Alright, this is all thekiribaku ‘s fault( I love you so much and I’m so happy we’re friends! I really hope you’ll enjoy this) merit: she sent me this freaking beautiful fanart by the incredibly talented @taro-k, saying that it fitted my one-shot perfectly AND THAT WAS SO TRUE. IT JUST BROUGHT BACK ALL THE FEELS I HAVE FOR “TILL DEATH DO US APART”! I’m not afraid to say that it’s probably the story I love the most among all those I’ve ever written. This is totally self-indulgent, I just had to let all these headcanons out of my brain, to satisfy my need of “more”. And I apologize for making our lovely boys suffer more, but happiness is a fight and they’re willing to go through it all to gain it. So don’t worry, they are and will be fine, but I just needed to address all the issues that their “Happy Ever After” would have entailed.

KiriBaku “Till Death Do Us Apart” Headcanons, Anxiety and Traumas, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, True Love

-Even if they are finally together again, things are not easy for them. All the memories of their past lives are there, continuously mixing up with the present and sneaking behind them in the most unexpected moments, mining their present. They have to learn to deal with fear, loneliness, pain and a weight they would have liked to forget.

- Sometimes Bakugou feels so suffocated being a normal teenager, without being able to go on adventures, without his kingdom to protect and guide. He feels so vulnerable without his explosions, his senses now duller than before. He can’t but help but feeling frustrated and getting the spasmodic need to fight. Fight and win. It has always been a routing for him during high school, even before remembering: no matter how hard Kaminari and Todoroki tried, he would always manage to throw himself into a meaningless fight. Only Kirishima can finally make him stop getting into street/school scuffles, and, together, they decide to go hiking as soon as Bakugou starts to feel restless.

But Kirishima is the one who has it worse. He is so… human now. His body feels small, unfamiliar, weak… He can’t turn into a dragon, he can’t fly anymore, but he remembers all of it, how it felt soaring the sky and playing among the clouds. And when the memories hit him, he falls into a sort of apathetic trance as if he couldn’t see the world around anymore; he searches for high places, like the rooftop, where to stare at the sky he once owned, much to the fear of his friends who powerlessly see him going numb. And it always takes all of Bakugou’s patience and affection to bring him back to the present: he has to let the red dragon vent it out, scream in pain and anger as he mourns his loss, as he accuses Bakugou of not knowing what it means for him to be caged in that body and then apologizes between the tears because he would only like to forget but he can’t. Only between his arms Kirishima feels grounded again.

-Bakugou, especially during the first years, can’t bear being separated by Kirishima, as if he could disappear again in a blink, vanishing like one of his memories. Obviously, still being teenagers who live with their parents and attend different schools, they have no choice. They adapt, continuously texting about the stupidest things just to remember each other they are there. And when they are together, Bakugou is physically unable to stay away from Kiri, always keeping an arm around his waist or his shoulders; he can’t stand having other people touching him, even if with time gains enough self-control not to growl to Kiri’s friends. And even if Kirishima, before he remembered, has always let his friends draping on him, now he doesn’t have the heart to scold Bakugou too much when he kicks them away, because he feels the same desperate need as he does.

-When Bakugou loses Kiri in a crowd, he has a breakdown, immediately screaming his name and running around unaware of his surroundings until he has found him again and pulled him to the chest.

-Kirishima is terrified of darkness and solitude. It feels like… dying again. He can remember the crippling fear of leaving his King behind and venturing alone into a realm of shadows. He can’t sleep at night until he’s exhausted or has taken some pills to knock himself out. However, Bakugou comes up with a better solution: he calls his boyfriend every night, talking of everything and nothing until he hears Kiri yawning; at this point, he starts humming soft lullabies to make him fall asleep peacefully.

If there’s a blackout or Kiri wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes he’s alone, in the dark, he has a severe panic attack. It happened more than once that he was so out of it that his parents had to call Bakugou and beg him to come and help their son, who was raving about him being dead. Panic attacks seem to be the most common manifestation of Kiri’s anxiety and fear.

-Kaminari and Todoroki are obviously curious as to why their best friend suddenly disappears every day instead of hanging with them; it’s not like that Bakugou could tell the whole truth, so he avoids the topic as long as he can, but they bother him so much (Kaminari at least) that his tongue finally slips and, at the umpteenth “Who are you meeting?” he absentmindedly replies, “My Soulmate.”

Hell breaks loose.

At first, they are incredibly suspicious, but an hour after having met Kirishima they are absolutely in love with the sunshine boy and shockingly convinced that Bakugou was telling the truth. They don’t know how it’s possible, but they only have to look at how they move and interact with each other to realize that, indeed, they are Soulmates.

To Sero and Mina, Kirishima’s best friends, takes more time to warm to Bakugou, due to his abrasive personality, but they can’t fake not to see the adoration in his eyes when he looks at the redhead or the way they seem to be able to breathe only when together.

-Even if they can’t legally marry, Bakugou buys a pair of (cheap) rings as soon as they are both eighteen and proposes during a cozy home-date, just them watching an action movie as they cuddle on the couch. It’s not as beautiful as the betrothal necklace was, but Kirishima accepts all the same with tears, broken “I love you”s and a smile that could light the whole city, so, in the end, Bakugou is satisfied the same.

They both put them on a necklace and wear it every day.

-When high school ends and they move in together, things start to improve: their wounds slowly heal, they learn how to control their memories and keep them out, how to live and enjoy the present. They become able to live their lives separately without being constantly anxious when apart, to hang out with their respective circles of friends without the other, to spend the lessons without texting continuously.

-This doesn’t mean is everything peaches and cream. They have petty daily fights as much as serious, heavy quarrels that put their relationship in danger. Even if most would say Kirishima is the most insecure one, always feeling not enough for someone as great as Bakugou and fighting with his anxiety, is the latest the one who starts the serious arguments, who overthinks everything.

The worst one happened during a peaceful night, after a silent dinner. Kirishima had already noticed something was wrong with Bakugou but wanted to let him space and time to approach the issue on his own. All had started because Bakugou had crashed a birthday party to which only Kirishima had been invited, by chance. At that moment, he had realized something he had always known but never admitted aloud: Kirishima Eijirou, the human Kirishima, was great. He was great as much as his past life was.

But Bakugou? What had Bakugou become?

He honestly couldn’t say the same for himself, couldn’t he? From King of the East to a cold, stubborn, aggressive teenager.

The thought had started to devour him from the inside until that night, as they walked to the bedroom together.

The words slipped easily from his mouth.

“Let’s break up.”

Kirishima froze, turning slightly.

“What?” he blurted, red eyes blown wide in horror.

“Let’s break up,” Bakugou repeated with his eyes fixed on the ground.

“A-are you mad? D-d I do something? We- we can talk about-”

“You wouldn’t love me if it wasn’t for the past, Eijirou. Don’t you see it? You’re a fucking ray of sunshine!” His words were like a cold shower to Kirishima, who gaped, but the blond didn’t see his heartbroken expression. He clenched his fists and continued, pain seeping through his tone, “You would have never fallen in love with me if it wasn’t for the past. The normal, human you would have never considered loving me. You would have probably despised or pitied me. Do you realize how much you’re fucking losing by staying with me? This is so fucking maddening! I saw you, I saw the light you’ve always had in you! But I’m not the same anymore, you’re just conditioned by your memories to love me! All- All of this! Makes no sense! I’m just- fuck! Robbing you of a happier life! You have to forget it all, forget and move on!” Bakugou let out a hollow laughter, raising his hands to the ceiling, “Let’s break-”

The slap hit him square on the cheek, echoing in the silent room.

Bakugou blinked, shocked, and finally met Kirishima’s gaze. He was trembling, hand still raised, and his red eyes shined with tears.

He had never, never hurt Bakugou outside of a sparring match before. Never.

“Take it back,” he hissed.

“Eij-”

“TAKE IT BACK!” He screamed grabbing this t-shirt and pulling him forward, “TAKE IT FUCKING BACK!”

Bakugou was so surprised by the pure, desperate rage that lighted his eyes, that only nodded. He hadn’t even noticed that silent tears were spilling from his own eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered as guilty and fear made him regret ever opening his mouth.

Kirishima crushed against his chest, hiding the face in the crook of his neck and holding onto him with all his strength.

“This is not fake, this is not forced! I love this Katsuki as much as I loved my King! No matter what- no matter what, I love you! So never say it again! Never say we should break up! Never!”

“I’m sorry, Eiijirou…” Bakugou repeated, wrapping his arm around him, letting his fear and pain flow. “I’m sorry…”

“You said it, don’t you dare forget, Katsuki,” Kirishima sobbed, “There’s no God of Death who could ever pull us apart. I will still love you through the next hundred lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Bakugou begged again, “I love you, I love you, Eijirou.”

-They find the painting while they’re strolling in town, and it’s love at first sight. Kirishima, even if he can hardly gaze away, is a bit unsure about buying it because of the price, but Bakugou is adamant. He needs that, that’s how they should have been remembered, that was what he was glad he could still see in his mind. 

Them. It’s them. Bakugou Katsuki, King of the East, and Kirishima Eijirou, the Red Dragon. Together.

After a lot of bargaining, Bakugou manages to have to owner promise to save it for him and starts to work part-time to afford it, under his boyfriend’s back. Obviously, Kirishima is not an idiot and discovers it pretty quickly: in a week he’s able to get hired in the same café as Bakugou, who can hardly hide his happiness behind snarky remarks.

They manage to buy the painting just in time for Christmas and hang it in the living room, where they can see it daily. Every time one of them is home alone, especially as they grow older and have different schedules or business trips, the other would spend as much time as possible in front of the painting. Eating, sleeping, working or lazing around under its shadow as if it was a sort of charm; even talking to it, as if their partner could hear them. And when loneliness and fear crawl into their hearts, anxiety chokes them into the dark, and memories of blood, solitude, and death flash in front of their eyes, they can just look at the painting and remember the happiness they used to share during their past life, that they’re together again, and that a whole new life of joy and love awaits them.

lycanwing:

hate hate hate that anxiety translates over into physical symptoms like what the fuck you’re supposed to be a MENTAL illness

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748730/chapters/66119404

Prompt: Panic! At the Disco, Panic Attacks/Phobias/Paranoia

Fandom/OC: Original Work

TW:  swearing, water, drowning, choking, buried alive mention, blood, cutting, knives, foot injury, hallucination

@whumptober2020​

peanut-monster:

Are you okay?

My mind screams no without thinking. Screams and shouts and yet, I push the loud thought back down, back where it belongs, in the depths of my brain where no one has to know about it. I nod, so people think I am just fine, just fine. I add a warm smile if I feel like it, just to make sure they believe me I am feeling alright.

Are you sure?

No, screams my brain again as I fight it, successfully so. No, screams my brain but my mouth just curls up again into a smile while I answer I am just fine. I feel my own words making it worse, the doubt of my acting, the fear of the questions that might follow, the panic I feel escaping gets worse.

Okay, but if you need to talk, I am here.

Are you? Are you sure you are not going to run at the first sight of what a dark twisted soul I posses? Are you sure, my demons do not frighten you? Because I am not. I would run if someone told me their mind is like a battlefield every second of their day on the good days, and worse than a true war zone, with explosions, shootings, bodies and blood on the bad ones. Are you sure, you will not run when you realise, the bubbly person you know is not even around most of the time? Are you sure it does not scare you that the girl that smiles so much, asks herself why even bother being happy. Are you sure you are here for me, here to listen to hours and hours of anxious thoughts of being broken and breaking down, of being torn apart by the force stronger than anything you had ever knew, of tears of fear when there is nothing to be afraid about, of pain, the worst kind of pain, the one that you have no idea what is causing it. Are you sure you are here for all of this?

I promise, I am here for you, always.

Even when I cannot hear you over the noise that my head creates out of boredom? The noise of people screaming, of cars speeding by, of loud alarms, of clicks of pens, of boiling kettles, of my own heart beating and every other little noise around me, and I am hearing it all at once. How can you promise to be here for me, when most of the time, the real me stays hidden from your eyes because God knows, hearing voices makes me crazy. Are you here for the girl who feels like her entire life is falling apart most of the time, the girl who feels in life threatening situations multiple times a day, even if she is just sitting in the safety of her room. Are you here for the girl who cries herself to sleep almost every night. Are you here for the girl that feels like her entire mind is slowly killing her, the girl who feels like there are knifes slowly being pushed through her bran, the girl who feels like her head is going to explode if all of it does not stop? Are you here for the girl who fights her demons all the time, even when she feels like giving up, letting go, going crazy, she still fights and fears one day she will lose the battle?

Or are you here for the girl that tells you she is just fine, the girl who smiles brighter than the sun and lets you think her life is pretty much close to perfect. Are you here for the girl who makes you laugh all the time, makes you believe she is the happiest girl in the entire world? Yes, that girl is still me, I can be that girl, but at the same time, I am her polar opposite and if you truly want to be here for me, you have to be here for both parts of me. The happy one is tired and letting go a little bit, I will try not to overwhelm you. I will still say I am fine, I just might skip the smile today.

I love you.

I know you do. I know even when the dark part of me says you will run away the second you experience the darkness. I know even when my entire brain makes me believe I trust you too much. I know even when every cell in my body says I will get hurt in the end because there is no one in this world that could love the darkest parts of me. I know, and I love you too.

dnps-things:

just-bpd-thoughts:

Me, in the middle of a panic attack: I’m probably faking it

why the FUCK does this happen to us? why do we do this to ourselves!?

I feel like a huge part of it is because a lot of us grew up being doubted and treated like we didn’t know what we were talking about when we had a problem at some point or another because children aren’t usually taken seriously even when the situation is worse than anyone could guess

Me, in the middle of a panic attack: I’m probably faking it

The Whumper runs a hand over the buttons of their uniform, their fingertips savouring the feeling of the cold metal and the rich fabric beneath them. They look down at themselves, surveying the badges and medals that adorn them, and feel the hand of someone else on their shoulders. The Whumper shuts their eyes as they feel a fatherly squeeze of a firm hand around their arm. The feeling of that familiar hand on them is a conflicted one, for they have just as many memories of this person’s grasp being a reassuring gesture as they have of it being one that preceded aggression. The Whumper, unsure of which it is, opens their eyes and finds themselves neither in uniform nor in the presence of their father. They stand face to face with the Whumpee, who stands defiantly before them even injured, backed into a corner, and with their hands bound behind their back. The Whumper shakes their head, then runs their hand over their plain clothes in the same manner as they had been to try and invoke again the memory of their dad - anything to find out what his intention was. “What was I saying again?” the Whumper asks, their voice suddenly soft and genuine. They pull their hands away from themselves to look at them and realize that they’re shaking. “Or was it you,” the Whumper says quietly. “Was it you that was talking?” The Whumpee says nothing out of fear and uncertainty. They eye the exit and begin to feel their muscles tensing, their body feeling like its own third base coach telling themselves to run for home plate. The Whumper is distracted, their breathing starting to both accelerate and heave, as the memory stirred within them evokes a sense of utter and total panic. The Whumpee has taken their last inhale before they plan on making a run for it when the Whumper’s hand quickly grabs them by the neck. They are pushed back into the wall by the claw-like grasp and hit their head hard against it, but the Whumper’s hand is merciless in its grip. It has now climbed from their neck to grabbing them beneath their chin. The Whumper appears angry, and carries themselves in a way that is unlike the soft self they’d shown just moments before. “I know a runner when I see one,” the Whumper’s possessed-sounding voice growls as their father’s influence inhabits them. “All that brass for hightailing it out of harm’s way. I don’t even know you. That’s not the boy I raised. Because I didn’t teach my boy to run from a fight.” The Whumper releases the Whumpee and drops them to the floor. The Whumpee tries to catch their breath as they watch the Whumper clutch their head in their hands, unsure of who or what would come out of them next.

I’m currently watching Sh**ting Stars and the male lead Gong Tae Sung seems to get some serious anxiety triggered by his mom. Minor things have come up already and I think they’re leading up to something. I’ll keep y’all updated on the whump.

Why do I get the shakes when they start yelling?

When you feel like you’re going nowhere in life.. Just remember that “no where” is one of Pooh’s favourite places.

When you feel like you’re “doing nothing” with your life… remember that Winnie the Pooh once wisely said that “doing nothing often leads to the very best of somethings.”

When you know your crazy is illogical but it’s somehow still 100% real for you.

Quote of the Day - May 13, 2022

Quote of the Day – May 13, 2022

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Quote of the Day - May 16, 2022

Quote of the Day – May 16, 2022

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Quote of the Day - May 14, 2022

Quote of the Day – May 14, 2022

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update

started med school

fuck the french education system, we’re 1900 ppl in my year 460 will make it into medicine next year

got admitted to the psych ward twice, got stitches

changed treatments and shrinks numerous amounts of times

dude im tired i fail at everything i cant study i cant stay healthy i cant function normally unless im doped up, even then gotta take my anxios or brain go :

- command : delete

i relapsed in some habits i thought i kicked and im FURIOUS at myself

“Good. You’re finally awake.” | nightmares | panic

28th entry for @whumptober2021​

Read it on ao3

Title: From the nightmare we’ve created I want to be awakened  

Pairing: 3zun

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Graphic Violence

Excerpt:  

It should hurt, Lán Huàn thinks distantly. Right now, it really doesn’t. Most likely because the spike is so sharp. Blood is pooling from the wound, beginning to colour his light robes in red. They will probably need washing after this-

A strange burning sensation starts to spread, running along his meridians, towards his heart and head. Distantly, he realises that that starts to hurt.

Words: 2.626

Content Warning: explicit discussion of panic attacks and related anxiety disorder
NB: There will be 3 acts because that’s the number of different kinds of panic attacks I’ve personally experienced.

A panic attack is, at its most fundamental, a story.  And what that story is — or may mean — depends almost entirely on your point of view.

Act I: The Invisible Woman

A woman whose only real distinguishing characteristic is very long hair tied back in a ponytail is walking through a grocery store.  It’s not a terribly busy afternoon, and since this is happening in the before-times, before the plague, no one’s masked or taking notice of how close they are to each other. Nobody’s bumping into anyone else, but there’s plenty of background chatter set to weird electronic instrumental covers of eighties hair band songs. A doubled-handled mesh basket is hanging from her left arm as she slows her pace, winding down like a clockwork toy ekeing out the last motive force from its uncoiling spring. No one notices. Not even the woman. It’s the most boring pantomime show in the entire world.

Because for her, everything’s gone completely silent. Her heart’s pounding like a jackhammer, but she can’t hear it. Or her own breathing. Or any of the ambient grocery store noise.  There are only the words spinning noiselessly, blindly through her mind like a Tilt-a-Whirl made of Ferris wheels.

For an outside observer somehow privy to her thoughts, this is where it would become an off-kilter comedy. Because the words are: I forgot the list, what’s on the list, I forgot what’s on the list, I forgot the list, around and around, over and over. She’s way past semantic satiation at this point; the words themselves are meaningless, and that outside observer might find it funny if it made an ounce of sense.

Distantly, the thought coalesces that it should be funny, but she can’t remember how to laugh, or even shrug it off, this strange loop that keeps spinning endlessly, meaninglessly, terrifyingly on and on.  How can terror be so banal as this, so colorless, so silent, so timeless?

Then it ends. No reason. Not for the start, not for the end. Her eyes feel wet, maybe from not blinking for a long time? People are still moving around, moving around her, with a kind of Brownian motion that suggests everything is the same as it ever was.  She’s got darts of quicksilver adrenaline crackling through her limbs like she just had a near-miss with an oncoming car, or train, or something.

She starts moving again, in the same general direction as the people meandering by her, picking up a few more items, even though everything seems half-disconnected somewhere along the way between interaction and perception. She successfully navigates the rest of the aisles, the self-checkout line, even the route home.

And no one notices.

happiness is a butterfly (part 1)

author’s note: thank you for the responses to my first fanfic on this tumblr!! i don’t really have a schedule for when I write or specific characters who i write for at the moment, i just thought i could use this whole quarantine thing as a time to be productive:))

this fic is named after a lana del rey song

the dark knight, except you are the second person the joker captures in order to get batman to reveal his identity. little does he know, you’re as broken as he is. (ledger!joker x reader)

trigger warning: psychological trauma, mentions of violence, mentions of mental illness, reader experiences panic attacks

If he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst

That could happen to a girl who’s already hurt?

I’m already hurt

The room is damp and cold, with no source of light. The smell of rotting flesh suffocates your air.

You’ve been here for hours now.

When you’d first woken up, groggy from the effects of some drug, you’d begun to hyperventilate in the pitch black, the ropes that bound you pressing down tightly on your organs and making it even more difficult to breathe. 

Breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…

This had continued on for longer than it normally would. Every time you managed to drag in enough air to fill your lungs, thoughts that this was more than a kidnapping by those who wanted money or sex flashed through your mind in garish colours of green and purple, and the oxygen was ripped from your body once again. 

Eventually your breathing had steadied, and now here you sit, two hours later, still pulling on your ropes and trying desperately to think of a way out. 

The sudden shove of what must be the door knocks the breath that you’ve spent so long obtaining out of you, and the harsh glare of electric lights followed by the sight of a tall, stooped figure in a purple suit make you scream.

How funny that just a few days ago, you were watching and pitying the police officer in the exact same position that you are now in safely from your bedroom, if unhappily at least safely, and at least safely from others, if not from yourself.

Your gasping cries echoe about the room, grating on the peeling walls and the intruder’s ears and the huge hunks of bloody red meat hanging from hooks in the corners - 

‘Shh, darling, shh.’

And the Joker is in front of you, and you take in the matted green hair and the yellow teeth and the face plastered in white greasepaint and the bright red lips and the two huge scars curving up from the corners of his mouth, forming a grisly smile. He paws at your face with a gloved hand, the action quick and sharp and devoid of tenderness.

He wants you to shut up.

Your terror overrules your hatred and you stop screaming, having to come up for little gasps of air every few seconds.

’Oh, smartgirl.’

His voice sounds exactly like it did in the clips they showed on the TV; the Joker speaks in snarls, with a wet smack of the lips at the end of each sentence. He is still close to you. You can smell sweat, leather, and blood.

‘I presume you know why you’re here,doll.’

There is no point in lying: you raise your trembling head, and nod.

'And Ipresume… you have seen my previous recording, yes?’

Another nod.

'ANSWER ME!’

His bark makes you jump, and sends chills trickling down your spine like cold water. You want to curl up in a ball and die out of sheer terror, but you force your dry mouth to open, unsticking your lips bit by bit, and…

'yes.’

The Joker leers. He puts his large hands on your shaking thighs and pushes himself down into a kneeling position, red lips grinning up at you.

He is like a cat, toying with its prey to make it taste sweeter.

'And what, ah, did I say, was the purpose…’ the intruder’s fingers trace small circles on your skin, 'of my video?’

You know the purpose, but you don’t want to say it, can’t say it, because if you said it, you’d be admitting the truth to yourself, and even after everything you’ve been through, you don’t want to die.

As each second of silence passes each thigh circle becomes bigger, and the Joker’s long nails dig deeper into soft skin, and tiny red roses of blood begin to bloom. You feel the urge to let him continue: to let him scratch his way down to bone and marrow and eventually to the chair you’re trapped in, while you suffer in proud, noble silence.

But when the Joker sighs irritatedly and pulls out a knife from his boot, you decide you are a coward.

'You - you are using me - to try - to try to - to try to get Batman to reveal who - who he really is.’

'Full marks, doll… and you are a pretty doll, aren’t you? Wanna know why I chose you for this, ehem, operation?’

Silence.

'Course you do. Now. It seems as though our, hehe, brave,Batman, did not have much sympathy for the poor police officer who was sitting exactly where you are now…’

See, this is how crazy Batman’s made Gotham…

'Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting exactly where you are now! Geddit?’

The Joker laughs a maniacal laugh, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

'So, in order to persuade both Batman and the goodcitizens of Gotham to reveal his identity, I have chosen someone younger, prettier, more, ah, innocent,thanour dear police officer, to fill their hearts with empathy and the urgent desire to act -

Namely, you.’

Blood pounds in your ears. You’ve forgotten entirely about controlling your breathing - but what is the point, when you are going to die?

'You’re terrified, doll.’

The Joker’s tongue wets his bottom lip.

In a quick thrust he pushes himself off the ground so he is towering above you once again. The knife spins in the air before he catches it with nimble fingers. Footsteps sound on the floor, and the Clown begins to pace the room.

'Before I start to make my little films, however, I like to play a few games.Justto get my actorsinto the right mood, you see.’

You can’t breathe, please, god, someone, help, because you can’t breathe…

'Here’s what we’re going to do.’

to be continued…