couch in the corner of the room, deep in conversation with the new girl whose eyes seemed just a little brighter as you clutched her hand in yours warmly ｡ﾟ.(*´◡` )

and jeno just realises again

you’re just working your charm once again and once again jeno falls for you for the nth time, deeper than the last time and lighter than the next

Lee Donghyuck

this manchild right here smh ୧༼◔益◔୧ ༽

now don’t get me wrong i’m pretty sure he’s decent at least with children

given he has two younger siblings and he often talks about hanging out with his little brother also have you seen that vid with the little girl?? the was he talked to her ⊂（♡⌂♡）⊃

buuuut BUT he’s also DYING like a fish out of water without attention

so when he invites you to tag along to his hangout with his lil bro

he didn’t expect TO BE THE ONE THIRDWHEELING!!!! (╬ಠ益ಠ)

you keep feeding and pampering his brother who basks in your full attention half because he loves it half because he loves the annoyed look on hyuck’s face

“babe i want some kimchi too” (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

“oh!!! sure, i’m sorry for hoarding it all”

and as hyuck awaits with his eyes closed and his mouth open with a pleased smile

you plop a bowl of kimchi in front of him and turn back to his brother as he tugs on the sleeve of your shirt

hyuck, muttering to himself: ‘i should have left you home, you lil brat, both of you traitors!!!!!’ (ノTДT)ノ ┻┻

he pouts and sighs dramatically with crossed arms the entire night while watching you interact oh so sweetly with his little brother

but he can’t deny the warm feeling of fondness swarming is his chest seeing you get along so well with his family and being so genuinely happy when you’re with kids

still complains to you when he gets you alone

“i can’t believe you love my brother more than me!!! ME, YOUR SWEET LOVELY CUTIE BOYFRIEND!!!” ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

“first of all, i wouldn’t stretch it that far-” “how is that stretching-?!??!”

“i’m sorry i’m sorry, my sweet lovely cutie boyfriend, i just missed him, he’s so cute and i haven’t seen him in so long and he seems to grow so fast every time we meet” (oꆤ︵ꆤo)

NOW hyuck is real soft how can he be mad at you when you’re THIS ADORABLE AFSKSGDFSAF-

hyuck just presses a sweet smooch to your temple and mutters

“he only acts that cute with you, he’s a devil at home”

“sheesh, i wonder who he takes after” *pointed look* (￢ε￢　)

Na Jaemin

my man here will most likely compete with YOU for the CHILD’S attention

it’s like GAME OVER for him if a child rejects him ε-(≖д≖﹆)

he’s never gonna get over this betrayal from both sides

so let’s say he takes you with him when he offers to babysit a cousin or neighbour idk you get where i’m getting at

and he’s already ‘play buddies’ with him as jaemin likes to put it (,,꒪꒫꒪,,)

and you’re slightly acquitanced with him from a previous visit to jaemin’s house when you coincidentally met

so when jaemin opens the door and announces his presence LOUDLY, the little boy doesn’t waste A SECOND to waddle in the hallway and meet you both ლ(＾ω＾ლ)

and jaemin crouches to meet him midway and-

and he *swooshes* past jaemin and into your open arms while giggling

jaemin, a lonely man in the middle of a hallway: (ಥ⌣ಥ)

the entire day, your boyfriend tries to steal the kid’s attention or bribe him over with sweets or toys

now you’re wondering who the real brat is

is salty about the UTTER rejection but also can’t help but watch you both so fondly with a proud hopefully in future for real fatherly smile (*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ)

“are you practicing, y/n?”

“pardon?”

“practice, are you practicing?”

“for...?” ∑（´△｀○）

“ya know” *wiggles eyebrows* “taking care of our future children”

“learn how to control your own brat at home read jisung first and THEN we can talk, jaemama”

jaemin can’t believe this low blow, how could you after everything he’s done: cooking for you, taking you on bike rides even though he was the one who wanted to, even buying pads!!! or even worse!!!!! STRAWBERRY YOGHURT!!!!!! ∑(ﾟ台ﾟlll

he’s still pouty as you all put on an animation and snuggle a blanket

but then!!!! you fall asleep with the little boy in your embrace

and jaemin!!!!! just!!! CAN’T!!! stay mad!!!!!! cause you’re both just SO absolutely irrevocably CUTE!!!!!! ♡( ૢ⁼̴̤̆ ꇴ ⁼̴̤̆ ૢ)~ෆ♡

so he just HAS TO lay a *meaningful* smooch on your forehead as he sleepily moves closer to you both, one arm wrapping loosely around you while the other caresses the child’s head, lulling the both of them to sleep his protecc instincts kicked in y’all

Zhong Chenle

he has already expressed his wish to have a family someday since he wants to live the same happiness his brother does with his own family

which i think is ABSOLUTELY PRECIOUS

and we all know he’s WHIPPED for his nephew ˞♡ฅ(ᐤˊ꒳ฅˋᐤ)

but unfortunately

that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s good with children yet

let me give you a context over here

so he’s left alone for a short while with his baby nephew which shouldn’t be too bad since technically chenle is an adult at least legally okay??

and right things are all good until BABY STARTS TO CRY i’m talking about the actual baby here although chenle might cry too at this point

and chenle just PANICS when he realises that just shushing won’t work and whacking a hand over his mouth *cough* like he does to jisung *cough* isn’t an option (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

but thankfully, you’re there!!!!!!

“may i?” you ask chenle as you stretch out your arms in his direction

chenle has never passed over anything faster in his entire life џ(ºДºџ)

so when you coddle the baby in your arms and just gently bounce him a little he just settles down so cutely and most important QUIETLY as he stares up at you with curious eyes, small fingers curling up around a necklace swung around your neck or just the fabric of your shirt

chenle is all like (๑•́o•̀๑)!!

HOW DID YOU JUST DO THAT!!!!

and he watches with eyes even more curious than his nephew’s eyes as the baby slowly dozes off peacefully in your arms (꒡ ω ꒡ )zzz

it just hits him just how natural the scene looks

he approaches carefully once he’s sure his nephew fell asleep and lays a gentle hand on your head as he peers down at the cute chubby baby face

“you’re a life saver, how did you even manage to do that?” ◎ܫ◎

“you know, i have to take care of you all the time so-”

he flicks your forehead faster than you can finish that sentence

way to ruin a moment (oT-T)

but *SIKEEE* the baby fusses a little as soon as you frown and chenle immediately freaks out

he showers the spot on your forehead with kisses and his nephew settles down once again as you smile at him proudly ໒( ͡ᵔ ▾ ͡ᵔ )७

chenle rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t wish for this scene to become familiar to him sometime in the future

Park Jisung

this chick is still a baby who barely hatched

so he’s still in CONSTANT WONDER of the world ༼ つ ◕o◕ ༽つ

and in this episode of ‘jisung the explorer�� he’s discovering... ACTUAL babies

so you were on a date at the local mall when you met with a family friend of your mom’s who was struggling with her fussy baby girl in a carrier while trying to shop for some baby products

so you offer to watch over the girl until her mom finishes up (•́⌄•́๑)૭✧

but just as you’re about to attach the baby carrier to yourself, an old woman asks for directions around the shop

so you pass the baby to jisung for literally a minute to show the lady the way └(>ω<。)┐

and jisung is HIGHKEY PANICKED

he holds the baby by the underarms at arms length and obviously she doesn’t enjoy that and just starts wailing in the middle of the shop

and people just... stare (,Ծ_Ծ,)

and jisung is all like ‘IT’S NOT MINE!!!!! AND I’M NOT STEALING OR MISTREATING IT EITHER!!!!!!’

the moment you’re back in his sight, he’s THRUSTING that tiny loud bald creature in your arms it’s a child jisung ║ * ರ Ĺ̯ ರ * ║

and he expects for you to panic too but right away

the baby quietens down as you cuddle her close to your chest and coo softly in a hushed baby voice

and she plays with your shirt while you glare at your boyfriend (눈_눈)

“y/n, you sorcerer, how did you just shut it off?”

“i didn’t ‘shut it off’, she’s a baby not a tape recorder”

“oh REALLY, i couldn’t tell the difference for a moment there”

you just might consider returning jisung and keeping the baby（ ಠωಠ）

he watches in wonder as you entertain the baby for the next few minutes until her mother comes back

and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees your smile widen with tenderness once you get a small giggle out of the baby (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*)

he supposes maybe she isn’t so bad since she makes you so happy

even though she was louder than even chenle which is an accomplishment at this point

and when jisung notices your slight pout once you gave the baby back and parted ways he makes sure to shower your face in kisses until you regain the same smile that made him fall so deep in love with you

549 notes · View notes

battlinghurricanes · 3 years

Text

DEIPHOBUS TIME!

I'm honestly not entirely sure how I got such a deeply involved concept for his character and motivations, but I definitely did. I just feel like he fits into an especially interesting place in everything and that there's a lot of great potential with him.

Shout out to @petalveinedwarrior for enabling me and also I'm very sorry for being incredibly long winded. My bad.

Also DISCLAIMER! I am NOT an expert on the Trojan War and all its surrounding mythology lol. This is just for fun, based on my own fairly limited knowledge of the myths (though I think I pretty much cover everything that’s relevant to this). These are just my headcanons woven with some details from various myths. Sorry if anything’s missing or inaccurate!

SO!

First and foremost, I headcanon Deiphobus as the oldest of Priam and Hecuba’s children after Hektor.

Hektor calls Deiphobus the dearest of his brothers, and to me, this is why. They are the closest in age and they were the closest growing up, best friends when they were young. They also get the closest to being on equal footing which means a lot to Hektor, who often feels distance between him and his other siblings because of being heir to Troy.

Despite the relatively equal ground and Deiphobus treating Hektor with a very casual familiarity, deep down, he idolizes him. Deiphobus adores and admires Hektor, ever a younger brother in how he looks up to his strength and intelligence and reliability but close enough in age to not feel the same envy as so many of their younger siblings.

Deiphobus is aware that he is next in line to inherit the throne of Troy after Hektor, and the possibility of that is more real to him than to the rest. He doesn’t envy or want the responsibilities Hektor has to bear being the first son and admires him for it rather than resenting him. He never wants the weight of Troy on his shoulders.

Additionally, as close as they are, Hektor confides more openly in Deiphobus than the rest of their siblings. Consequently, he has a more realistic idea of both the burden he bears and also the ways he struggles to manage it like any human would.

Deiphobus holds Hektor in the highest regard- he means the world to him. It is a strange and unique combination of relating to and understanding Hektor exactly as he is and then loving him so dearly for how remarkably he seems to do in all of it, all that Deiphobus adores and strives to be like.

Hektor calls Deiphobus the dearest of his brothers, but Deiphobus would never need to say the same of Hektor, that much has always been obvious.

Deiphobus himself is ferociously loyal, boastful and fiery proud, wild and energetic, and always quick to smile and laugh with a sharp sense of humor. He’ll defend his own with tooth and nail, Hektor first and foremost, and they make a well balanced pair. Hektor’s level headed sense of responsibility softens many of Deiphobus’s rough edges, and Deiphobus’s enthusiasm breaks through many of Hektor’s more anxiously formed reservations.

Deiphobus would do near anything for Hektor, to a concerning degree in the eyes of some, but Hektor, by his nature, isn't overly controlling. He doesn't want Deiphobus to change how he is. Mostly, the only place Hektor truly pushes him is on moral grounds, for better rather than for worse.

Deiphobus hates to spend time overthinking anything, which benefits him in some ways, but also frequently has him following the example of those around him without considering what might lean towards cruelty. Hektor never tolerates hurtful and needless rudeness or otherwise, and their friendship doesn’t spare Deiphobus his reprimands.

Hektor's needling, though, has him step back and reexamine his actions and the second look is generally what he needs to correct his missteps. Admittedly, he’ll sometimes act better in some way solely to please Hektor, but far more often than not, he’ll come to recognize why it’s best with time and continue that way from his own compulsion.

(He grows and his conscience sounds irritatingly like Hektor.)

Deiphobus is actually one of the best of his siblings at not holding a grudge. He might for drama or humor’s sake, but once a squabble is past, he’ll easily set it aside in favor of having fun with whoever he fought with.

Regardless of his flaws, Deiphobus is amiable and of the opinion that it’s never worth passing up a good time over some pettiness. He’s never one to ignore the value of little joys, no matter how fleeting they are.

Before the war, when he is still younger, there is Antheus. He’s the pretty son of Antenor, and both Deiphobus and Paris are quite taken with him. Paris’s involvement rubs him the wrong way, but he elects to ignore it as best he can. It doesn’t sit right to consider policing Antheus’s actions. He can hardly demand he stop seeing Paris while still insisting on his company, after all.

Besides, he can’t really complain. Antheus favors him with his presence often, laughing at his jokes, stealing off his plate when they share meals, tumbling with him when they wrestle. And when Antheus lifts his hand to idly toy with his lower lip as he smiles slyly at him, Paris is the last thing on Deiphobus’s mind.

Hektor teases him sometimes when he turns up ruffled from some exchange turned overzealous, but his flustered frustration pales in comparison to his excitement, so Hektor gets away with it. Oh, he loves Antheus and the feeling is so heady, better than the most potent wine.

Then it all shatters when some men rush into the palace with Antheus’s limp body carried between them. He was in the gymnasium with Paris, they learn. One throw from Paris with a warped discus and Antheus was gone. Deiphobus stares at the blood soaked in his lovely hair.

Deiphobus is ready to rip Paris apart, but when his brother is guided in after, there’s just no room for it. He’s in complete hysterics, shaking all over as he hyperventilates, and screaming would have gotten through to him no more than their family’s vain attempts to calm him down.

Paris is inconsolable afterwards. He retreats in on himself, though without any attempt to defend himself, first to give himself the blame. He makes for a pitiful sight, and at first, Deiphobus can’t stand being in his presence at all, to take his anger and grief out on him or otherwise.

It doesn’t take that long for Deiphobus’s anger to grow more painful than cathartic anyway and, well, it is hard to lash out at someone acting exactly how he feels. He feels the same heartbreak and pain he sees in Paris and he can’t find it in himself to rage against him when he’d rather just sit and cry himself.

Paris does take it upon himself to face Deiphobus after a time and claim responsibility for what happened that day. Deiphobus doesn’t forgive him, doing that feels... off, but he manages to convey that he won’t turn on him for the accident with Antheus. He thinks that might make Paris feel better but he can’t truly tell.

It all still hurts then, even as they try to get things to settle. Nothing but more time can do anything more to heal those wounds.

And time passes and then Paris returns from Sparta with Helen, and, well.

The brewing war doesn’t drive a rift between Deiphobus and Hektor, but it does force a new distance between them. The pressure on Hektor spikes and never eases, and the time he has to spare becomes exceedingly rare.

Much of the time the two would have spent for themselves together now shifts to working together to manage the complications that come with this new conflict; Deiphobus has new responsibilities to shoulder himself. More work, less play, but the mutual affection and respect between them remains just as strong as before.

Deiphobus can’t help but feel a certain bitterness over having the casual companionship of his brother taken away from him, but he does all he can to set it aside. He refuses to let it be another source of stress for Hektor, so often too caring for his own good, and he doesn’t hold it against him anyway.

As always, Deiphobus remains aware that these tasks could easily have been his and, privately, he feels woefully inadequate in the face of that possibility. And truly, it just serves to make Hektor even greater in his eyes, handling it all with grace he can’t imagine. He knows he’s not perfect, yet still, it’s hard to imagine that anything could ever truly bring Hektor down.

And so, Deiphobus helps his brother in the ways he can and loves him as ever, always ready and eager to fight at his side.

Deiphobus leads a contingent himself, and does it well. It comes easier to him to manage a smaller group like that. He does as directed and guides his men through the fighting. One can say what they will about his ability to lead, but his capability as a warrior is undeniable.

Things shift between Deiphobus and Paris as well. Much of Troy turns on Paris, some faster than others. Deiphobus ignores the greater dramatics which, in his opinion, help nothing. Still, it is often tempting to berate him for his flippant disregard of the battles so he does, which is, admittedly, not entirely unwarranted.

However, Deiphobus and Paris share a mutual, unspoken understanding that they simply cannot focus on the war at all times. Sometimes it must be set aside. This is more often true to Paris than to Deiphobus, but that invites Deiphobus to keep Paris’s company when he can no longer bear all the stress.

In turn, when Deiphobus approaches him like that, Paris can trust not to be reprimanded as he so often is, as that gets ignored along with the rest of it. So there are times during the war where the two can be found together affably, chatting about nothing important. Their personalities can still mesh in such moments.

And, well, it’s shocking how steady things can stay over nine years of war, but they do. Death and loss become far too familiar companions, but they can do nothing but keep fighting through that, and things proceed much as they have been.

Until, of course, Achilles.

With all the cruelty of fate, it of course follows after they get the closest to driving away the Achaeans as they ever have. Such a brief, amazing hope. In his unmatched fury, Achilles slaughters their soldiers, butchers many of his brothers, escapes Scamander’s rage through the grace of the gods, and drives the army behind Troy’s wall with his advance, except for-

Then-

Hektor is dead.

Deiphobus tastes blood in his throat screaming at the sight behind the chariot.

In a way, it’s a blessing that it takes twelve days to get Hektor’s body and another twelve to bury it. With his death, command of Troy and her allies has passed to Deiphobus, and he could barely lead his own horse after losing Hektor, much less an army.

Deiphobus falls to pieces. He can barely process it, losing the one he held in the highest regard, held every confidence in, believed in to his core. Hektor was the best of all of them and now he’s dead, leaving him shattered. Deiphobus is hysterical, wildly heartbroken.

In this time is when Priam first turns on his remaining sons. He lashes out at them as he prepares to ransom Hektor’s corpse, degrading them as the most worthless of his sons. Still half blind with tears of grief he can’t hold back, he thinks that it’s true in the same moment he thinks of how he will now have to take Hektor’s place, worthless ruin though he is.

Most often, Priam refrains from speaking of his remaining sons after that, and in rare, fleeting heartbeats he almost seems contrite over cursing them. Neither is enough though to keep him from savagely reproaching them in unpredictable instances as Troy continues to spiral towards its doom. Deiphobus shakily chokes down his father’s abuse without a word.

Of course, he returns to the battlefield once Hektor is buried, coming to truly learn the crushing weight of his new role. How did his brother bear this? Every day feels like one failure after another; he’s not strong enough, not smart enough to do this. He tries anyway, each day more taxing than the last.

Deiphobus can hardly bear Paris after Hektor’s death. A large part of him hates him for it, desperate to pin the blame on someone despite knowing deep down that he’s not responsible. Though, even then, part of him is drawn to Paris, broken same as him, shaped by a sort of desperation to grieve for their brother with him. Misery loves company.

His anger burns hotter, but now he can’t bring himself to berate him even in the way he did sometimes before all this. He never confronts him with his hatred, such that it is. He simply avoids Paris entirely, knowing that if he indulges in the impulse to curse him for what happened to Hektor, he would fall apart at the seams.

Even now he can’t face the truth of what happened and keep going. It is all he can do to try never to think about it.

And then, with the aid of Lord Apollo, Paris kills Achilles.

The undecided limbo of Deiphobus’s feelings towards Paris topples into something like affection the moment he hears of it, connecting them once more. Paris has destroyed Hektor’s murderer, avenging him, and that matters to Deiphobus more than anything else.

That night, the two of them drink together until it half kills them, close enough to keep knocking shoulders as they revile Achilles with the worst profanities they know. It’s the only celebration they can muster after everything, but they’re both laughing for the first time since they lost him.

(When the night grows damnably late, Deiphobus’s attempt to laugh turns into retching and Paris collapses to the ground when he tries to get up to help. They suffer the agonizing morning together.)

They make a strange pair from then on. Friendship would be a generous word given the still unavoidable tension between them, but they somehow manage to maneuver around that and share a certain closeness. They maintain it despite differences that grind against each other. Sad as it is, it’s one of the only things either of them have left.

Paris and Deiphobus also weather Priam’s spontaneous tirades together. Usually wordlessly, but there is something to be said for the company of someone enduring the same pain you are. It is a quiet solidarity, but a significant one.

They talk of the war far more often now. Every day it devours more and more of their lives, always harder and harder to ignore or set aside. On rare occasions, they do still manage it. Those conversations make for a breath of fresh air, though that does little to stave off the feeling of drowning.

And then Paris takes a poisoned arrow and dies.

Deiphobus doesn’t wail and sob in the same way he did for Hektor. He’s too numb for it now. It hurts in an unnatural, distant sort of way. All he can muster is a ugly, stilted feeling of shame for letting himself come to care for him in the first place. Of course he would die like the rest, he should know this by now. He crumbles further.

After Paris’s loss, there's only two reasonable options for what to do with Helen. Either they need to return her to Menelaus or arrange a new marriage and keep her in Troy.

Helen pleads to be returned to her first husband but Deiphobus competes with Helenus to be the one who weds her. Troy does not stop them. There is a quiet but tangible tension to the city and he doesn’t think their people would tolerate Helen departing. He competes with everything he has left and he wins. And they marry.

That first night, Helen stares at his back while sitting in her new place on his bed. She expected to be treated like a piece of meat, a feeling she's grown well used to through living her life under the eyes of men, but he's barely even looking at her. He fought for her hand with an undeniable, feral sort of desperation. What was it for if he doesn't even want her?

"Why?" she asks him. "Why bother going through every effort to marry me only to be so cold now? What do you want?" Her voice would cut razor sharp if only she wasn't so tired.

He turns to face her with bloodshot eyes narrowed in a glare, riddled with barely restrained anger and grief. "I'm not letting you leave," he forces out and Helen pushes down the urge to scoff because that much is obvious.

"It has to be worth something," he continues. "There has to be something we fought for. If we just let you go back, then it won't have been worth jack shit." He paces, not looking at her again. "I won't allow that. Don't think you can avoid all this so easily now that Paris is gone. There has to be a point. My brother is dead because of this shit! If you're gone, then what would be the fucking point?!"

His brother. He means Hektor. He means Paris. He means every last one of them, so many dead. He means Hektor.

Helen doesn't reply. There is nothing she can say to that. For all that it doesn't make a difference, what he's laid before her is something she knows well. She's spent so long now berating herself and blaming herself for all that's come to pass and she understands. She hates this, all she wants is to go home, but she understands him.

She knows that they both hate each other and themselves all in equal measure. What a wretched pair they make, Helen thinks.

Not that they make much of a pair at all. They're rarely ever together. Deiphobus camps outside whenever he can, and when he can’t, he goes out of his way to avoid her. Helen accepts it as the best she can expect from the truly miserable situation this has become. The war drags on, but the truth hangs in the air that Troy is losing.

Then the horse.

The people, starving so desperately for peace, bring it inside the walls. Deiphobus tries to be cautious. He tries to think of what Hektor would have done. He commands Helen to walk around the horse, calling out in the voices of the Achaeans' wives. If there's some wretched spy or invader, let them show themselves. He'll kill them.

No one answers. Deep down just as desperate for peace as them all, he breathes a sigh of relief and leaves the damn horse.

He hopes the Achaeans filled their mouths with blood, biting their tongues as hard as they must have.

Troy is burning. The Achaeans fill the streets with slaughter; they are everywhere. Reunited with her husband after so, so long, Helen tells Menelaus where Deiphobus is. And so, Deiphobus dies alongside Troy.

(Deiphobus and Hektor meet again in the Underworld and Deiphobus tries to apologize for his failure to keep Troy safe. Hektor will hear none of it, refusing any of the anger he has every right to put on him. Still, a long time passes where Deiphobus silently and anxiously wonders if that was a lie, if Hektor truly does hate him for what happened.

Hektor keeps throwing him tense, unsettled glances sometimes when he thinks he’s not looking, even though he never says a thing. Each one worms further and further underneath his skin and he starts to squirm under the conviction that he’s done something wrong. Something Hektor holds against him.

When it finally grows so unbearable that Deiphobus confronts him about it at last, Hektor flinches and doesn’t disguise his fear and upset. Deiphobus braces himself. But then, mangled in with confusing, ashamed apologies, Hektor recounts for the first time how he died.

Athena luring him to his death in Deiphobus’s shape, speaking in his voice. How he turned to face Achilles believing he had support. When he called for a spear from his brother, he was alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I think of it at all, I’m so sorry I let you believe I was angry with you because of it. I’m not, it had nothing to do with you, you shouldn’t have to know of it at all. I just- remember it sometimes. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Deiphobus feels nauseous. Hektor looks even more so.

“If I had actually been there-”

“No! Don’t do this. Achilles would have just killed you too.”

“We wouldn’t have died alone, then.”

They clutch at each other, these battered remnants of their souls, carrying with them the wounds of their lives.)

#the iliad #deiphobus #hektor #hector of troy #paris of troy #and misc others i wont tag lol #trojan war #greek mythology #my writing #goal: make everyone else have thoughts and feelings about deiphobus too #hes my randomly selected emotional support child of priam #and hes perfect for my favorite thing #weird little character studies #hopefully this was at least somewhat interesting to read #its been a long time since ive done a post like this #an unsurprisingly it is way too long lol #sometimes it really is just all or nothing with my headcanons #i also think about the version where achilles is going to marry polyxena and deiphobus grabs him while paris stabs him in the back #inchresting

41 notes · View notes

childishfluff · 4 years

Text

Angel Milk and Bargaining Naps- [Little!Ranboo/CG!Tubbo CGLRE Oneshot]

Summary:

Ranboo flies all the way to Britain to meet one of his friends, Tubbo. The trip is tiring, but he jumps straight into a stream alongside his friend. He's tired and needs a nap, and a joke from the stream causes him to slip. Immediately following the stream, he falls into littlespace and just wants to play, despite his sleepiness. Luckily, Tubbo is understanding and prepared, with a sippy cup of angel milk and a cookie for the little. And lots of determination that goes towards getting the boy to rest, even if it's only for a bit. Some warm angel milk and a few convincing deals should do the trick. -- This is non-sexual, sfw age regression, dni if you're nsfw/abdl/ageplay/cgl/ect. If any of the creators included in this work say *anything* about being uncomfy with fan fiction/of agere content including them, I will take this down and/or modify it appropriately. If they have already said something that I'm unaware of, please let me know.

A/N: I'm gonna be honest, I didn't know if Ranboo lived with his mom or dad or whatever so I just assumed and made his parent figure (who literally doesn't have any lines she's just there) his mom. Anyways, this is just a soft fic that explores the friendship dynamic between Tubbo and Ranboo, because I really like it. This is about 3500-ish words, which is longer then some of my other oneshots, which is cool! I really hope that I wrote Ranboo well, I haven't seen much of anything for little!Ranboo yet and wanted to try it, y'know? I don't think there's any trigger warnings that I need to put, but lmk if there is something I missed. Enjoy the fic!

"Ranboo?"

"Tubbo!"

Tubbo ran up to the boy in the black and white mask, the other youtuber decked out in a simple outfit. The only thing signifying the presence of his online persona was the mask. Besides that little detail, just one thing so that Tubbo could spot him easily, he looked like any other person.

"You're taller then I thought you'd be," Tubbo muttered, looking him up and down as he came to stand in front of him. Ranboo stood in front of a car, his mother climbing out of the driver's side and going to the back.

"And you're shorter." Ranboo replied, flinching just a bit at the slam of the car door. He was going to be staying with Tubbo for a week, this was his first meet up. And face reveal. Even now, with his mask on, Tubbo had still seen more of his face then anyone else on the internet.

"Oh, how kind of you," Tubbo joked, rolling his eyes a bit and taking

"Shut up and hug me, you idiot," Ranboo said, opening his arms. "I flew in from America, I get hug." he repeated, almost sounding whiny.

Tubbo laughed, jumping into the embrace and melting into the hug. Ranboo gives good hugs, he decided mentally, not pulling away from the affection for a few long seconds. "It's so nice to finally meet you, This week is gonna be great." Tubbo said, pulling away and going to the back of the car, where Ranboo's mom was unloading luggage.

It was gonna be great, for sure.

Ranboo sat just off camera, his mask now off but sitting on his lap, as Tubbo rambled to the chat. "He's gonna be here for a whole week! Isn't that cool?"

Both boys had been pretty excited for the meet up, they had a lot planned. Tommy was supposed to come by for two days, the second one being a big event with Wilbur and Niki too, all later in the week. This was Ranboo's big trip to meet some of the people he made content with regularly, and he was pretty excited.

"Put on your mask and shit on and come here, Ranboob." Everyone in chat was asking to see Ranboo. This whole trip was kept secret from the internet and anyone not involved in it, it was a huge surprise to everyone.

"I'm not going to if you're gonna be mean," he said defiantly, crossing his arms and giving him a look. He did not appreciate the 'Ranboob' nickname, not at all.

"I'm not being mean!" Tubbo screeched, basically pouting at him. "Come onnnn." he whined.

The childish traits they were displaying were somewhat just played up for the camera, but they were both littles. They knew about one another, but they had managed to avoid talking about it so far, moving from bring Ranboo's stuff inside, straight into a stream.

"Okay, okay, hold on," Ranboo took a few moments to pull on his mask and sunglasses, before standing up. "Move my chair for me, I wanna make a dramatic entrance." he ordered.

"I'm not your maid," Tubbo declined.

"Dramatic entrance or I'm not moving."

"Fine."

Once Tubbo had moved his chair, Ranboo made his silly enterance, strutting over and taking his seat next to Tubbo. "Hello, chat. You can see me, that's different," he laughed a bit. "I don't usually use a facecam."

"Well, get used to it. We're gonna be doing lots of stuff with cameras this week."

They continued talking about some plans they had, videos to make, streams to do. They hopped on the Minecraft and Discord servers, jumping between voice chats and talking to everyone. Eventually, though, Ranboo started to get tired and whiny. He literally took a whole trip from America, the car ride from the airport, and then jumped right into a stream. He was sleepy, goddammit.

Maybe it was being sleepy, and also excited, but he seemed to be falling into littlespace unknowingly. Acting childish, even just for a joke, usually led to feeling childish.

"Tubboooo," He held out his words, interrupting whatever Tubbo was doing on the SMP. He leaned close to him as he spoke.

"Ranbooooo," his friend mimicked him in a teasing voice, not looking away from the screen as he made his avatar run around the minecraft server.

"End stream, nap." he requested, causing the other boy to laugh. "Please?" he added.

"You can nap, my bed's over there," Tubbo told him, pointing off camera. "But I'm not done."

Ranboo pouted under his mask. "You're mean, y'know." he claimed, earning a chuckle from Tubbo.

There was a lot of messages in the chat claiming that they were fighting like children, with all their whining and pouting. Neither of them took it in a mean way though, that's what they were going for. It was funny.

"Sure I am." Tubbo said, looking to him for a moment. He quickly paused to say, "We'll end the stream soon, promise. You can sleep after that." He spoke in a much softer voice then before, signifying that he wasn't joking or anything. He was catching on to Ranboo's little behaviors, past the bit.

Ranboo hummed, before looking back to the screen. Tubbo returned to whatever he was doing, and the chat was 'aww'-ing. Ranboo tried to focus on not completely slipping on stream, making sure that any childlike behaviors he exhibited could be passed off as a joke.

He didn't fidget with any sort of toy, or hold a stuffed animal, he just swung his feet under the table, which the viewers couldn't see. Tubbo noticed it, though.

Eventually, Tubbo said goodbye to chat, and ended the stream. Once he logged off of the minecraft server and turned off his computer, he turned his seat to look at Ranboo. He smiled softly, "Hi, buddy."

He re-greeted him, as if talking to a new person. He wasn't, but it was a way to show that he was welcoming Little Ranboo in a kind way. "Hello, Tubbo." he giggled at the nickname, smiling wide.

"How little are you right now?"

Ranboo thought for a moment, not replying at first. He was old enough to be talking, so far, not having many issues pronouncing things. He wasn't really that small, he regressed to this age by himself regularly. It was fun, and he could play, while still being just old enough to take care of himself.

"I'm five." he decided aloud, "For now."

"But that might change?" Tubbo asked in a questioning, curious tone. Unlike Ranboo, he was just pretending and acting childish on stream, now fading in to a very caregivery demeanor. His friend was obviously small, and he was there to help.

"I dunno."

"Hmm," Tubbo noted that that probably meant he would be slipping younger, even if Ranboo didn't want to admit that. Most of the time, if Ranboo had someone to watch him that he trusted, usually Tubbo or Tommy, he'd slip a lot younger. Because he didn't need to take care of himself, he didn't need to worry about staying big enough to care for himself.

"You said you were sleepy, right? You needed a nap."

"No, no, no," Ranboo denied, shaking his head. "Not sleepy anymore." he claimed, contradicting his previous request. He was sleepy, very much so, but now he wanted to play. Now that he didn't have any viewers to worry about, he just wanted to have fun.

"Oh, really?" Tubbo said, standing up from his seat and stretching.

"Mhm," Ranboo hummed, distracted with the task of stealing Tubbo's much more comfortable chair the moment he moved. He also got distracted with spinning around almost right away. Tubbo didn't stop him, a little amused with how easy it was to entertain him.

"You're not sleepy anymore, not at all?" Tubbo sounded disbelieving.

"Nope."

"Alright. Where'd you put your littlegear? Do you have a sippy cup?" Tubbo asked.

"Black bag," Ranboo replied, not even bother to stop the chair, spinning around and around. He giggled at the motion, stopping when he started to get dizzy. While he was distracted, Tubbo had managed to locate the little bag, pull out a sippy cup, and leave the room.

"Tubs?" he pouted, not liking being left alone. "Tubboooo," he whined, getting up from the seat. "Whoa!" he almost tripped and tumbled, realizing he was still dizzy, and therefore, more clumsy. Once he was standing more stably, he heard Tubbo.

"I'm in the kitchen, buddy!" he heard his friend's voice call out, immediately following it. He ran out of the room, making his way to the

He suddenly got shy when he passed his mom and Tubbo's at the table, talking to each other. He slowed down, walking straighter and trying to act 'big'. "They know, you're okay," Tubbo assured, giving him a soft look from his spot by the microwave.

Ranboo still didn't face the adults, going quiet as he went over to Tubbo, now walking instead of running clumsily. He knew that his mom was always supportive, but he still wasn't the most comfortable regressing around her, or adults in general. The only real exceptions to this was his youtube friends who were older then him, because he didn't exactly see them as 'adults'.

It wasn't like any of them were mature.

The two women seemed to notice his discomfort, simply continuing to talk to one another and not bothering him. If they didn't bring any attention to his childlike behavior, or pretend they didn't notice it, then maybe Ranboo wouldn't mind being childish around them. They didn't want to interrupt or make him feel invalid while he was having fun.

"What're you doin'? You left me." he pouted, suddenly realizing that he had yet to take off his mask and sunglasses when his jutted-out lip was met with fabric. He had spoke quietly, so only Tubbo could hear how little his voice was.

He pulled them off, stuffing them into his pocket and rubbing at his eyes. "I'm making you angel milk, I'm sure you'll like it." Tubbo replied, opening the microwave before it went off and pulling the sippy cup out. Ranboo immediately went to reach for it, curious about the new drink he hadn't tried, but Tubbo pushed his hands away.

He didn't usually drink milk, feeling like it was something for babies, not bigger boys like him. But he didn't reject the babying, Tubbo treating him like he was a little younger then he had claimed to be. He really didn't mind it.

"It's to hot for you, bud. Let's just wait a bit, yeah?"

"Oh." Ranboo seemed a little confused, and embarrassed. He should've known that it'd be to hot, it was just heated up. Simple forgetfulness like this made him feel so kiddish, and not in the good way. This was forgotten when Tubbo ruffled his hair, making him giggle a little louder then he would've liked.

"Do you wanna make a snack while we wait?" Tubbo tightened the lid of the cup onto it, before shaking the bottle and setting it on the counter for the time being.

"Please?" Ranboo confirmed, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt as he asked.

"Yeah, let's see what we have." Tubbo said, opening up cupboards and looking into the fridge, Ranboo simply following him around. Ranboo stopped him from closing a cupboard right before he did by pulling on his shirt, pointing to cookies that sat up in it. Tubbo chuckled, "I should've known you would've asked for cookies. You can have one, but only after eating something else, okay?"

Tubbo agreed to these rules, happy he was getting any at all. He watched Tubbo pull out a plastic plate for him, setting the promised cookie on the side of it. "We have fruit? Do you like grapes?"

Ranboo eagerly nodded, "The green ones?"

"Yep," Tubbo smiled, pulling them out. The next few minutes consisted of Tubbo washing the fruit, putting it on the plate, grabbing the milk, and leading them back to his bedroom.

"Can I sit in your chair, p'ease?" Ranboo asked politely as he shut the door behind them, Tubbo's hands to full to do so.

"Go ahead," Tubbo confirmed. "Good job on asking nicely," he added, earning a smile from the boy. Ranboo immediately ran over to the chair, sitting in it and spinning again.

"Be careful, sweetie. I heard you almost fall because you were dizzy," Tubbo reminded. Ranboo's face flushed as Tubbo continued, "I know you're a bit clumsy when you're small, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Ranboo didn't know Tubbo could hear that. He wasn't that clumsy, he thought. The stupid chair just made him dizzy.

Tubbo went over and sat in the chair Ranboo was originally in, not commenting on his blushing. "Have you ever tried Angel Milk before?" Tubbo questioned, changing the subject to avoid embarrassing him more, shaking the bottle again once setting the plate of snacks on the desk in front of the computer.

"Nuh-uh," Ranboo shook his head. "Is it yummy?"

"Mhm, it's warm milk with sugar and vanilla and cinnamon in it. It's really yummy," Tubbo confirmed. He tried feeling the outside of the cup, not being able to tell exactly how hot it was. He tipped it over once putting the tip against his finger, letting out just enough of the milk to know the temperature. "I think this has cooled off enough for you, buddy. Here."

Ranboo took the royal blue sippy cup in both hands. The cup part was clear, so you could see the liquid inside, and the lid was his favorite color. The cup was a little smaller then a normal cup, but it was shaped like one, so if there ever came a time where he had to hide that he was using a sippy cup, he could just take the lid off and probably get away with it.

He sipped it, liking the feeling of the warm, but not too hot liquid on his tongue. He drank a bit of it before saying anything. "Yummy," he decided, in just one word, speaking with a soft smile. He leaned back into the chair, continuing to drink it. He seemed calmer, softer, even.

"I'm glad you like it, little one. Maybe don't drink it all before you even start eating, though."

"Oh," Ranboo said, pulling the cup away from his mouth. "Mkay." he agreed, wiping at his lips with his hand.

"You eat while I get some more of your little stuff out, okay?"

"mhm." Ranboo only hummed, swinging his feet under him like he had done earlier. After a minute or so of eating and looking around the room mindlessly, he felt something get set on his head. He looked up, causing the item to fall. The stuffed toy fell into his lap as Tubbo came around the chair, sitting down, holding a few things. He set the stuff in his lap.

"Boo!" he giggled, holding the toy bear close to his chest. 'Boo the Bear' was his favorite stuffed animal, and it was the only on he brought with him, and he was glad he did. To some extent, he knew he'd slip during this trip at some point, that's why he brought all the little stuff. He just didn't expect it to be so quickly.

"I found him hiding in your bag," Tubbo joked, picking up something from his lap. Pajamas.

"No!" Ranboo immediately said, without Tubbo getting the chance to say anything. "Don' need a nap." he huffed.

"I think you do. Just for a bit, so you have more energy to play later!" Tubbo spoke in a mock-excited tone, trying to paint the idea of napping in a more positive light for the little.

Spoiler alert, it didn't work well.

"Noooo," Ranboo whined.

"Doesn't cuddling up with Boo in comfy pajamas sound nice, sweetie?" He tried again.

Ranboo thought for a moment, shrugging. He casted his eyes downward, taking another drink from his cup, suddenly realizing how sleepy the warm liquid made him. Of course, he didn't catch onto the fact that Tubbo did that on purpose, but he didn't really need to know that.

"I'll nap with you, if you want. I promise, I won't have any fun without you."

Ranboo looked up, "Just for a bit?" he asked, in his now babyish voice. Tubbo was doing a fairly good job of convincing him.

"I'll wake you up in an hour or two, promise." Tubbo confirmed.

Ranboo thought again, glancing at the cookie on his plate before coming up with another question. "Can I have more cookies when I wake up? And more milk?"

Tubbo was slightly amused by the fact that he was treating this like some soft of business deal, but he was gonna take what he could get. "Sure thing."

"Okay," Ranboo agreed, hesitancy seemingly gone. "You have to cuddle with me and Boo, though! An- and play with me when I wake up!"

"Deal." Tubbo chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Now, let's finish your food and then get ready for your nap."

Ranboo was able to finish his grapes and his cookie in just a few minutes, sipping the last of his milk before setting it on the desk with the plate. "All gone," he said, yawning a bit. He rubbed a his eyes, leaning back into the seat. He was a lot sleepier then he thought he was.

"Yep, good job. Now, what do we do next?" Tubbo asked.

Ranboo sat up a bit, tilting his head, "Comfy clothes?" he offered, earning and approving hum from Tubbo.

"Are you big enough to do this yourself?" Tubbo handed him a stack of clothes, Ranboo nodding as he took it. Yeah, he was a little younger then five, but he could pull himself a little older to get dressed.

He ran off to the bathroom, leaving Tubbo with the important job of watching Boo. While he was gone, Tubbo moved around the pillows and blankets on his bed so that he'd be more comfortable. Ranboo came back, standing at the door shyly, clad in pajama pants and a matching slight-oversized soft cotton shirt.

"Look at how cute you look! You're so adorable." Tubbo cheered immediately, once picking up on his nervousness.

He was complimenting the boy because he seemed to be nervous about wearing more 'little' clothes around him, because until now, he was wearing 'big kid' clothes and just feeling small. Now, he looked it too. The pattern on the clothes was a bunch of little gold crowns, on a black backdrop.

"T'ank you," Ranboo shut the door behind him again, coming over to the bed and climbing onto it. He took Boo from Tubbo when he offered him the toy, coming up by the pillows and trying to position himself. As he did that, Tubbo shut off the light, glad it was the middle of the day so he didn't have to worry about any 'scared of the dark' issues. "Tubs?"

"Hmm?" The mentally-older boy replied, grabbing one last thing from the bedside table and climbing into bed beside Ranboo, facing him. Ranboo was curled up, stuffed bear cuddled to his chest, content with Tubbo just being close to him. They weren't cuddling, but he was willing to settle with just knowing that he was right there.

"m' feelin' smaller," he admitted after a moment, shy about the confession, yawning again as he sunk into the comfort on the soft pillows.

"Yeah?" Tubbo asked, looking at him softly. "How small?"

"lots an' lots."

"That's so small!" Tubbo, again, was amused by his childish actions. "Do you need a pacifier, sweetie?"

Ranboo, if any bigger, would've protested against the idea of using a pacifier and being called a baby, but he just nodded a bit. His demeanor was softer, and shyier. And it was easy to tell that he had trouble talking now.

"Good thing I already pulled one out for you," Tubbo laughed, revealing the last item he grabbed. A white pacifier, simple and plain, stuffed into his bag just in case he needed it. Tubbo lifted it to Ranboo's lips, the little taking it in his mouth and suckling on it a bit before letting his eyes drift shut.

Later on, he'd be embarrassed about using a pacifier in front of Tubbo, but right now, he was to small and sleepy to even care. The rest of the day, along with the rest of the meet up, would be great. Ranboo would wake up big, and they'd record a video with Tommy and then they'd watch movies. It'd all be great.

But right now, neither of them were worried about the rest of the day, because Ranboo was small and sleepy. Before falling asleep, he mumbled his last words before his nap.

"Ni' ni', Tubs." Tubbo has to stop himself from cooing at his adorable sleepy mumbling. Tubbo was glad that this was something they could support each other with, that this was something Ranboo trusted him with. He was so lucky. He replied, in the simple soft tone that he'd been using all day,

"Night, buddy."

A/N: okay so they meet up for a week, and I also mentioned tommy, wilbur, and niki, so there's room for me to write another oneshot in this universe. So if that's something you want, then go ahead and request in the comments! I imagine that tubbo and tommy are also littles, while wilbur and niki are cgs.

You can also request in-the-smp fics or just another oneshot for anyone! I might not write it, but please, still request, because the worst that can happen is that I say no.

also someone recently tried to request a fic involving an abusive cg and I just wanna say, I will never write anything like that, so don't request it. The farthest I will go is a caregiver yelling a bit, *NOTHING MORE*.

anyways, please leave feedback in the replies/reblogs/my ask box, on what you thought about this oneshot. Your favorite scene, cutest moments, things that you'd like to see within this universe. Whatever you want, feedback helps! Thanks for reading!

#dsmp #dream smp #ranboo #tubbo #agere #cglre #dream smp agere #little!ranboo #ranboo agere #cg!tubbo #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #niki

80 notes · View notes

frostahesmegabite · 3 years

Text

Engineering For Tots

@daily-writing-challenge - Day 7 - Charity Today is a day like any other day with the Holidays right around the corner. It wasn’t going to take much longer before Wintersveil, Pilgrim’s Bounty and Hallow’s Eve was right around the corner. Hell, Hallow’s Eve was quite literally around the corner. Already his mailbox at the office was getting filled with fliers and advertisements for sales, asking for donations or various other little tidbits that came with the holidays. None of it really spoke up to him though. Well, at least not until he catches sight of the Orgrimmar Orphanage Donation. Every year they needed more and more food and money to take care of the numerous orphans created by Azeroth’s many wars, battles and conflicts. He did feel bad for those kids, he remembered seeing a lot of similar circumstances in Kezan growing up where family and children were drugged into cartel and business wars that cost them homes and families. Back then, Mega was powerless to really do anything about it and while he could easily just make donations and it’d help, sure, he didn’t believe in pure outright charity either. An idea begins to spring up and he heads to a series of cabinets and begins to look through the folders till he comes across the Orgrimmar Engineering Guild information for the Engineering Shop just down the road from that very same Orphanage. Megahes takes the folder back to his desk and begins to write out two separate letters. The first is to the Engineering Shop in the Drag;

“Nogg; Megahes Frostbite here; Owner of the Frostbite Contingent. I wanted to send you a letter of proposal for the coming holidays in relation to your shop and a charity drive of sorts that I’ll be beginning with the Orphans in Orgrimmar just down the road from you. As I’m sure you’ve had issues with a few of them stealing or playing around your shop, the Holidays are a time for helping others out and since there are so few young minds interested in applying to our trade, I’ve come up with a way to help those interested but with no means to do so, to get involved. I propose that I’ll donate One Thousand (1,000) Gold for every Orphan who tinkers up a toy or tries to invent something, even if it’s simple and non-electrical, to the very orphanage they’re kept at just down the road from you. In exchange, I’d like you and your shops to help in making this happen by supplying goods to them entirely on my tab and at a Two Hundred Percent (200%) purchase price as well as offering you and your employees bonus holiday pay at triple their wages while they help these children experience what it is to be novice engineers. If this comes to be an issue, please let me know if the pay isn’t enough and perhaps we can find a more suitable arrangement. Megahes Frostbite; Owner of the Frostbite Contingent” He reads and re-reads this letter before moving on to the next which was for Matron Battlewail. “Matron Battlewail, I wanted to let you know that I want to propose a charity event for your children in the hopes of helping them find an interest in engineering while also giving them the opportunity to acquire some much needed funds for your orphanage. I’ve sent a letter of notice to Nogg at the Engineering Shop and am fully prepared to compensate them for their time and for all the supplies they give to you and your children for their efforts. In exchange, for anything your kids make, electrical or not, they not only get to keep for themselves, but they’ll also have a 750 Gold donation made to your Orphanage in their name with 250 Gold placed into a separate account in their name to be held for them until their age of release from the Orphanage as an Adult where hopefully, time has passed and allowed them to accrue a bit of interest as well. The Frostbite Contingent will also take up all responsibility for any taxes this might accrue in their name as well until they are able to retrieve their funds and close the account and reopen one in their own name. Please let me know if this is a suitable situation as I’d like to begin this career exploring charity drive as soon as possible so your children have the opportunity to start now rather than later. Again, any and all expenses will be covered by the Frostbite Contingent and if you run into any issues, please let me know and I’ll make sure to handle it all personally. With Hope; Megahes Frostbite Owner of the Frostbite Contingent” In short order, both letters were sealed off and put into a mailbox where it would be delivered post haste. “Dunno if that quite counts as Charity or not, but, it’ll at least give them a sense’a purpose and entertainment for a little bit. Let's hope Nogg doesn't get a grain'a sand up his ass either and think that's bein cheap.”

#Charity #DWC2021 #Engineering For Tots #Day7DWC #Megahes

11 notes · View notes

the-fae-folk · 4 years

Note

Why do faeries steal children???

Ooh! An excellent question. There were lots of different reasons that the Faerie Folk were said to steal children. Sometimes they might take the child from pure curiosity. To play with like a toy, or show off like a shiny new trophy to the other Folk. Having a human child as a servant, pet, or adoptee could be considered to be rather like having expensive imported fruit at dinner. Its a way of showing off to everybody how influential and powerful you are because you managed to steal a human child away from under its parent’s noses. Other times it could be out of malice. For purposes of revenge or just cruelty at the misfortune and suffering of others. Not all Fae are kind, and even fewer are kind to humans. But not all fates would be so terrible. Some children were taken by Faeries who only saw something that they wanted to love and nurture and teach. The child will grow in warmth and love, never knowing different. But the real tragedy is the human parents who rush to the cradle only to find it empty and the window thrown wide open. They will never see their child again. In some cases, such as abusive households, this could be seen as a fortunate happenstance. But the idea of taking children to save them, while pleasant, is probably not very common. Not impossible though. Medieval Scandinavia held one belief where it was for the benefit of the Troll child put into the human family rather than the human child taken out. It was considered more respectable for young Trolls to be given a human upbringing than a Troll one. Though some believed that Trolls could only abduct unbaptized human children and would be powerless once the child was recognized by the Church. There were also tales that Trolls particularly valued such things as brightness and reflectivity (mirrors and sparkling jewels), and this would often lead them to take children or people with blond hair and blue eyes because they looked similar. Scottish Folklore takes a much darker turn as it describes how the Faeries take human children in order to pay the Tithe to Hell itself. They do this in order to save their own children from such a fate, preferring them to be raised by humans, or at least die free from Hell’s grasp. Other folklore explores the idea that Fairy children might need human breast milk in order to survive and the fairies would switch them so that they could be nursed by human mothers. Sometimes they would simply bring the mother to Faerieland to do the job. These stories are often side by side of those which involve human midwives being needed for Faerie births. Stories vary from place to place. Is a changeling a true child? Or a Fairy Elder brought to spend their last days before death in comfort and love? Or did the Folk simply steal a calm and quiet human child and replace it with a screaming and ill tempered Fairy one? From all that I have read I can guess that the old stories were more interested in the question of what to do with a changeling when you found one or how to recognize one in the first place rather than spending time questioning why the Faeries would want a human baby. My guess is that if Faeries exist and truly do take children, there are probably as many different reasons as there are Faeries.

#root #informational post #ask #changelings #faeries #fae #sidhe #otherfolk #folklore #myths #stories

76 notes · View notes

dmsden · 3 years

Text

Monster of the Month - the Githyanki

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This month’s Monster of the Month is one coming to you out of the depths of the Astral Plane. Everybody’s favorite astral pirates, the Githyanki, are here to say hi. As always, big thank you to my buddy Scott Fabianek for the art.

The Githyanki made their debut in the 1st edition Fiend Folio, and they weren’t shy about it. They took over the cover, swinging their silver swords around, and generally let everyone know that they were here to stay. Since then, they’ve gone from absolute villains to occasional anti-heroes, even being a playable race in 5E, thanks to Volo’s Guide to Monsters.

The core defining element of Githyanki history is their enslavement under mind flayer rule. They were likely similar to humans before this, but centuries of domination and experimentation are, ironically, likely what led to their psionic abilities. Led by a freedom fighter named Gith, this race rose up and slaughtered the mind flayers, and, to this day, they will hunt and kill mind flayers wherever they find them. There was a division in the race’s philosophies that led to the race dividing into the Githyanki and the Githzerai, and the Githyanki became, by far, the more warlike of the two.

Our baseline githyanki in 5e is the CR3 Githyanki Warrior. They are fairly straightforward melee combatants right up until the moment that you consider their psionic abilities. It’s not hard to imagine them casting nondetection every eight hours to make themselves impossible to scry or cast any other divinations spells on. This is likely something of a reflex, done before sleep, when getting up, and then halfway through the day. Likely, this evolved when they were fighting and hiding from the illithid. This will make it difficult for an adventuring party to know that they’re being stalked by githyanki raiders.

They’re lawful evil, so, even though they are pirates, they likely use certain formations and actions, aiding one another when necessary or possible. In a ship to ship battle, one can imagine Githyanki empowered by their psionic Jump leaping the gap from one ship to another. They can also misty step multiple times, which makes them a frighteningly mobile fighting group. The fact that they speak a pretty unique language means that orders could be barked out. A party thinking they have things well in hand could suddenly find the Githyanki they were fighting teleporting to gank their healers or mages in a unified attack.

I think the best use for these guys is in a party’s relatively early days. Githyanki sometimes spend time on the Material Plane for a variety of reasons. They may be striking to get supplies, tracking an illithid’s pet intellect devourer, or something similar. While it’s true that one reason they might be on the material plane is to guard a creche of young, letting them age off of the Astral Plane, I don’t necessarily recommend this as a reason to put them in conflict with a party of adventurers. If you do, the logical end-result is that the party will end up in an argument as to what to do with the now orphaned githyanki children.

The upgrade (and it’s a big one) is the CR8 Githyanki Knight. They have all the toys the Warrior does (although their attacks are, of course, more powerful), and they have several extras. They have plane shift and telekinesis each once per day. Plane shift is perfect for an extreme retreat or to try and take a dangerous opponent out of a fight (although that makes quite a headache for the DM, and the player isn’t likely to appreciate it). Telekinesis would be useful for throwing an opponent off of a ship, for pulling a target to them that they want closer in the fight, making the party’s melee-based rogue or ranger unhappy, etc.

The other two big upgrades a Githyanki Knight likely brings to the table are where things get really fun. The Knight’s Silver Sword is a magical +3 weapon in their hands that gives them a devastating attack to channel their psychic abilities into damage. In addition, these guys can be super scary to characters who are using the astral projection spell. If that silver sword crits, it’s an automatic kill on the player who gets hit.

The other element of a Githyanki Knight is that they’re likely to be partnered with a Young Red Dragon to ride. Even if these dragons aren’t yet legendary, they’re all kinds of awful for a party. The combination of a single githyanki knight and a young red dragon are a deadly encounter for a group of 5 10th level characters, and a hard one for 5 11th levels. Make it two of each, and they would be a hard challenge for 5 17th level characters...just about the time the party gets regular access to Astral Projection.

If you have access to Volo’s Guide to Monsters, there are more flavors of Githyanki for you to spice up your encounters. And you could even develop more if you wanted a Githyanki-based campaign. Maybe Vlaakith, the immortal lich queen who rules the githyanki, is having her warriors attack the material plane with greater and greater frequency. The campaign could concentrate on why this is, and it could constitute a mind flayer/githyanki war. Lower levels might involve Tiamat-worshipping kobolds stealing supplies (since there’s some kind of alliance between Tiamat and Vlaakith that allows the githyanki knights to ride red dragons.) As things progress, there could be various mind flayer related creatures like intellect devourers and umber hulks, perhaps neogi slavers who provide the mind flayers with their needed sustenance. Of course mind flayers themselves, githyanki, and red dragons. Githzerai allies might eventually step in, willing to aid against the mind flayers AND their ancestral kin. The campaign might ultimately confront Vlaakith, attempting to throw down the ruler of githyanki kind. That would be epic.

I hope this article made you think about including some githyanki oriented plot in your campaign. Next month, we’ll be looking at one of my favorite creepy Underdark critters - the Hook Horror. Until then, may all your 20s be natural.

21 notes · View notes

charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 years

Text

Time Does Not Heal (find a new hobby)

ao3

Ozpin might be a fiend, a monster, a mad man. He is not a bad father. ------------------------

It was repulsive, how Salem continued to pretend to be the hero.

Only the two of them were alive to remember the argument that had started it all. Ozma, the second one, the reincarnated one, had told Salem about his mission given to him by the God of Creation, of uniting humanity. About the relics that would summon the Gods back to Earth, about how they would destroy humanity if they were divided.

About how Ozma didn’t want the Gods to return at all.

The Gods had taken nothing from humanity that they would miss. What was missing? Magic? Magic had only allowed humans to make more atrocities than they did now. Humanity was divided even before the Gods left; Ozpin still remembered the war between his people and the Nome King, the Sacking of Emerald City, the Battle of the Poppy Fields. He had faced a million and one tragedies created by man and man alone and the so-called Gods had done nothing.

Salem hadn’t seen it that way. Even after all their travels together, turning the first humans against the Gods, years of isolation, she was still the girl in the tower. The girl who was raised alone, innocent to everything in the world. She had no idea what humanity was truly like, she didn’t know how foolish it was to try to bring the Gods back.

But Salem… wanted to die. Even with Ozma back, she’d spent so much time alone that it was second nature to seek death.

When Ozma had bundled up their children in an escape, she had found them. She took it as a betrayal and destroyed everything they had shared, had loved. But Salem couldn’t kill him.

No, instead she had thrown him into the Grimm pits in hope that they would rob him of immortality.

Blistering hate surged through Ozpin at the memory. She had been foolish; instead of robbing him of his life everlasting, the pit had corrupted him. He had evolved to a higher plain of being, into a beast that wanted nothing more than to torture Salem for all eterenty. And he couldn’t torture her if she wasn’t alive.

Ozma sent armies against her. First the Grimm, who he controlled ever since his corruption. Then his Maidens, the souls of his first four followers granted magic and the ability to transfer their power after death. Admittedly, their transfer was far too close to his own and too random for his Maidens to always be on his side - sometimes Salem got to them first and claimed she had made the Maidens, taking credit for his work - but they were usually easy enough to convince. After all, what mortal doesn’t want to stop a woman from destroying Remnant?

Unfortunately, Salem is a good liar. She had convinced her allies that he wanted to see humanity suffer for eternity - which wasn’t too far off the mark, actually - and that he needed to be defeated. Bold of her to assume he could be defeated, but every silver-eyed warrior on her side believed he could. The silver-eyes were firmly in Salem’s pocket; they were her most beloved and trusted allies, so Oz destroyed them.

Which was why Ozpin was on this small island named Patch in Vale. All but one silver-eyed warrior had been murdered by his subordinates, assassins and bounty-hunters that he paid handsomely for each head delivered. He had decided to kill the last one himself: Summer Rose, a persistent thorn in his side. It felt only fitting to prune such a rose himself.

Ozpin approached the home that contained his target. With him came an early-morning storm, to darken the sky and set the mood. One of his Nevermores had spied on the woman for the past few days, reporting that she lived there with her family. Evidence of a child was all over the lawn - toys thrown about, a bicycle leaning against the house, a swing set visible from around the back. He frowned. He hadn’t wanted to get a child involved. It wouldn’t stop him, but he didn’t want one involved.

Hiding himself from all eyes with his magic, Ozpin infiltrated the house, the early morning darkness covering his entry. He left the backdoor wide open. The inside, a kitchen, was as messy as the yard, with more toys, and a flash of an old memory - a playroom in a castle, little hands pulling on his robes, Daddy, Daddy! - steals his attention for a moment. He shakes his head. There was no time for old ghosts now.

The kitchen led to a living room and Ozpin stepped around a medley of toys and weapon on the floor. On the couch snored a man with dark hair; Qrow Branwen, if he remembered correctly. The twin brother of one of Summer Rose’s partners. Another person who wouldn’t leave the house alive.

The stairs creaked under his weight. No sign of movement, no sign of anyone awake. The bedroom he was looking for was at the end of the hall- He paused. Ozpin could just barely hear it, even with his Grimm-enhanced hearing. The smallest whimper of a baby about to wail.

Automatically, Ozpin entered a room that wasn’t the master bedroom, throwing up a quick silencing spell so the rest of the house couldn’t hear him. It was a nursery, with a crib by the windows - a safety hazard, Ozpin thought idly as he approached. The whimpering belonged to a little baby, no more than six months old. It was clearly the child of Summer Rose; the infant looked just like its mother, down to the same, detestable eyes.

Well, that explained why Summer Rose had stayed still long enough for Ozpin to track down her residence.

His invisibility dropping, Ozpin picked up the baby. It stared up at him with watery, silver eyes and Ozpin cradled them against his chest, hiding his face lest he scare it. His fall in the Grimm pits left him pale and scarred with black veins that reappeared with each reincarnation. He swayed to soothe the child back to sleep, humming under his breath.

Ozpin wanted to move on, but his memories wouldn’t let him.

Ozma scooped up his youngest daughter, cradling her to his chest. The toddler babbled about anything and everything, and Ozma kept nodding along as he took Dorthey back to her room. “You need to go back to sleep now, Princess.” He and her mother were gods; of course their children would be princesses.

Dorthey pouted, but didn’t argue. “Kiss?” she asked.

Ozma smiled. “Of course,” he said and kissed her forehead.

“Toto kiss too?” She offered him her stuffed dog and laughed as he kissed Toto too, her silver eyes glittering.

Silver eyes. Like his daughters’.

Salem always used their daughters’ eyes as a weapon against him, he realized as he held one of the silver-eyed warriors.

The child didn’t feel like a warrior. She was fat and squishy, like all babies should be at her age. She wasn’t a weapon against him, not yet anyway. But she would be one. He might be able to avoid her silver gaze for now, but sooner or later…

Still, he found himself reluctant to waste the child.

Their sniffling stopped and looked up at him, no trace of fear in his eyes. Distantly, he recognized the sound of someone getting up and walking down the hall, but ignored it.

He had come here to kill Summer Rose, but found himself suddenly reluctant. Not out of any sympathy for the woman, but because he would have to kill her child as well, permanently eradicating his daughter’s eyes from the planet. He held the child closer to his chest. He’d killed many silver-eyed warriors, but never a child…

Oz had raised children before; a few of his medley of souls had children before he assimilated into them, though he never raised a child once Oz fully incorporated himself into his consciousness. It had been several lives since he’d even held a child.

The baby cooed softly, reaching a little hand up to touch Ozpin’s face. They looked like a copy of Summer Rose, with red highlights in their black hair. They were dressed in a red onesie too; a ruby-red rose, ripe to be plucked.

Such a sweet baby, he mused as he prodded one chubby cheek. Too sweet to be his enemy one day, too sweet to die with their family.

It was their eyes that made his decision for him. Kind eyes without a trase of fear, just trust. Like his little Dorthey.

Well, it wasn’t like he was below a little kidnapping.

Ozpin placed a hand over the baby’s head and whispered a spell in their ear. The child went limp in his arms, sinking into sleep. They were young enough not to need a memory spell, thankfully; Ozpin didn’t know if he’d be able to case one anyway with his limited magic.

He’d have to redecorate his castle, he realized as giddiness rose in him. There weren’t any rooms suitable for a nursery. It must be close to his own quarters too, so he could look after them. He could try to make a nanny-Grimm, for when he was too busy? But Grimm were instinctual creatures; even if he ordered them all not to harm the child - which he definitely would - there was a chance for error. Besides, he didn’t want to lose a valuable creature if their silver eyes activated.

Maybe he could have Watts create a robot nanny? Hazel could babysit while he got it done…

The door behind him slammed open. “Ruby!!” Ozpin stood calmly as Qrow Branwen and his sister, Raven Branwen, rushed into the room.

So, his new daughter’s name was Ruby. A pretty name. It suited her.

It took the Branwens a second to comprehend what was in front of them. He was sure it was rather shocking to them, being slaves to Salem’s whim, seeing their worst enemy not only in their house, but holding one of their children. His heart truly went out to them.

But, they were between him and the exit…

Raven’s face twisted with fury, drawing her katana. “Put her down,” she snarled.

Ozpin cocked an eyebrow. “No.” If anything, she should be grateful that he never set Ruby down. If it wasn’t for her, everyone in the house would be dead by now.

The twins didn’t seem to like that answer. They readied their weapons, with both Raven and Qrow about to-

Raven and Qrow…

Raven and Crow…

Ozpin smirked and a wave of magic erupted from his body and slammed into the Branwens. Lightning flashed through the window as the two collapsed, coughing desperately. Raven’s face was a mix of pain and hatred as her bones crunched and grinded against each other.

Qrow Branwen collapsed to his knees, holding his throat. “What- What did you do-!?” He spat out a mass of feathers.

Ozpin smiled. “I thought it funny for you two to… resemble your name-sakes a tad more.” They couldn’t stop their screams as their bodies contorted grotesquely, though Raven certainly tried to keep silent. Within minutes, the Branwen twins had been transformed into birds, a raven and a crow, he thought with sick delight.

Raven tried to dive-bomb him, screeching, but she was easily avoided. Ozpin tsked as he swatted the bird away and cuddled the sleeping Ruby closer to his chest. He ran his fingers through her fine hair. “Come now, dear. Let’s go home.”

#evil ozpin au #dadpin #evil dadpin au #ozpin rwby #ruby rose #qrow branwen #raven branwen #mentioned str crossed lovers #kidnapping tw #body horror tw #planned murder #i have two different evil dadpin aus now #help #i'll call this version #Singular Evil Dadpin AU

30 notes · View notes

elexica · 4 years

Text

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 24 :: Four Years Ago }}

Four years ago, Christmas eve was devastating.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69012459

Full chapter under the cut.

The pit at the bottom of Joey’s stomach had been aching for the last three days. It was like he swallowed hot coals and they refused to stay down, bile creeping up his throat every time he passed by that closed office door.

The house should have felt warmer—there must have been fifteen human bodies radiating energy and buzzing around the house. He’d been preparing in a way—a strange sort of supervisory role he hadn’t particularly desired—for the Architectural Digest spread on their house. Joey had been told that the article was going to place special attention on the picture perfect family that Seto Kaiba had accrued.

What a fascinating figure, the journalist had said, he must be a very interesting person to be married to.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt interested in the life he and the CEO had built. Instead the décor and ambiance of their home was so cold and so superficial, like Joey lived in a hotel.

With such esteemed guests visiting on Christmas Eve, with such a paper trail of coverage, the administration of the Kaiba Estate had gone completely crazy. Joey couldn’t leave a glass of water on the counter and expect it to be there in an hour.

Even the kids were with a stylist this morning. It had seemed unfathomably frivolous and somehow also a bit duplicitous. Were they really trying to convince the readers of Architectural Digest that their children had an intuitive sense of fashion? Alexis was still not out of her terrible two’s, and the more layers of anything they draped over her, the greater the risk that they would trigger some sort of tantrum.

He’d deserve that, Joey thought, meanly. He had half a mind to interrupt Kaiba in his office and ask him that simple question: What are you trying to prove? Who could possibly care how Kaiba’s five-year-old son dressed? What their kitchen looked like?

How well his husband was handling the spotlight?

If anyone really asked, he didn’t know what he would say. No one from this world ever really asked him how he was doing, not in that caring sincere way that real friends do, and so he lived half a life sometimes—the exterior half. The part that was supposed to be making cookies, and volunteering at the daycare even though the kids’ nannies were really more involved, and posting fun little videos on Instagram. He had his own publicist, and he wasn’t supposed to even do that without approval—he understood the reasons but it was like every drop of authenticity was drained… all that remained was the flawless artifice of a live lived perfectly.

And the worst part was he was supposed to have an ally in all this. One person he was on the journey with.

But instead, Kaiba felt almost like a client. A person who had engaged him for husband and fathering services, who had certain specifications, certain resource allotments.

There was a forcefield around the office door.

Not a literal one, though Kaiba probably could have managed that if he had tried. It was decidedly low tech. Heavy mahogany, thick enough to withstand an explosion, and mysteriously devoid of the mistletoe and holly that had been draped over every inch of the house in an attempt to seem more festive and spirited than goddamn Martha Stewart.

The anger radiating out of the room must have been enough to keep the decorators far away.

Over the last year, Joey had been subjected to some updates about Kaiba Corp. affairs. They had just released a new phone model that incorporated holographic images for video chatting or something. The launch had been a success, Joey assumed, because everything that Kaiba touched in the marketplace turned to gold. Kaiba’s failures were few and far between, and his successes shined brightly enough that nothing bad seemed to stick.

The technology was supposed to be able to harness the capabilities that rendered Duel Monsters so realistically in Duel Disks, and use them connect people to distant loved ones with compelling holograms. It was a technical masterpiece that had him and Kaiba travelling cross country to attend industry awards and galas. It was exhausting, and half the time he felt like some sort of accessory. Like Kaiba’s personal assistant had flown in the right suit, the right watch, and Joey to complete the ensemble.

It wasn’t like that the whole time. There was a period, really quite a long time at first, where it felt like a game. Joey’d try to smuggle food into venues that didn’t allow it or smuggle it out of galas for later, they’d conspiratorially make fun of other guests—especially mocking the ever-present Pegasus. Sometimes Joey would pull one of his old tricks—they’d graffiti a bathroom stall after defiling it or do some harmless property destruction at a fancy house.

Weird nonsense too: who could steal the strangest object from the von Schroeder mansion, most absurd selfie with a world leader, that sort of thing. Little adventures that had wracked up a collection of items that they could never properly explain: Seto’s signed copy of Warren Buffet’s biography, crystal low ball glasses from Pegasus’ house that didn’t match the set that Seto already had, and a very strange cellphone photo of Joey holding the coat of the Prime Minister of Canada while the head of state was puking in a bush behind him.

It had been fun. It had been so fun. Once they had let their guard down around each other, they had found excellent playmates. Joey could be almost as devious as Kaiba under the right circumstances, and he was playful. And Kaiba was always gunning for a competition. A rivalry, any rivalry, any time.

It was not like marrying his best friend, but it was like marrying his favorite co-conspirator.

But over time, something about the events had turned so routine that it was merely another part of Joey’s very draining job of trophy husband. And the snarky comments he was getting about the suit sizing from the stylist was the last thing he needed. It just reminded him that he wasn’t a person to these people—he was an accessory, a decoration that could be trimmed and measured and posed just so like all the tinsel in the house.

Even if Joey hadn’t been living and breathing the new technology by virtue of listening to his husband’s egotistical acceptance speeches every other weekend for a month, Joey had seen the advertisements that had polluted his social media streams and had threaded themselves in between videos. He’d even been featured in one—and he had to admit that hadn’t minded filming that—talking with a virtual Yugi, still bearing his King of Games title and the wild tri-colored hair, with his Duel Disk strapped to his arm and belt still wrapped around his neck.

That had been fine, but several of the other ads were geared at families. And although Kaiba had for the most part kept the family out of the limelight, Joey’s publicist had been pushing harder for more of that humanizing presence.

“Everyone knows what your husband was like during ‘Battle City,’ and subsequent tournaments and product launches. He had a legend’s status and we could work with the ‘Rogue Genius’ sort of thing,” the publicist had kindly explained, his tone perhaps a touch demeaning. “But Kaiba Corporation isn’t just selling toys anymore. And people do not want to buy the most essential equipment of their lives from a rebellious teen. They want to see a man with integrity. With a family, even an unorthodox one.”

Joey rolled his eyes at the last comment.

They hadn’t built this family in order to sell more products, it had been so… organic. A natural expression of love. Being in their thirties, having so much love for each other that it made so much sense to share it with children. They could do it right this time. All they had to do was the opposite of what their parents had done.

And they had! Kaiba never raised his voice and Joey never picked a fight. It was everything they hadn’t had growing up. It was stable. Neat.

And it had become absolutely miserable. A set of formal relationships, scrupulously maintained and completely aesthetically flawless. And now, it was even a saleable commercial product.

Joey was so close to breaching the forcefield and getting the door open, but he could just hear the faint traces of a conference call behind the door.

The phantoms were trying to tell Kaiba something about some supply chain problem. Billions of dollars in contracts and products were flying back and forth in complex negotiations that rose to the level of international affairs.

Suddenly Joey’s problem—do the kids actually need a stylist, Kaiba?—seemed unfathomably small. Heroically unimportant, embarrassingly trivial.

Did he even want to walk into whatever shitstorm was going on in the study? Kaiba had his job, and Joey had his.

The only difference was that people seemed to value Kaiba’s job, and Joey’s was increasingly shitty.

Finally one of the maids—Joey thought she might even be in charge of that team, but was not technically the household manager, which was a different staff person—shook him from his frustrated position just outside of Kaiba’s study door.

“They’re ready to start taking the pictures,” she said. It was so neutral, and Joey realized, a bit slowly, that she didn’t like him.

People usually liked him. If they didn’t, he probably had picked a fight with them or something. Anyone who spent real time with him couldn’t resist his signature Joey charm. Maybe she’s new? Joey wondered. Or was he just… not the same anymore?

Within the same minute, the children’s stylist beamed out of the playroom, with much the same announcement. She was all smiles—and who wouldn’t be with such a fun niche. They both looked at Joey.

The publicist was scaling the stairs, hand skimming the highly decorated banister and leaping over the twirls of pine leaves and luxurious red velvet ribbons, announcing that the Architectural Digest reporters were ready to begin.

Ah, it was time for him to do his job. The only thing that he was supposed to really do. Face his husband.

Joey could see why everyone else dreaded it so much. Why he was so well-compensated for the task.

Joey extended his wrist, with a slow trepidation he had learned as a duelist, and tapped.

Within seconds Kaiba was at the door, eyes all blue fire, like a lion interrupted during a feast of antelope gizzards.

“Eh, we’ve got the thing? The Architectural whatever thing?” Joey figured the posse of people gathered behind him made half of his point.

“Yes.” Kaiba said, clipped, and looking still slightly pissed.

“So uh, you good? You look good,” Joey gave him a once over, and was rewarded, as always with the handsome view of a perfectly put together Seto Kaiba.

Kaiba rewarded the compliment with a smirk. “Yes.”

And the whole team descended together, with two of the more intense nannies handling the children and joining at the back of the group.

When finally down the stairs, Alexis was passed into Joey’s arms, and Atticus was handed off to Kaiba.

“How are your piano lessons going?” Kaiba asked Atticus, as if he was a colleague and not a five-year-old.

“Awesome!” Atticus answered with a smile.

“Do you know any duets yet?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!” Atticus announced, pleased with himself.

Kaiba stood for a moment, as if wracking his brain for any memory of the song. Then he nodded. “We can start with that.”

The Architectural Digest reporter looked at Kaiba, having expected to have his full attention immediately. Indeed, the reporter looked like the kind of person who expected to have anyone’s attention at any time. Joey had spared the man a Google search at some point before the meeting, and he had been impressed by the guy’s list. He had done articles on the interior design aesthetic—and the corresponding family culture—of two sitting presidents, the prime ministers of both Austria and Australia, and Oprah. Oprah.

He dressed like it too. His silk scarf was recognizably Hermes, and Joey could tell that his whole thing was how fancy people were expected to dress. Flashy and complicated and matching, but only sort of?

The stylist had intentionally been playing up the new, everyman qualities of the updated Kaiba family. It was a stark contrast to the Visual Kei inspired aesthetic that his partner used to wear, but honestly? Other than changing the t-shirt to cashmere and making the jeans cost about $400 more, Joey felt like he looked pretty much the same as he used to. His shoes were a lot less comfortable now.

The reporter almost raised a hand to interrupt, and Joey instinctually went on damage control.

“Hey, great to finally meet you! Welcome to our house. Looks like you’re in for a concert to start off!” Joey smiled warmly, and was pleased to see it mirrored in the reporter’s face.

“Your husband is an interesting fellow, huh?” The reporter had something of a pan-Atlantic accent to his voice, making him sound a little bit like he fell out of the Turner Classic Movies channel.

“You don’t know the half of it! But I’m sure he’ll warm up,” Joey lied. Joey reached forward to loop an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they continued to make their way toward the grand piano in the living room. “What are you doing?” he whispered in his ear.

Kaiba spared him a dark, sideways glance. “I am trying… to demonstrate human connection. That’s the instruction I received.”

Joey laughed, though it wasn’t easy. “Well, could you smile or something? Introduce yourself? It looks disjointed like this, I think.”

Kaiba’s attention diverted, announcing that the conversation was over. Joey withdrew, his speaking time already terminated.

But the comment made enough of an impact. When they arrived in the living room, which had been festooned with just about every wintry icon available in the tri-state area—including a row of pinecones and decorative wreathing along the piano and the biggest tree that could fit in the tall space jammed with more lights and baubles than should be possible—Kaiba deigned to greet the guest.

Kaiba gestured to the piano, and Atticus happily plopped down. Kaiba joined him, much more calmly. “Now, for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Kaiba announced, rolling back the fallboard.

Atticus nodded mutely. Someone had clearly drilled into him the importance of not saying anything weird, and he had interpreted it as not saying anything at all.

Kaiba began the initial keystrokes of the song, only for Atticuls to slam both of his hands down on the keys and completely startle him.

Kaiba instantly stopped playing, but Atticus kept going cubby child fingers on random keys.

“Do you… actually know how to play the song,” Kaiba asked, as Atticus started winding down.

Atticus beamed, “Yeah Oto-san, but this is a special Christmas remix!”

Kaiba smiled softly, shockingly genuine, and Joey was sure the cameras captured it. “Very well.” Kaiba diverted his attention away from the piano. “Now that we have performed a Christmas remix, I suppose we may as well continue with the interview.”

The reporter seemed to be in good humor, eyes energic as they tracked Kaiba and Atticus back to the couch to join Joey and Alexis.

Like a flip had been switched, Kaiba acted like he had a human interest in the whole situation, but let Joey do most of the talking.

Joey thought maybe he was nervous. He was so comfortable when the topic turned to the impact of Kaiba Corp., on international growth this or technology development that. But sitting there, on a couch laden with thick green and red ribbon, being asked about how he balanced raising children with being in the office, he looked almost nauseated.

“I have a great partner,” Kaiba said, robotic and dead-eyed. “And great help. I could not do it alone.”

Joey tried to beam, but it felt like a brutally minimizing note.

A great partner? It was a performance review, not a term of affection.

After the interview finally ended and the additional staff began to disperse, Joey found himself trailing Kaiba back to his study. The kids were whisked away—Atticus already had another piano lesson and Alexis was due in the ballet studio. She had made the cut as one of the youngest among the 130 children to participate in the New York City Ballet Company production of Nutcracker, scoring a prestigious position as one of the angels. It was very impressive and very cute, but it felt a bit odd to watch the two-and-change-year-old have so many appointments. She just spun around a little… Joey had to assume it was another instance of her name opening doors. But it was adorable, and she was a pretty serious toddler, and who was he to get in the way of high performance.

She said she liked it, as much as a two-year-old can articulate that they like anything, and he didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble.

So, after everyone had scattered, it was just Kaiba in his study, and Joey feeling empty.

Joey knocked on the door. When he didn’t get a response, he opened it anyway.

“What?” Kaiba snapped, not looking away from his laptop.

“I…” Joey thought about what he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind immediately, except for the simple truth. “I can’t handle this.”

Kaiba didn’t look up. “You can’t handle what? Talking to a guy for an hour? You did nothing.”

When Joey didn’t immediately leave, Kaiba paused in his typing, maybe realizing that he couldn’t really account for what had happened prior to his entrance. “Do you need more help?”

Joey sank into the companion chair in the study. “I mean no, I think there’s probably too much staff. Do the kids really need a stylist?”

Kaiba looked up. “I am so busy, Jounouchi. Do you really want to debate the merits of having someone pick the children’s clothes for a photoshoot? That cannot possibly be the best use of your time, and I know it’s not the best use of mine.”

Joey met his eyes for a second, but lost his determination. “I just… I miss how it was. Things didn’t used to be like this, right?”

Kaiba sighed. “Things have always been like this. What do you mean?”

“You know what, never mind. It’s fine. It’s just, I guess it’s Christmas eve.” Kaiba didn’t acknowledge the statement and Joey left the study, heart twisted, feeling more alone than he had in years. “We’re supposed to do family stuff.”

Kaiba went back to his computer. “We did. And I’m sure more is scheduled for tomorrow—I know that I’m scheduled to attend one of Alexis’ performances tomorrow. You should check your calendar, I am sure we have a dinner scheduled somewhere tonight… I think at the Governor’s estate. You should check with someone about the required attire. But not me, Jounouchi, I really am busy.” The chillin blue eyes didn’t even follow Joey as he stalked out of the room.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year. But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.

#Violetshipping #puppyshipping #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Joey Wheeler #Jounouchi Katsuya #my fanfic #fanfic #crossposted on ao3 #mine #y'all i am concerned this chap isn't as good as the last one but i think it's ok #it's context #cause things gotta turn around but you have to remember how shit things used to be

14 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Deobi Playlist (EP 5) | The Boyz Imagine

Ep 5: in which Kevin says it’s okay to be different

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main Characters: Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz.

Genre: fluff, slice of life, comedy, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

----------

“I managed to take out his tumour, but I’ll need him to stay for a few days just so that he can recover fully. He’s under anesthesia for now but he should be up soon,” Kevin flips through his newest patient’s medical file and scans the page for his details. His name is Yeon Hanjo, eight years old, who had suddenly collapsed to the ground a week ago with no indication of an illness whatsoever. An MRI scan of his head and body had shown that the small child had been keeping a tumour hidden within the side of his skull for some time and after some thorough deliberating and research about the best methods to go about the operation, Kevin had managed to successfully draw the tumour out without any mishaps or complications.

Mrs. Yeon bows before Kevin once more with barely restrained tears coating her eyes. She holds a tissue in her hand, which seems already wet and crumpled into a ball, and Kevin reaches out with another tissue that she takes gratefully.

Mr. Yeon is at her side, one hand on his wife’s shoulder to provide her comfort, “Thank you, thank you so much Dr. Moon. We--We don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

Kevin lets out a small, genuine smile, “it’s my duty. Hanjo’s life is just as important as anybody else’s, if not more.”

A few hours after the parents have left and Kevin has done his rounds as he is supposed to, he makes way to Hanjo’s room with a box of chocolate in hand.

Hanjo is already awake, blinking at the night sky from his hospital bed. The child turns his attention towards the door when Kevin pokes his head in with a smile, “hello Hanjo. How are you feeling?”

The child shrugs, and looks away.

Being familiar with the way children react when they are forced into an unfamiliar setting where strangers prevail, Kevin steps in, closes the door behind him and takes a seat at Hanjo’s bed. The child is still not looking at him, chin adamantly pointed towards the outside world.

“I bought something for you,” Kevin opens up his box of chocolates and offers him the box. Hanjo peeks into it for a few seconds of silence, looks up at his face, then pushes the box away.

While Kevin isn’t used to children not wanting any chocolate, that doesn’t dissuade him from trying. He closes the box and sets it on Hanjo’s bedside table.

“In a few days, you can go back home. Aren’t you glad?” Kevin chats on despite the reluctance in Hanjo’s body behaviour, “what’s the first thing you want to do when you go back, Hanjo?”

Still, the child stays silent. Kevin sees his lower lip tremble but decides it is better off not to mention it. He takes it as a fact that Hanjo might be shy, unwilling to converse because he’s a stranger. The only solution to that though is for Kevin to keep trying, which he does day after day. Every time he’d bring something different -- a different candy, or toy that boys his age would’ve liked -- but Hanjo refuses every single item without delay.

When the date of Hanjo’s discharge looms closer and closer, Kevin can’t help himself but urge him to speak by prompting the child with good news, “you must be excited, only three days left!” he grins at the child in hopes of getting a smile back, at least.

Hanjo, on the other hand, merely blinks. Then, a fat tear rolls down his cheek before he bursts into tears.

“Hanjo,” Kevin’s demeanor softens then, gently tugging the said child in his arms and scooping him close against his chest. The child keeps on crying, his face now red and tears cascading down his cheeks, staining Kevin’s white coat. His parents, having heard the commotion from outside, quickly slip in with mirroring expressions of worry and take the child from Kevin’s arms, who is left confused and slightly concerned at the child’s suddenly sad countenance. He cannot, for the life of him, understand how Hanjo’s mind works. Kids like him shouldn’t be crying like their world is tearing apart, shouldn’t be subdued and silent and just afraid of everything.

No, there’s something that’s bothering Hanjo. And Kevin finds his answer a few hours later.

“Hanjo spent most of his life in Florida, where he was born,” Mrs. Yeon says to him. After Hanjo had fallen asleep, she had ushered to buy Kevin a coffee at the cafeteria. She now sits opposite him, coffee cup clasped between frail fingers with skin wrinkled and saggy from years of work, eyes rimmed with blue aprons and mouth tugged down in a tense, awkward line, smeared with a pale chalky lipstick.

“We moved here just a few months ago. He hasn’t told me anything, but his teacher tells me that he hasn’t been very...interactive with the other kids,” she purses her lips as if in discontentment, “he barely talks, not because he doesn't understand. We talk to him in Korean all the time at home. Somehow though, he barely says a word here. It’s like he doesn’t want to make even the slightest bit of effort.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Kevin asks with furrowed eyebrows.

She shakes her head, “no, well. We’ve tried asking him about school and stuff, maybe mentioned his teacher’s comments once or twice but that was it. We don’t want to push him either.”

He can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the said young boy, knowing all too well how strange it is to move oneself to another country altogether, a country where the language is different, the people are different, and how it feels like your entire life has just turned upside down because of that mere fact.

“Oh that’s just like little Kevin when he just moved here,” Hyunjae can’t help but snigger, prompting Mae to whack him across the back of his head.

“Ouch!” Hyunjae throws her a scowl, “why are you even a doctor? You should just become part of the mafia. Seriously! That hurt--”

She proceeds to shove a piece of lettuce in his mouth to muffle his protests. Juyeon and Kevin exchange knowing glances, before shrugging.

“You should talk to him,” Mae suggests, and though she’s trying very hard to act normal, Kevin can feel the unease rolling off her, how she’s not looking at him and permanently fixating her gaze on her platter of food. He makes a mental note to ask Juyeon about it later.

For now, he replies, “yeah I should. It’s just a saddening thought. Children shouldn’t have so much trouble earlier on in their lives.”

“Hey touff, we all haff prwabems,” Hyunjae attempts to say with his mouth still full. He swallows before gulping down some water. Slamming his cup down, he jabs a finger in Mae’s direction, “you and I have a problem.”

“The only problem that I’ll have with you is killing you by asphyxiation, and before you ask, there is food involved,” Mae cooes.

Hyunjae shivers, “psychopath.”

“Nu-uh, Sociopath? Probably. But psychopath?” she scrunches her face up as though contemplating the thought, “nah, I’m too kind.”

“You flatter yourself too much,” Juyeon rolls his eyes.

“Can we focus on the problem at hand?” Kevin waves his chopsticks around dramatically, ignoring Hyunjae stealing his piece of chicken and replacing it with some ginger instead.

“Kevin, we all know that you’re the wondrous child talker here,” Hyunjae says, “we’re all counting on you to babysit our kids one day.”

“Excuse me? Is there kindergarten written on my forehead?”

“You mean, there isn’t kindergarten written on your forehead?” Hyunjae gasps dramatically, “here, let me--”

“Don’t you dare, Lee Jaehyun.”

Kevin waits until Hanjo’s parents leave with promises that they’ll be here to watch over him tomorrow morning, before slithering inside the children’s ward. Hanjo spots him, but doesn’t say anything as the said doctor sidles up to his bed and takes a seat on the abandoned chair next to him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Kevin murmurs. The child watches as he pulls out a box of pocky sticks. His mother had stated that Pocky is the only asian snack he eats. Surely enough, Hanjo doesn’t hesitate to grab it with his little chubby fingers and Kevin gazes down at him with a fond sympathy gripping his chest.

But then, Hanjo glances up at him uncertainly. Kevin puts a finger to his mouth, “can you keep a secret?”

Hanjo pauses, contemplates him for a moment. Then, he nods.

“Cool, because I can’t actually sneak in any outside snacks,” Kevin whispers with a soft chuckle at the alarm washing over Hanjo’s face, “it’s okay, don’t worry. This is between you and me, alright?”

It takes a few seconds for the child to decide that Kevin’s intentions aren’t all that bad, before he slowly pries open the packet and digs into the snack with barely restrained excitement. Kevin just watches him with fondness, glad that for once it seems like he’s done something for Hanjo, when the child suddenly sticks out the packet, urging him to take some.

“Oh,” Kevin blinks in surprise, before drawing a pocky stick, “thanks, Hanjo. That’s so nice of you.”

Hanjo just nods, before returning his attention to the said chocolate covered sticks. As his mother had stated, it is indeed his favourite snack.

“Do you often eat pocky, Hanjo?” Kevin asks.

The child shrugs, urging Kevin to ask, “do any of your friends eat pocky?”

At this, Hanjo’s mouth pauses as if in contemplation and Kevin knows that he has hit a nerve. Not just any, but a sensitive one. He hurries to continue talking for fear that he might lose momentum, “you know, I never really had any friends when I first moved here. I used to eat pocky because it reminded me of the snacks my mom used to buy for me, back when we were still in Canada.”

He can practically see the cogs turning inside Hanjo’s brain as he mulls over the newly acquired information.

“I was shy back then. I didn’t know how to approach people. They all spoke Korean, I understood them. But I was so scared that they couldn’t understand me for some reason. After all, I never spoke Korean back when I was in Canada, just with my parents.”

Kevin let the information sink in for the child who was now gazing up at him with newfound interest alight in his big brown eyes and it takes everything inside the said doctor not to squeal at how adorable he looks. Instead, he pauses and waits, waits with the hope that Hanjo will react to this, however he wants.

“How?”

Kevin blinks. Hanjo’s mouth is open, curiosity filling his features as he continues hesitantly, “how...did you...make friends?”

While Kevin wants nothing more than to punch the air in success, he decides that this is not the right moment to be celebrating that fact. Instead, he clears his throat and allows his arm to rest on the side of the child’s bed.

“Actually, the pocky sticks helped me. The kids at my school always brought the same type of pocky sticks and then one day, when one of the girls in my class didn’t have any snacks, I offered her one,” Kevin smiles at the memory flashing before his eyes, “I thought she’d laugh at me when she started talking to me because of my accent. I wasn’t completely fluent. Surprisingly though, she was very interested to know what I had to say, despite the fact that I was so scared she’d just turn away from me.”

“What was her name?” Hanjo asks.

“Her name?” Kevin tilts his head, “actually, she works here too. Her name’s Mae, she’s a doctor from the Cancer department.”

Hanjo pauses for a few seconds, before he looks down at the box of pocky in his hand, “I don’t like talking in Korean,” his voice is small, barely a whisper, “I don’t like it here. Everything is different. Everyone is different.”

“You know, Korean is one of the hardest languages to learn. And you know English. Do you know how amazing that is?” Kevin smiles down, one of his hands going to pat his head, “I know how it feels. It doesn’t feel like home, because home is far far away. But it will get better, Hanjo. It’s okay that you’re not fluent in Korean. You’ll get there, eventually. Look at doctor Kevin, see?” he motions towards his own chest, “I was in the exact same position as you were, once. But it really gets better, trust me.”

Hanjo is frowning at the snack in his hands now, as though there are different thoughts flying about in his brain, thoughts too complicated for him to explain. But he surprises Kevin when he suddenly looks up and holds out his pinky.

“Promise?” Hanjo asks, “promise it gets better?”

“I promise,” Kevin hooks his finger with the child’s, “and you know what? You made your first friend right here,” and he pats his own chest with an amused smile. Hanjo’s lips tilt up in a mirroring expression, albeit hesitant, and Kevin’s heart melted right then and there in a puddle of Hanjo goo.

-----------

Knock knock.

Kevin blinks away the drowsiness as he raises his head from his desk where he’d been napping just a few seconds ago. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he spots Hyunjae and lets out a groan at the mischievous smirk on the latter’s lips.

Whenever Hyunjae’s in a mood, he’ll have some kind of face that warns people about it.

“Get lost, Hyunjae. Not in the mood,” Kevin groans while his friend saunters in as though he hasn’t been straight out rejected. Kevin buries his face back into his arms and Hyunjae quickly lays his head just beside him.

“What?” Kevin asks with his eyes still closed.

Hyunjae merely giggles, before blowing softly on his face.

Kevin whips his head around, “you’re so annoying. Get lost.”

“But Kebiiin,” the taller man whines and nestles his face even closer so that Kevin’s soft hair tickles the bridge of his nose, “I have important news!”

“What news?” comes Kevin’s mumble.

“I’m getting married.”

“To who?”

“To you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Okay fine, to Juyeon.”

“No you’re not.”

“Okay fine, to Mae then.”

“Do you know,” Kevin asks slowly, “why is she acting so weird?”

“Weird?” Hyunjae snuggles even closer, breathes in Kevin’s soft vanilla scent, “like usual Mae kind of weird or weirder than weird?”

“No, she hasn’t been talking to herself. But she has been avoiding me.” “Oh.”

“Oh?” Kevin whips around to look at him in alarm.

Hyunjae draws back to stand, leaning against the opposite doctor’s empty chair as Kevin straightens to look at him with growing concern, “what do you mean by ‘oh’?”

“She did ask me something weird the other day.”

“About?”

“About who you were crushing on.”

“WHAT?” Kevin’s eyes grow wide, “what did you tell her?!”

“That I had no clue.”

“Oh thank god,” Kevin visibly slouches in relief. Then, his eyes grow wide, “wait--Does she know then?! That I--” All it takes is for Hyunjae’s face to take on a suspicious air for Kevin to realize that he is not out of dangerous waters yet. He scrambles up and holds onto Hyunjae’s sleeve, “what?” Kevin demands like it’s a life or death situation. Which it is to him, “why do have that look on your face?”

“Look Kev, mate, I definitely did not do anything.”

“But?”

“I never said there was a but.”

“You implied it!”

“Okay fine,” Hyunjae huffs, “but, someone seems to have leaked this information to her, like it or not--”

“What?!”

“--and we all suspect that it’s the Neurosurgery resident, the one that comes from Toronto--”

Kevin sucks in a sharp breath, “Jacob Bae?”

“If anyone asks, this did not come out of my mouth,” Hyunjae is quick to defend while raising his arms in the air in mock surrender, but Kevin is too preoccupied at the thought that his secret is now out in the open for everyone to dissect and digest. How in the world does Jacob know about this? He barely even talks to him!

Unless...unless it’s that obvious?

His head snaps up so suddenly, eyes dark and so vividly intense on Hyunjae’s that the latter can’t help but yelp in return, “Hyunjae,” Kevin says slowly, “you’re sure...you’re sure you didn’t say anything?”

“Are you implying that I lied to you?!” Hyunjae gasps mockingly, “Kevin, I’m--”

“Shut up and be serious for one second.”

“Of course I didn’t! Who do you take me for?!”

“Shit,” is the only thing that Kevin has to say, “Shit. Shit.”

56 notes · View notes

ahouseoflies · 4 years

Text

The Best Films of 2020

I can’t tell you anything novel or insightful about this year that has been stolen from our lives. I watched zero of these films in a theater, and I watched most of them half-asleep in moments that I stole from my children. Don’t worry, there are some jokes below.

GARBAGE

93. Capone (Josh Trank)- What is the point of this dinner theater trash? It takes place in the last year of Capone's life, when he was released from prison due to failing health and suffered a stroke in his Florida home. So it covers...none of the things that make Al Capone interesting? It's not historically accurate, which I have no problem with, but if you steer away from accuracy, then do something daring and exciting. Don't give me endless scenes of "Phonse"--as if the movie is running from the very person it's about--drawing bags of money that promise intrigue, then deliver nothing in return.

That being said, best "titular character shits himself" scene since The Judge.

92. Ammonite (Francis Lee)- I would say that this is the Antz to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's A Bug's Life, but it's actually more like the Cars 3 to Portrait of a Lady on Fire's Toy Story 1.

91. Ava (Tate Taylor)- Despite the mystery and inscrutability that usually surround assassins, what if we made a hitman movie but cared a lot about her personal life? Except neither the assassin stuff nor the family stuff is interesting?

90. Wonder Woman 1984 (Patty Jenkins)- What a miscalculation of what audiences loved about the first and wanted from the sequel. WW84 is silly and weightless in all of the ways that the first was elegant and confident. If the return of Pine is just a sort of phantom representation of Diana's desires, then why can he fly a real plane? If he is taking over another man's soul, then, uh, what ends up happening to that guy? For that matter, why is it not 1984 enough for Ronald Reagan to be president, but it is 1984 enough for the president to have so many Ronald Reagan signifiers that it's confusing? Why not just make a decision?

On paper, the me-first values of the '80s lend themselves to the monkey's paw wish logic of this plot. You could actually do something with the Star Wars program or the oil crisis. But not if the setting is played for only laughs and the screenplay explains only what it feels like.

89. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy)- In this type of movie, there has to be a period of the Ben Mendelsohn character looking around befuddled about the new arrangement and going, "What's this now--he's going to be...living with us? The guy who tried to steal our medication? This is crazy!" But that's usually ten minutes, and in this movie it's an hour. I was so worn out by the end.

88. You Should Have Left (David Koepp)- David Koepp wrote Jurassic Park, so he's never going to hell, but how dare he start caring about his own mystery at the hour mark. There's a forty-five minute version of this movie that could get an extra star from me, and there's a three-hour version of Amanda Seyfried walking around in athleisure that would get four stars from me. What we actually get? No thanks.

87. Black Is King (Beyonce, et al.)- End your association with The Lion King, Bey. It has resulted in zero bops.

ADMIRABLE FAILURES

86. Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (Cathy Yan)- There's nothing too dysfunctional in the storytelling or performances, but Birds of Prey also doesn't do a single thing well. I would prefer something alive and wild, even if it were flawed, to whatever tame belt-level formula this is.

85. The Turning (Floria Sigismondi)- This update of The Turn of the Screw pumps the age of Miles up to high school, which creates some horny creepiness that I liked. But the age of the character also prevents the ending of the novel from happening in favor of a truly terrible shrug. I began to think that all of the patience that the film showed earlier was just hesitance for its own awful ending.

I watched The Turning as a Mackenzie Davis Movie Star heat check, and while I'm not sure she has the magnetism I was looking for, she does have a great teacher voice, chastening but maternal.

84. Bloodshot (David Wilson)- A whole lot of Vin Diesel saying he's going to get revenge and kill a bunch of dudes; not a whole lot of Vin Diesel actually getting revenge and killing a bunch of dudes.

83. Downhill (Nat Faxon and Jim Rash)- I was an English major in college, which means I ended up locking myself into literary theories that, halfway through the writing of an essay, I realized were flawed. But rather than throw out the work that I had already proposed, I would just keep going and see if I could will the idea to success.

So let's say you have a theory that you can take Force Majeure by Ruben Ostlund, one of the best films of its year, and remake it so that its statement about familial anxiety could apply to Americans of the same age and class too...if it hadn't already. And maybe in the first paragraph you mess up by casting Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, people we are conditioned to laugh at, when maybe this isn't that kind of comedy at all. Well, don't throw it away. You can quote more--fill up the pages that way--take an exact shot or scene from the original. Does that help? Maybe you can make the writing more vigorous and distinctive by adding a character. Is that going to make this baby stand out? Maybe you could make it more personal by adding a conclusion that is slightly more clever than the rest of the paper?

Or perhaps this is one you're just not going to get an A on.

82. Hillbilly Elegy (Ron Howard)- I watched this melodrama at my mother's encouragement, and, though I have been trying to pin down her taste for decades, I think her idea of a successful film just boils down to "a lot of stuff happens." So in that way, Ron Howard's loss is my gain, I guess.

There is no such thing as a "neutral Terminator."

81. Relic (Natalie Erika James)- The star of the film is Vanessa Cerne's set decoration, but the inert music and slow pace cancel out a house that seems neglected slowly over decades.

80. Buffaloed (Tanya Wexler)- Despite a breathless pace, Buffaloed can't quite congeal. In trying to split the difference between local color hijinks and Moneyballed treatise on debt collection, it doesn't commit enough to either one.

Especially since Zoey Deutch produced this one in addition to starring, I'm getting kind of worried about boo's taste. Lot of Two If by Seas; not enough While You Were Sleepings.

79. Like a Boss (Miguel Arteta)- I chuckled a few times at a game supporting cast that is doing heavy lifting. But Like a Boss is contrived from the premise itself--Yeah, what if people in their thirties fell out of friendship? Do y'all need a creative consultant?--to the escalation of most scenes--Why did they have to hide on the roof? Why do they have to jump into the pool?

The movie is lean, but that brevity hurts just as much as it helps. The screenplay knows which scenes are crucial to the development of the friendship, but all of those feel perfunctory, in a different gear from the setpieces.

To pile on a bit: Studio comedies are so bare bones now that they look like Lifetime movies. Arteta brought Chuck & Buck to Sundance twenty years ago, and, shot on Mini-DV for $250,000, it was seen as a DIY call-to-bootstraps. I guarantee that has more setups and locations and shooting days than this.

78. Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (David Dobkin)- Add Dan Stevens to the list of supporting players who have bodied Will Ferrell in his own movie--one that he cared enough to write himself.

Like Downhill, Ferrell's other 2020 release, this isn't exactly bad. It's just workmanlike and, aside from the joke about Demi Lovato's "uninformed" ghost, frustratingly conventional.

77. The Traitor (Marco Bellochio)- Played with weary commitment by Pierfrancesco Favino, Tomasso Buscetta is "credited" as the first informant of La Cosa Nostra. And that sounds like an interesting subject for a "based on a true story" crime epic, right? Especially when you find out that Buscetta became a rat out of principle: He believed that the mafia to which he had pledged his life had lost its code to the point that it was a different organization altogether.

At no point does Buscetta waver or even seem to struggle with his decision though, so what we get is less conflicted than that description might suggest. None of these Italian mob movies glorify the lifestyle, so I wasn't expecting that. But if the crime doesn't seem enticing, and snitching on the crime seems like forlorn duty, and everything is pitched with such underhanded matter-of-factness that you can't even be sure when Buscetta has flipped, then what are we left with? It was interesting seeing how Italian courts work, I guess?

76. Kajillionaire (Miranda July)- This is another movie so intent on building atmosphere and lore that it takes too long to declare what it is. When the protagonist hits a breaking point and has to act, she has only a third of a film to grow. So whispery too.

Gina Rodriguez is the one to inject life into it. As soon as her motormouth winds up, the film slips into a different gear. The atmosphere and lore that I mentioned reeks of artifice, but her character is believably specific. Beneath a basic exterior is someone who is authentically caring but still morally compromised, beholden to the world that the other characters are suspicious of.

75. Scoob! (Tony Cervone)- The first half is sometimes clever, but it hammers home the importance of friendship while separating the friends.

The second half has some positive messaging, but your kids' movie might have a problem with scale if it involves Alexander the Great unlocking the gates of the Underworld.

My daughter loved it.

74. The Lovebirds (Michael Showalter)- If I start talking too much about this perfectly fine movie, I end up in that unfair stance of reviewing the movie I wanted, not what is actually there.* As a fan of hang-out comedies, I kind of resent that any comedy being made now has to be rolled into something more "exciting," whether it's a wrongfully accused or mistaken identity thriller or some other genre. Such is the post-Game Night world. There's a purposefully anti-climactic note that I wish The Lovebirds had ended on, but of course we have another stretch of hiding behind boats and shooting guns. Nanjiani and Rae are really charming leads though.

*- As a New Orleanian, I was totally distracted by the fake aspects of the setting too. "Oh, they walked to Jefferson from downtown? Really?" You probably won't be bothered by the locations.

73. Sonic the Hedgehog (Jeff Fowler)- In some ways the storytelling is ambitious. (I'm speaking for only myself, but I'm fine with "He's a hedgehog, and he's really fast" instead of the owl mother, teleportation backstory. Not everything has to be Tolkien.) But that ambition doesn't match the lack of ambition in the comedy, which depends upon really hackneyed setups and structures. Guiding Jim Carrey to full alrighty-then mode was the best choice anyone made.

72. Malcolm & Marie (Sam Levinson)- The stars move through these long scenes with agility and charisma, but the degree of difficulty is just too high for this movie to reach what it's going for.

Levinson is trying to capture an epic fight between a couple, and he can harness the theatrical intensity of such a thing, but he sacrifices almost all of the nuance. In real life, these knock-down-drag-outs can be circular and indirect and sad in a way that this couple's manipulation rarely is. If that emotional truth is all this movie is trying to achieve, I feel okay about being harsh in my judgment of how well it does that.

71. Beanpole (Kantemir Balagov)- Elusive in how it refuses to declare itself, forthright in how punishing it is. The whole thing might be worth it for a late dinner scene, but I'm getting a bit old to put myself through this kind of misery.

70. The Burnt Orange Heresy (Giuseppe Capotondi)- Silly in good ways until it's silly in bad ways. Elizabeth Debicki remains 6'3".

69. Everybody’s Everything (Sebastian Jones and Ramez Silyan)- As a person who listened to Lil Peep's music, I can confidently say that this documentary is overstating his greatness. His death was a significant loss, as the interview subjects will all acknowledge, but the documentary is more useful as a portrait of a certain unfocused, rapacious segment of a generation that is high and online at all times.

68. The Witches (Robert Zemeckis)- Robert Zemeckis, Kenya Barris, and Guillermo Del Toro are the credited screenwriters, and in a fascinating way, you can see the imprint of each figure on the final product. Adapting a very European story to the old wives' tales of the American South is an interesting choice. Like the Nicolas Roeg try at this material, Zemeckis is not afraid to veer into the terrifying, and Octavia Spencer's pseudo witch doctor character only sells the supernatural. From a storytelling standpoint though, it seems as if the obstacles are overcome too easily, as if there's a whole leg of the film that has been excised. The framing device and the careful myth-making of the flashback make promises that the hotel half of the film, including the abrupt ending, can't live up to.

If nothing else, Anne Hathaway is a real contender for Most On-One Performance of the year.

67. Irresistible (Jon Stewart)- Despite a sort of imaginative ending, Jon Stewart's screenplay feels more like the declarative screenplay that would get you hired for a good movie, not a good screenplay itself. It's provocative enough, but it's clumsy in some basic ways and never evades the easy joke.

For example, the Topher Grace character is introduced as a sort of assistant, then is re-introduced an hour later as a polling expert, then is shown coaching the candidate on presentation a few scenes later. At some point, Stewart combined characters into one role, but nothing got smoothed out.

ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS

66. Yes, God, Yes (Karen Maine)- Most people who are Catholic, including me, are conflicted about it. Most people who make movies about being Catholic hate it and have an axe to grind. This film is capable of such knowing wit and nuance when it comes to the lived-in details of attending a high school retreat, but it's more concerned with taking aim at hypocrisy in the broad way that we've seen a million times. By the end, the film is surprisingly all-or-nothing when Christian teenagers actually contain multitudes.

Part of the problem is that Karen Maine's screenplay doesn't know how naive to make the Alice character. Sometimes she's reasonably naive for a high school senior in 2001; sometimes she's comically naive so that the plot can work; and sometimes she's stupid, which isn't the same as naive.

65. Bad Boys for Life (Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah)- This might be the first buddy cop movie in which the vets make peace with the tech-comm youngs who use new techniques. If that's the only novelty on display here--and it is--then maybe that's enough. I laughed maybe once. Not that the mistaken identity subplot of Bad Boys 1 is genius or anything, but this entry felt like it needed just one more layer to keep it from feeling as basic as it does. Speaking of layers though, it's almost impossible to watch any Will Smith movie now without viewing it through the meta-narrative of "What is Will Smith actually saying about his own status at this point in his career?" He's serving it up to us.

I derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from seeing the old school Simpson/Bruckheimer logo.

64. The Gentlemen (Guy Ritchie)- Look, I'm not going to be too negative on a movie whose crime slang is so byzantine that it has to be explained with subtitles. That's just me. I'm a simple man. But I can tell you that I tuned out pretty hard after seven or eight double-crosses.

The bloom is off the rose a bit for Ritchie, but he can still nail a music cue. I've been waiting for someone to hit "That's Entertainment" the way he does on the end credits.

63. Bad Hair (Justin Simien)- In Bad Hair, an African-American woman is told by her boss at a music video channel in 1989 that straightening her hair is the way to get ahead; however, her weave ends up having a murderous mind of its own. Compared to that charged, witty logline, the execution of the plot itself feels like a laborious, foregone conclusion. I'm glad that Simien, a genuinely talented writer, is making movies again though. Drop the skin-care routine, Van Der Beek!

62. Greyhound (Aaron Schneider)- "If this is the type of role that Tom Hanks writes for himself, then he understands his status as America's dad--'wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove'--even better than I thought." "America's Dad! Aye aye, sir!" "At least half of the dialogue is there for texture and authenticity, not there to be understood by the audience." "Fifty percent, Captain!" "The environment looks as fake as possible, but I eventually came around to the idea that the movie is completely devoid of subtext." "No subtext to be found, sir!"

61. Mank (David Fincher)- About ten years ago, the Creative Screenwriting podcast spent an hour or so with James Vanderbilt, the writer of Zodiac and nothing else that comes close, as he relayed the creative paces that David Fincher pushed him through. Hundreds of drafts and years of collaborative work eventuated in the blueprint for Fincher's most exacting, personal film, which he didn't get a writing credit on only because he didn't seek one.

Something tells me that Fincher didn't ask for rewrites from his dead father. No matter what visuals and performances the director can coax from the script--and, to be clear, these are the worst visuals and performances of his career--they are limited by the muddy lightweight pages. There are plenty of pleasures, like the slippery election night montage or the shakily platonic relationship between Mank and Marion. But Fincher hadn't made a film in six years, and he came back serving someone else's master.

60. Tesla (Michael Almereyda)- "You live inside your head." "Doesn't everybody?"

As usual, Almereyda's deconstructions are invigorating. (No other moment can match the first time Eve Hewson's Anne fact-checks something with her anachronistic laptop.) But they don't add up to anything satisfying because Tesla himself is such an opaque figure. Driven by the whims of his curiosity without a clear finish line, the character gives Hawke something enigmatic to play as he reaches deep into a baritone. But he's too inward to lend himself to drama. Tesla feels of a piece with Almereyda's The Experimenter, and that's the one I would recommend.

59. Vitalina Varela (Pedro Costa)- I can't oversell how delicately beautiful this film is visually. There's a scene in which Vitalina lugs a lantern into a church, but we get several seconds of total darkness before that one light source carves through it and takes over part of the frame. Each composition is as intricate as it is overpowering, achieving a balance between stark and mannered.

That being said, most of the film is people entering or exiting doors. I felt very little of the haunting loss that I think I was supposed to.

58. The Rhythm Section (Reed Morano)- Call it the Timothy Hutton in The General's Daughter Corollary: If a name-actor isn't in the movie much but gets third billing, then, despite whom he sends the protagonist to kill, he is the Actual Bad Guy.

Even if the movie serves up a lot of cliche, the action and sound design are visceral. I would like to see more from Morano.

57. Red, White and Blue (Steve McQueen)- Well-made and heartfelt even if it goes step-for-step where you think it will.

Here's what I want to know though: In the academy training sequence, the police cadets have to subdue a "berserker"; that is, a wildman who swings at their riot gear with a sledgehammer. Then they get him under control, and he shakes their hands, like, "Good angle you took on me there, mate." Who is that guy and where is his movie? Is this full-time work? Is he a police officer or an independent contractor? What would happen if this exercise didn't go exactly as planned?

56. Wolfwalkers (Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart)- The visuals have an unfinished quality that reminded me of The Tale of Princess Kaguya--the center of a flame is undrawn white, and fog is just negative space. There's an underlying symmetry to the film, and its color palette changes with mood.

Narratively, it's pro forma and drawn-out. Was Riley in Inside Out the last animated protagonist to get two parents? My daughter stuck with it, but she needed a lot of context for the religious atmosphere of 17th century Ireland.

55. What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (Rob Garver)- The film does little more than one might expect; it's limited in the way that any visual medium is when trying to sum up a woman of letters. But as far as education for Kael's partnership with Warren Beatty or the idea of The New Yorker paying her for only six months out of the year, it was useful for me.

Although Garver isn't afraid to point to the work that made Kael divisive, it would have been nice to have one or two interview subjects who questioned her greatness, rather than the crew of Paulettes who, even when they do say something like, "Sometimes I radically disagreed with her," do it without being able to point to any specifics.

54. Beastie Boys Story (Spike Jonze)- As far as this Spike Jonze completist is concerned, this is more of a Powerpoint presentation than a movie, Beastie Boys Story still warmed my heart, making me want to fire up Paul's Boutique again and take more pictures of my buddies.

53. Tenet (Christopher Nolan)- Cool and cold, tantalizing and frustrating, loud and indistinct, Tenet comes close to Nolan self-parody, right down to the brutalist architecture and multiple characters styled like him. The setpieces grabbed me, I'll admit.

Nolan's previous film, which is maybe his best, was "about" a lot and just happened to play with time; Tenet is only about playing with time.

PRETTY GOOD MOVIES

52. Shithouse (Cooper Raiff)- "Death is ass."

There's such a thing as too naturalistic. If I wanted to hear how college freshmen really talked, I would hang out with college freshmen. But you have to take the good verisimilitude with the bad, and good verisimilitude is the mother's Pod Save America t-shirt.

There are some poignant moments (and a gonzo performance from Logan Miller) in this auspicious debut from Cooper Raiff, the writer/director/editor/star. But the second party sequence kills some of the momentum, and at a crucial point, the characters spell out some motivation that should have stayed implied.

51. Totally Under Control (Alex Gibney, Ophelia Harutyunyan, Suzanne Hillinger)- As dense and informative as any other Gibney documentary with the added flex of making it during the pandemic it is investigating.

But yeah, why am I watching this right now? I don't need more reasons to be angry with Trump, whom this film calmly eviscerates. The directors analyze Trump's narcissism first through his contradictions of medical expertise in order to protect the economy that could win him re-election. Then it takes aim at his hiring based on loyalty instead of experience. But you already knew that, which is the problem with the film, at least for now.

50. Happiest Season (Clea Duvall)- I was in the perfect mood to watch something this frothy and bouncy. Every secondary character receives a moment in the sun, and Daniel Levy gets a speech that kind of saves the film at a tipping point.

I must say though: I wanted to punch Harper in her stupid face. She is a terrible romantic partner, abandoning or betraying Abby throughout the film and dissembling her entire identity to everyone else in a way that seems absurd for a grown woman in 2020. Run away, Kristen. Perhaps with Aubrey Plaza, whom you have more chemistry with. But there I go shipping and aligning myself with characters, which only proves that this is an effective romantic comedy.

49. The Way Back (Gavin O’Connor)- Patient but misshapen, The Way Back does just enough to overcome the cliches that are sort of unavoidable considering the genre. (I can't get enough of the parent character who, for no good reason, doesn't take his son's success seriously. "Scholarship? What he's gotta do is put his nose in them books! That's why I don't go to his games. [continues moving boxes while not looking at the other character] Now if you'll excuse me while I wait four scenes before showing up at a game to prove that I'm proud of him after all...")

What the movie gets really right or really wrong in the details about coaching and addiction is a total crap-shoot. But maybe I've said too much already.

48. The Whistlers (Corneliu Porumboiu)- Porumboiu is a real artist who seems to be interpreting how much surveillance we're willing to acknowledge and accept, but I won't pretend to have understood much of the plot, the chapters or which are told out of order. Sometimes the structure works--the beguiling, contextless "high-class hooker" sequence--but I often wondered if the film was impenetrable in the way that Porumboiu wanted it to be or impenetrable in the way he didn't.

To tell you the truth, the experience kind of depressed me because I know that, in my younger days, this film is the type of thing that I would re-watch, possibly with the chronology righted, knowing that it is worth understanding fully. But I have two small children, and I'm exhausted all the time, and I kind of thought I should get some credit for still trying to catch up with Romanian crime movies in the first place.

47. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (Jason Woliner)- I laughed too much to get overly critical, but the film is so episodic and contrived that it's kind of exhausting by the end--even though it's achieving most of its goals. Maybe Borat hasn't changed, but the way our citizens own their ugliness has.

46. First Cow (Kelly Reichardt)- Despite how little happens in the first forty minutes, First Cow is a thoughtful capitalism parable. Even though it takes about forty minutes to get going, the friendship between Cookie and King-Lu is natural and incisive. Like Reichardt's other work, the film's modest premise unfolds quite gracefully, except for in the first forty minutes, which are uneventful.

45. Les Miserables (Ladj Ly)- I loved parts of the film--the disorienting, claustrophobic opening or the quick look at the police officers' home lives, for example. But I'm not sure that it does anything very well. The needle the film tries to thread between realism and theater didn't gel for me. The ending, which is ambiguous in all of the wrong ways, chooses the theatrical. (If I'm being honest, my expectations were built up by Les Miserables' Jury Prize at Cannes, and it's a bit superficial to be in that company.)

If nothing else, it's always helpful to see how another country's worst case scenario in law enforcement would look pretty good over here.

44. Bad Education (Cory Finley)- The film feels too locked-down and small at the beginning, so intent on developing the protagonist neutrally that even the audience isn't aware of his secrets. So when he faces consequences for those secrets, there's a disconnect. Part of tragedy is seeing the doom coming, right?

When it opens up, however, it's empathetic and subtle, full of a dry irony that Finley is already specializing in after only one other feature. Geraldine Viswanathan and Allison Janney get across a lot of interiority that is not on the page.

43. The Trip to Greece (Michael Winterbottom)- By the fourth installment, you know whether you're on board with the franchise. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" to Coogan and Brydon's bickering and impressions as they're served exotic food in picturesque settings, then this one won't sway you. If you're asking "Is this all there is?" about life, like they are, then I don't need to convince you.

I will say that The Trip to Spain seemed like an enervated inflection point, at which the squad could have packed it in. The Trip to Greece proves that they probably need to keep doing this until one of them dies, which has been the subtext all along.

42. Feels Good Man (Arthur Jones)- This documentary centers on innocent artist Matt Furie's helplessness as his Pepe the Frog character gets hijacked by the alt-right. It gets the hard things right. It's able to, quite comprehensively, trace a connection from 4Chan's use of Pepe the Frog to Donald Trump's near-assuming of Pepe's ironic deniability. Director Arthur Jones seems to understand the machinations of the alt-right, and he articulates them chillingly.

The easy thing, making us connect to Furie, is less successful. The film spends way too much time setting up his story, and it makes him look naive as it pits him against Alex Jones in the final third. Still, the film is a quick ninety-two minutes, and the highs are pretty high.

41. The Old Guard (Gina Prince-Bythewood)- Some of the world-building and backstory are handled quite elegantly. The relationships actually do feel centuries old through specific details, and the immortal conceit comes together for an innovative final action sequence.

Visually and musically though, the film feels flat in a way that Prince-Bythewood's other films do not. I blame Netflix specs. KiKi Layne, who tanked If Beale Street Could Talk for me, nearly ruins this too with the child-actory way that she stresses one word per line. Especially in relief with one of our more effortless actresses, Layne is distracting.

40. The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Aaron Sorkin)- Whenever Sacha Baron Cohen's Abbie Hoffman opens his mouth, the other defendants brace themselves for his dismissive vulgarity. Even when it's going to hurt him, he can't help but shoot off at the mouth. Of course, he reveals his passionate and intelligent depths as the trial goes on. The character is the one that Sorkin's screenplay seems the most endeared to: In the same way that Hoffman can't help but be Hoffman, Sorkin can't help but be Sorkin. Maybe we don't need a speech there; maybe we don't have to stretch past two hours; maybe a bon mot diffuses the tension. But we know exactly what to expect by now. The film is relevant, astute, witty, benevolent, and, of course, in love with itself. There are a handful of scenes here that are perfect, so I feel bad for qualifying so much.

A smaller point: Daniel Pemberton has done great work in the past (Motherless Brooklyn, King Arthur, The Man from U.N.C.L.E.), but the first sequence is especially marred by his sterile soft-rock approach.

GOOD MOVIES

39. Time (Garrett Bradley)- The key to Time is that it provides very little context. Why the patriarch of this family is serving sixty years in prison is sort of besides the point philosophically. His wife and sons have to move on without him, and the tragedy baked into that fact eclipses any notion of what he "deserved." Feeling the weight of time as we switch back and forth between a kid talking about his first day of kindergarten and that same kid graduating from dentistry school is all the context we need. Time's presentation can be quite sumptuous: The drone shot of Angola makes its buildings look like crosses. Or is it X's?

At the same time, I need some context. When director Garrett Bradley withholds the reason Robert's in prison, and when she really withholds that Fox took a plea and served twelve years, you start to see the strings a bit. You could argue that knowing so little about why, all of a sudden, Robert can be on parole puts you into the same confused shoes as the family, but it feels manipulative to me. The film is preaching to the choir as far as criminal justice goes, which is fine, but I want it to have the confidence to tell its story above board.

38. Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (Turner Ross and Bill Ross IV)- I have a barfly friend whom I see maybe once a year. When we first set up a time to meet, I kind of dread it and wonder what we'll have to talk about. Once we do get together, we trip on each other's words a bit, fumbling around with the rhythm of conversation that we mastered decades ago. He makes some kind of joke that could have been appropriate then but isn't now.

By the end of the day, hours later, we're hugging and maybe crying as we promise each other that we won't wait as long next time.

That's the exact same journey that I went on with this film.

37. Underwater (William Eubank)- Underwater is a story that you've seen before, but it's told with great confidence and economy. I looked up at twelve minutes and couldn't believe the whole table had been set. Kristen plays Ripley and projects a smart, benevolent poise.

36. The Lodge (Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala)- I prefer the grounded, manicured first half to the more fantastic second half. The craziness of the latter is only possible through the hard work of the former though. As with Fiala and Franz's previous feature, the visual rhymes and motifs get incorporated into the soup so carefully that you don't realize it until they overwhelm you in their bleak glory.

Small note: Alicia Silverstone, the male lead's first wife, and Riley Keough, his new partner, look sort of similar. I always think that's a nice note: "I could see how he would go for her."

35. Miss Americana (Lana Wilson)- I liked it when I saw it as a portrait of a person whose life is largely decided for her but is trying to carve out personal spaces within that hamster wheel. I loved it when I realized that describes most successful people in their twenties.

34. Sound of Metal (Darius Marder)- Riz Ahmed is showing up on all of the best performances of the year lists, but Sound of Metal isn't in anyone's top ten films of the year. That's about right. Ahmed's is a quiet, stubborn performance that I wish was in service of more than the straight line that we've seen before.

In two big scenes, there's this trick that Ahmed does, a piecing together of consequences with his eyes, as if he's moving through a flow chart in real time. In both cases, the character seems locked out and a little slower than he should be, which is, of course, why he's facing the consequences in the first place. To be charitable to a film that was a bit of a grind, it did make me notice a thing a guy did with his eyes.

33. Pieces of a Woman (Kornel Mundruczo)- Usually when I leave acting showcases like this, I imagine the film without the Oscar-baiting speeches, but this is a movie that specializes in speeches. Pieces of a Woman is being judged, deservedly so, by the harrowing twenty-minute take that opens the film, which is as indulgent as it is necessary. But if the unbroken take provides the "what," then the speeches provide the "why."

This is a film about reclaiming one's body when it rebels against you and when other people seek ownership of it. Without the Ellen Burstyn "lift your head" speech or the Vanessa Kirby show-stopper in the courtroom, I'm not sure any of that comes across.

I do think the film lets us off the hook a bit with the LaBoeuf character, in the sense that it gives us reasons to dislike him when it would be more compelling if he had done nothing wrong. Does his half-remembering of the White Stripes count as a speech?

32. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe)- This is such a play, not only in the locked-down location but also through nearly every storytelling convention: "Where are the two most interesting characters? Oh, running late? They'll enter separately in animated fashion?" But, to use the type of phrase that the characters might, "Don't hate the player; hate the game."

Perhaps the most theatrical note in this treatise on the commodification of expression is the way that, two or three times, the proceedings stop in their tracks for the piece to declare loudly what it's about. In one of those clear-outs, Boseman, who looks distractingly sick, delivers an unforgettable monologue that transports the audience into his character's fragile, haunted mind. He and Viola Davis are so good that the film sort of buckles under their weight, unsure of how to transition out of those spotlight moments and pretend that the story can start back up. Whatever they're doing is more interesting than what's being achieved overall.

31. Another Round (Thomas Vinterberg)- It's definitely the film that Vinterberg wanted to make, but despite what I think is a quietly shattering performance from Mikkelsen, Another Round moves in a bit too much of a straight line to grab me fully. The joyous final minutes hint at where it could have gone, as do pockets of Vinterberg's filmography, which seems newly tethered to realism in a way that I don't like. The best sequences are the wildest ones, like the uproarious trip to the grocery store for fresh cod, so I don't know why so much of it takes place in tiny hallways at magic hour. I give the inevitable American remake* permission to use these notes.

*- Just spitballing here. Martin: Will Ferrell, Nikolaj (Nick): Ben Stiller, Tommy: Owen Wilson, Peter: Craig Robinson

30. The Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell)- Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I needed.

I think a less conclusive finale would have been better, but what a model of high-concept escalation. This is the movie people convinced me Whannell's Upgrade was.

29. On the Rocks (Sofia Coppola)- Slight until the Mexican sojourn, which expands the scope and makes the film even more psychosexual than before. At times it feels as if Coppola is actively simplifying, rather than diving into the race and privilege questions that the Murray character all but demands.

As for Murray, is the film 50% worse without him? 70%? I don't know if you can run in supporting categories if you're the whole reason the film exists.

28. Mangrove (Steve McQueen)- The first part of the film seemed repetitive and broad to me. But once it settled in as a courtroom drama, the characterization became more shaded, and the filmmaking itself seemed more fluid. I ended up being quite outraged and inspired.

27. Shirley (Josephine Decker)- Josephine Decker emerges as a real stylist here, changing her foggy, impressionistic approach not one bit with a little more budget. Period piece and established actors be damned--this is still as much of a reeling fever dream as Madeline's Madeline. Both pieces are a bit too repetitive and nasty for my taste, but I respect the technique.

Here's my mandatory "Elisabeth Moss is the best" paragraph. While watching her performance as Shirley Jackson, I thought about her most famous role as Peggy on Mad Men, whose inertia and need to prove herself tied her into confidence knots. Shirley is almost the opposite: paralyzed by her worldview, certain of her talent, rejecting any empathy. If Moss can inhabit both characters so convincingly, she can do anything.

26. An American Pickle (Brandon Trost)- An American Pickle is the rare comedy that could actually use five or ten extra minutes, but it's a surprisingly heartfelt and wholesome stretch for Rogen, who is earnest in the lead roles.

25. The King of Staten Island (Judd Apatow)- At two hours and fifteen minutes, The King of Staten Island is probably the first Judd Apatow film that feels like the exact right length. For example, the baggy date scene between a gracious Bill Burr and a faux-dowdy Marisa Tomei is essential, the sort of widening of perspective that something like Trainwreck was missing.

It's Pete Davidson's movie, however, and though he has never been my cup of tea, I think he's actually quite powerful in his quiet moments. The movie probes some rare territory--a mentally ill man's suspicion that he is unlovable, a family's strategic myth-making out of respect for the dead. And when Davidson shows up at the firehouse an hour and fifteen minutes in, it feels as if we've built to a last resort.

24. Swallow (Carlo Mirabella-Davis)- The tricky part of this film is communicating Hunter's despair, letting her isolation mount, but still keeping her opaque. It takes a lot of visual discipline to do that, and Claudio Mirabella-Davis is up to the task. This ends up being a much more sympathetic, expressive movie than the plot description might suggest.

(In the tie dispute, Hunter and Richie are both wrong. That type of silk--I couldn't tell how pebbled it was, but it's probably a barathea weave-- shouldn't be ironed directly, but it doesn't have to be steamed. On a low setting, you could iron the back of the tie and be fine.)

23. The Vast of Night (Andrew Patterson)- I wanted a bit more "there" there; The film goes exactly where I thought it would, and there isn't enough humor for my taste. (The predictability might be a feature, not a bug, since the film is positioned as an episode of a well-worn Twilight Zone-esque show.)

But from a directorial standpoint, this is quite a promising debut. Patterson knows when to lock down or use silence--he even cuts to black to force us to listen more closely to a monologue. But he also knows when to fill the silence. There's a minute or so when Everett is spooling tape, and he and Fay make small talk about their hopes for the future, developing the characters' personalities in what could have been just mechanics. It's also a refreshingly earnest film. No one is winking at the '50s setting.

I'm tempted to write, "If Andrew Patterson can make this with $1 million, just imagine what he can do with $30 million." But maybe people like Shane Carruth have taught us that Patterson is better off pinching pennies in Texas and following his own muse.

22. Martin Eden (Pietro Marcello)- At first this film, adapted from a picaresque novel by Jack London, seemed as if it was hitting the marks of the genre. "He's going from job to job and meeting dudes who are shaping his worldview now." But the film, shot in lustrous Super 16, won me over as it owned the trappings of this type of story, forming a character who is a product of his environment even as he transcends it. By the end, I really felt the weight of time.

You want to talk about something that works better in novels than films though? When a passionate, independent protagonist insists that a woman is the love of his life, despite the fact that she's whatever Italians call a wet blanket. She's rich, but Martin doesn't care about her money. He hates her family and friends, and she refuses to accept him or his life pursuits. She's pretty but not even as pretty as the waitress they discuss. Tell me what I'm missing here. There's archetype, and there's incoherence.

21. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonca Filho and Juliano Dornelles)- Certain images from this adventurous film will stick with me, but I got worn out after the hard reset halfway through. As entranced as I was by the mystery of the first half, I think this blood-soaked ensemble is better at asking questions than it is at answering them.

20. Let Them All Talk (Steven Soderbergh)- The initial appeal of this movie might be "Look at these wonderful actresses in their seventies getting a movie all to themselves." And the film is an interesting portrait of ladies taking stock of relationships that have spanned decades. But Soderbergh and Eisenberg handle the twentysomething Lucas Hedges character with the same openness and empathy. His early reasoning for going on the trip is that he wants to learn from older women, and Hedges nails the puppy-dog quality of a young man who would believe that. Especially in the scenes of aspirational romance, he's sweet and earnest as he brushes his hair out of his face.

Streep plays Alice Hughes, a serious author of literary fiction, and she crosses paths with Kelvin Kranz, a grinder of airport thrillers. In all of the right ways, Let Them All Talk toes the line between those two stances as an entertaining, jaunty experiment that also shoulders subtextual weight. If nothing else, it's easy to see why a cruise ship's counterfeit opulence, its straight lines at a lean, would be visually engaging to Soderbergh. You can't have a return to form if your form is constantly evolving.

19. Dick Johnson Is Dead (Kirsten Johnson)- Understandably, I don't find the subject as interesting as his own daughter does, and large swaths of this film are unsure of what they're trying to say. But that's sort of the point, and the active wrestling that the film engages in with death ultimately pays off in a transcendent moment. The jaw-dropping ending is something that only non-fiction film can achieve, and Johnson's whole career is about the search for that sort of serendipity.

18. Da 5 Bloods (Spike Lee)- Delroy Lindo is a live-wire, but his character is the only one of the principals who is examined with the psychological depth I was hoping for. The first half, with all of its present-tense flourishes, promises more than the gunfights of the second half can deliver. When the film is cooking though, it's chock full of surprises, provocations, and pride.

17. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittmann)- Very quickly, Eliza Hittmann has established herself as an astute, empathetic director with an eye for discovering new talent. I hope that she gets to make fifty more movies in which she objectively follows laconic young people. But I wanted to like this one more than I did. The approach is so neutral that it's almost flat to me, lacking the arc and catharsis of her previous film, Beach Rats. I still appreciate her restraint though.

GREAT MOVIES

16. Young Ahmed (Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne)- I don't think the Dardennes have made a bad movie yet, and I'm glad they turned away from the slight genre dipping of The Unknown Girl, the closest to bad that they got. Young Ahmed is a lean, daring return to form.

Instead of following an average person, as they normally do, the Dardenne Brothers follow an extremist, and the objectivity that usually generates pathos now serves to present ambiguity. Ahmed says that he is changing, that he regrets his actions, but we never know how much of his stance is a put-on. I found myself wanting him to reform, more involved than I usually am in these slices of life. Part of it is that Idir Ben Addi looks like such a normal, young kid, and the Ahmed character has most of the qualities that we say we want in young people: principles, commitment, self-worth, reflection. So it's that much more destructive when those qualities are used against him and against his fellow man.

15. World of Tomorrow Episode Three: The Absent Destinations of David Prime (Don Hertzfeldt)- My dad, a man whom I love but will never understand, has dismissed modern music before by claiming that there are only so many combinations of chords. To him, it's almost impossible to do something new. Of course, this is the type of thing that an uncreative person would say--a person not only incapable of hearing the chords that combine notes but also unwilling to hear the space between the notes. (And obviously, that's the take of a person who doesn't understand that, originality be damned, some people just have to create.)

Anyway, that attitude creeps into my own thinking more than I would like, but then I watch something as wholly original as World of Tomorrow Episode Three. The series has always been a way to pile sci-fi ideas on top of each other to prove the essential truths of being and loving. And this one, even though it achieves less of a sense of yearning than its predecessor, offers even more devices to chew on. Take, for example, the idea that Emily sends her message from the future, so David's primitive technology can barely handle it. In order to move forward with its sophistication, he has to delete any extraneous skills for the sake of computer memory. So out of trust for this person who loves him, he has to weigh whether his own breathing or walking can be uninstalled as a sacrifice for her. I thought that we might have been done describing love, but there it is, a new metaphor. Mixing futurism with stick figures to get at the most pure drive possible gave us something new. It's called art, Dad.

14. On the Record (Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering)- We don't call subjects of documentaries "stars" for obvious reasons, but Drew Dixon kind of is one. Her honesty and wisdom tell a complete story of the #MeToo movement. Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering take their time developing her background at first, not because we need to "gain sympathy" or "establish credibility" for a victim of sexual abuse, but because showing her talent and enthusiasm for hip-hop A&R makes it that much more tragic when her passion is extinguished. Hell, I just like the woman, so spending a half-hour on her rise was pleasurable in and of itself.

This is a gut-wrenching, fearless entry in what is becoming Dick and Ziering's raison d'etre, but its greatest quality is Dixon's composed reflection. She helped to establish a pattern of Russell Simmons's behavior, but she explains what happened to her in ways I had never heard before.

13. David Byrne’s American Utopia (Spike Lee)- I'm often impressed by the achievements that puzzle me: How did they pull that off? But I know exactly how David Byrne pulled off the impish but direct precision of American Utopia: a lot of hard work.

I can't blame Spike Lee for stealing a page from Demme's Stop Making Sense: He denies us a close-up of any audience members until two-thirds of the way through, when we get someone in absolute rapture.

12. One Night in Miami... (Regina King)- We've all cringed when a person of color is put into the position of speaking on behalf of his or her entire race. But the characters in One Night in Miami... live in that condition all the time and are constantly negotiating it. As Black public figures in 1964, they know that the consequences of their actions are different, bigger, than everyone else's. The charged conversations between Malcolm X and Sam Cooke are not about whether they can live normal lives. They're way past that. The stakes are closer to Sam Cooke arguing that his life's purpose aligns with the protection and elevation of African-Americans while Malcolm X argues that those pursuits should be the same thing. Late in the movie, Cassius Clay leaves the other men, a private conversation, to talk to reporters, a public conversation. But the film argues that everything these men do is always already public. They're the most powerful African-Americans in the country, but their lives are not their own. Or not only their own.

It's true that the first act has the clunkiness and artifice of a TV movie, but once the film settles into the motel room location and lets the characters feed off one another, it's gripping. It's kind of unfair for a movie to get this many scenes of Leslie Odom Jr. singing, but I'll take it.

11. Saint Frances (Alex Thompson)- Rilke wrote, "Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." The characters' behavior in Saint Frances--all of these fully formed characters' behavior--made me think of that quotation. When they lash out at one another, even at their nastiest, the viewer has a window into how they're expressing pain they can't verbalize. The film is uneven in its subtlety, but it's a real showcase for screenwriter and star Kelly O'Sullivan, who is unflinching and dynamic in one of the best performances of the year. Somebody give her some of the attention we gave to Zach Braff for God's sake.

10. Boys State (Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine)- This documentary is kind of a miracle from a logistical standpoint. From casting interviews beforehand, lots of editing afterwards, or sly note-taking once the conference began, McBaine and Moss happened to select the four principals who mattered the most at the convention, then found them in rooms full of dudes wearing the same tucked-in t-shirt. By the way, all of the action took place over the course of one week, and by definition, the important events are carved in half.

To call Boys State a microcosm of American politics is incorrect. These guys are forming platforms and voting in elections. What they're doing is American politics, so when they make the same compromises and mistakes that active politicians do, it produces dread and disappointment. So many of the boys are mimicking the political theater that they see on TV, and that sweaty sort of performance is going to make a Billy Mitchell out of this kid Ben Feinstein, and we'll be forced to reckon with how much we allow him to evolve as a person. This film is so precise, but what it proves is undeniably messy. Luckily, some of these seventeen-year-olds usher in hope for us all.

If nothing else, the film reveals the level to which we're all speaking in code.

9. The Nest (Sean Durkin)- In the first ten minutes or so of The Nest, the only real happy minutes, father and son are playing soccer in their quaint backyard, and the father cheats to score on a children's net before sliding on the grass to rub in his victory. An hour later, the son kicks the ball around by himself near a regulation goal on the family's massive property. The contrast is stark and obvious, as is the symbolism of the dead horse, but that doesn't mean it's not visually powerful or resonant.

Like Sean Durkin's earlier film, Martha Marcy May Marlene, the whole of The Nest is told with detail of novelistic scope and an elevation of the moment. A snippet of radio that mentions Ronald Reagan sets the time period, rather than a dateline. One kid saying "Thanks, Dad" and another kid saying, "Thanks, Rory" establishes a stepchild more elegantly than any other exposition might.

But this is also a movie that does not hide what it means. Characters usually say exactly what is on their minds, and motivations are always clear. For example, Allison smokes like a chimney, so her daughter's way of acting out is leaving butts on the window sill for her mother to find. (And mother and daughter both definitely "act out" their feelings.) On the other hand, Ben, Rory's biological son, is the character least like him, so these relationships aren't too directly parallel. Regardless, Durkin uses these trajectories to cast a pall of familial doom.

8. Sorry We Missed You (Sean Durkin)- Another precisely calibrated empathy machine from Ken Loach. The overwhelmed matriarch, Abby, is a caretaker, and she has to break up a Saturday dinner to rescue one of her clients, who wet herself because no one came to help her to the bathroom. The lady is embarrassed, and Abby calms her down by saying, "You mean more to me than you know." We know enough about Abby's circumstances to realize that it's sort of a lie, but it's a beautiful lie, told by a person who cares deeply but is not cared for.

Loach's central point is that the health of a family, something we think of as immutable and timeless, is directly dependent upon the modern industry that we use to destroy ourselves. He doesn't have to be "proven" relevant, and he didn't plan for Covid-19 to point to the fragility of the gig economy, but when you're right, you're right.

7. Lovers Rock (Steve McQueen)- swear to you I thought: "This is an impeccable depiction of a great house party. The only thing it's missing is the volatile dude who scares away all the girls." And then the volatile dude who scares away all the girls shows up.

In a year short on magic, there are two or three transcendent moments, but none of them can equal the whole crowd singing along to "Silly Games" way after the song has ended. Nothing else crystallizes the film's note of celebration: of music, of community, of safe spaces, of Black skin. I remember moments like that at house parties, and like all celebrations, they eventually make me sad.

6. Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution (Nicole Newnham and James Lebrecht)- I held off on this movie because I thought that I knew what it was. The setup was what I expected: A summer camp for the disabled in the late '60s takes on the spirit of the time and becomes a haven for people who have not felt agency, self-worth, or community anywhere else. But that's the right-place-right-time start of a story that takes these figures into the '80s as they fight for their rights.

If you're anything like my dumb ass, you know about 504 accommodations from the line on a college syllabus that promises equal treatment. If 2020 has taught us anything though, it's that rights are seized, not given, and this is the inspiring story of people who unified to demand what they deserved. Judy Heumann is a civil rights giant, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't know who she was before this film. If it were just a history lesson that wasn't taught in school, Crip Camp would still be valuable, but it's way more than that.

5. Palm Springs (Max Barbakow)- When explaining what is happening to them, Andy Samberg's Nyles twirls his hand at Cristin Milioti's Sara and says, "It's one of those infinite time-loop scenarios." Yeah, one of those. Armed with only a handful of fictional examples, she and the audience know exactly what he means, and the continually inventive screenplay by Andy Siara doesn't have to do any more explaining. In record time, the film accelerates into its premise, involves her, and sets up the conflict while avoiding the claustrophobia of even Groundhog Day. That economy is the strength that allows it to be as funny as it is. By being thrifty with the setup, the savings can go to, say, the couple crashing a plane into a fiery heap with no consequences.

In some accidental ways, this is, of course, a quarantine romance as well. Nyles and Sara frustratingly navigate the tedious wedding as if they are play-acting--which they sort of are--then they push through that sameness to grow for each other, realizing that dependency is not weakness. The best relationships are doing the same thing right now.

Although pointedly superficial--part of the point of why the couple is such a match--and secular--I think the notion of an afterlife would come up at least once--Palm Springs earns the sincerity that it gets around to. And for a movie ironic enough to have a character beg to be impaled so that he doesn't have to sit in traffic, that's no small feat.

4. The Assistant (Kitty Green)- A wonder of Bressonian objectivity and rich observation, The Assistant is the rare film that deals exclusively with emotional depth while not once explaining any emotions. One at a time, the scrape of the Kleenex box might not be so grating, the long hallway trek to the delivery guy might not be so tiring, but this movie gets at the details of how a job can destroy you in ways that add up until you can't even explain them.

3. Promising Young Woman (Emerald Fennell)- In her most incendiary and modern role, Carey Mulligan plays Cassie, which is short for Cassandra, that figure doomed to tell truths that no one else believes. The web-belted boogeyman who ruined her life is Al, short for Alexander, another Greek who is known for his conquests. The revenge story being told here--funny in its darkest moments, dark in its funniest moments--is tight on its surface levels, but it feels as if it's telling a story more archetypal and expansive than that too.

An exciting feature debut for its writer-director Emerald Fennell, the film goes wherever it dares. Its hero has a clear purpose, and it's not surprising that the script is willing to extinguish her anger halfway through. What is surprising is the way it renews and muddies her purpose as she comes into contact with half-a-dozen brilliant one- or two-scene performances. (Do you think Alfred Molina can pull off a lawyer who hates himself so much that he can't sleep? You would be right.)

Promising Young Woman delivers as an interrogation of double standards and rape culture, but in quiet ways it's also about our outsized trust in professionals and the notion that some trauma cannot be overcome.

INSTANT CLASSICS

2. Soul (Pete Docter)- When Pete Docter's Up came out, it represented a sort of coronation for Pixar: This was the one that adults could like unabashedly. The one with wordless sequences and dead children and Ed Asner in the lead. But watching it again this week with my daughter, I was surprised by how high-concept and cloying it could be. We choose not to remember the middle part with the goofy dog stuff.

Soul is what Up was supposed to be: honest, mature, stirring. And I don't mean to imply that a family film shouldn't make any concessions to children. But Soul, down to the title, never compromises its own ambition. Besides Coco, it's probably the most credible character study that Pixar has ever made, with all of Joe's growth earned the hard way. Besides Inside Out, it's probably the wittiest comedy that Pixar has ever made, bursting with unforced energy.

There's a twitter fascination going around about Dez, the pigeon-figured barber character whose scene has people gushing, "Crush my windpipe, king" or whatever. Maybe that's what twitter does now, but no one fantasized about any characters in Up. And I count that as progress.

1. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman)- After hearing that our name-shifting protagonist moonlights as an artist, a no-nonsense David Thewlis offers, "I hope you're not an abstract artist." He prefers "paintings that look like photographs" over non-representational mumbo-jumbo. And as Jessie Buckley squirms to try to think of a polite way to talk back, you can tell that Charlie Kaufman has been in the crosshairs of this same conversation. This morose, scary, inscrutable, expressionist rumination is not what the Netflix description says it is at all, and it's going to bother nice people looking for a fun night in. Thank God.

The story goes that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, when constructing Raiders of the Lost Ark, sought to craft a movie that was "only the good parts" with little of the clunky setup that distracted from action. What we have here is a Charlie Kaufman movie with only the Charlie Kaufman moments, less interested than ever before at holding one's hand. The biting humor is here, sometimes aimed at philistines like the David Thewlis character above, sometimes at the niceties that we insist upon. The lonely horror of everyday life is here, in the form of missed calls from oneself or the interruption of an inner monologue. Of course, communicating the overwhelming crush of time, both unknowable and familiar, is the raison d'etre.

A new pet motif seems to be the way that we don't even own our own knowledge. The Young Woman recites "Bonedog" by Eva H.D., which she claims/thinks she wrote, only to find Jake's book open to that page, next to a Pauline Kael book that contains a Woman Under the Influence review that she seems to have internalized later. When Jake muses about Wordsworth's "Lucy Poems," it starts as a way to pass the time, then it becomes a way to lord his education over her, then it becomes a compliment because the subject resembles her, then it becomes a way to let her know that, in the grand scheme of things, she isn't that special at all. This film jerks the viewer through a similar wintry cycle and leaves him with his own thoughts. It's not a pretty picture, but it doesn't look like anything else.

8 notes · View notes

danni-chuu · 5 years

Text

The 7 brothers with a 10 year-old lilith (+ side characters & mc)

This is an hc is inspired by the chapter 14 flashback, so the gist of this Hc is what if lilith gets turned into a 10 year old child try as diavolos way to save her. This is gonna be a really long post so strap in~❤️.

This hc post is made with the help of my friend, @heeminchan, thankiez.

General info about 10 year old lilith:

She has no recollection or memories about the celestial war or being an angel at all.

The post might say 10 years old but she's probably already pass the 1000+ mark, but still is and acts like a child.

She looks like ruri chan ( for reference here)

So without further babbling, lez go❤️

Lucifer

" if you behave I'll give you a princess poison apple and play with you "

Lucifer being the eldest takes it upon himself to be a father like figure to her. In front of the others, he makes sure to keep a strict front but in private, he's alot more softer on her.

Lucifer's room has a toy chest for her since she likes spending time and playing in his room. And being the child that she is, she even dresses up the skeleton in his room. If he's not busy, he would play with her, simple playing house and all.

One time while lucifer was doing paper work,lilith wanted to help him . So to keep lilith busy, he handed her a bunch of void documents and told her to sign them. In the end she got bored and decided to draw her with her 7 older brothers. Which luci decided to frame and put up at the entrance hall.

If lilith gets into trouble, luci doesn't shy away from punishment. But rather than stringing someone upside down and leaving them like that for 100 years, he would just ground lilith and take away her toys. (Buuuuut her other brothers would just sneak some of her toys to her room, especially beel and belphie)

Mammon

" heh you should be greatful you're brothers with the GREAT mammon, shortie! Huh?! w-wait dont cry! "

Mammon loves teasing lilith. Be it calling her a pipspeak, shortie, cry baby, etc. He's said them all, buuuuut he always takes it back because lilith might tell lucifer and he gets punished AG A I N.

Lilith as much as possible doesn't leave any of her things in mammon's room, because her other brothers warn her that he's going to sell them away.

One time mammon stole something from lucifer (probably something to profit from), and lilith was in lucifers room because she was playing hide and seek with beel. Seeing mammon stealing, she gets out of her hiding spot and tells mammon that she will rat him out to her big brother lucifer.mammon taking non of this shitz says he'll do whatever she wants. By the end of the day, lilith gets a new plushie and mammon still got ratted out because how can she lie to her big brother lucifer?

Mammon does try to get her involved in his schemes sometimes. Making her ask money from her other brothers and other more shenanigans, but when he's feeling it he will in fact spoil her with little treats such as candy.

Leviathan

" wooah you look so much like ruri-chan! Can you sing too?"

Levi is still as much of a shut- in, having a younger sibling that he can teach TSL or play games with is his dream come true. Lilith goes to his room to watch anime (for her its cartoons but dont tell levi because he will be very triggered) with him and play video games.

If lilith does go to levi's room , he's always watching out just in case she ends up using his precious figurines as dolls or touching his precious merch. Sometimes( most of the time) when he's too busy playing his games, lilith will just talk to henry 2.0 and feed him.

Levi is a mega ultra super duper (insert more hyperbolic words) fan of ruri-chan, so during lilith's birthday..he gave her a ruri-chan costume (the other brothers already knew where this was heading but they couldn't stop it since lilith liked the cute clothes). She wore them and levi literally freaked because she looked just like her! He posted a picture of her on devilgram and the pic got a decent amount of likes.

The only time that lilith gets in trouble with levi is her staying with him past her bed time, she gets pouty about it but in the end she still gets taken to bed by her big brother lucifer.

Satan

"i can read you a story or we can play tea time, what do you prefer? "

Satan acts alot like a tutor to lilith, he teaches her about manners, reading and writing, and many other things. Satan loves teaching lilith especially when he sees her trying to pronounce big words, which he finds adorable.

Satan for the most part wants lilith to stay out of his room because there are too many dangerous books around. But he would rather play with her in her room instead, either reading a children's bed time book before going to bed or playing tea time with her. They both share a love for pets and animals, so in his free time, he will take her to a kitty cafe where she can play with the lil furballs.

Satan was regulary teaching lilith about different animals, until they got to the cat. Lilith became so intrigued by cats that satan spent a good 30 minutes to an hour of answering her questions about cats. One day, he saw lilith crying by the stairs. He quickly went over and asked her what's wrong, only to find out that she asked lucifer if they can adopt a cat wherein lucifer completely dismisses the idea. Knowing that Lucifer's mind wont change, the next day satan surprises lilith with a black cat plushie with a red bow tie thats as tall (or alitte bit smaller) than her. Until this day, the cat plushie satan gave her is her favourite. She is never seen without it, and she even gave it a name, mr. Momo.

The only time that lilith ever gets in trouble is if she joins in on satan's pranks on lucifer. But most of the time she's let off the hook if they're harmless ones.

Asmodeus

" waahh~ lilith's so adorable, but not as adorable as me"

To lilith, asmo is the closest thing to a sister she can have. Being the only girl in the house( before mc, if mc is a girl ), asmo likes to doll her up and make her his little dress up doll. He often buys clothes for her because he just LOVES making her pretty.

She doesn't spend as much time in asmo's room because there isn't much to do there, but when asmo calls her in after a shopping trip. She already knows he's going to make her pretty as a peach!

It was lilith's birthday and Asmo wanted to dress her up for the occasion! Hair? Check! Make up? Check! Clothes? Check! She was looking as pretty as ever (but not as pretty as him). After dolling her up , lilith went to her other brothers to show Amos work. All of them asked if a child should be wearing that much make up, but asmo tells lilith to shrug them off because they can't appreciate beauty even if it hits them in the face!

The one thing that gets lilith in trouble is lucifer seeing her being dressed by asmo , wearing clothes not fit for a 10 year old girl. Seriously, devilgram level make up on a kid is not appropriate (well in lucifer and some of the other brothers point of view)

Beezlebub

" the eggs taste like plastic..huh? I'm not supposed to eat them? Sorry, they looked too realistic"

Beel is very close with lilith. He spends most of his time watching over her or bringing her to his favourite food joints to eat. Since beel is so big, she loves it when he carries her around, either on his shoulders or just being carried in general. Beel wants to protect lilith at all times, so if sorcerers or witches want to summon lilith, he comes along to watch over her still.

if its not Lucifer's room, lilith's next stop is always the twin's room. She goes in and jumps on either of the beds and having her toys there as well she can already entertain herself. When beel is there to play with her, she likes to play chef and make him food using her plastic kitchen toy set( though some pieces are missing since beel keeps forgetting that its plastic). If she doesn't want to play with her toys, she tries to tickle fight beel and always wins.

Beel was in his room eating a box of cupcakes until lilith barges in and sees him eating cupcakes, she pouts at beel asking why he didn't tell her that he had cupcakes. Beel, being beel just says to her, " they're my cupcakes". She pouts even more and says that she wants a cupcake as well. Beel couldn't resist and splits the cupcake, giving the other half to her. After finishing the cupcake, he promises to buy her a box aswell next time.

Lilith having a sweet tooth herself will often look in the fridge for sweets. She sometimes ends up eating beels food(custard), and hides the evidence. Beel rampages again and breaks the kitchen. Lucifer then lines all of them up and ask who ate the custard, and all of them immediately suspect mammon. But being a good girl, lilith admits her mistake and apologizes to beel, who calms down and says ," you could have left me some..".

Belphegor

" how about later...? Im still too sleepy to teach you..."

Belphie, same with beel, is pretty close with lilith. If he isn't cuddling her as his favourite cuddle buddy, he's teaching her how to dance ballet(Based it off his dancing sprite). Lilith spends most of her afternoon napping with belphie.

Besides playing with beel , lilith also loves playig around with belphie. She makes it an everyday challenge for herself to wake him up in the most creative ways. It can be things such as ice,drawing on his face, tickles, etc. When belphie is too lazy to stand up from bed( which is often), she just plays with his hair and does whatever she wants with it. When he finally does stand up, he teaches lilith some ballet. While she's even wearing her full ballet attire, with tutu included.

It was the middle of the night and lilith had a nightmare, she wanted to go to her big brother lucifer, but it was already late and she might be disturbing him. But then she remembered that mid nights is when his big brother belphie is awake, so she goes over to him with mr.momo. belphie is alittle confused since its way past her bedtime so he asked her whats wrong. She climbs up his bed and hugs him, after calming down she tells belphie that she had a nightmare. Belphie was well acquainted with nightmares, so he knew exactly what to do. They went to the kitchen and both had a cup of warm milk. Going back to his room, he cuddled up with lilith and made sure she had a good nights sleep.

Lilith ends up over sleeping and gets very cranky if she gets rudely awakened.the others find it very adorable.

"...." * Huwgs*

So this depends on the mc's personality but lets start from the beginning. After being sent to the devildom and having the basic run down of what is to come, mammon takes you to the house of lamentations. The first thing you notice once the door opens, is toys scattered all around the entrance hall. Not only toys, but you see a height lines at one of the door frames. Mammon gets more annoyed because he stepped on one of the toys and he shouts out," lilith!". A small girl carrying a black cat plushie almost her size comes down the stairs. Mammon scolds her for leaving her toys out like that and he introduces you to their 8th sibling, lilith. Lilith immediately hugs you (no matter the gender), because it's been a while since she's seen a human. And you become her instant play mate.

The mc's room already has a toy chest, filled with lilith's favourite toys. She likes to play around with the mc and actually gets quite attached to them.

Lilith gets so comfortable around the mc that she ask permission from her big brother luci if she can make a pact with the mc. Of course, lucifer is skeptical but he allows it because of liliths enthusiasm.

Diavolo

" ah lilith , I didn't think you would be accompanying lucifer today. "

Dia acts alot like the rich uncle that only comes back during the holidays to give out presents. Lilith rarely gets to see diavolo because most of the time it's only lucifer that gets to see him. But, when lucifer does come back he often gives lilith sweets that barbatos made by diavolo's order.

On the rare occasions that lucifer brings lilith along with him, she acts very reserved and shows off the manners lessons that satan has been teaching her.

On one evening, lucifer brings lilith along to dinner with diavolo. While eating, diavolo jokes around saying that lucifer should just stay in the castle with him. Suddenly, lilith bumps in and protests against the idea, " no big brother luci's staying with us". She hugs as much of lucifers arm that she can, giving diavolo her most pouty and "menacing face". Dia loves seeing how much she cares for her brother, while lucifer is trying his best to hide his embarrassment.

Luke

" ahhhhh! Im not a child! I dont want to play with a demon!"

When lilith first saw luke, her mind immediately said," playmate! ". Though luke always complains about being treated like a child because he's short, he tries to bare it because simeon convinced him to play with lilith.

When in the purgatory hall, she brings along mr.momo and some other toys. luke sometimes pretend he isn't there so he doesn't have to play with lilith, but once he hears a sniffle of her almost crying. He couldn't help but open the door for her and play.

Upon first meeting luke, the key difference in height was..still... apparent. Somehow, lilith is still a few inches taller than luke. Being the giddy child she is, she tells her brothers about it and they all start laughing their lungs out. And when luke finally got wind of it, he was so flustered and embarrassed, he almost refused to leave his room.

Solomon

" why not make a pact with me?"

All her brothers warn her about solomon and to stay as far away from him as possible, she rarely gets to interact with him. But most of the times they do meet, he often ask her to make a pact with him. She always replies to him, " i have to ask big brother luci's permission first". Solomon just smiles and pats her head.

Huhu not much i can say about him since im sure the brothers distance lilith from solomon as much as possible.

And that concludes this very very long post , hope you guys enjoyed it❤️❤️❤️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me lilith #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me luke

242 notes · View notes