#my brain will pick 1 event per year and remember that
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reblog if your short term memory AND your long term memory are both shit and wildly selective
#my brain will pick 1 event per year and remember that#and then anything else is just static#memory issues#memory loss#dissociative disorders#trauma disorders#cptsd#ptsd#trauma related memory loss
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THINGS WOT I HAVE LEARNT AFTER BEING VIRTUALLY HOUSEBOUND FOR 3 YEARS THAT MAY BE HELPFUL TO THOSE IN SELF ISOLATION AND/OR LOCKDOWN DURING THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC
(Background: I have a lifelong disability and am a wheelchair user. After surgery I’ve basically been stuck living and sleeping in one room for three years. These are things I have learnt which may help, though with the caveat that everyone is different, and baseline mental health varies.)
1. YOUR MENTAL HEALTH WILL PROBABLY SUFFER - and although humans are social creatures, even the most introverted will chafe against boundaries enforced upon them by circumstance. The degree to which it suffers will be related to your mental health baseline and physical health. Understand that this IS NOT YOUR FAULT. Stimuli and enrichment methods are required. It’s why animals need such things in zoos and conservation parks. This leads us on to my next point.
2. COMPREHEND WHICH ACTIVITIES ARE ACTIVE AND PASSIVE FOR YOU Spending your confinement solely doing passive things (watching TV, Netflix, browsing the internet, scrolling through the internet) will take a load off your brain and make the time pass quicker. But if that’s all you do, the sense of disconnection increases over time. Activities which require you to *do* something, even if it’s just engaging your motor skills via video games, or lifting some cans of beans, or actively reading - these deliberate acts foster a tiny sense of achievement which gives your brain a dose of helpful chemicals. If you want to consider your activities, look up the work of Marshall McLuhan as regards “hot media” and “cold media” (See https://mediawiki.middlebury.edu/MIDD…/Hot_versus_cool_media for basic premise.) Balancing out your media intake with hot and cold activities keeps your brain active and pumping tasty neurotransmitters.
3. LIMIT YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA USAGE TO SOCIAL PURPOSES. Infinite scrolling as found on many social media platforms is a hot medium, as per McLuhan. The reason Likes exist is to give that little spike of interactivity. It’s not a conspiracy to say many platforms are designed to keep you on them so they can show you more ads. (See also https://www.theguardian.com/…/has-dopamine-got-us-hooked-on… which explains the brain chemistry angle) However, DM’s and other messaging faculties are supremely useful. Use them to interact with your friends, indulge your fandom theories. Person to person interaction requires and enhances deep-seated neurological and biophysical reflexes. Text your mates. Skype/Facetime or otherwise call them. Use the technology of the 21st century for genuine social ends, deliberately. Catch up with their lives one to one or in groupchats.
4. PICK TIMES TO CHECK THE NEWS AND STICK TO THEM. This relates to point 3 - unfortunately we live in a 24hr news cycle, with constant liveblogging of important issues. This means that we’re constantly streaming anxiety inducing situations into our brains JUST IN CASE. That’s not helpful, particularly when you can’t actually DO anything about those events - the urge to DO something is why people are panic-buying. It’s a very basic primordial need to grab resources for defence. By picking times of the day to check news, you are again, making a DELIBERATE CHOICE, enacting some small level of agency, while at the same time limiting anxiety-inducing stimuli. If the news gets too much, then don’t check it as much - or at all - and do something else.
5. IF YOU DO THINGS WITH FRIENDS, SEE IF YOU CAN DO THEM ONLINE. Run that game of DnD/Other TTRPG you’ve been meaning to. Hold your book club online. Have a few drinks online over voice-chat if you are missing the pub. Hold watch parties for your favourite shows. The key, as ever, is to be engaged rather than passive. It’s harder if you’re ill, yes, but it can be done.
6. USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO CREATE THINGS. Write that fanfic. Start that novel. Design that game. Doodle. Paint. Humans have been creating since the day we became human. Consider things from the perspective of a pre-modern person. Make handprints on your own personal cave wall - contact each other and tell spooky stories. Build a complex fantasy world. Write an account of your confinement for some person to find pieces of years after you’re gone from the world. Think about a problem, and learn how to solve it via taking online classes (See http://www.openculture.com/freeonlinecourses) Write an essay on your chosen passion or hyperfixation - nobody needs to read it but you. Treat yourself to intellectual stimulation, if that’s your thing.
7. IF YOU HAVE A SPIRITUAL. RITUAL, OR MEDITATIVE PRACTICE DO IT. It doesn’t matter if it’s not perfect, or limited in scope. This also includes atheists and those who despise woo - you have personal rituals, things you do that have Meaning to you as a person. Maybe it;s alphabetizing your music collection, or spring cleaning or cooking your favourite meal like grandma used to make. Humans have patterns they perform. When you perform them DELIBERATIVELY (or dare I say MINDFULLY) you become aware that these are the scaffolds that structure human life.
8. STRUCTURE YOUR TIME. Following on from 7, we often don’t realise the structure of our lives until it is disrupted. When that’s removed, our minds can go into freefall. If you’re isolated/in lockdown, oftentimes you won’t be able to access those structures. Rather than wait for them to to become accessible again and risk a period of feeling lost and directionless, which can enhance depression and anxiety, it’s best to develop a new structure based on the resources you have. It can be as loose or as strict as you like, but sticking to it allows us to develop a rhythm which makes time pass in recognisable fashion and gives us a sense of being-in-the-world as some sort of engaged process.
9. KEEP YOUR SLEEP PATTERN REGULAR AND LONG ENOUGH. The key here is REGULAR. Following on from 8, it’s important to keep your body well rested, as this aids your immune system and cuts down on the possibility of your body having to deal with stress . If you’re ill it’s harder to keep this regular, because sometimes your body just needs sleep to regenerate NOW. Equally in isolation, particularly if you’re feeling mentally low, it can be tempting to sleep forever, because y’know, you’re feeling low and what’s the point. (Of course the point is why we have 8 in particular, along with all the rest.)
OBVIOUSLY EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT. Particularly for those with disabilities or chronic illnesses, we may be even more limited in our activities while isolated than able bodied folks. That said, the key is to remember that certainly during this pandemic, and otherwise YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE FEELING THIS WAY. Rubbish as it may be, many are in the same boat. If it pleases you to, seek them out - see what commonalities you have, what hopes and dreams and fascinations you may share. FIND THE OTHERS - it’s what humans have always done.
Be well.
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could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)
Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!
Combined with prompts for...
1. Another of Coops’ serious talks
2. Remus overworking himself to keep up
3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night
4. Slow dancing in the kitchen
TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues
“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.
Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”
“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.
“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.
Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”
“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”
“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”
“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”
Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”
“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”
“People can love each other and still break up!”
Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”
“We need to talk.”
“We need to sleep.”
“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.
Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”
Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.
---------------------------
Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.
“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.
“Loops—”
“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.
The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”
Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”
There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.
“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.
“I’m not trying to be mean—”
“Well, you kind of were—”
“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”
The response was immediate. “No.”
“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”
“Do you think we moved too fast?”
Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”
Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”
He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”
“Oh my god.”
“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”
“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”
“Please don’t be angry.”
“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”
Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”
“I literally sleep next to you!”
“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”
Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”
Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”
“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”
“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”
“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”
Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”
“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”
Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”
“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”
“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”
“I don’t regret marrying you!
“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”
“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”
“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.
“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”
“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.
“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”
Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.
It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”
He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—
“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”
Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”
“Can you pick me up?”
“Re, are you okay?”
“Not really. Can you pick me up?”
Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”
“At home.”
“…where’s Sirius?”
“At Dumo’s.”
“I’m on my way.”
-----------------------------------
Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.
“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.
“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.
“Don’t.”
“It was awful.”
“I bet.”
Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”
“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”
“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”
Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”
“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”
“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”
“Is that what you and James did?”
“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”
Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”
Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”
“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”
There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”
Remus snorted. “Simp.”
“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”
“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.
“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.
“Maybe!”
Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”
“Hmm?”
“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”
She frowned. “What?”
“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”
With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”
“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”
“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”
“That might be a while.”
She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”
“Could be.”
“Remus.”
“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”
“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.
-----------------------------------
“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.
The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”
“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”
“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”
“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”
“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”
Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”
She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”
“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”
Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.
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By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.
He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”
“Who’s there?”
Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”
“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.
“Love you,” he murmured.
“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.
“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”
“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”
Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”
“Did you go see them?”
“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”
“Re—”
“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”
“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”
“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”
“I thought it might be too late.”
“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”
Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”
Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”
Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”
“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”
“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”
“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”
-------------------------------------
Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.
The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.
Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”
“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”
“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”
“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.
Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”
I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”
“Deal.”
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It seems like many, perhaps most, people historically believed in some immanent apocalypse.
Many philosophies claim that the world is passing into a degenerate age of chaos (Ages of Man, Kali Yuga, life-cycle of civilisation), or divine conflict will shortly spill over & destroy the Earth (Ragnorok, Revelations, Zoroastrian Frashokereti), or that the natural forces sustaining us must be transient.
Yet few panic or do anything. What anyone does "do about it" is often symbolic & self-admittedly unlikely to do much.
Maybe humans evolved not to care, to avoid being manipulated?
Many cults make similar claims, and do uproot their lives around them. Even very rarely committing mass suicide or terror attacks etc on occasion. But cults exist that don't make such claims, so it may not be the mechanism they use to control, or at most a minor one. "This is about the fate of the whole world, nothing can be more important than that, so shut up" may work as as a thought terminating cliche, but it doesn't seem to work that strongly, and there are many at least equally effective ones.
Some large scale orgs do exist that seem to take their eschatology "seriously". The Aztecs committed atrocities trying to hold off apocalypse, ISIS trying to cause it. Arguably some Communist or even fascist groups count, depending on your definition of apocalypse.
But even then, one can argue their actions are not radically different from non-apocalypse-motivated ones - e.g. the Aztecs mass-executed less per capita than the UK did at times & some historians view them as more about displaying authority.
I'm thinking about this because of two secular eschatologies - climate apocalypse and the Singularity.
My view on climate change, which as far as I can tell is the scientific consensus, is that it is real and bad but by no means apocalyptic. We're talking incremental increases in storms, droughts, floods etc, all of which are terrible, but none of which remotely threaten human civilisation. E.g. according to the first Google result, the sea is set to rise by 1 decimeter by 2100 in a "high emissions scenario", not to rise by tens or hundreds of meters and consume all coastal nations as I was taught as a child. Some more drastic projections suggest that the sea might rise by as much as two or three meters in the worst case scenario.
It really creeps me out when I hear people who confess to believe that human civilisation, the human species, or even all life on Earth is most likely going to be destroyed soon by climate change. The most recent example, which prompted this post, was the Call of Cthulhu podcast I was listening to casually suggesting that it might be a good idea to summon an Elder God of ice and snow to combat climate change as the "lesser existential risk", perhaps by sacrificing "climate skeptics" to it. It's incredibly jarring for me to realise that the guys I've been listening to casually chatting about RPGs think they live in a world that will shortly be ended by the greed of it's rulers. But this idea is everywhere. Discussions of existential risks from e.g. pandemics inevitably attract people arguing that the real existential risk is climate change. A major anti-global-warming protest movement, Extinction Rebellion, is literally named after the idea that they're fighting against their own extinction. Viral Tumblr posts talk about how the fear of knowing that the world is probably going to be destroyed soon by climate change and fascism is crippling their mental health, and they have no idea how to deal with it because it's all so real.
But it's not. It's not real.
Well, I can't claim that political science is accurate enough for me to definitively say that fascism isn't going to take over, but I can say that climate science is fairly accurate and it predicts that the world is definitely not about to end in fire or in flood.
(There are valid arguments that climate change or other environmental issues might precipitate wars, which could turn apocalyptic due to nuclear weapons; or that we might potentially encounter a black swan event due to our poor understanding of the ecosystem and climate-feedback systems. But these are very different, as they're self-admittedly "just" small risks to the world.)
And I get the impression that a lot of people with more realistic views about climate change deliberately pander to this, deliberately encouraging people to believe that they're going to die because it puts them on the "right side of the issue". The MCU's Loki, for instance, recently casually brought up a "climate apocalypse" in 2050, which many viewers took as meaning the world ending. Technically, the show uses a broad definition of "apocalypse" - Pompeii is given as another example - and it kind of seems like maybe all they meant was natural disasters encouraged by climate change, totally defensible. But I still felt kinda mad about it, that they're deliberately pandering to an idea which they hopefully know is false and which is causing incredible anxiety in people. I remember when Greta Thurnberg was a big deal, I read through her speeches to Extinction Rebellion, and if you parsed them closely it seemed like she actually did have a somewhat realistic understanding of what climate change is. But she would never come out and say it, it was all vague implications of doom, which she was happily giving to a rally called "Extinction Rebellion" filled with speakers who were explicitly stating, not just coyly implying, that this was a fight for humanity's survival against all the great powers of the world.
But maybe there's nothing wrong with that. I despise lying, but as I've been rambling about, this is a very common lie that most people somehow seem unaffected by. Maybe the viral tumblr posts are wrong about the source of their anxiety; maybe it's internal/neurochemical and they world just have picked some other topic to project their anxieties on if this particular apocalypse wasn't available. Maybe this isn't a particularly harmful lie, and it's hypocritical of me to be shocked by those who believe it.
Incidentally, I believe the world is probably going to end within the next fifty years.
Intellectually, I find the arguments that superhuman AI will destroy the world pretty undeniable. Sure, forecasting the path of future technology is inherently unreliable. But the existence of human brains, some of which are quite smart, proves pretty conclusively it's possible to get lumps of matter to think - and human brains are designed to run on the tiny amounts of energy they can get by scavenging plants and the occasional scraps of meat in the wilderness as fuel, with chemical signals that propagate at around the speed of sound (much slower than electronic ones), with only the data they can get from input devices they carry around with them, and which break down irrevocably after a few decades. And while we cannot necessarily extrapolate from the history of progress in both computer hardware and AI, that progress is incredibly impressive, and there's no particular reason to believe it will fortuitously stop right before we manufacture enough rope to hang ourselves.
Right now, at time of writing, we have neural nets that can write basic code, appear to scale linearly in effectiveness with the available hardware with no signs that we're reaching their limit, and have not yet been applied at the current limits of available hardware let alone what will be available in a few years. They absorb information like a sponge at a vastly superhuman speed and scale, allowing them to be trained in days or hours rather than the years or decades humans require. They are already human-level or massively superhuman at many tasks, and are capable of many things I would have confidently told you a few years ago were probably impossible without human-level intelligence, like the crazy shit AI dungeon is capable of. People are actively working on scaling them up so that they can work on and improve the sort of code they are made from. And we have no ability to tell what they're thinking or control them without a ton of trial and error.
If you follow this blog, you're probably familiar with all the above arguments for why we're probably very close to getting clobbered by superhuman AI, and many more, as well as all the standard counter-arguments and the counter-arguments to those counter arguments.
(Note: I do take some comfort in God, but even if my faith were so rock solid that I would cheerfully bet the world on it - which it's not - there's no real reason why our purpose in God's plan couldn't be to destroy ourselves or be destroyed as an object lesson to some other, more important civilization. There's ample precedent.)
Here's the thing: I'm not doing anything about it, unless you count occasionally, casually talking about it with people online. I'm not even donating to help any of the terrifyingly-few people who are trying to do something about it. Part of why I'm not contributing is, frankly, I don't have a clue what to do, nor do I have much confidence in any of the stuff people are currently doing (although I bloody well hope some of it works.)
And yet I don't actually feel that scared.
I feel more of a visceral chill reading about the nuclear close calls that almost destroyed the world in the recent past than thinking about the stuff that has a serious chance of doing so in a few decades. I'm a neurotic mess, and yet what is objectively the most terrifying thing on my radar does not actually seem to contribute to my neurosis.
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The Girl Who Loved Fairy Tales
Inspired by this post by @panncakes
I haven’t written anything in years, so apologies if this is terrible. This is set in alternate universe where Jane doesn’t die and none of the characters are involved in sex trafficking.
Part 1
“Wait, you know him?”
Tan’s voice cut through Jane’s thoughts and she glanced up from her phone. “Hm?”
“Did you just say that you know the doctor?” He leaned closer to her, eyes wide and eager.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, tucking her phone back into her purse. Pued was calling her. Again. And she was ignoring him. Again. “He used to live here when we were kids. We were best friends.”
She and Tan had been holed up in the back corner of the only coffee shop in Viangpha Mork for the last twenty minutes, under the guise of “grading papers,” but so far neither of them had gotten much work done. Tan had seemed distracted since the arrived, fiddling with his pen and shuffling papers around and not saying much at all, until suddenly he’d looked up and said, “Did you hear that the hospital hired a new doctor? I saw him at The Mist last night.”
“Of course,” she said, wondering why he was bringing this up. “Bunn and I go way back. He—”
She was cut off by her phone screen lighting up, alerting her to yet another phone call from Pued. What was it? The fifth one today? Why hadn’t she blocked his number yet? She really needed to block his number.
Pushing her ex to the back of her mind and refocusing on the conversation at hand, she watched as Tan’s eyes seemed to grow brighter with excitement as she explained the childhood connection she and Bunn shared.
“No shit? You guys are friends? That’s great!”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “And why is that?”
Tan paused, considering his words. “He…kissed me. Last night at The Mist. He was absolutely wasted and he stumbled into me and…he kissed me.”
“Oh?” said Jane, raising an eyebrow. She’d always had her suspicions about Bunn’s sexuality. He’d never seemed interested in girls back in their middle and high school days, but she’d never asked him about it and then he’d moved away and they’d lost contact. “And how did you feel about that?”
“Um, have you seen him?” Tan asked. “How do you think I felt about it?”
She tilted her head, considering this. “I didn’t know you liked boys.”
Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You got a problem with that?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “No, of course not.”
Tan was a bit of an enigma. Despite the fact that they had been friends for several years now, sometimes she felt like she knew close to nothing about him. He never talked about his personal life. And then there was way he could shift from an earnest, almost innocent sweetness into someone downright intimidating and dangerous – she didn’t fully know what to make of him most of the time.
“Okay, great,” Tan said, leaning back in his seat. “So it’s settled then.”
“Huh? What’s settled?”
“You’ll introduce me to him! Officially.”
“I don’t remember saying I would do that.”
If it was possible for a person to actually make the pleading face emoji expression in real life, Tan was currently doing so.
“Jaaaaaane,” he whined. “Please. I really think he might be my soulmate.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Your what?”
“I know that sounds crazy but hear me out. I’ve met him before. Well, not really ‘met,’ per se, but…had a run-in with. It was like eight years ago, back in college. He dropped some papers and I helped him pick them up and then he hurried off before I could introduce myself or get his name or anything and I’ve always been pissed at myself for not chasing him down. We had this connection, Jane, I swear we did. I can’t explain it, but I saw him and something…clicked. That sounds stupid, I know. But I’ve never been able to get him out of my mind. I’ll be having sex with someone and I’ll close my eyes and I’ll see his face. That has to mean something, right? A guy I said three words to years ago having that much of an impact on me? It has to mean something.”
Jane stared at him, completely caught off guard. He’d never opened up to her about something so personal before.
He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “God, why am I even telling you all this? You probably think I’m crazy.”
She reached out, taking one of his hands in her own and pulling it away from his face. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said, though that wasn’t exactly true. She quickly racked her brain for something positive to say about the situation. “I think…I think you have good taste. Bunn is the best person I know. I’m not surprised someone would spend eight years pining for him.”
Tan smiled slightly at that. “He’s really handsome,” he murmured.
Jane shook her head in disbelief. She had never seen him like this. “Well, I assume he’ll be at the party tomorrow night. I can introduce you there.”
“The party?”
“The hospital director’s birthday party! Tan, don’t tell me you forgot. You promised you’d be my date.
“Oh…right…”
He had definitely forgotten.
“Don’t even try to back out. You brother is going to be there. And my sister. I cannot face them alone, Tan. I really can’t.”
If there was one memory Jane wished she could erase from her mind forever, it was the sight of Pued and Rungtiva, together in bed. Even now, thinking about it, she felt sick to her stomach. But she couldn’t stop replaying the events in her head. Finishing up work early and deciding to go to Pued’s place to surprise him. Walking in on them. Letting out a shocked scream. Watching them spring apart. The look on Rung’s face, slightly smug, as she dressed and slipped out the door without a word to Jane. Pued’s tears and frantic apologies. “Jane, I’m sorry. I can explain. Please. Just listen to me. I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t leave.”
But she had left.
She sent him a text later. “We’re done,” was all it said. He hadn’t stopped calling her and texting her since. She really needed to block his number. Why couldn’t she bring herself to block his number?
Deep down, she knew why. Because he was the boy she’d loved for nearly her entire life. Her childhood friend who had finally turned into something more a year ago. She had truly believed she would spend the rest of her life with him, had truly believed he loved her and only her. But he had betrayed her. Tan thought that Bunn was his soulmate? What the hell did that mean anyway? Soulmate? Pued was her soulmate and he’d fucked her sister. It seemed to her that the whole concept was overrated and meaningless.
Wow. So there it was. She, Janejira Sookyod, the girl who loved fairy tales, the girl who cried watching cheesy rom-coms, the girl whose favorite holiday was Valentine’s Day, had become cynical and jaded.
“I’ll be there,” Tan said, pulling her from her thoughts. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “And I’ll kick Pued’s ass if he comes anywhere near you.”
**
Tan had stayed true to his word on that one. And unfortunately, he had to walk away from a conversation with Bunn to do so.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Tan,” she said quietly, as he drove her home. “You should have kept talking to Bunn. I can handle Pued on my own.”
Tan stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. “He hit you, Jane. You think I was just going to stand by and let him treat you like that?”
“I said some hurtful things to him,” she muttered.
Tan turned his head, the disbelief evident in his eyes. “He slept with your sister. Of course you said some hurtful things to him. Anyone would. That doesn’t excuse him putting his hands on you like that. Are you seriously defending him?”
“No, no, I just…” She trailed off, her head spinning. All she wanted was to change out of this dress into her comfiest pajamas, burrow under the covers of her bed, and stay there the rest of the weekend. “I just never thought he’d do something like that.”
“I’m really sorry this happened to you, Jane,” Tan said softly, seeming to recognize that she wasn’t in the mood to say anything else on the matter.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence.
**
Over the next week, Jane did her best to avoid thinking about Pued at all costs. Luckily, his attempts to contact her had stopped, besides one text he’d sent her the morning after the party that simply said “sorry.”
Sorry.
One word.
As if one word could possibly be enough to make up for what he had done.
She shook her head, as if she could shake the thought of him right out of her mind. This wasn’t what she needed to be focusing on right now. She was heading to the hospital to have lunch with Bunn and she was taking Tan with her. Mostly because he’d begged her to when she’d mentioned her lunch plans. But maybe this could prove to be a good distraction for her. Her own love life was in complete shambles, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help out her friends with theirs.
She watched as Tan’s eyes lit up as soon as Bunn rounded the corner, and she smiled, really smiled, for the first time since the incident at the party.
Perhaps she hadn’t become completely jaded and cynical.
“I thought you were coming alone,” Bunn said, as he reached out to hug her.
“I was going to, but Tan was desperate to see you,” she murmured in his ear as he pulled her close, hopefully quietly enough that Tan couldn’t hear her.
Bunn pulled away, and she a saw a small, pleased smile dance at the corner of his lips before he cleared his throat and rearranged his features into an expression of disinterest, as if anyone was going to buy that. He was the one who’d kissed Tan, after all.
She grinned. The two of them were going to make the cutest couple.
**
An hour later, she and Tan were heading back to her car when she heard someone shout her name.
They both turned, and Jane was surprised to see a doctor running towards them. She recognized her, but she didn’t know her name. How did the doctor know hers?
“Sorry,” the doctor said, coming to a stop in front of them. “I hope I didn’t startle you. Your Ariel keychain fell off your bag.”
Jane let out a little gasp. “Oh my god, thank you so much!” she exclaimed, as the doctor handed the keychain over. “I would have been devastated to lose her.”
“It’s really cute. I love the Little Mermaid,” the doctor said with a smile. “I’m Fai, by the way.”
To be continued...
Part 2
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moon’s laugh
ship: rivetra
word count: 1.9k
warnings: one (1) bad word
genre: canon | hurtcomfort/fluff
chile! here’s my first rivetra/first aot in general fic...i just lub them a lot...a lot of u guys asked for established relationship but i lich rally could not get this out of my head i just think it’s SO cute anyways here go:)
The warmth of the open flame that illuminated Petra’s face was the only source of light at the mess hall at this time of night. Even though she knew the moon was awake and based on Gunther’s ever accurate chats that it would be full, the orb had already passed by the sole window to her right side, leaving Petra alone with her pair of candles, one in front and one to her left so that her right hand would not cast a shadow on her work. She didn’t mind the dark, though–with the nighttime always came safety. A moment to herself away from Orou’s teasing and Eld’s chattering was perfectly welcome after a day as long as today has been.
It had started off as an expedition outside of the wall that was continued from the night prior. Due to an injury in her early teens, her lower back was home to lasting pain, and sleeping on the ground, hard–and cold, too, at this time of year–was no help. Without Hange’s specially crafted medicine for her, as she’d forgotten to take it with her before they left, Petra woke up in an uncharacteristically sour mood. Without a titan in sight, the group had traveled relatively far until they’d reached the chosen stopping point to turn around. The mission was only supposed to be a day and a half, a brief expedition to scour which land beyond the wall could be suitable for farming. It was nothing short of a normal expedition until Gunther’s horse spooked and tossed him, leaving Petra bringing his horse home as he rode on Eld’s during the journey home. Hange deduced it as a concussion, though not terribly bad, once they had made it back.
It wasn’t the worst report she’d ever had to write. Levi had begun to task her months ago with writing the reports that would be sent to the king as an update for what his branch of scouts was doing, as Titan activity had been relatively low recently. Really, it had been a general offer–Petra couldn’t yet figure out why Levi didn’t want to do it himself, as he typically liked to be in charge like that–but the others complained about the task, so she took it upon herself to complete it.
It’s not like she would pass up on a chance to impress her captain.
For less naive reasons, Petra was very skilled in literary talents. Her older brother taught her to read at a young age, and words kept her company as he left to join the scouts. Now, books were both a painful reminder of what was and a hope to a more peaceful future. She’d scribbled notes in the margins of pages for as long as she could remember–an analysis there, a definition from Alec there, a letter to a friend, her grandmother–all were intertwined in language. Her handwriting was precise at the worst and not unlike a printed sheet of newspaper at the best, and her abilities to describe events and plans were unparalleled within the rest of the scouts, meaning Levi was more than happy to appoint her to accomplish the chore.
However, it did mean that there were nights–like tonight–that she was up far past the sun’s setting, pencil cramped in hand, a cup of tea by her side that has gone cold hours ago. As she finished up her report and scrawled her name at the bottom, Petra folded the sheet of paper in half and secured it with twine, laying it on the table for Erwin to pick up the next morning since he was visiting. She sipped the rest of her tea, blew out the candle, and with lidded eyes, made her way back to her small bedroom.
It was dark, and even though she was tired beyond belief, Petra was sure she knew the path to her own bedroom.
Fairly sure.
She rustled around the room for a moment, fatigue exhaling from her quiet grunts as she attempted to cozy herself under the covers. But there was–something?–next to her leg–no, it couldn’t have been anything. Perhaps she’d left her pillows a mess before leaving two days ago. Besides, she wasn’t actively being hurt, so she supposed that whatever the problem was could wait until the next morning.
—
Just because a day was uneventful did not mean that Levi slept well. He wished it could be that way–after knowing all of his scouts were secure in their beds, titans slumbering under the safe eye of moonlight–there he would find peace. But it was not often so, and Levi found himself tossing and turning as per usual that evening.
But such trivialities shouldn’t have ever made their way into the mind of the captain, and he did his best not to entertain them. Covers pulled tight around his chest, Levi did his best to fight off any energy left inside of his busy brain and instead succumb to the sweet embrace of sleep, trying to keep the image of a certain ginger-haired girl out of his head.
Levi wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not by the time he felt a rustling near his back and a weight pull the covers off of him, but he was certainly awake by the time the ordeal in question was over. Normally, he wouldn't have hesitated to react–maybe he was asleep–but he had, and now it was silent.
Brows furrowed, Levi cautiously turned to his left, trying to figure out what had happened while making the least amount of noise and movement possible. To his complete surprise, he found ginger locks messily splayed on the pillow beside him, Petra’s chest gently rising and falling with her breaths. The moonlight cast a soft shadow across her face and for a moment…no. He had to have still been sleeping.
“…Petra?” he murmured, the faintest hint of a whisper leaving his lips. This had to have been a mistake. Petra was sensible, intelligent, and most important, focused on her work. Not him. Perhaps she’d notice in the morning and skirt off before he awoke, and he wouldn’t say a word about it. Still…sleep hung from his eyes and Levi found it difficult to make a decision. This was what he had wanted for weeks now, was it not? It would be selfish to not wake her, letting her know that she’d made a mistake. But Levi Ackerman was sometimes a selfish person.
He rolled back over, breaths steady, and tried not to think about the girl slumbering next to him, the way her warmth felt in his bed. Goddamn, his brain simmered. You’ll pay for this tomorrow.
—
Petra woke up to sunlight dusting her face, squinting her eyes as she cleared her throat. With the daylight came another exhausting day of trekking through the woods, eyes peeled for roaming titans, and–within moments of opening her eyes, Petra was sure that something was wrong. There was a weight pressed to her side, over her waist, and the morning seemed eerily calm. Slowly, as if a sudden movement could trigger a disaster, she rolled to her side, wincing from the ache in her back. A single night of good sleep would not fix the chronic pain that plagued her. And then–oh, God.
If it was a dream or a nightmare, Petra couldn’t tell which–just that she found herself face to face with none other than her captain, still fast asleep, his arm draped over her side. Petra thought he looked precious asleep, the ever-present scowl gone from his face–but she couldn’t pull herself away from the panic that enveloped her. What happened? Why was the captain in her bed? No…why was she in the captain’s bed? That was even worse. If she moved, would he wake up? Could she crawl out without him noticing? She wished she’d never begun having that silly little crush on him, knowing nothing would ever come of it.
“Petra?”
The captain’s eyes flashed open, squinting in the sunlight as she had just moments before. Frozen, there was nothing she could do except stare at him, his deep grey eyes piercing into hers. “Captain, I–”
“I didn’t think you’d still be here in the morning,” he murmured, face softening.
Lips parted in a semblance of fear, Petra glanced away from his gaze. “I–I’m so sorry, I was–” She pulled herself up with another wince, getting ready to scramble out of the–his–covers–“I was up so late last night; I just, I–” She felt the pressure of Levi’s fingers around her wrist. His grip wasn’t too tight, however, she was sure he could feel her pulse, beating fervently. And then–“You knew I was here last night?” The question seemed to surprise even her, as if she hadn’t quite pieced it together in her brain by the time it spilled out of her mouth.
“I–” Now it was the captain’s turn to flush, lips pursed. “You’d had a long day, I…I felt it would be rude to ask you to leave,” he said. Petra didn’t think he sounded genuine. But, he continued: “I was being an asshole. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Petra couldn’t focus on anything except for his hands gently tracing patterns on hers, as if he was distracted as well. “You–I’m not, um, uncomfortable,” she forced out, trying to regain her composure. “I just…oh, Levi…I don’t know what to say.” She turned her head to the wall, sucking in a deep breath. After a moment’s silence, she looked at him again, still laying on his pillow. “I should go.”
It was strange to watch his face fall in such a real way. It was not like the grief that gripped him on the battlefield as a plan went wrong, nor the annoyance with his teammates when they argued too much for his liking. No–his face was soft, eyes gentle as they fell from hers to her waist, then the covers. “You don’t have to,” he suddenly said, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I–I hope I’m not being too forward. But it’s still early. You can stay.”
“Oh…” Petra licked her lips. Was this a good idea? She turned back to him, and for the first time noticed a new kind of fear in Levi’s eyes. She felt like she understood, then–he wasn’t upset at her, or embarrassed–just afraid of losing what could have been. Slowly, the faintest of smiles spread across her face, eyes fluttering. This can’t be real. “I…are you sure?”
“Five weeks sure,” Levi admitted, his cheeks coloring.
Petra slid back down under the covers, cozying up into Levi’s open arms with a hint of a giggle on her words. “I’ve got you beat,” she said slyly, eyes fluttering up at him. “Four months,” Petra said, laughing at Levi’s surprised face. “You didn’t know, did you.”
“I…I knew,” Levi said, smirking.
“You did not,” Petra chuckled. “Knowing you…you would have made a move if you did.”
Levi gasped quietly, the blunt of her words surprising him. “I…I suppose you’re right about that.” There was a brief silence between the pair before Levi rolled over, burying his nose into Petra’s hair. “I’m glad you were stubborn enough to stay up late to finish that report.”
#rivetra#petra#levi#aot#attack on titan#petra ral#levi ackerman#fluff#hurtcomfort#tw: language#julswrites#snk#shingeki no kyojin#fanfiction#aot fanfiction#levi x petra#i don't have a taglist yet but if ur interested just comment/rb/dm me :)#thank u this was so fun to write pls show me love
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Change of Pace - Chapter 1
Pairing: Kristanna
Chapter 1 on AO3
Word Count: 3,292
Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.
Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’m trying something new here - I’m not really into writing multi-chap fics because I feel like my brain betrays me and I put it to the side and never look back. However, I’ve already managed to plan out the first 20ish chapters (and have written a ton of it), so I’m giving it a shot. This idea came to me back in September, when I was flipping through the television channels, and came across the summary for a Hallmark movie. Just from the description, I decided I wanted to write a fic based off of it. I did watch the first half of the movie and got some inspiration from that, too, though the ideas are mostly original. (If anyone’s interested the movie is called A Winter Princess). Rated T for the foreseeable future, but will eventually be M-rated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
In the two months since she had arrived at Valley Ski Resort, Princess Anna of Arendelle hadn’t stopped smiling. She greeted each day with a smile, worked with a smile, and whenever she thought about how thrilled she was to be experiencing life away from the castle and Arendelle, she smiled.
If she were being honest, she hadn’t stopped smiling since her older sister - and Queen of Arendelle - had approved her proposal of a sabbatical. She remembered the day she’d asked very clearly, as she was certain that her sister would reject her idea and she’d be stuck in Arendelle for the foreseeable future.
“Soooo,” she’d started.
“Yes?” Elsa had raised a questioning eyebrow.
“How would you say your mood is today?”
“My mood?”
“There’s something that I want to ask you, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react, so I’m trying to gauge if now is a good time or a bad time.”
Elsa had chuckled. “Anna, you can ask me whatever it is that you have to ask me.”
“Okay,” she’d breathed. “I wanted to know how you’d feel if I...went away for a while.”
“Went away? To where?”
“I was thinking of taking a sabbatical and finding work in another country - temporarily, of course. Just a few months where I could do something other than mope around the castle. I think it would be good to have some work experience under my belt, especially because your coronation is next year. I want to be able to do more than what I’ve been doing.”
Elsa had nodded. “I see. That makes...sense. Did you have something specific in mind?”
“Not yet,” she’d confessed. “I wanted to know what you thought about it before I committed to anything specific and got my hopes up.”
“There are a lot of factors to take into consideration. Your identity and your security are the first things that come to mind. But...as long as you’re back before the coronation, I really don’t see the harm in you -”
Before she could finish her sentence, Anna was throwing her arms around her sisters neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best big sister, ever!”
It was some of the best news she’d received in her life. Not that her life had been dismal prior to her arrival at Valley Ski Resort, but it was rather...boring. Not boring in the traditional sense, as she had plenty of things to do. Horseback riding in the gardens, reading every romance book she could get her hands on in the library, and practicing piano at twilight. Regardless, her days felt empty, as if something was missing. She selfishly wished for more - travel, new friends, love.
So with her sister’s approval, the arrangements were made. With the exception of the general manager of the resort, her colleagues would remain unaware of her royal status, and would refer to her by her first name rather than by any titles or formalities. She’d stay on site, in one of the luxury “cabins” that the hotel rented to guests who wanted a more home-y experience, and set off to Valley in September, vastly unprepared for a life so different from the one she was accustomed to, but ready for anything. She had to learn how to do everything on her own; from cooking to cleaning to laundry, but she adapted fairly quickly to her new, “normal” routine and fell in love with her job as the assistant event planner for the resort. Two months in, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her entire life.
This particular morning had started the same as any other. In fact, when she woke up, she had a great feeling about how the day would go. She woke up feeling well rested before her alarm went off, had extra time to put on a little makeup, and was able to stop by the café on the first floor before making it to work with plenty of time to spare.
“Good morning,” she called, upon entering her office. She dropped her bag on the floor before shimmying out of her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.
“Hey! Morning, Anna,” Holly, the administrative assistant, called back.
She glanced around and noticed that Holly was the only person there, which was rather unusual. Her boss always made it in before she did. “Jenny’s not here yet?”
“No,” Holly answered, running a hand through her chin length, raven-colored hair. “And it’s not like her to be late.”
She scooped her purse off the floor and walked over to her desk. “I know. Maybe she called out today?”
“She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts and I didn’t get an email from her.”
“Do you think Bonnie will know?”
“I’m sure she does, but she has more important things to worry about than one person calling out sick.”
“I’ll try texting her, too. I hope everything’s okay.”
“In the meantime,” Holly started, opening the top drawer of her desk and pulling out a box, “Look at what came in today!”
“Are those the invitations for the ball?”
“They are! Come look!”
Though she’d just sat down, she immediately hopped back up and ran over to Holly’s desk. She peered over her shoulder, at the silver and royal blue invitations. “Wow, those are gorgeous.”
“‘Valley Ski Resort cordially invites you to the twenty-fourth annual ball. Join us on Saturday, February sixth at seven in the evening for dinner, drinks, and dancing,’” Holly read. “Followed by the address to the hotel, of course, your extension and email for the RSVP, and the prices per head.”
“They’re perfect.”
“All you have to do now is finalize the guest list, print the name and address stickers, stick ‘em on and drop ‘em in the mailbox.”
“That’s it?” Anna teased.
“At least you don’t have to worry about hand-writing every name and address on five hundred envelopes.”
“It would give me an excuse to practice my penmanship,” Anna laughed. “My teachers always said my handwriting could go from neat to illegible in the same paper.”
“I know for a fact that your hand will be tired after sticking that many stickers to the envelopes, so don’t get too far ahead of yourself. At least the return address and stamp are already on there.”
“Less work for me,” Anna smiled, picking up the box and carrying it to her desk. “And I already have my work cut out for me.”
“Jenny is keeping you on your toes, huh?”
She sat down again, finally kicking off her snow boots and switching them for the flats she kept in her bag. “Just a little. I enjoy it though. I like keeping busy.”
“I know you haven’t been here very long, but you’re doing great,” Holly said. “Way better than any other assistant Jenny’s ever had.”
“Thank you, Holly. I really appreciate that.”
They kept up the small talk as they began their work for the day. As usual, Anna had plenty of emails to respond to and the talking helped to pass the time. A few hours into the day, the office door opened and they both turned around to see if Jenny had finally arrived for her shift. Instead, it was Bonnie, the general manager of the resort. “Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning, Bonnie,” they responded in unison.
“How’s the planning for the ball coming along?”
“Excellent,” Anna spoke up. “We received the invitations this morning. The guest list will be finalized by early next week and the invitations will be sent out by the end of next week.”
“That’s wonderful,” Bonnie smiled. “Now, I’m afraid that I have good news and bad news for you both.”
“Oh,” Holly murmured, exchanging a worrisome look with Anna.
“I’m afraid that Jenny has resigned, effective immediately,” Bonnie stated matter-of-factly. “That’s part of the bad news. The good news is for Anna - congratulations, you’ve been promoted!”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I have?”
“Of course! Sure, you’ve only been here for two months, but you’ve been shadowing Jenny the entire time, you show excellent potential, you’ve never been late...I can go on and on, but it was one of the easiest hiring decisions that I’ve had to make in my entire career.”
Anna couldn’t help but wonder if she was being promoted out of sheer desperation, or if it was because Bonnie was the only person aware of her royal status and was trying to kiss up to her. “Thank you, Bonnie. I hope that I can exceed your expectations.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble fitting into your new role. Now for the second part of the bad news - unfortunately, there won’t be enough time to hire a new event planning assistant in time for all of the upcoming events, between the Christmas season starting in three weeks, and then the ball the first week of February. I’m so sorry.”
Anna nodded slowly, trying to process everything that Bonnie had just told her. Not only had she been promoted, but now she’d have to take on the workload of two people by herself. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask,” she remarked. “I know that you’re going to do great. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies.”
Bonnie swiftly exited the office, and as soon as she was gone, Anna turned to face Holly. “What am I going to do?”
Holly stared for a moment, her mouth agape. “I...don’t know. This has never happened before.”
“I don’t think that I can do this alone! How am I supposed to do this alone?”
“Anna, I genuinely don’t know. I’m as stunned as you are. I mean, I’ll do my best to help you in any way that I can, but I only took this job because it came with a set, part-time schedule. I have a baby at home - I can’t be here for all of the events on the calendar.”
“Of course not,” Anna agreed. “That’s not fair to you or your husband or son.”
“Yeah, but this situation isn’t fair to you. Bonnie has plenty of time to find a new assistant, I bet she’s just being lazy.”
“I wonder why Jenny quit so abruptly.”
“I know! Jenny isn’t the type of person to do anything abruptly. I hope that she’s not sick or something.”
A wave of anxiety rolled through Anna’s body and she buried her face in her hands. “What am I gonna do?”
“Oh sweetie,” Holly cooed. “It’ll be alright. You’ll figure it out, I promise.”
Anna exhaled heavily and nodded.
“How about we go over everything we have to do for the rest of the season?” Holly suggested. “I know Jenny normally goes over the events on a week-by-week basis, but it may make you feel better to recall everything you’re dealing with in advance. Kind of like a quiz.”
“Okay,” she agreed. She got up from her desk and paced back and forth across the office; she often did her best thinking as she paced. The office was modest; the three desks were all lined up against the right wall, and the other walls were lined with filing cabinets, a bulletin board, and plants. Lots and lots of plants. Luckily, the plants were Holly’s responsibility, so Anna didn’t have to worry about keeping them alive - something she was sure that she’d fail at.
“So the cookie decorating is on the twenty-fourth. Do you remember the game plan for that?”
“Yes. We...I have to pick up the cookies at the bakery, bring them to the conference room - which I’ll try to set up in advance - and then sell the cookies until the event is over.”
“Do you remember how much each cookie costs?”
“Three dollars.”
Deciding to distract herself as she and Holly talked, she started to reorganize the bulletin board. A couple of the fliers were outdated, and they could use the extra room for the upcoming events.
“Take down the pictures with Jenny in them while you’re at it,” Holly replied. “Alright, what’s next?”
She began to collect the many photos of Jenny that had been posted onto the board. A few of them included her, from the events that they had worked on together. It was almost bittersweet to take them down; Jenny was her boss and mentor. They spent forty hours a week together for two months straight, and Jenny had taught her everything that she knew. “Um, that’s the last event that this office has planned for the month and December is maxed out.”
“Well, what events do we have in December?”
“So many,” Anna sighed, stacking the photos neatly into a pile. “Santa will be here every night in the lobby. A reindeer petting zoo will be set up outside. A few movie nights and Christmas caroling. On weekends there will be sleigh rides through the woods and hot beverage stands outside. Am I forgetting something?”
“There’s also going to be a story time and cookie decorating with Santa event on Christmas Eve,” Holly pointed out. “All of the kids will be wearing their pajamas.”
“Okay.”
“But other than that, that’s it.”
“Thank god,” Anna breathed, finally collapsing in her office chair and tossing the pile of pictures onto her desk.
“I’m actually really excited for the story time with Santa.”
“Are you bringing your son to that one?”
Holly nodded. “He’ll only be eight months old, but why not? It’ll be adorable.”
“I can’t wait to actually see him in person,” Anna smiled. “Now, is there anything that we have to do on Christmas Day or New Years Eve or Day?”
“No, not us. Culinary is going to have buffets - like the one they’re having for Thanksgiving - and then the hotel puts out extra televisions and passes out champagne for New Years. We actually have off on those days.”
“Really? I mean, Christmas Day makes sense, but New Years? That’s a little unexpected.”
“Well, we have put most of our energy into planning the ball, and there wouldn’t be enough time to throw three huge parties in a month. So, the holidays are ours.”
“I’m so thankful for the person who made that decision,” Anna laughed. “I may wind up here on those days, anyway, though.”
Holly clicked her tongue. “Don’t do that - enjoy your extra days off.”
“It’s not like I have anywhere better to be,” she shrugged.
“I’d offer for you to come over on Christmas, but I’ll be with my in-laws in the morning, and my parents at night. Baby’s first Christmas, and all.”
“Oh, no I wasn’t trying to invite myself or get you to pity me.”
“I know,” Holly nodded. “I just feel bad that you’ll be all alone.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll call my sister, like I always do when I have time off, and then I’ll come here and see what’s going on.”
“Maybe by then you’ll have a boyfriend and he’ll invite you to spend Christmas with him,” Holly teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
Anna felt her cheeks warm up at the thought. “Christmas is six weeks from today and I think we both know that that’s not going to happen. I’ve been here for two months and the dates I’ve been on haven’t been great.”
“I don’t think you’ve been looking in the right places.”
She rolled her eyes. “To be fair, I came here to work.”
“And now you have enough work for two people,” Holly reminded her. “You should try to have some fun in your free time.”
“I do have fun,” she remarked defensively.
“Oh yeah? Tell me what you do for fun.”
“I just got a Netflix account, so I’ve been trying to catch up on all of the shows that I’ve missed over the years.”
Holly cocked her head. “That’s not fun, that’s pathetic. Also - watch Grey’s Anatomy.”
“I’ll add it to my list. And I don’t think that you should judge what I do in my free time when you spend your free time tending to your infant.”
“Exactly! I don’t have any free time. I’m trying to live vicariously through you.”
“Don’t do that,” Anna laughed. “You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“What if we set you up on Tinder? Or Bumble?”
“Holly -”
“Ooh, I could set you up on a blind date! My husband works in the high school and he has a ton of young, single coworkers.”
“How about we stop talking about my dating life and finish talking about the rest of the events that are coming up?”
“Fine,” Holly groaned, looking down at the calendar. “January is pretty empty. A few movie nights scattered around, and two make-your-own hot chocolate nights.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Yeah, the kids get a kick of being able to choose their own toppings and stuff.”
“Gotcha,” Anna nodded.
“And then the rest of our energy goes to the ball. January is crunch time. Making sure that everyone RSVP’d, making sure the menu is finalized, reaching out to the DJ, et cetera. It’s going to be a lot.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.”
“That’s the right attitude! Now for February - obviously, the ball is the first thing that month. There’s going to be a few events for Valentine’s Day - card and cookie decorating and a carnation sale.”
“Carnations? Why not roses?”
“Carnations are the flower of love,” Holly answered. “And they’re cheaper than roses.”
“Yeah, but roses are way more popular,” Anna pointed out. “Maybe we should consider ordering roses this year.”
“I’ll look into it,” Holly said, writing it down on her notepad. “Now for March. Easter is the first weekend in April, so the Easter Bunny will be in the lobby for the month. There will be egg hunts and egg decorating - basically, we’ll have eggs coming out of our ears - in the week leading up to the holiday.”
“Is that it?”
“Well, we hadn’t got that far for this upcoming year, but usually we throw in some cookie decorating, too.”
“Okay, that’s manageable,” Anna commented.
Holly frowned. “And then I believe we’re losing you, after that.”
“Yeah, I’m going home in April,” Anna sighed. “We can plan a few more events for that month, though. I won’t be leaving until late April.”
Holly smiled. “So I get a little more time with you than I thought.”
“Hopefully Bonnie will find her replacements by then. Or else you’ll be doing the work of three people.”
“Don’t remind me,” Holly groaned. “I don’t want to think of that as being a possibility.”
She wiggled the mouse of her computer and it turned back on. She signed onto her email, hoping to see an explanation from Jenny. Instead, she found an email from the manager of the bakery. She spun around to face her coworker. “Liz just emailed me and said that they were able to specially order the cookie kits that Jenny requested.”
“Finally, some good news today,” Holly remarked. “Not that the news of you being promoted was bad. But it was...a lot.”
“Tell me about it,” Anna laughed.
Holly’s phone rang, then, interrupting their conversation. “Hold on just a sec,” she started, before picking it up. “Hello, you’ve reached the event planning office, this is Holly speaking.”
Anna turned back to her computer and scrolled through her inbox, trying not to eavesdrop on Holly’s conversation.
“Oh, hi Bonnie! How can I help you?”
Bonnie? She glanced back at her coworker, who had a puzzled look on her face.
“I’m sorry...what? Are you kidding?...Okay, we’ll be right down,” Holly said, slamming the receiver down and standing up. “Come on, Anna, we have to go.”
“Wait, what happened? Where are we going?”
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so now that its been over a year since ive graduated high school id like to tell you all a story that ive been thinking about a lot recently. its a bit long, but i promise its worth it.
this post gets political, fair warning
for context: i went to high school in a very upper middle class, very white town. everyone i talk about in this story is white.
trigger warning: mentions of the german political administration during ww2, their tactics, and extreme right politics
junior year i took ap us history. the class itself was absolutely fantastic, definitely one of the best i took in high school. but we had Quite the assortment of kids...
my high school had this dumb thing called the university program. essentially you applied in 8th grade and it was advertised as this Special Accelerated Learning Program. spoiler alert: it was pretty stupid, all we did was take a certain number of ap classes per year and do x amount of community service. everyone hated it but we all stuck it out cause you got a chord at graduation. so if you were in the university program, you started only being in class with like a variation of the same 75 people. ap us history was one of those classes.
in our class we had quite the mix: 98% of us were members of national honor society but in addition we had the girl who would go on to be the salutatorian, this one guy who knew more about bitcoin than anyone should, two football players who were actually not assholes, and this really passionately german kid.
now this german kid, were going to call him s. he was...interesting. he was very very smart (everyone thought he was going to be valedictorian but he wasn't) but he took his ethnicity very seriously. and when i say ethnicity im referring to that period of german history from 1939-1945. s knew far too much about german politics, esp ww2 german politics (if youre picking up what im putting down there) and he often went as far as to “correct” our various teachers whenever germany came up and talk about very radical right ideas. but our apush teacher was a no-nonsense kinda lady and had no problem telling him “s youre wrong” which all of us absolutely Loved.
the other person in our story is one of the not asshole football players. we’ll call him d. he was what you Wished football players were like, nice, funny, almost like a class clown, would no doubt stand up for anyone getting shit talked, talked to everyone in class no matter what their “group” was and he was really smart, but not in an in your face kinda way like s was.
so anyway. in apush we would periodically have these Round Table Debates, where there were 4 groups: 1 group of jurors who would ask questions and then three teams that were defending their own stance on whatever historical argument we were having. our teacher would sit in the back corner and take shorthand notes on what we were saying, essentially leaving the entire discussion up to us except to tell us when it was time to move on to the next group. we all Loved round table debates because we were all an intelligent group and ended up having really deep and insightful debates and also whichever team won got 5 points of extra credit as did the juror who asked the best questions. about halfway through the year, we had a debate on what to do with the philippines after world war 2 (because they were technically a us colony at that time)
i dont remember what the three different stances were that we were arguing, but i do remember that d was one of the jurors and had asked one of the teams a question. s happened to be on this team and he answered the question. they went back and forth for awhile and things started to get Pretty Heated. we were all watching them intently, not really understanding a good half of what was being said because s had a way of talking in complicated circles that took at least 5 braincells minimum to understand, and all of us being crazy ap students, only had about 2 brain cells each.
but then, s said something in his usual backwards fashion, and d paused dramatically, staring at s intently and all of us were collectively like o shit. i have never heard a classroom that quiet, you could hear a literal pin drop. we were all waiting for 1. d to decipher what s had just said and 2. see what he was going to say in return.
several long moments passed. d leaned forwards in his seat, so far that it looked like he was going to tip the desk over, and, looking completely and utterly baffled, opened his mouth and said:
“are you defending e t h n i c c l e a n s i n g?”
the entire classroom e r u p t e d. cause holy shit, we all knew that s had some, to put it very simply, problematic conservative viewpoints that linked back to ww2 administration germany, but no one had ever called him out on it before (aside from our teacher telling him to be quiet during her lectures). and also this was supposed to be a history role play debate of sorts, the whole point of it was to take on a viewpoint that might not be your own and argue it to the best of your ability. but d knew and everyone else in the class knew that ethnic cleansing was not something that s was pretending to defend for the sake of the debate (public school might be wild but we never touched that topic in a debate setting because our teacher knew that it would make people uncomfortable to argue in favor of), it wasn't even in the prompt sheet, it was something that he had come up with entirely on his own.
so when s started spewing random nonsense as an attempt to backtrack and take back what he had just said, d started shouting back at him about how it was wrong and was halfway out of his seat, fists clenched, ready to literally fight s (if you recall, d was a football/baseball/wrestling guy, at least 6 feet tall, and as far as high school guys go, pretty jacked. he was Scary when he was mad)
it was at this exact moment that our teacher spoke up (which she n e v e r did during debates). she looked pretty shocked at the whole turn of events (as in, s defending ethnic cleansing, not d almost decking him) (and nothing ever phased her) and said, as calmly as she could muster, “alright. lets move on to the next question.”
we were all 16/17 year olds. we couldn't vote yet, but we still had very strong opinions. and d knew the implications of s’s opinions, knew that they were hurtful to other people, promoted the hurting of other people, and called him out on it. publicly. in front of our history class, filled with his friends and peers, our teacher, and some of the smartest kids in our grade.
after that day, s never suggested radical right ideas in class again, and if anyone else had similar ideas, they kept them to themselves. and from that point on d had my complete and utter respect.
now, im not telling you to almost beat up your classmate in class in front of your teacher and risk suspension, but if someone you know has a viewpoint (especially a young person) that is hurtful or promotes hate/harm to a group of people, dont be afraid to try and educate them. we might be young and the older generations might brush us off, but in a few years its going to be this generation pulling most of the weight in polls. educate your ignorant friends, family members, classmates etc. every little bit helps. and education is the only way that we will be able to promote change. this is not a battle that we are going to win overnight, but that doesnt mean we should ignore it if it doesnt affect us.
(oh and yes, d totally got 5 extra credit points from that debate)
((if this post offends anyone or is wrong in any way let me know and ill take it down or edit it))
#black lives matter#dont you even think about stopping the fight#blm#tw nazis#tw ethnic cleansing#educate people!!
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“Autopsy of Jane Doe”[ IFC MIDNIGHT, 2016] [Rated R]
(Review & My Parallel Film Theory)
(NSFW CONTENT AND POTENTIAL SPOILERS)
(Written by Stella, edited by Jacob J.)
No matter the genre, the independent film industry holds many hidden gems within it. Studio IFC has been in the game for close to twenty years now, but it wasn’t until 2010 that it unveiled its plans for their “Midnight” collection and genre.
“Many of our most successful VOD titles are those that might fall under the Midnight label – not just films that are straight up horror, erotic arthouse, or genre films, but also ones that shock audiences, push boundaries, and stir up controversy – so officially creating IFC Midnight was the logical next step,” President of IFC Entertainment Jonathan Sehring in a statement. (SOURCE: indiewire.com // HERE)
But the focus in this article will be solely on the horror genre, specifically the 2016 supernatural/horror/thriller standout The Autopsy of Jane Doe. My review, thoughts, and analysis will include some changes I would have made to change the story itself. Now, full disclaimer, my changes and reimagining will not affect my rating on the film overall, per se.
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[REVIEW]
One thing that was honestly a surprise (albeit a pleasant one) was how small the cast actually was. Whilst there are ten actors and actresses listed on the IMDb page, the film focuses on only five of them, eventually whittling the action down to three. My honest thought? “With such a small amount of people only being focused on, this will get boring quickly.” But boy, I was 100% wrong in that assumption. If ANYTHING, it only intensified every moment on, Add in dramatic references, film scoring, and film aesthetics? It was just icing on the creep cake.
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Let’s begin with the cast and breakdown of the story:
Brian Cox and Emile Hersch as father-son coroner duo Tommy and Austin Tilden
Ophelia Lovibond as Emma, Austin’s girlfriend
Olwen Kelly as Jane Doe
Michael McElhatton as Sheriff Burke (an albeit brief focus)
Left to right: Austin, Emma and Tommy (Screencap, Autopsy of Jane Doe, 2016)
~~~~~~
From the beginning of the film, you are immediately immersed within a brutal crime scene. It seems fairly straightforward in what appears to be a triple homicide. I was taken by (delighted) surprise that it kicked off at such a fast pace, so much so that I physically felt that I’d lost my footing (while sitting). But as the police and forensic team further search the home for evidence, they wind up finding a pristinely preserved and very nude corpse, one only partially covered in dirt down in the basement. This new revelation doesn’t fit what they’ve pinned down to be a homicide.
Enter a quieter and uneventful small town setting. Here we are introduced to Austin and Tommy Tilden, running a very small coroner business out of the basement of their home (blasting rock and roll from the radio whilst they do their job—a very cool touch.) Austin comes off as a young adult who doesn’t want to be stuck in this small town, let alone in this profession. He feels bad since father Tommy is otherwise alone and widowed.
The Tilden home/business (Screencap, Autopsy of Jane Doe, 2016)
~~~~
Austin’s girlfriend Emma comes in to pick him up after his shift for a date they had planned. (This part plays into my reimagining later.) Emma sneaks up to scare Austin, then begs and pleads with him to let her see a dead body and what they do for a living. Austin flat out refuses, but then his dad allows Emma to pick one to view. Tommy also explains that they keep bells around the ankles of some corpses (a practice with origins in an old wives’ tale: if the person isn’t dead, the bell will jingle). Austin gets back at Emma by ringing the bell on one of the bodies to scare her, and she threatens that he “won’t be getting laid.” (Emma comes off as a very strong type—and not in a flattering chemistry way)
Just as they’re about to leave for their date, Sheriff Burke comes in with an urgent request: they have 24hrs to perform the autopsy of the Jane Doe found in the opening scene. Austin decides that, with the urgency and his guilt, to stay behind and assist, asking Emma to come back later.
As they perform what they thought would be just another autopsy to find clues as to how or why Jane Doe met her end, things get very eerie and strange. These events elicit goosebumps: from a shift in music to a creepily upbeat version of the McGuire Sisters’ 1954 song “Let the Sunshine In,” to an awful storm coming in seemingly out of nowhere, knocking a tree into the cellar exit, trapping the Tildens inside. The family cat gets killed. The bodies in the morgue awaken. The power goes out. These usually run-of-the-mill supernatural tropes are 100 times more dramatic with the focus only on the two men.
While they examine Jane layer by layer, her fingerprints are nowhere to be found in their system, and her trauma and, injuries in total, do not seem to match up with the crime.
Peat soil from “up northeast” found under her fingernails
No outward visible signs of marking or bruising
Broken wrists and ankles
Ripped out tongue
Mutilated genitalia
Missing tooth (which was force fed to her in a cloth with a ritualistic sigil in it)
Flower with paralyzing properties (and not native to the area) in her stomach
Horribly burned lungs and internal organs covered in scar tissue.
A very much active brain
Roman numerals and symbols carved into her skin
Markings on the cloth alluding to Leviticus 20:27 (which condemns witches) and the year 1693 (a reference to the Salem Witch Trials)
Austin and Tommy do not come out of this unscathed—or alive, for that matter. While trying to escape in the elevator when being chased by one of the belled-up corpses, Tommy hacks away at it in the dark. But, once the power comes back on, it is revealed to be Emma. Tommy gets attacked by unseen forces (since he is the one primarily performing the exam). They finally reveal that Jane Doe was likely thought to be a witch during the Trials, but the people who performed the ritual were horribly wrong—and ended up turning her into the very thing they sought to destroy. Tommy pleads with the witch to take him as long as she leaves Austin alone, and all of her horrific injuries get transferred to the elder Tilden, leaving Austin to put his father out of misery. Austin, however, gets spooked by a hallucination (provided by Jane) of his dead father on the stairs leading up to the exit. He falls and snaps his neck.
The next day, Jane Doe is in pristine form on the exam table. The Sheriff cannot understand what could have happened since he’d known the Tilden’s for so long, and decides to send Jane off to the next county. The ending features Jane being transferred into the van, a creepily upbeat song playing once again.
All in all, if I were nitpicking, the only real complaint I’d have is that some of the suspenseful moments were drawn out a few seconds too long. On top of that, they shouldn��t have killed off the family cat, Stanley. That said, if you’re into supernatural thrillers or just looking for a film for date night, this would certainly be one to consider.
(7/10 stabs) 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪
(Reimagining AHEAD)
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Now after watching the film, I got to thinking. This is my reimagining of sorts, and a theory that they could have used to cash in on a continuation:
Let us rewind a little bit. Remember Emma? Think back to this scene specifically:
youtube
(I do NOT own the rights to this clip, simply sharing for viewing to set the scene)
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In this parallel theory there are a few points of change that come to mind initially:
1. Tommy has a more stubborn personality, absolutely and flat out refusing to let Emma see the cadavers
As he (Tommy) shoos Emma out, that is when the Sheriff urgently brings in Jane Doe. Austin convinces his father to let Emma stick around. Tommy then has the attitude of, “If she wants to see a dead body we’ll let her see the entire process.”
Jane’s body gets taken into the Tilden’s business. (Screencap, Autopsy of Jane Doe, 2016)
Whilst the Tilden’s are performing the examination, Emma begins to get bored (before shit gets weird and they essentially awaken Jane’s warnings)
2. When things slowly proceed to get horrific, the further that they get into things, Emma touches the ritual cloth that was used to force-feed Jane her molar, then Austin scolds her for touching evidence.
Progressively after touching the ritual cloth, Emma begins to get very sick. This not only adds an anxiety-inducing level of conflict on top of having to deal with Jane Doe’s unfolding evil, but also provides a deeper layer to the film.
Austin and Tommy examine the ritual cloth. (Screencap, Autopsy of Jane Doe, 2016)
The more that they poke, prod, and try to fight Jane, the worse Emma’s condition gets. Austin has to drag her along whilst also trying to protect his father from the witch’s attacks.
3. You get to the point of looming dread when it becomes clear that Austin cannot save his father, and seemingly Emma as well. (Also fuck it that the cat stays alive and alerts Austin of danger, cause why not?)
After Tommy begs Austin to kill him once all of Jane’s injuries transfer to the elder Tilden (VIEW HERE); Emma’s eyes become clouded like Jane’s.
While Austin tries everything that he can to keep Emma comfortable, he tries to perform a ritual himself to destroy the evil brought in.
4. For Austin’s final attempt, he burns Jane in the incinerator.
Jane Doe is far from done causing harm and suffering. When she is burned, Emma takes her place. Seemingly, her magic makes the sheriff believe that Emma was the one that was brought in.
Tommy’s death is made look like a suicide.
Since the Tildens only had 24 hours to solve this case, the Sheriff understands that Austin couldn’t get the job done due to the loss of his father. But rules are rules, and he’s forced to transfer Jane Doe’s (now Emma’s) cadaver to the next county.
While she’s being taken out and Austin is being asked protocol police questions, the eerie song plays on the radio.
5. Austin knows that he has to hunt Emma’s cursed body into the next county. (And takes the cat with him, because the cat didn’t need to die.)
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Who would LOVE to see a sequel like this?!
#film#film theory#film thoughts#autopsy of jane doe#2016#ifc#ifc midnight#horror#horror film#horror movies#horror reads#horror review#conspiracy theory#film review#movie review#review blog#review#creepy#spooky#highly reccomend#i reccomend it#independant film#indie#indie films#female blogger#blogger#new blogger#new blog#essay#horror aesthetic
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Making a Reward System
So people with ADHD (and probably other neurodivergent peeps) can really benefit by making some sort of reward system for themselves, because it provides some structure and positive reinforcement.... things that I very much need.
I had a reward system that worked really well for me in grad school, but now that I’m graduated it needs some tweaking. (I’m going to start off saying that my reward system is complicated by design. why? because it can hold my interest and attention better that way.)
1. Decide what kind of tasks your reward system will reward.
Since my focus is a combo of figuring out my professional life, taking care of my mental health, and using this time to build up a sense of self that exists outside of being employed/ in school. I divided my tasks into those three categories.
2. Figure out something that would actually motivate you
Personally, I am not very motivated by money, so all those systems that are about putting $ in a jar just don’t work for me. I AM motivated by tiny, inexpensive gifts. So I decided to go with a prize box, because damn, that motivated me in 3rd grade and it still does.
3. Assign value to your tasks/ rewards.
This is where my personal system gets a little complicated. I use both star stickers and pebbles as a way of valuing my tasks.
So small tasks = 1 star sticker (that’s stuff like making my bed, meditating, reading for 20 minutes. Tasks that I... have trouble doing, but dont actually require that much energy.
big tasks= 1 pebble (big tasks are the things on my to-do list that require a lot of time/energy/focus. like applying to jobs, submitting to a magazine, or working on content for the podcast I want to launch.)
3 star stickers= 1 pebble because that made sense to me.
Objects in the reward box have varying “pebble prices” something like buying a new video game might be worth 10-15 pebbles, but something smaller like new embroidery thread or some washi tape might be worth 1-5 pebbles.
4. Establish guidelines for your rewards.
This is possibly the most important step. The ADHD brain is more likely to give attention to something if it’s interesting, novel, or urgent. Since we’re trying to do positive reinforcement, the things in the prize box should be either interesting or novel. For me, that means hobby related prizes. Like, frankly I dont give a fuck about a tube of bubbles. Is it fun for five minutes? yes. Will the thought of a bubble wand make me sit down and actually meditate like my therapist keeps telling me to? no. BUT fancy new embroidery thread that’s golden?? I will think about that day in and day out. Fun new galaxy stickers for my bullet journal?? I’m so on it. New pens? I’m dead. BUT my guidelines are as followed: prize box items should encourage a hobby, NOT limit accessibility to it. So can fancy new embroidery thread go into the prize box? yes. Will my embroidery hoops or needles go into the prize box? no. because I need those things to do my hobby, but I dont need shiny thread. shiny thread is a a treat. Likewise, I’m never going to put “1 hour of animal crossing” into my prizebox, b/c then I’ll start feeling like I need to earn time to relax (something I often already feel and need to deconstruct). But I might put in some codes to custom designs in my prize box, because those can embellish the game, but wont stop me from playing it.
5. Set up a tracking zone.
Mine is on the wall behind my desk, but if you have a white board area it’d make sense to set this up next to that & it’s made up of four components:
1. Star Tracker Sheets: there are two sheets made out of grid-lined paper. one for mental health tasks and one for personal fulfillment tasks. There’s space to each tasks to place a star sticker.
2. To-Do List Area: this is made from chalk & strips of tape with writing on them. Essentially I created a list of tasks I do for various “work” projects (applying to jobs, working on the podcast, submitting my writing to journals). At the start of my work day, I decide which project I want to work on & move the corresponding bit of tape into the box labeled “today’s focus.” When it’s done, I can use the chalk to check it off & give myself a pebble.
3. Pebble Box: I divided an old phone box into three areas: “in progress” pebbles (which are the ones that haven’t been awarded yet), a sticker area, where the sheets are cut into three sticker groupings to make tracking easier, and a “earned pebbles” area where I can put the pebbles that I’ve earned from doing a pebble task, or b/c I did three star-sticker tasks.
4. The Prize Box: I put this somewhere that’s somewhat out of the way, but where I can see it, so that I’m constantly thinking about the fancy embroidery thread & doing tasks so that I can get it.
6. Start using your system!
Tweak it as you go along & figure out comes naturally & what doesn’t work for you. & remember that sometimes people with ADHD will stop seeing something if it’s in one place for too long. If you find that this is a useful system, but after a month you start to forget that it exists, then set an alarm for the first of each month & change it up visibly or move it to a different location.
Here’s what mine looks like!
The full view:
Close up on the board to show the sticker sheet vs. pebble task trackers
Here’s the pebble box & stickers. The sticker sheets are cut into three stickers/sheet, since in my system three stickers equal a pebble. so when I finish a sheet, I can clearly see that I need to move a pebble
Prize box! It’s mostly fabric, since that’s what I have on hand right now. When I set up my system for the first time earlier this year, I went out & bought like $10-$20 on small things to fill it. my rule was no more than $2 per item. I think I stuck to it except for the space fabric which was $4. Tea, coffee add-ins, sheet masks, bath bombs, sheet music (if you play an instrument), earring hooks, beads, a plant pot, vouchers for things you can do in video games are all good too. I often put the next book that I want to read in my prize box, so it feels like an event when I finish a book and pick up a new one. Personally, I avoid putting any food/snacks in my prize box, because I find the idea of earning snacks to create some issues in how I think about my relationship to food. So I just avoid it entirely.
#adhd#adhd system#adhd task management#reward systems#adhd schedule#adhd hack#life hack#studyblr#studyblr hack
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The Derivative Chapter 13: I Know
Chapter 1 <- Chapter 12
“Well I didn’t exactly have a lot of options” I argued, hopping out of the car.
“Maybe not but that sounds like an odd one for a snack” Alan stated getting out and grabbing the grocery bag in the back seat.
“Ugh you sound like my mother” I grumbled as we headed toward the house.
“Greetings friends” we turned at the call to see Larry walking up the drive.
“Oh Larry what brings you here?” Alan greeted.
“Well I was looking for Charles with the intention of spurring him into action on some of the math he promised me” the man explained.
“Hey Larry you haven’t heard anything about my acceptance at CalSci yet have you?” I asked as we headed to the front door.
“I’m afraid not but rest assured me and your uncle are keeping our ears to the metaphorical ground for any word from the admission board” Larry replied.
I let off groan “I hate waiting”
“Don’t worry, I'm sure they’ll accept you. You’re a great student” Alan assured me.
“Well who knows I mean the school does get similar applications from young gifted applicants each year so” the physicist ended his statement with a shrug.
I let out a breath still very anxious about the whole thing “thank you for that Larry” Gramps muttered with an annoyed edge as he opened the front door. “Hey Charlie”
We headed into the house to see Charlie sitting at the table looking over some papers with a woman. “Hey, this is officer Morris of the California Highway patrol” the professor introduced the woman who smiled. Then he gestured to us “this is my father, my niece, and Dr. Fleinhardt”
“Oh, please don’t tell me you got another speeding ticket?” Alan joked.
“Actually your son’s helping me with an accident investigation” Officer Morris explained rising from her seat to shake my grandfather’s hand and then Larry’s, then mine “we’re trying to figure out what caused it.”
“I didn’t know you were consulting for the CHP. Are you?” Alan inquired.
“Don’s case” Charlie clarified.
“Oh so this is why he ditched me here instead of taking me to the movies on his day off like he promised” I spoke with a slight edging looking at the documents laid out on the table.
“Yeah? What sort of accident involved the FBI?” Larry questioned.
“Prison bus crash” Morris informed.
“The one I saw on the news.” Gramps inferred. “The bus with the escaped convicts? Don is working on that, huh?” Alan muttered the last bit as he sat down the grocery bag.
“Yeah. Why?” Charlie questioned most likely sensing the same change in Alan’s demeanor as I had.
“Oh nothing” Alan brushed the matter off as Larry took a seat at the table “it’s just that your brother was working on fugitive recovery once for a while, uh, anyway” he shook his head.
“Appears to be basic Newtonian mechanics” Larry observed “the stuff of first-year engineering students. Now why are these elementary equations so captured your imagination?”
“Well, the confluence of so many unrelated factors coming together at a given point in time” Charlie explained “it’s actually quite a fascinating approach to Bayesian inference as applied to the analysis of time series data.”
“Yeah well as far as I know anytime an accident happens it’s because somebody made a mistake” Alan declared. “Am I right?”
“Actually most car crashes happen because of one overestimating their own ability, to make a turn or get through a light. Willing choices that’s why the common public word accident is a misnomer and reports call them crashes.” I informed absently then paused as all the adults’ eyes shifted to me “I read it once” I shrugged.
“This coming from the girl who doesn’t even have a license” Alan pointed out and I shot him a glare.
“Either way that’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Morris spoke up “whether there was a mistake and what it was”
“The answer’s not that simple” Charlie voiced as Alan pulled out his sandwich and went to open a beer I reached around him to grab my sandwich from the bag. “I mean, coincidences are a mathematical reality. Statistically unlikely events can and often do occur. Just look at the genesis of our planet.”
“Well now, I agree that the factors that brought about life on earth were statistically unlikely” Larry mused “but given the vastness of the cosmos, the limitless possibilities for matter and energy. I’m with Einstein on this. There are no accidents.”
____________
“I can understand the fascination of kinematic equations when working alongside an attractive female police officer” Larry voiced as we watched Charlie set up his little reenactment. “But, all the lawn equipment?”
“What you said about the confluence of the cosmos triggered a thought” Charlie explained “Abby you’re sitting in the road” he muttered shoeing me away so he could set down a skateboard. I scooted over to the side of the path.
“Ah, note to self: Never talk quantum theory again.” Larry voiced.
“The initial velocity of the bus barely exceeds that of the flatbed.” Charlie elaborated “the gap between them closing slowly, approximately two feet per second.” he moved the wheel barrel up.
“And then along comes the skateboard?” Larry questioned.
“That’s right, the pick up truck” Uncle C confirmed “the pick up truck pulls along the right side of the bus” he demonstrated with the skateboard’s movement. “Its velocity is 13 miles per hour greater than that of the bus. Now at this point the gap between the bus and the flatbed truck is at least..” he paused reaching for the paper in the wheelbarrow.
“84 feet” I supplied having seen the paper.
“Okay, that’s ample enough room for the pickup to safely maneuver in front of the bus” Larry declared.
“However” Charlie objected, continuing to manipulate the lawn equipment “the gap suddenly closed. The pickup veers in front of the bus forcing the bus to maneuver and hit the guardrail which causes it to torque and flip onto its side” I tilted my head as Charlie turned the wheelbarrow over.
“How did that gap close so quickly between the bus and the flatbed?” Larry inquired.
“Acceleration or deceleration” I voiced.
“Precisely.” Charlie nodded “two possibilities. One, the bus greatly increased its velocity.”
“No no no” Larry dissuaded that idea “given the mass of the bus, that’s extremely unlikely.”
I craned my neck as I saw Don’s car pulling up to the house. “Or two, the flatbed truck reduced its speed at the critical moment, causing the pickup to veer in front of the bus.”
“That’s it” Larry determined with the snap of his fingers “the flatbed slowed down”
“That’s right,” Charlie agreed.
“And that doesn’t mean anything good” I muttered letting out a breath.
“It would also mean” Larry mused.
“A Markov chain” Charlie finished the thought.
“Exactly” Larry muttered.
“Gentlemen and lady” Don greeted us as he walked up “what’s all this?” he looked over the reenactment.
“Just trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense” Charlie explained.
“Thought that’s what you do best,” Don sighed. “What, uh, what’s the problem?”
“Well, apparently, that seed spreader” Larry voiced.
Don gave a confused look and Charlie quickly jumped in “t-the flatbed truck”
“What- what about it?” Don inquired.
“The crash wasn’t an accident” Charlie informed. “Don, it was staged.”
“You’re sure?” Don pressed.
“Mathematically certain” I declared Don shot me a look “it’s lawn equipment and simple math please don’t lecture me on not helping”
Don sighed “fine later” he grumbled then turned to Charlie “think you can work up a model to show at the office?”
“That’s an easy matter of imputing these findings into a computer simulation” Charlie explained.
“Maybe the cute CHP lady officer can help you” I teased my uncle.
“Cute CHP lady officer?” Don questioned turning to his brother who shot me an annoyed look.
“It’s not like that,” Charlie objected.
“Sure Charles, sure” Larry murmured and we all shared a laugh at the mathematician's expense.
________________
3rd POV.
“All these different events and factors from the initial velocity of the bus to its final torque” Charlie explained to Don and Agent Cooper “all of these create what’s called a Markov Chain.”
“What kind of Chain?” Cooper questioned.
“Markov. A sequence of random values where the probabilities at any given time depend on the values at a previous time.” Charlie attempted to elaborate “the controlling factor in a Markov chain is called the transitional probability. Now in this case the bus reaches a certain point in the road just as the truck blocks the lane, just as the pickup cuts off the bus.” the professor gestured to his diagram.
“Which tells you it wasn't an accident?” Don asked with minor confusion.
“Bayesian statistics and the Chapman-Kolmogorov equation tell me that.” Charlie clarified.
“Are you sure you’re his brother?” Billy joked to Don.
“Yeah, you think he’s freaky smart you should meet my kid” Don replied off handedly focusing on Charlie and missing the double take Cooper gave him.
“If the flatbed truck had maintained its initial velocity, well then the pickup should have enough space to roam freely past the bus safely.” Charlie continued “but it didn’t.” he pressed a button going to the next image “the truck slowed down just as the right moment just as the pickup timed its move, forcing the bus to veer violently and overturn.”
“So the pickup driver and the flatbed guy are in on it,” Don deduced.
“Only the gardener’s missing” Cooper muttered.
“Let’s go find that truck driver” Don declared getting up and Billy following after him. “Good job Charlie thanks”
Don and Cooper exited the meeting room and headed through the bullpen. “So uh that comment about you having a kid that serious?” Billy asked as they paused by Don’s desk so he could grab his jacket.
Don let off a breath, his brain somehow just realizing that his former partner would have no way of knowing about Abby appearing in Don’s life a little less than a year ago. “Uh yeah um kind of a long story but uh you remember that girl from college I mentioned Janice Calvin?” Don asked as they headed toward the elevator.
“Yeah the one left you a note and went back home?” Cooper recalled.
“Yeah, well, turns out she was pregnant. And what will be a year ago soon I got this knock on my door from a social worker telling me she died and left a kid behind. And my name’s on the birth certificate” Don explained.
Cooper let off a breath “that’s crazy man.”
“You’re telling me” Don muttered as they entered the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. “Still it’s been good having her in my life you know? Her name’s Abby and she just tested out of highschool as a sophomore applied to college for next semester”
“Really?” Cooper nodded then a slight smirk came to his features “so out of all these geniuses in your family how the heck did you end up like this?”
“Ah” Don scoffed, giving his friend a shove as the doors opened and they headed out chuckling.
__________
Abby POV.
“Why am I here?” I muttered in annoyance.
“Because I find this interesting,” Alan whispered back.
“That explains why you’re here, not why I am” I grumbled turning the page of my book.
“Well, if you’d quiet down you might just learn something” Alan suggested. I sighed and looked up at Uncle Charlie who was standing in front of a black baord that read “Math for Non-Mathematicians''
“Most people believe that they can trust their instincts” Uncle C explained “however, math suggests that our instincts aren’t always correct” he bent down and picked up a couple big white boards and big red X’s off the ground. “We’re gonna play a little game.” he declared, setting out the white cards on stands “I want you all to pretend that we’re on a game show, and I’m your cheesy game show host. And behind one of these cards is a brand new automobile.” he added a joking deepness to his voice at that last line that elicited some laughs from the audience of the class “and behind the other two are goats. Yeah, goats.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to my story.”I’m going to need a volunteer” I glanced up making sure my uncle wasn’t thinking of choosing me as a couple hands went up “come on, more of you than that. Come on.” he encouraged, receiving a couple laughs in response “Julie” he finally selected. “Why don’t you pick one of these cards? Remembering of course the object is to win the car, not the goat.”
“I’ll take the one in the middle” Julie chose.
“She takes the middle card” Charlie declared, sticking an X to the card. “And what are the chances that that card is the winning card?”
“One in three” Julie answered.
“Three choices, one car. Right?” Charlie clarified “one in three, it’s simple enough, right? Now, here’s where the game’s gonna take a turn. I’m going to reveal to you one of the cards that you did not choose” he reached to the card on the right and flipped it around to reveal a goat “So, we have two cards yet to be revealed. Now, knowing what you know, do you want to switch your choice? Or more importantly for the purposes of this class, does it matter? Will switching your choice improve your chances of winning?”
“Yes switch it” I muttered under my breath going back to my book. Alan gave me a side look.
“Well no. because now, two cards it’s 50/50, right?” Julie replied to the teacher.
“How many people agree with her?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t raise your hand” I mumbled sarcastically, turning the page of my book. Inevitable people did though most of the class in fact Alan looked around surprised.
“That’s what your instinct tells you, but you’d be wrong.” Charlie explained. “Switching your cards at this point actually doubles your chances of winning the car.”
“How?” Julie questioned.
“Well, since we started out with two goats,” Charlie explained “it’s more likely that your first choice was a goat. What are the odds of choosing the goats?”
“Two out of three” Julie answered.
“Right. So it’s more likely that this is a goat, less likely that it’s a car” the professor gestured to the center card “and it’s more likely that this card is a car” he pointed to the card on the left. “See switching your choice gives you a two-out-of-three chance of winning the car, rather than the one-out-of-three chance that we all began with.” he revealed the left card as the car to make his point. “Vroom vroom” he joked making the class chuckle. “You won a car, Julie. Congratulations.'' Then Uncle Charlie paused his eyes drifting to the back of the room before he checked his watch. “I think. Yeah, yeah, we’re out of time.” I looked back to see Don standing in the back of the room with another man who I could assume was another agent. “So uh, go home make some of these for yourselves. Put together some reasonable “n” samples, and uh.. Yeah see what happens. I’ll see you all next week. thanks.”
The students began to disperse and Alan followed my line of sight to Don and the other agent. He got up and I followed him back to the two men. “Hey Dad, what are you two doing here?”
“Oh I like coming whenever Charlie gives one of these math-for-dummies lectures. It’s the only time I actually understand what he’s talking about” Gramps explained “plus this one needed to get out of the house I couldn’t stand anymore anxious pacing about this acceptance letter”
“Hey I wasn’t pacing” I objected adjusting my backpack on my shoulders “much”
“This is Billy Cooper” Don introduced the man next to him. “He’s an agent I work with.”
“Hi” Alan greeted him with a hand shake “we’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“oh, yeah.” Don murmured “I couldn’t remember”
“You worked a case with Don out here once?” Alan guessed.
“Back in the day, yes, sir” Agent Cooper confirmed and glanced between me and my Grandfather.
“Donnie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Alan requested.
“Yeah, sure.” Don agreed and looked to Billy “just give me a second” him and Alan shuffled out of the room.
Agent Cooper turned to me “you must be Abby then” he inquired and I nodded “uh so your uh old man mentioned that you were some kind of genius like your Uncle” he gestured vaguely to where Charlie was packing up his stuff from class.
“Um yeah I have a decent IQ and an Advanced Eidetic Memory” I explained shifting on my feet.
“What’s that mean?” the agent asked.
“I have near perfect visual memory recall especially when I read” I explained gesturing to the book in my hand.
“Cool” Cooper nodded and glanced out the doorway to where Don and Alan were still talking.
“So you work with my dad?” I inquired blinking as the last word came out of my mouth easier than I thought.
“Yup” Cooper smiled “me and Don actually used to be partners back in the day when he worked fugitive recovery. Made a great team”
I smiled slightly “that’s cool”
“Hey agent Cooper” Charlie cut in as he came over to greet the agent.
________
3rd POV.
Don walked with his father out of the room and into the courtyard outside. “Um- wh-what are you doing? What’s going on?” Alan asked, turning to Don once they were out of earshot.
“What are you talking about?” Don asked, confused.
“Well, I- I haven’t seen you for days. Not since you dropped Abby off.” Alan pointed out.
“I’m working,” Don explained.
“Yeah, I know, Charlie told me.” Alan informed “Are you going back to manhunting now?”
“Oh, I see. Dad, come on” Don sighed in annoyance. “Don’t. This is one case.”
“I seem to recall your saying that about only one case once before,” Alan pointed out, “but, if you remember, they were not good days for you, or for me. I mean, we didn’t hear from you for weeks. We didn’t even know where the hell you were.”
“Dad-” Don tried to interject but failed.
“You do realize that uh, chasing after someone you could be running away from yourself at the same time” Alan stated. “And now you’re a father Donnie, you have a daughter in there that relies on you and you have a responsibility to her. Have you even talked to her the last couple days?”
“Yes dad, of course I have'' Don finally interjected agitated. Then he sighed “contrary to what you might think I don’t plan to abandon her”
Before Alan could respond to that statement or before Don could process the emotions it set forth Charlie was joining them with Abby and Billy right behind him. Don looked at Abby for a moment as Charlie greeted them and asked Alan about his lecture.
Sometimes it was easy for him to forget she was a kid with how her brain worked and how stubbornly independent she could be. However, with her duct taped and sharpied shoes and ratty backpack she wouldn’t let him buy her replacements for, fading freckles and various superhero and tv show related t-shirts. She really was every bit the teenager her age dictated. A teenager who Don knew needed her father.
____________
“Hey” Don called walking up as Coop was loading up his car “So you’re out of here?”
“Heading to Phoenix.” Billy sighed “meth tweaker I been chasing.”
“No chance we could get you to stick around?” Don asked helping him with the bags “maybe put in for a position around here?”
“What, and settle down?” Billy chuckled.
“Hey, it’s not bad Coop, I gotta tell you.” Don advised leaning on the car.
“You don’t miss it?” Cooper inquired.
“No. Not really, no” Don shook his head.
“The rush you get when you’re hauling his ass in,” Coop tempted “your fugitive’s a couple hours ahead of you and you’re closing ground.”
“Alright, maybe a little,” Don conceded. “Hey, but not being in touch with my family, not being able to talk to anybody, I don’t miss that.” he took a deep breath “I don’t know, I think LA’s good for me.”
“Well” Coop sighed closing his trunk “plus you’re a dad now”
Don chuckled “yeah there’s that too”
“Listen that kid’s lucky to have you.” Billy told him “and if she’s anything like her old man she got a good future ahead of her”
“Thanks man” Don sighed as the two shook hands walking back toward the drivers side of the car “keep your head down, huh?”
“I’ll do that,” Billy nodded, getting in his car to leave.
___________
“You do realize watching out the window isn’t going to make him get here any sooner right?” Alan voiced.
Abby sighed and slid down to sit on the couch. “What’s taking so long,” she whined.
“Relax kid,” Don advised, taking a sip of his beer. “He’ll get here soon”
“Easy for you to say” Abby grumbled. Just then the door of the house opened and the trio sitting in the living room turned as Charlie walked in.
Abby bounced to her feet. “Do you have it? Do you have it?” she asked eagerly.
“Hello to you too” Charlie mumbled earning him a glare from his niece. “It’s right here” he held up the letter from the schools admissions office.
Abby took the letter and looked it over like it was some rare artifact. She let off a slow breath. “You want me to open it?” Don asked after a moment.
“No,” Abby objected then took a deep breath and tore the envelope open pulling out the paper inside.
The three men watched as her eyes scanned over it abnormally fast for the average person. Then another second before a large smile spread over her face.
“I got in” she whispered almost inaudibly then began to repeat it louder jumping up and down in joy “I got in! I got in! I got in!” she stopped and whisked over to where Don was sitting “Dad! Dad! Dad! Look! I even got a scholarship!”
“I can see that” Don murmured looking at the paper that was thrust into his hand “nice job kid”
“We knew you could do it,'' Alan encouraged with a smile.
“I’m going to go call Amita and tell her” Abby declared “this is awesome!” with that she ran from the room.
“Donnie, uh,” Alan spoke up after a moment “you are aware she just called you dad right? Without uh any snarky backdrop or anything”
Don smiled lightly eyes still on the acceptance letter “yeah I know”
Chapter 14 ->
#Don Eppes#alan eppes#Charlie Eppes#numb3rs#numb3rs season 1#amita ramanujan#larry fleinhardt#david sinclair#terry lake#billy cooper#Episode Related#episode per chapter#abby calvin#fanfiction#Also posted on AO3#also posted on quotev
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Toons for Our Times: Star Vs: Demoncism
Halloween Havoc BEGINS! And with Tomtober this same month, i’m taking another of my on and off looks at Tom! Tom tries to tackle his literla nd figurative personal demons the natural way: by having a creepy anti-demon cult that’s never explained suck them out of his body. For some reason Star has a problem with this. We also get Ponyhead in a robe, the wonders of reflectcor and free toys from the toychest for being such a good boy. Face your demons under the cut.
Welcome boys, ghouls and that bootiful technicolor rainbow inbetween, to halloween havoc! MUAHAHHAHA.
You might be wondering a few things. What the hell that is, isn’t that also the title of a bunch of old wcw pay per views, and have I gone insane. In order it’s usually my catchy term the past two years and this current one for my binging of halloween films and logging and reviewing them on my leterboxd account, but I decided to expand it to here since while it’s not my first halloween on here it’s the first both reviewing animation and planning ahead, I decided why not reuse a good title here.
As for the wcw thing.. well yeah. It’s a great title, neither WWE, who I think still owns the copyright, nor WCW”s Heir Apparent AEW are using it right now despite being one of the best recurring Pay-Per-View titles either promotions had. Maybe not in actualy MATCH QUALITy but that name.. it just sings to me so i’m using it for my weird blog. I’m not making any money of this so why not. And as for my sanity that left a long time ago. So prepare for a month of ghouls, ghosts, goblins, lichs, scooby doo parodies, long forgotten characters, and some suprises and pies of all sizes. THIS... IS....
So to start us off, every year my pal @jess-the-vampire does a monthly event known as tomtober, a celebration of all things tom lucitor. And since I started hte tomtropsective for that and still am behind, I figured why not celebrate that, and the fact I can’t draw so I can’t do day 1 as a chat or anything, by continuing the tale of everyone’s faviorite teen demon.
Thankfully unlike last time, or next time wink wonk, there’s not a TON of other plot stuff to fill in. There is one important bit not to this episode but to the series as a whole: Eclipsa is here, since Moon trying to screw her out of the deal she made backried once toffee actually died... as did you know keepiung him alive instead of dealing with eclipsa being free and having the comissoin to back her on it. Nice job moon. Real nice. So yeah Eclipsa’s around.. dosen’t effect this episode but given tom’s involved in two of the biggest plot important episodes in the show, AND one deals with the direct fallout of one of those episodes i’m probably going to have to cover her soon to get to more tom anyway so might as well prepare for that now.
So yeah this episode’s entreily a straight line from last time and opens picking up on the end of that episode: Star is calling tom wondering when their gonna get that Cornshake. Thankfully she gets an answer. Unthankfully.. it’s from a VERY sweaty ponyhead.
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So that was my own personal hell. Anyways she’s so.. sweaty.. GAHHHHHHH, because she’s keeping a secret and much like me she can’t keep her mouth shut about something she wants to talk about for very long, so we find out what she knows: SHe ran into tom who swore her not to tell Star he was getting a Demoncisim. Which suprises me.. not the demoncism thing the fact Pony would actually listen to anyone else.. Star included. LIke it’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t quite fit: She’s such a selfish, toxic asshole, though Jenny Slate bless her makes her at least entertaining at times but even she has limits, it just dosen’t track she’d care what Tom thought unless we saw it for ourselves. Pony is ONLY capable of carring about star so while I could see tom framing it as for her own good, it’d be nice if the episode just came out and said that. It’d also be nice if we didn’t get sweaty ponyhead because that’s probably someone’s fetish and I.. OH GOD.
Okay now i’ve mentally snapped from that revelation, Star lasso’s pony when she tries to escape, and we find out the demoncism is pretty self explanatory: A cermony that removes demons from one’s body.. and given tom is you know, a demon, this could end bad. So with no idea where it’s being held and it going on now, giving them little if any time to figure it out, Star suggests going to pony’s ex.. she dosen’t remember which one and apologizes for how bitchy that sounded, but we find out it’s Seahorse, Pony’s love intrest for the rest of the series and a hardcore emo rocker who even made her a song.. which is just him destroying everything and screaming. Eh i’ve seen people in emowear do far dumber.
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If those are m and m’s their pretzel. Trust me I’m a professional lardass, I know my delcious candy coated choclates. Anyways our dynamic-ish duo head to Seahorse at his job at a relfectcor store, basically a phone store, and is basically a hollowed out shell of a human being with no real personality or free will of his own.. so THAT’S how we got Ted Cruz. Ponyhead natrually breaks down when he dosen’t recognize her at all, which is one of the few time’s i’ve actually cared about her feelings: I mean having your ex just.. forget you exist.. tha’ts rough buddy. I feel bad for her.. I didn’t know she had emotions. I thought her heart and brain were both a black hole.. mostly becasue I thought ponyhead’s hearts and brains were the same organ. Star does however manage to get the map they need to Tom.
Our heroines find the Demonicsim site and a bunch of creepy guys in robes iwth red glowing eyes.. who are never explained honestly. More on that in a minute. So ponyhead distracts them with one of the greatest gags in the series history
I mean just.. look at it. The way the robe drapes, the way her nose sticks out much like a certain penguins, the way she decides to distract everyone with petty minute like voting on robes.. it’s fucking great. I may not like pony a LOT but she can be really damn funny> The issues that she often isn’t funny enough to ofset her jackassery. Here though even with my jabs at her.. she works and I like it.
So Star confronts Tom, wondering AGAIN if this is another half assed tactic to win her back.. and her flip flop attitude with tom is starting to annoy me. It fits her personality, and don’t get me wrong as i’ve made abudnatnly clear in past reviews his actions in blood moon ball and ESPECIALLY mr.candle cares were super not okay, so i’ts okay NOT to forget how badly things went last time when your considering getting back together with someone. It’s NOT okay however to hold it over someone’s head forever like any moment their going to snap back into being a manipulative doucheweasel when they’ve left you alone for around 8 months.. and Id id my calcualtion. The timeline of the show is pretty solid up to season 4: Season 1 was star’s 1st semister at echo creek academy, season 2 was her second and as it turned out final one, and season 3 covers Summer , fall and part of next spring. Though again how another summer dosen’t happen until towards the end of season 4 is dumb and I’ll probably rant about that at a later point. Point is since MCC was at the start of season 2, that means it happened around say january or feburary, with Demonicsim probably happening around say march. So he’s left you alone for around 8 months, silver bell ball included. It’s unfair to assume he’s still schemeing when he let you go months ago. H’es made it obvious via his .. everything he’d take you back in an instant, he’s just being patient and not pushing it because he’s no longer as big an asshole, and trying to be respectful. Cut him a break.
Thankfully this gets put down quick with Tom explaning he wants to be better for himself: Like last time he was inspired by her trying to be better herself, and wants to.. but as we’ve established.. he dosen’t know HOW to be nice or a better person. He wasn’t raised in an enviroment that was really condusive to that as nice as his own parents are. Their the exception to the underworld being mostly dicks not the rule, as we’ll see next time. I.. can relate with my own issues with anxiety , depression and, yes, anger. I too have trouble keeping it in and hate feeling bitchy all the time or depressed and just want it to stop. I think anyone with a mental ilness just wants it to STOP to be gone and to be able to live a happy life. But there’s no magic button that fixes your issues, your traumas or your mental health like that. No pill that can fix it just ones that help ease it down to managable. And as i’ve learned the hard way YOU have to work at it, YOU have to make the effort. There’s no easy way out. And while Tom thinks htere is here, it’s very clear it’s a huge risk, and Star’s right that he shoudlnt’ go thorugh with it and that he could seriously hurt himself. But Tom’s in pain and just wants to be happy, to be normal, to be not angry anymore and I gotta tell you if , even if it was risky, there was a way to cure my depression or anger issues or anxiety, not my atuisim tha’ts part of me and not something that needs a fucking cure just more understanding and awarness, but if I could cure those other three things? I would. It’s paart of me sure but it’s a part of me I HATE. So I understand why tom’s doing this even despite the danger: because he’s at his wits end, desperate and this will help he hopes.. it can’t get WORSE, so why not? Evne if he’s wrong here i’ts hard not to understand why he’s so stubborn about it , for me at least.
Star leaves, and takes Ponycloak with her and they go to punch trees: Both to relive and because Pony hates tree. Probably because she went to tree court once and they tried to send her to tree jail.
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I mean she’ll probably get thrown back in there for this but still. Anyways the exerocisim comes. And NOW we can talk about this cult and.. while I understand why they never came back, they were really only necessary for this, I wish they had. I mean a mysterious cult with the power to restrain someone as strong as tom, acess to anti-magic chains the ONLY time we see something like this outside of the comission, and a hatred of demons includign referring to Tom as “Son of the blight” meaning they clearly hate and would destroy Wrathmelor if they could, yet also function as a perfectly legal orginzation the comission or the lucitors themselves haven’t swatted yet. There’s a LOT to unpack here they never did. The leader is also hliarious alteranting between creepy overlord and your dentist after a long apointment as a kid. But the ritual begins and it .. dosen’t go well with tom getting glowy blue lines and thrashing about.. just like me when i watched Ridciulous 6. I also felt my soul was leaving my body but that was just wishful thinking. The cultists run and star runs back to Tom and we get a truly powerful and romantic scene. Unable to free him, Star just.. holds him and is there for him as he goes through this. If she can’t help him she’ll be there for him. And it’s really touching.
We then cut to the hosptial tent at the cult, where the leader goes back to dad mode. Tom feels .. well worse, he just had surgery, as someone who had a tooth yanked out last month I can relate, and is suprised to see only one tiny soul demon as the sum of his anger. But it turns out, NOPE, being you know, the son of a rather powerful demon with a rather pwoerful b loodline, he’s FULL of them, and it woudl take 13 years to do this.. and tom’s naturally bummed because no one wants the equipvlent of having a wisdom tooth pulled a week for over a decade. Also because he now can’t get better.. but Star gently reassures him he’s already on the right track just by wanting to. As I said with most mental issues.. there’s no easy way out but it can get better if you put the work in and tom realizes.. there’s no quick way out after all. Just a long road.. but h’es not alone on it anyomore. But he at least gets a tiny demon in a jar and a toy out of the toychest for being a good boy.. and that’s nto me making shit up that’s the actual episode with him and star taking pinwheels and holding hands to Ponyhead’s annoyance. Which okay yeah they had a bad time last time I get tat Pony.. but your the last person to question ANYONE’S life decisions. Still I wish we’d had ane pisode of pony growing to accept them so we at least know WHY she’s so against it but oh well.
Final Thoughts:
This was a good one. Is it hte best the show’s put out? Probably not as the first part drags slightly but the second half at the demoncisim is just good character stuff, good comedy, and has a good payoff. I honestly like this way more on the second watch.
Though part of that is the context of the time: I admitted to being a starco shipper and having her get back with tom just felt like your standard “put a character in a relationship to complicate the main pairing” bullshit I always hate at this stage. Before anyone relaizes they like each other? Sure but at this point it was clearly just to drag things out. However with Marco getting progressivley worse and the two having good chemsitry.. I grew to like em.. and by the season finale, I just shipped all three together, before pivoting to marco and kelly. This couple grew on me for reasons w’ell geti nto as we go, even if it ended bad for reasons we’ll again get into. Oh we’ll get into them. With a knife. But yeah overall a great episode with a great concept, good character stuff, and some REALLY fucking funny gags. The show is damn good at comedy and I forget it sometimes. Next time we look at Tom, he’ll be in the background as Marco tries to help Kelly with a breakup. And sometime this month we’ll be looking at the halloween special which i’ll be watching for the very first time! So stay tuned, stay safe and Happy Halloween.
#halloween#tomtober#tomtober 2020#tom lucitor#star vs the forces of evil#demoncism#star butterfly#startom#lilica ponyhead#seahorse#wrathmelor lucitor#reviews
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More Than Meets the Eye #3- Robots in the Vents, Because It’s Not a Roberts Story if It Doesn’t Happen at Least Once
So, the duobots are having a hell of a day.
Shock, our resident obligate belly-sleeper and newly-single robot, laments the passing of his buddy, leaves a vial of innermost energon by his body- a practice that will be expanded upon later- then covers up any and all traces of their having worked with Prowl. These are the inside guys Prowl called after he flipped that table in issue #1.
As Shock tracks down the tracer Ore was supposed to be planting instead of being eaten by the quantum drive, he comes across that sparkeater that got mentioned last issue.
That is his brain.
Then he explodes.
Which brings us to the scene we left in issue #2. Sparkeater on board the Lost Light, which is full of sparks that probably would prefer not to get eaten.
Holy shit Cosmos is huge. I don’t remember him being that goddamn big.
Rodimus thinks that this whole sparkeater thing is really neat, and he’s happy to be a part of it, but he’s not so thrilled about the prospect of subjecting the others to this event, so he orders everyone to find a friend and go to their rooms until he and his select few sort this whole thing out. He doesn’t tell them about the sparkeater, because that’s some scary bullshit to throw out there less than a day into the trip.
Everyone files out, Swerve having forgotten about Tailgate, who’s having a minor wardrobe malfunction. Since he doesn’t have legs at present, he calls out to the one other guy he knows on the Lost Light.
Tailgate really knows how to pick ‘em.
Over with the dead body, everyone stands what is probably unadvisedly close to the scene of the crime and Ratchet performs a quick and dirty autopsy. The boys discuss the validity of Red Alert’s theory that this was caused by a sparkeater, with the mention of Rewind’s grainy footage making the creature seem like the Cybertronian equivalent of a cryptid. Probably less Fresno nightcrawler and more chupacabra. Ratchet tries to get everyone to focus for two goddamn seconds, when Trailbreaker picks up Shock’s brain module, knocking everyone right back off track again with the discussion of Rossum’s Trinity, the idea that the spark, brain module, and transformation cog are all interconnected, and damage to one can cause the others to shut down.
Ratchet’s had just about enough of this lot, but he gets through his examination.
This is the issue Alex Milne started drawing the insignias in himself as opposed to the previous practice of IDW having them put in in post.
Rodimus, however, wants to show off his new toys as it were, and asks Chromedome to take a gander. Chromedome wearily obliges, having Ratchet pop the brain back in Shock’s head so he can do his thing. Every other person on this fucking ship is a doctor, you see, and Chromedome is no exception- he’s a mnemosurgeon.
(Yes, my spellcheck DOES lose its mind every time I type that.)
Chromedome takes his terrifying pointy hands, jams them into the eye sockets of this corpse, and gets a brainfull of Shock’s final moments.
This is such a cool panel, and I went and ruined it for myself by realizing the upper left portion shouldn’t be visible, seeing as the brain is already outside Shock’s head, without any sort of cord connecting it to his body.
Back upstairs, folks are moving into their rooms for the surprise lockdown. Cyclonus is being a pal and is carrying Tailgate, because I’m pretty sure the little guy is just about the only person who’s talked to him in a non-hostile fashion in the last couple of months, and that really gets old after a while.
Those legs sure are something, Hoist. Is it just, like, a rule that a certain percentage of Transformers designs have to be at least somewhat unintentionally horny?
The two find a room, and then Cyclonus remembers that he’s not supposed to show things like empathy until later in the series, and drops Tailgate on the floor unceremoniously.
Meanwhile, over with Skids and Swerve, the pair’s found something truly wonderful- a fully-stocked bar. Swerve’s always wanted to run a bar, and this just might be his chance to chase his dreams.
Swerve is the punching bag for MTMTE, in case you couldn’t tell.
While Swerve is not-so-subtly crying for help, Skids is busy enacting another Roberts writing-staple- the robot in the vents. See, Skids has hit his bad boy phase; he doesn’t play by your daddy’s rules, so he’s gonna sneak out and do generally whatever pleases him, because he’s got a big honkin’ chunk of memories that just aren’t there anymore. Apparently that’s all he needs to go AWOL.
As Skids lifts himself up into the ceiling to fulfill his destiny as a vent-pest, he asks Swerve if he listens to music, which is met with a negatory. Odd, given his later characterization, but maybe he’s more into contemporary works.
The ass poking worked! Swerve is now the proud owner of one whole entire friend!
Back with the corpse crew, Chromedome’s finished his assessment of the body, and agrees that there’s a sparkeater amongst them. This is a huge fucking problem, to put it lightly, both in the sense of actual, physical danger, and the metaphysical space of the Lost Light itself.
Are we sure this thing didn’t just see this ship full of over 200 war veterans and say “that’s some good eatin’ right there” and snuck on board? Because if I were a horrific monster that was drawn to pain and emotional trauma, I’d absolutely consider the Lost Light a gold mine.
As Chromedome lays his head in Rewind’s lap, the others weigh their options. Sparkeaters go after the brightest sparks, then work their way down, so this thing is probably on the move as they speak. The thing’s eaten recently, the sparks haven’t completely digested, and that means they can’t just shoot it, because then it’ll explode, and we’ve had enough of that for one day.
Rodimus has everyone else go to hunt the thing down, while he and Drift hang out here in the basement. When Ultra Magnus questions this plan of attack, he’s brushed off, though Rodimus appears to imply that he thinks he’s got the brightest spark on the ship. Probably all that Matrix nonsense he went through.
Back upstairs, Animus gets shot with the irony gun and gets his soul vored.
This is what happens when you tell lies, kids. Your lemon-lime flavored soul gets eaten by the mecha-Krampus.
Whirl, who had locked the door to the habsuite, which is why Animus was out in the hall to begin with, realizes that something seriously messed up is happening, and does what he knows best, i.e. shooting first and asking questions probably never.
Good thing Trailbreaker is there to keep Whirl from exploding the entire ship, employing the help of his forcefield ability to contain the barrage.
In the resulting chaos, the sparkeater escapes, having triangulated its next meal, and it’s not Rodimus.
It’s this dweeb.
You can tell he’s in his office, because he’s got a landscape painting in there. Landscape paintings are pretty much the only decor allowed in doctors’ offices, I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.
Luckily, Rung decided to get threatened by a space-cryptid directly under a vent, so Skids can save his skinny little butt. Good job, Skids. Proud of you.
Back with Tailgate and Cyclonus, little dude’s just finished explaining his whole deal. He’s still trying to figure out what the hell happened during his dirt nap, so Cyclonus tries his best to fill him in on the several million year war. Keep in mind, Cyclonus wasn’t exactly there either, so his whole explanation probably isn’t the best. He wonders out loud which side Tailgate would have gravitated towards, had he been around for the massive mess the Autobots and Decepticons made.
Meanwhile, back in the GODDAMNED DUCTWORK, Rung and Skids are crawling as fast as they can to escape the sparkeater, though they can’t be that worried about it, seeing as Rung answers a phone call on his weird body-harness phone setup. Rodimus tells the two of them to head for the engine room, so that the sparkeater follows them down. Rung doesn’t seem too thrilled about this plan, but what’s he gonna do, argue with a potential space-pope?
Skids punches through a vent into the elevator shaft, then uses his grappling hook- which I want to say is never seen again after this issue- to lower them down in one of the most well-known crotch shots in the entire comic series.
Iconic.
They land on top of the elevator, and Skids yells at Brainstorm to punch the "E for Engine Room” button. The sparkeater bursts in through the ceiling, and Skids and Rung book it out of there, leaving Brainstorm to his inevitable demise.
Or not.
Rung and Skids have made it to the engine room, so now it’s time for the next portion of Rodimus’ plan, which is really only a small tweaking of what Rung was doing earlier- instead of being a moving target, he’ll be playing the role of stationary bait, as Rodimus holds him like a fucking crucifix made out of people, urging the sparkeater to come take a bite.
Up on the bridge, Perceptor gets ready to kick on the quantum engine, as per his captain’s request. Sure hope this plan works, because if they lose Rung, I don’t think they’ll ever find another therapist, thanks to the apparent ratio of 1:1/3 of the entire population of Cybertron.
The sparkeater lunges, Rodimus throws Rung off to the side, and he and the beast wrestle, Crocodile Dundee style. Perceptor initializes the jump, and, because they’re in the danger zone for the quantum engine, they get sucked in.
Rung seems a little miffed, but I’d say this is a win for Team Rodimus, even if those arms of his are toast. It’s cool though, he can get new ones.
Smashcut to Rodimus and his sick new arms, as he finishes explaining just what the hell happened to Magnus. Magnus isn’t quite as jazzed about the whole “used our therapist as a worm on a hook” thing as one would think, surprisingly, but Rodimus isn’t in the mood for a lecture. Off in the background, Tailgate’s getting his butt fixed, curtesy of Ratchet. Tailgate’s talking up a storm, regardless of Ratchet’s rather cool reception to the chatter.
Tailgate did some thinking while everyone was locked in their rooms, and he’s made a decision, based on his limited understanding of the Autobot/Decepticon war.
I guess Cyclonus forgot to mention the fact that there isn’t a single Decepticon on this ship for a reason.
#transformers#jro#mtmte#liars A-to-D#issue 3#maccadam#Hannzreads#text post#long post#comic script writing
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I had this survey saved in my drafts from like 6 years ago or something, so I’m going to do it. I was tagged by @boutiquebeelzebub
1. Write your name in song titles:
golly. My actual name is long, so I’m going to shorten it to an adjacent nickname that nobody actually calls me.
California Dreaming-The Mamas and the Papas
Holiday-Green Day
Undisclosed Desires-Muse
Cemeteries of London-Coldplay
Kryptonite-3 Doors Down
2. Why did you choose your url?
Grantaire is a cynical “trained-as-an-artist-but-not-using-his-training-for-mental-health-reasons” “does-a-lot-of-anguished-pining” type character who I vibed with for Obvious Reasons. The -zee is from Gamzee Homestuck, who I like, but he got mind-controlled and then everyone including the author acted like the things he did while mind-controlled were narratively the same as his independent actions, which makes me mad. (I just like that Sad Clown, OK?). Before that I think my URL was viewfromthecarrock, a Tolkien Reference, but also that was so long ago that I can’t actually remember when I changed it. I probably wont ever change it again bc now i got that Brand Identity, babey.
3. Middle name?
Marie
4. If you could be any ficitional character who would it be?
I don’t think I would want to Be A Fictional Character per se. Be in a fictional universe? Maybe. but if you’re making me pick: Gandalf, because being OP and also trolling everyone on the reg. is an energy I would enjoy manifesting.
6. Favourite song atm?
I don’t have one specific song that i’m deeply into right now. I’m experiencing complicated thoughts about The Wellerman, and also I’ve been listening to Green Day’s Entire Discography from the last 10 years while i drive to and from work, and that is an interesting experience in light of current events.
7. Top 4 Fandoms?
Star Wars and Lord of the Rings are always my top 2. IDK which other two would round out my 4. I guess Les Mis and Homestuck would be solid contenders since they’re where my url came from...IDK, folks, IDK. If I had done this when I was tagged, harry potter would have been in there too, but I’m Having Complicated Thoughts in re: JKR’s whole everything, so idk if I can count that anymore, even though I have probably put more brain hours into thinking about Harry Potter than any other franchise in existence, Literally Since I Was Seven. Possibly more brain hours than JKR put into it. JKR thinks august has 3 weeks in it and that trans people aren’t valid, though, so what does she know? Maybe I should just revoke custody. My City Now And They’re All Trans.
8. Why do you like tumblr?
I like it bc nobody IRL could find mine unless I told them how. It’s the anonymity for me. I enjoy shouting into the void with limited repercussions. Also I’ve made some good friends on here that I enjoy talking with. @ my mutuals I see u and I love u.
Tag 9 friends:
This is Schrodinger’s tag. You may self-select to participate as the spirit leads you.
#there was an old man at my church who called me Chuck as a kid bc he had a running joke with my mother#the joke was that since I have an older sister I should have been a boy to complete the matching set#jokes on him i have transcended the gender binary#but actually it didnt bother me at the time#or now even#He was just like ''Ohoho I will call this toddler Chuck because it Amuses Me Personally''#and this was before gender politics so it wasnt even malicious it was just kind of Mischievous.
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Have the adults in your life been hassling you about making the most of high school in preparation for college? Maybe you’ve been nudged towards classes that will look good on your transcript or lovingly pushed in the direction of extracurriculars that lend themselves to impressive application essays?
If that sounds familiar, I want you to know: that’s not what this article is about.
There are so many things to do in high school but, in some cases, the preoccupation with using high school as a tool to get into college can make life miserable and activities unenjoyable.
But there is hope high school is about more than preparing for college. If you want to make good use of your high school years and prepare for college and have a good time, the tips below are for you.
1. PRACTICE GOOD TIME MANAGEMENT IN HIGH SCHOOL, SINCE IT’S LIKELY TO GET HARDER IN COLLEGE.
One of the reasons college is more stressful than high school? You’re more independent. And because you’re more independent, life in general requires better time management. You’ll have way more obligations and your professors are not going to chase you down to remind you about that deadline next week. Not only that but your parents won’t be just a few feet away and able to bug you when you slack off.
Using a calendar to track your day is an easy way to start managing your time a bit better. Some people prefer an old-school, pen-and-paper planner. Studies show that writing things down with your hand (rather than typing them onto a screen), makes you more likely to remember them.
But your paper planner can’t send reminders to your phone. If you prefer tech, you can’t go wrong with good ol’ Google calendar. (It’s what I use.) iCalendar is also great, or your parents might have a Cozi Calendar membership you can take advantage of.
Here’s what your calendar might look like:
Regardless of the type of calendar you use, here are a few basics of good time management:
Put tests, practices, events, meetings, appointments, project due dates, and days off into your calendar as soon as you find out about them—this could be as early as the first week of the semester when you get your syllabus. Once you know when something is due, decide how long it will take to do it. Work backwards and schedule time into your calendar to work on that project or study.
For example, if your science project is due on May 10th, you could allot one hour each day to work on it, May 1 - 9. Or maybe two hours every two days.
Make sure there’s space in your schedule for downtime and fun, too! If need be, block out time to see your friends or just binge that new Netflix show. That way, when someone asks you to help them study on Sunday afternoon, you can tell them you’re busy. Busy watching the new season of Game of Thrones, that is.
2. BALANCE YOUR STUDIES WITH LIFE
You know that colleges favor well-rounded applicants–people who volunteer and get good grades, test well and take part in their communities. But balancing your studies and life is about more than just creating a competitive college application.
Taking time away from your studies will invigorate you and activate different parts of your brain. Making art, playing soccer, or just going to a concert will recharge your mental batteries in a way that a 10-minute study break can’t. Participating in life outside of academics also boosts your creativity, increases your emotional intelligence, and helps you strengthen relationships.
And just as importantly–it’s fun.
Make time to get out of your books and into your life.
3. GET INVOLVED WITH ON-CAMPUS (AND OFF-CAMPUS!) ORGANIZATIONS.
High school is about more than GPAs and SATs; it’s often a place where you form lifelong friendships. And sometimes it’s easier to form those friendships when you see people outside of chemistry class.
Explore a few of your school’s organizations–try the debate club, Ultimate Frisbee, fencing, or student government. If your school doesn’t have any organizations that light your fire, try starting your own. Maybe lots of people would want to play Quidditch if you started a team?
If starting a school organization isn’t your style, explore the groups and organizations your community has to offer. Check out rec league sports, volunteer at the local animal shelter, or sing with your church’s choir.
Here are a few other ways to connect with people in your community:
Meetup.com: A website that allows users to create events and meetup groups in their local community around any topic you can imagine: Pick-up basketball games, book clubs, weekend, painting groups, mobile app developer meetup groups for girls. Have an interest? There’s probably a meetup for it. Don’t see it? Start your own!
Your local community center: You know that building in the park with all the flyers promoting rec league sports, town hall meetings, and litter pick ups? Poke your head in and see if there’s anything on the calendar that appeals to you. It’s a great way to get to know your neighbors.
Check out greatnonprofits.org to find a non-profit near you
Use the search feature at Idealist.org for even more.
Ask your counselor! There could be something coming up next week that you don’t even know about.
Connect with a local museum–many have teen programs and docent opportunities–or check with your local animal shelter, YMCA, temple, church, or synagogue.
Maybe even go back to your middle or elementary school and see how you can help.
4. GET TO KNOW YOUR TEACHERS
Fun fact: your teachers are real, actual humans who have senses of humor, hobbies, and interests outside of getting you to turn in your homework on time. Shocking, right?
One of the easiest ways to make the most of high school is to talk to your teachers and get to know them.
Stay after class and ask that question that seemed too in-depth for the rest of the class. Tell them you loved the last novel they selected and ask if they can recommend any similar books. Ask your Government teacher what she thinks of that bill that’s moving through Congress.
These conversations will give you deeper insights into the topics you’re studying and–bonus!– will probably (read: definitely) make it easier to get great teacher recommendations for your college applications.
5. TAKE CLASSES YOU LOVE, NOT NECESSARILY THE CLASSES YOU THINK WILL PLEASE YOUR PARENTS/GET YOU A GOOD JOB/MAKE YOU MONEY.
When you’re applying to competitive universities, it’s tempting to stuff your schedule with ‘impressive’ courses you think will look good on applications. AP Calc BC! AP Physics! AP Japanese!
If you truly want to take AP Calc or feel it will help with your dream of becoming a civil engineer, take AP Calc. But when you stack your schedule with classes you don’t really like and then use those classes as the basis of your college application, you’re setting yourself up for a pretty miserable academic experience.
6. PRIORITIZE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH AND LEARN HOW BEST TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.
Real talk: college can be incredibly stressful. You’re juggling a challenging course load, applying for internships, working part time–all while living far from home with roommates you might not have chosen for yourself. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, right?
Use your slightly-less-stressful high school years to build good self-care habits. What does this look like? Well, it looks different for everyone, but these basics are a good start:
Get eight hours of sleep
Exercise 20 minutes each day
Drink enough (about half a gallon) of water per day
Limit social media use (and all the self-doubt that comes with it) by setting social media locks that shut you out after you’ve exceeded a certain time limit
Bonus Tip (if you have an iPhone): here’s how to make it work for you and not against you (one of my favorite productivity articles ever, btw)
Spending time with friends doing something other than studying or talking about college applications
Your high school experience doesn’t have to be a test run for college, filled only with test prep and ‘impressive’ classes. If you follow these tips, you can totally prepare for college while still enjoying high school.
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Quarantine (Romione, One-shot)
Ao3 // FF.net (will post them there tomorrow but Tumblr gets the first crack tonight)
A/N: I’d intended to have this posted last week but RL got in the way and so much fell onto my plate as “back-up daughter” to friends who are out of state for their elderly parents. What little time I had was claimed by so many other things too. I know there is a Princess somewhere mad that RL interfered in my life once again. One of these years my life will be only dramatic in the stories I write. Alas.
Rated M (so much smutty goodness in this one!) for Lemons, Limes, Citrus galore. Not Ace Safe in the least (This means you @headcanonsandmore)
TW: Mentions of current British events involving a towheaded cockwomble and his deputy. Tagging @hillnerd and @abradystrix just ‘cause.
Give me my demarcation line darn it!
“I swear to Merlin that I am going to strangle that sod,” Hermione growled before putting the two-way mirror down in her office. “That cockwomble!”
“Love?” Ron poked his head in, wondering what got Hermione into a bit of lather this morning from her noon call with the Muggle PM.
Hermione took off her reading glasses and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, wondering how much more cocked up the world was going to be in the interim.
“What’s happened, dear?” Ron stood at the doorway, wondering too what was going on. “I heard you cursing. Did you speak with that tosser of a PM?”
“I did,” She hissed. “Do you remember that boring ministry dinner we attended last weekend? The one where I was seated across from the PM and his partner, talking boring politics while you tried to keep from complaining about the rubbish chicken they served for the main course?”
“Of course. Who could forget that Merlin awful chicken that even you could cook a better one than what was presented to us? Who did they get to cater it, Malfoy?”
“You’d think, right? Anyway, it seems the PM has gone and contracted some virus, one that appears to be worse than the flu for some people. Unfortunately, now, since we were within close contact with the bastard,”
“Please don’t tell me.”
“We’re quarantined for a fortnight because that sod insisted on shaking everyone’s hand when they arrived, including yours.”
“Shite.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. At least the kids were off at school.”
“That – “ Hermione tuned out for Ron’s caustic rant about the current PM who seemed to have less brains than Flint seems to possess. “I can’t believe he did that.”
“So we have to be home, inside, for 2 weeks. We can’t even go out shopping for groceries, you to work, anything.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I know. Fortunately, we’ve not been to see your parents since we met with the PM.”
“And your parents?”
“I’ve only talked with them on the phone. I’ve not been by there in 2 weeks.”
“Harry & Ginny. I mean she is at home with a toddler and Harry’s been working on a case for weeks now with his group. I had a meeting with him last week to discuss training for the new class coming in.”
“Then we need to tell him and others and let them decide.”
“Bugger. How bad is this virus?”
“From what he said, most people get a little sick but it’s not a big deal. The problem is that for one in five, it’s serious enough for a visit to the A&E. From what he said also, there’s about 1 in 20 that need critical care.” Hermione sat back in her leather office chair, sighing. “I need to contact St. Mungo’s and let them know to prepare for this. I think I also need to share this with the Wizarding population, too, so they can take care of themselves too.”
“That bad?”
“You know how I talk about history entirely too much?”
Ron grinned, thinking about how often Hermione would pick up a tome for a bit of light reading. “Of course I do. Last year you were reading something on the Dark Ages. Seemed quite bad.”
“Oh, it was. It was how a plague back in the 14th century and how it decimated the European population.”
“Sounds grim.”
“It was. There are articles by historians that the plague killed between 25 and 50 per cent of the population of Europe. Only a few places were reasonably immune to it.”
Ron frowned. “Please tell me it won’t be that bad for us.”
“It won’t. We have better medicines and potions to take now unlike back then. We have a level of hygiene now that makes the transmission less likely.”
Ron said, “You mean how we take a bath or a shower daily?”
“That and always washing hands when coming out of the loo.”
“Who wouldn’t? That’s gross.”
Hermione grimaced. “You know there are plenty of men who don’t wash their hands.”
“True and they’re disgusting.”
“Anyway, we’re going to be home awhile.”
“We’ll need some groceries to tide us over.”
“I’ll firecall Neville and let him know to keep the kids at Hogwarts until this passes for us.”
“Good idea. Looks like we’re going to break out that industrial-sized Mirror you got for me when I was laid up on bed rest with the kids.”
“I’ll go get it and put it up in here for you.” Ron stopped. “So if you’re infected, then I am too, right?”
Hermione smiled, thinking of a delightful Sunday lie-in they had last weekend. “Yes, you would be.”
“Well since I’m on the same broom you are, it’s not like you have to sleep on the couch or anything.”
“No, neither of us has to sleep on the couch.” Hermione stood up from her leather office chair and went to the doorway, pushing her husband gently into the doorframe. With a glance, she ran her fingers through the fringe and his hair, appreciating the softness of the hair on his head. “And no illness will keep me from doing this,” She stood on her tiptoes to gently kiss him.
Ron reached for her hips and pulled her body flush to his own. “Keep that up and we won’t get any work done this afternoon.”
Hermione kissed him on the nose before pulling his head forward, resting her forehead on his. “And once again, you’re right. I did say I needed to do a couple of things before this evening.” She sighed. “But I would enjoy dessert tonight.” Her smile turned wicked. “I think we would both appreciate some quality stress relief.”
Ron pulled her close again, snogging her breathless. “I’ll hold you to it.” He hugged her tight, pressing his nose into her hair. “I’ll go get the mirror out of storage and set it up. Then I’ll firecall everyone to warn them off, including Harry and Ginny.”
“I admit this is going to be, well, interesting.”
Ron erupted in a cheeky grin. “Remember the last time we had a fortnight to ourselves?”
“You mean that little cottage in the French Alps at Mont Fort? That was quite nice of Fleur’s parents to rent it out for us for that holiday.” Hermione smiled thinking of that particular Holiday. “The Muggles only saw one hut out there in the middle of nowhere but didn’t see the Wizarding village down the side of the mountain. I don’t know of any Holiday we’ve ever taken that was better than the one there.”
“You certainly weren’t complaining that we were snowed in that week and slept in front of the fireplace every night to stay warm.” Ron ran his hands along her face. “And to think, nine months later Rose came along.”
Hermione snuggled into his chest. “So you’re hoping for that again, aren’t you?”
“That’s up to you, love. While I would never turn down another child, it’s not my decision, is it?”
“Maybe I wouldn’t be on bed rest for months if I was again?”
“You weren’t with Hugo.”
“We’ll see what happens,” Hermione stood on her toes and kissed Ron again. “But first, we have to take care of the business stuff.”
Ron kissed Hermione on the nose. “I’ll get your mirror up in a moment, right after I talk with Mum and Dad.”
Ron left Hermione in her office while she considered how she was going to do her job to her standards while stuck at home for a fortnight.
Demarcation line for the win!
Ron finished with the last dish in the sink after their dinner of cottage pie and salad. The grocery budget shrunk back down to a reasonable amount once the kids went back to Hogwarts after Winter Hols. He didn’t mind since the kids had everything he lacked growing up, with enough food to feed a small army every meal for them and provided them treats from time to time as well. But the household budget would strain slightly with two teenagers eating their weight daily. How his parents managed all the kids on his Dad’s meagre salary he’d never understand except to respect his Mum and her skills.
Two small yet strong arms wrapped around his midsection, hugging her front to his back. “I’m so glad you’re home with me. I’d go completely mental if I had to spend two weeks away from you during this barmy time.”
Ron pulled Hermione to him, lifting her onto the ledge of the counter. The kids never noticed that the counters were the perfect height for him and a little tall for Hermione. She didn’t mind, not when they were still young and working too hard and grabbed a shag whenever they could manage it those early days of owning their cottage. Tonight, though, they had plenty of time on their hands. His hands went to her thighs, rubbing his calloused hands up and down her smooth skin. “I’d have walked into our quarantine to keep you company during this time. Might I remind you that our vows said In Sickness and in Health? I think this qualifies as in sickness.”
“It’s not like I even feel off. Maybe it’s that cockwomble of a PM who is an idiot.”
Ron opened her pyjama top, exposing her chest to him. It was almost 25 years after the fact and even with all of the changes to her body from having kids, the curse scar along with the gold galleon burns along her chest never faded. They’d healed up well enough but those early days, when he was still learning every square inch of her body, he’d kiss each scar, each burn spot, each memento of a moment when her bravery cost something, some bit of pain in their lives. “Fucking gorgeous,” he growled. “Damn gorgeous.”
“You’re barking,” she smiled as she worked at lifting the tee shirt up his torso, leaving small kisses on various freckles on his body. He finished the job, tossing the shirt behind him so she could appreciate his body. While he wasn’t out running with the kids daily now since his ankle ached a bit from time to time, he wasn’t a gangly teenager like he was at 14. He’d filled out some and put on some muscle on his shoulders and back which Hermione never failed to appreciate. “Deep in thought?” she asked.
Ron looked back at his wife and saw her smirk. “Yeah, just wish I’d been able to tell 14-year-old me to quit being such a tosser and that he’d eventually get the girl of his dreams.”
“You’d already had me but I had to learn to appreciate you,” She worked her hands down his lean torso, settling them on the tops of his hips. “How could I have been so stupid to not realize that you express love to people by giving your time and affection in doing things for people. Once I figured you out, I realized you’d been telling me for years how much you loved me. Once I realized that I was being selfish in thinking you had to express affection the way that I understood you so much more.” She pulled his hips close, feeling his sleep trousers straining the front. “I’m glad I pulled my thumb out.” She grinned at him before shrugging out of her top, leaving her in her skin. “And I’m glad that you put something special in.”
Ron laughed but dropped his sleep trousers, leaving him in his skin. “You mean like you want right now?” he stepped between her knee and then pulled her hips forward to the edge of the countertop.
She pulled on the back of his head down for a tempestuous kiss, feeling his excitement poking her thighs. Releasing his lips for a moment, she breathed, “here or somewhere else?”
Ron lifted his hands from the sides of her hips to her breasts, feeling the tips harden under his fingertips. “Oh we’re staying here,” He cheeked before kneeling before her. “I want dessert first.”
Hermione leaned back on the counter, holding onto the edge while Ron feasted on her tender flesh, giving her so much pleasure and joy that if she could cry, she would. Instead, she let go, embracing the vulnerability she could express with her husband. Ron was the only one on the planet who could quiet the racing raging thoughts in her head, slow down the near-constant anxiety that she had to always be the best at everything, and temper her sharp edges that so many others presumed about her.
A shudder rippled through her body followed by the frisson that she gladly welcomed, all given freely by her wonderful husband. She reached out and found the soft ginger hairs on his head and ran her fingers through them, appreciating the solid feeling under her fingertips while he used his to make her groan in ecstasy.
Another rush of pleasure coursed through each nerve in her body, leaving her quivering in the abundance of sensory overload. She would never tell anyone besides Ron but what he did for her before they had sex was her favourite part. Everything he brought to their intimate moments only magnified how much she adored him.
Two hands reached up her body to tease her breasts, pinching the tips under his well-practised fingers.
“Oh God,” She moaned and felt the jolt of pleasure erupt from her core, spreading out to her fingertips and toes.
When she could open her eyes, Ron was standing in front of her, patiently waiting for her approval. She nodded once, having lost the capability to speak anything coherent some time ago, and felt the pleasure of having his cock inside her.
“Shit, this is fucking amazing,” he kept still for a moment to make sure she was ready. Twenty plus years of making love to this wonderful man – and the shagging and, as crudely as it was factual, the fucking – she never grew tired of it. Like the loaves of bread he made for Sunday lunch for the family, he never let it grow stale or trite.
Hermione reached up to hold onto his shoulders, to have any kind of leverage while he continued to make love to her. While he might have popped off in a minute when they were much, much younger, he had stamina now to last long enough to make her satiated. Who knew that she could feel that much from a shared intimacy with this amazing man she called her husband?
“Yes, right there, feels amazing,” she praised him for every second she could articulate. Her husband thrived on being praised and told how well he was treating her. It took too many rows after they finally pulled their collective thumbs out - and some tears on her part - to realize what he needed to flourish.
“Gonna fuck you hard, Hermione, going to make you walk like a bloody bowtruckle for a week when I’m done with you,” he’d cheek back.
“Yes, please do, yes” each moment he spent driving her spare, with his hands, his manhood, his mouth, anything he could use to afford her pleasure and joy. “It’s not like anyone is going to notice us, right?”
“No one’s going to interrupt. I’ve locked the door, the Floo, and put us under a Fidelius Charm.
Ron kept going, eventually pulling her hips forward and resting her legs on her chest and her feet on his shoulders. Hermione pressed her heels into his collarbone, changing the angle he fucked her. “Yes, right there, keep going,” her praise for him only grew more incoherent, more broken as he nattered on, offering filthy comments in response to her. He understood her best of all. He was the only one who got to see her vulnerable, this candid for him.
A sheen of sweat covered both of them, rattling the cabinets and drawers underneath them. Noises echoed in the kitchen into the parlour along with the occasional groan of wood underneath Hermione’s arse. The slap of wet skin against wet skin echoed along with the growing cacophony into the cottage.
“Hermione,” Ron’s voice rumbled.
“Whenever you are,” she replied.
Ron continued for another dozen strokes, fighting like mad to hold on. He looked down at his wife and saw her tits jiggling on her breasts while one hand had slid down her slick body to where they were joined, pressing her fingertips into the crevice where her bundle of nerves was, rubbing in tight little circles.
“Oh fuck,” he growled before exploding. He pulled her hips flush to his, feeling her clenching around his length.
She groaned like the long-departed ghoul in his childhood attic, imitating a banshee with a bad cold. She shivered, not stopping even after he’d quit thrusting into her welcoming body. He pulled back, gasping for breath and stretching his back. She continued to quiver from all of the sensory overload while he hid the smug grin on his face from making her behave in such a wanton fashion.
Seconds which felt like minutes later, Ron pulled Hermione from the edge of the countertop, lifting her onto his shoulders and carried her to their couch. She scrambled off with him plopping down first followed by her cuddling into his side. She scratched the soft ginger hairs on his chest while he caught his breath.
“We get two weeks like this,” said to the top of his wife’s head. “I never expected to have daily shags ever again, not after that first summer.”
Hermione looked up and smiled before resting her head back on his chest and crossing her knee over his thighs. “I guess we should take advantage of it before everything goes pear-shaped again.”
“Would you say it’s fortunate that we got this earlier than later than everyone else?”
“Honestly? I’d rather get it and get it over with and get back to work helping the rest of our country survive this disaster.”
“Disaster?” Ron rubbed her back, feeling the hairs standing up under his fingertips. “You mean that walking fuckstrumpet of a Prime Minister for the Muggles?”
“If I thought that the populace was manipulated into voting for that sod, I’d open an inquiry. But I don’t trust the Muggles and their discernment of the propaganda that passes for the media now.”
“You’ve never trusted the media, Hermione, not after that bint Skeeter defamed you repeatedly when we were younger.”
“I recall you being shirty too after she went after our kids that one time at the Quidditch World Cup back in 2014. Good thing Ginny gave her what for on Harry’s behalf.”
Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her more onto his still heaving chest.
A soft continuous thumping on the window made them turn their heads. Sure enough, it was raining but also an oversized Barn Owl was on the railing, tapping with his beak in the utter darkness.
“Merlin, can’t even enjoy the moment,” Hermione growled before getting up from Ron’s comforting embrace to stroll to the window and open it, bringing in the very wet owl inside. “I must answer this immediately, isn’t it?” she asked the owl who hooted softly. “Bugger, OK. There are rashers on the countertop for you. I’ll send this back straightaway.”
Hermione saw the MoM seal on the outside of the parchment and cracked it with a fingernail, watching the three feet unroll. She scanned the document before her eyes grew as large as tea saucers then read it again.
Ron sat up on the couch, watching his wife standing only in her skin by the window, the fireplace behind her lush arse highlighting it and silently making him drool, yet she had not a care in the world who might see her form, already engrossed in what had been sent to her. “That bad, love?”
Hermione turned her face back to Ron and saw the thunderheads rolling across her face. “That bloody PM didn’t bother to listen to the Muggle doctors and is being admitted to the hospital tonight. The sod has left that other tosser - “
“He’s the bloke that looks like he was used for quaffle target practice, right?”
“That’s the one.” She took a deep breath. “That means I’m now the Shadow Minister, temporarily. The real Shadow Minister is also under quarantine.”
“But so are we, right?”
Hermione’s smile erupted. “Nothing like a bubblehead charm to go into work, which I, unfortunately, must do for an hour early tomorrow morning. That Ruddy idiot wants to talk about the state of the Ministry before going forward at 7 am.”
Ron stood up from the couch, looking fanciable and fit in his skin. Four strides and he was next to her, swallowing her up in an enormous hug. “I guess that means we need to get to bed so you can sleep, right?”
Hermione looked up at Ron, his beard shining like gold in the amber lights of the fire in the locked fireplace. “Eventually, love. I would prefer round two.”
Ron turned, pulling her with him as he walked back to their bedroom. “Round two, huh?”
“I need to work this stress off and you’re the medicine I need tonight.”
#Dragon's fic#hpfic#Romione#Ron Weasley#Hermione Granger#Not Ace Safe#Citrus Warning#M Rated#18 rated#While Minister Hermione isn't my fave#the idea stuck with me#I ran with it#yes I used the word cockwomble#Posted late so the 2 minors who follow might not notice#Not like they don't know what adults do behind closed doors#Queue Up for the Dragon
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