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mosstliest · 3 years

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mcyt movie night headcanons!

(cc!) Dream , George , Sapnap , Technoblade , Wilbur , Eret , Fundy , Nihachu , Quackity , Karl

requested? yes / no

pronouns used : they / them

cw! light nsfw (Dream) , mentions of jumpscares (horror films)

Dream

he is a big fan of a good old netflix and chill session

something about the warm, dark living room only illuminated by the moving images on the screen, your silhouette barely visible under a blanket and whatever snack you’d found on his cupboard on your hands gets this man in a raunchy mood

he’ll pull you to his lap or slide next to you and start pecking at your neck

“But it’s just getting to the good part”

you stretch your neck to give him more room anyways

“Oh we’re about to get to the good part”

you chuckle and bite your lip to stifle a sigh as his lips begin to trace your jaw

the movie gets paused is what I’m saying

he refuses to buy any snacks from the candy shop whenever you do go to the cinema

“It is unnecessarily expensive!”

“You have twenty million fucking subscribers!”

“BUT FOUR DOLLARS?!”

he has the most creative ways of smuggling sweets

it started with a classic tote bag

it’s become sort of a game

once, he bought the most ridiculously bulgy jacket and wore it in scorching florida weather solely for the purpose of hiding crisps

he laughs easily at movies and his wheeze has made you get kicked out of a movie theatre at least once

will talk about his favourite parts of the movie for hours after it’s finished

will laugh whenever he thinks about the funniest parts for days

George

(sort of George with a film buff s/o)

he doesn’t talk during movies and actively dislikes people who do

will complain if he doesn’t like the film but only in quiet whispers and not if he suspects you are particularly enjoying it

you made him watch a Tarkovsky film one time

he swears he didn’t fall asleep

he did

but he tried his best <3

can’t choose the movie for the life of him so you always end up having to pick

every time you try and analyze color symbolism he’ll chime in

“I’m colorblind”

before you can finish

you bait him honestly

he likes listening to you talk about your favorite movies and all the films you want to show him

he’ll look up facts about your favourite directors and will make fun of your least favourite ones with you

makes a great snobby-tarantino-fan “you’ve not known real cinema until you’ve watched pulp fiction” impression that never fails to make you cackle

he is not a fan of horror films

you tried to make him watch one once

“I don’t really like horror movies but you said this one was good so- WHAT IS THAT?!”

turned it off immediately and you ended up watching the hobbit

Harry potter marathons are a must

he can imitate maggie smith’s accent to perfection

Sapnap

you watch anime together

I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like it

he doesn’t either

he’ll make you watch it

he has good taste though, so you end up enjoying it

cuddles with Sapnap cuddles with Sapnap cuddles with Sapnap

movie playing on the tv, your head in his chest and his hand in your waist, blankets wrapped around you and the AC running just a little bit too cold = his absolute definition of happiness

you binge watch shows in one sitting and then get sad when they’re over

he always burns the goddamn popcorn

daily movie nights!

you order in and eat a late night dinner in bed

Your pick monday, wednesday, friday

his pick tuesday, thursday, saturday

a full on debate on sundays trying to figure out a good middle ground

Whenever the movie runs late and you end up falling asleep, he’ll turn the tv off and quietly pull the blankets over your body before kissing your forehead in the sweetest way imaginable

he yells at the screen

he loves watching horror movies but gets jumpscared easily

“Awww are you scared baby?”

“Shut up y/n I’m only holding you so you don’t get scared”

“I won’t :)”

“...I’m not letting go if that’s what you’re fucking thinking”

Technoblade

(take a shot every time popcorn is mentioned and pass out)

one of your first dates was actually a movie date

he turned and whispered in your ear whenever a clever wip popped in his head and his commentary was so funny you had to bury your face in your hands so your laughter didn’t disturb the other people in the theatre

he talks during movies, he can’t help it

"heh?!"

he doesn’t like cinema popcorn and will exclusively buy chocolate

you didn’t get it until the day he made you try his trademark-techno-popcorn and wow

“holy shit this is great!”

“I know”

he’s completely ruined popcorn for you

“please don’t ever leave me, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat normal popcorn after this”

“wasn’t planning on it”

he is secretly into romcoms

you watch movies in bed, laptop propped in his legs and an obligatory bowl of popcorn in your arms

he plays with your hair for the whole time

you hate-watch bad movies all the time and your chests hurt from laughing by the end

he can easily memorize entire scenes and will repeat them to you in a totally monotone voice

It’s great

has never cried during a movie, is dreadfully proud of himself for it

sometimes he’ll get distracted and just stare at you, movie reduced to white noise in the background

“you’re so pretty”

Wilbur

makes dinner for you whenever you have a movie night

his snack game is kind of weak though, as much as I hate to say it

water and dark chocolate only

if you think he doesn’t insist on rewatching hamilton at least once every two months you are wrong

he is a goddamn hamilton kinnie and he likes the fucking songs okay?

constant change of cuddling positions

you made him sit through the entirety of the twilight saga “as a hate watch”

he now quotes it on a daily basis (never on stream, chat would eat him alive)

“Whaddaya mean team jacob? He’s a glorified furry!”

you watch a lot of documentaries

the way he concentrates on taking in every single bit of information is almost more entertaining than the actual film

he’ll tell you random facts he learnt watching the documentary and you’ll have to remind him that you watched it with him

you act out iconic romance scenes and he gets so into it

he can be anything from Jack Dawson to mr. Darcy and William Thacker and it gives you butterflies every time

you’ll stand up whenever characters are slow dancing and dance along with them

You’ve tried to watch shows together but you always end up forgetting or one of you will binge an entire season and

he’s insufferable when he doesn’t like a film but will refuse to change it

he criticizes the smallest details in a way that would make Anthony Lane look like an absolute sweetheart

you dance to the end credits theme

Fundy

(long distance!)

Netflix parties ALL THE TIME

+ discord calls / facetime

you coordinate snacks

sometimes you’ll switch whatever you’re watching to dutch for a second so he can make fun of the god awful translation

most times,you fall asleep together after the movie ends even if your time zones are far apart

you watch entire shows together, the longer the better

four or five episodes at a time

You both get super invested and will have heated discussions about whether rory should have ended up with logan or jess

whenever you talk about meeting up, watching a movie and actually cuddling comes up

he used to be kind of quiet during movies

he won’t shut up now, it’s fun, having his voice in your ears with whatever film you’re watching in the background makes it seem like he's in bed next to you

his voice would be easy to fall asleep to if he didn’t yell so often

he can guess the precise plot of every single horror movie

like word for word, scene for scene

he gets scared anyways

he sent you one of his hoodies once, after you begged for weeks

you wrap it around a plushie or pillow and cuddle it whenever you watch something together

“can’t believe a fucking sweater gets more action than me”

“oh shut up you big baby”

Eret

lots and lots of movie dates

he has excellent taste in films and shows so you let them choose most times

stacking up on cinema sweets and a huge bucket of popcorn when you go to a theatre

buying tons of crisps and candybars when you hang out at home

not the biggest cuddler in this specific setting

would much rather have her arm around your shoulder and your legs up on their lap

you watch award shows solely for the purpose of roasting the outfits

bed/couch absolutely crammed with plushies and pillows

you always make milkshakes together

not smoothies

not frappes

milkshakes

with syrup, whipped cream and a cherry on top

the night isn’t complete without them

you watch a lot of period films

“you’d look great in that”

“who are you pointing to again?”

“doesn’t matter, you’d look great in everything”

(you’ll get them to wear a corset if it’s the last thing you do)

he turns to kiss your cheek every fifteen minutes

Nihachu

you bake cookies before movie nights and decorate them specifically for the theme of the film

you did a horror marathon once

(it may have been a sneaky way to get her to hide in the crook of your neck but we don’t talk about that)

the plate of cookies flew out of her hands in minutes

she got so worried

“but you worked so hard on the decorations :(“

“it’s fine babe, we’ll just eat the plain ones”

she wrapped her arms around you and kissed your cheek so it was totally worth it

the decorations were kinda shit anyways

you watch a ton of coming of age movies and will listen to the soundtrack for days after

she’s so funny during movies

sometimes a character will do something stupid and her remark will be so absolutely stingy both your hands will fly to your mouths and you’ll stare at each other, eyes wide, before falling into a fit of giggles

simping over powerful women with Niki

you have a huge watchlist of gay films and high five everytime you cross one off

cuddling under a huge pile of blankets

switching sweaters

Zuko climbing unto the laptop and pausing the movie at the most inconvenient times

Quackity

he eats dry cereal during movies because he’s just chaotic like that

you sit on the floor with your backs to the couch and eat takeout and drugstore snacks

the amount of times you’ve watched the fucking bee movie

you like watching things in spanish

everything from crappy soap operas to almodovar films

he likes to translate things and can do it super quick so you never really need subtitles

you watch a lot of superhero movies and he has made you watch Adam Sandler’s entire filmography

the floor always ends up messy and cleaning up afterwards is almost as funny as the film itself

sitcoms!

lots and lots of sitcoms

Karl

pillow fort is obligatory

monster energy drinks and a huge variety of candy

microwave popcorn with too much butter

hot cocoa with too many marshmallows

you mostly watch cartoons and 2010’s nickelodeon shows

scream singing the iCarly theme song and hating on tori from victorious

getting really into the adventure time lore

tickle fights when the film gets boring

he takes recommendations from “indie film” tiktoks and you mock him for it endlessly

he has weirdly obscure knowledge on every show you watch

he has a big colección of dvds/videotapes so you get to watch some oldies

he falls asleep with his head in your lap or your shoulder

he gives you a sweater or hoodie to wear and lends you plaid pyjama pants

you quote movies on stream and have ton of private jokes

can you tell I got lazy at the end?

likes and reblogs are always appreciated and have a wonderful morning/day/afternoon/evening/night <3

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jaybird-redhood · 3 years

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propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

#luce writes #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #red hood x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc imagine #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd #red hood #dc

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greenhappyseed · 3 years

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BnHA Ch.327 - Review, parallels & comparisons

Not gonna lie, this chapter gave us lots of soft Shoto and ass shots. Both, as it turns out, are important.

In the spirit of “Rest,” I don’t really feel like going over the chapter scene by scene. Instead, let’s see how the “rest” theme plays out across our key characters, because some interesting things happen, especially on the heels of last week’s “Who are you really?” This chapter is not just about Izuku retiring “Dark Deku” — after a cleansing bath there are a few characters ready to lay old ideals and identities to rest, and assert new mission statements for who they want to be.

Ochako. We finally have Izuku thinking about Ochako (now only 3892 more times before it’s equal to how often All Might thinks about Inko). But Ochako is already exhausted and fast asleep. She didn’t hang around to see Izuku after the bath, and she didn’t try to be near him at any point; she just conked out. In other words, she didn’t force anything due to a crush. Smart, considering that relationships based on tense experiences never work.

Bakugo didn’t give his ego a rest, insisting to everyone that he’s gonna be #1. Because he is, and will remain, the image of perfect victory. BUT he signals that he’s trying to give the name “Deku” a rest and switch to “Izuku,” as befits childhood best friends. Of course Bakugo says this while he’s in the water with Izuku, with everything literally bare (and Izuku returns the “challenge” without missing a beat ETA: check out @hanashimas great post on why Izuku is only sassy in English). Oh Hori, you cheeky bastard.

Later, Bakugo doesn’t go near Izuku in the common room and he’s not visible when All Might is around because it would be awkward to talk to him, but Bakugo is there when the “strongest in the class” is nurturing and gentle to Izuku. And Bakugo finally got to see that people DO care about Shoto and his family as Shoto speaks plainly about who he really is and who he wants to be.

Shoto is in the shlubbiest outfit I can recall him wearing, and initially seems a touch off brand even if he's still handsome (although he’s not shown engaging in any of the bath shenanigans, which is very on brand for him). The baggy tshirt and shorts are a great visual signal showing how he’s like his peers while he talks openly about how he’s different from his family. These dorms and these people are HIS safe space too. Notice that Shoto had EVERY reason to be furious at Izuku, especially because his father was with Izuku the whole time. Izuku distracted Endeavor from his promises to Shoto about finding Toya together.

But Shoto doesn’t hold on to any anger and moves straight to caring for his tired friend. This is who Shoto really is now. He sees Izuku alone on the couch and goes to talk to him. If Shoto hadn’t done that, would anyone have felt comfortable just hanging out with Izuku rather than slamming him with OFA questions? (Bakugo is on the other couch between Kirishima and Kaminari.) In return, Izuku confides to Shoto about being a jerk to All Might, and how guilty he feels. After not confessing any of his OFA or All Might-related worries to Shoto before, it’s a nice restart to their relationship. And apparently, the moment was powerful enough to conjure All Might to the Heights Alliance window like Slender Man. Shoto also watches (but doesn’t say anything) as All Might speaks with Izuku, while Bakugo doesn’t appear to get off the couch. I’m curious what Shoto thinks about All Might bowing to Izuku and apologizing compared to Endeavor’s efforts to atone.

All Might. Last chapter, All Might was clearly exhausted mentally and physically. He’s been following Izuku around for weeks — even after being ditched he tracked Izuku to Kamino and UA before going back to Kamino for Stain before returning to UA for Izuku. (And there’s no sign Hercules is a self-driving car.) But now All Might is exceptionally All Might-y and is NOT resting. He seems more energetic and determined than ever. He’s even using his “I am here” catchphrase and speaking a bit more formally (“I must depart!”). There’s no real emotion when he apologizes to Izuku and then the class (good on you, Mina, for making him address 1A!!!) His apology to Izuku is also very lacking in specifics; like he still hasn’t told the kid he made the right decision to spend time with friends and rest.

This chapter makes it sound like All Might is legitimately trying to merge his identities and find a way to be as “All Might” as possible without powers. He says in front of the kids that his body limits how much he can contribute AND he has classic “old man” posture when he bows — it looks like he has a hard time bending forward without rounding his back and bending his knees, and he’s slow to stand back up. (See, I said ass shots would be important.) Remember, he also fell down and dropped the bento chasing after Izuku.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, this arc has gone out of its way to remind us that All Might isn’t as fragile as fanfic would have you believe. Not to linger on an ass shot, but, uh, the man doesn’t look skeletal. Plus, All Might still has razor sharp instincts, and he athletically leapt from a moving car, rolled across a highway and defeated assassins without any coughing/splorting. All Might has backup too — he’s got Hercules, that mystery suitcase, and the anniversary artwork depicted mecha All Might (plus there’s the old steampunk artwork showing him suited up that someone called out the other day but I can’t find the link).

All Might also references Second’s statement that what Izuku needs is people who can match pace with him. People like Iida, who represents the class and, conveniently, is right there with Izuku and All Might. And Izuku’s “together” echoes Shoto’s.

Now we know the “real” All Might is determined to fight — or at least be an “active player on the board.” He’s not going to sit on the sidelines like he did during the war. And I think he’ll do more than deliver bentos (although I suspect he’d be willing to do that too). Once again, kids have pushed him to do better. The question is HOW he’ll pull this off and how physical his fight will be. “Bad Things” will happen if he gets reckless and jumps into a fight without adequate backup or precautions. But All Might's head could be in a good place judging by how he thinks about following and joining and not bearing the burden alone; about crawling prostrate through mud for the kids (plural) and getting filthy like a hero. He’s thinking about what he has to live for, rather than what he would die for.

That said, All Might is joining Endeavor, which is concerning and means death flags are still around for our “old guard” heroes. Let’s see how the All Might/Izuku and Endy/Shoto “together” pairings work out. We know Hawks is ghosting Tokoyami, so there’s no togetherness there.

Jirou and the Culture Festival Band. I can’t imagine we are heading for a parent/child festival arc. But I love the concept of heroes using their quirks for amusement and fun. A nice rest from the fighting and the high stakes.

Who else is resting? Shigaraki.

Who else is NOT resting? Hawks’s mouth. Holy exposition dump. I can’t stop giggling that Hawks, an extreme Endeavor stan, is so dismissive about Stain’s “deranged love letter” to All Might (which is also a gigantic “fuck you” to Endy). The letter really is a thing of poetic beauty (“Now, more than ever, the masses cry out for that unshakeable sense of justice he embodies…The Symbol of Peace must stand at the vanguard and lead us all to a more just society”):

Jokes aside, I loved ending the chapter on this Endy panel, because if anyone needs to learn that villains can become allies, and maybe even redeemed, it’s Endeavor and his zealot, Hawks:

Finally, note that AFO isn’t resting either. AFO wants OFA before Shigaraki awakens and transcends humanity. Interesting -- we thought AFO needed Shigaraki as his tool to take OFA. I wonder if it’s a control thing? To try and ensure Shigaraki doesn’t take the power for himself and act against AFO’s will??? Is it a sign this master and successor pair won't fight together??

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 327 #mha 327 #all might #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #afo #bnha meta #mha meta

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stanknotstark · 3 years

Text

Odinson M.D. (Loki x reader) Pt. 1

I’m excited for this series honestly. I’m doing a lot of research so I write this medically correct tho, if yall see anything wrong don’t be afraid to tell me ^^

Summary: Y’all wanted a House AU so here it is. Loki is a doctor who keeps most people at bay with his sharp wit and sarcasm. He doesn’t understand the need for romantic ploys and casual human discussion. He thrives in the hospital, trying to figure out the unknown, even if his methods turn a bit morally ambiguous at times. That’s why he has Thor and Frigga to keep him in line although he would argue he has no need for it. You just happen to be a doctor on tenure under Loki’s tutelage along with Steve Rogers and Peter Parker. Can you convince the jaded doctor you’re just what he needs to keep him on his toes?

Loki feels the, what had started as pin pricks now, full blown boredom eating away at his overactive mind. He folds sticky notes, from his rolling chair, into small balls and flicks them over to his brother, Thor, who stands fiddling with a broken, plastic Santa sitting on the desk they hang around. Thor proudly wears his white lab coat on top of a nice plaid button down and brown, pressed slacks. Loki prefers to stick to his more casual clothes, if not a bit fashionable for casual, for a doctor. He wears a black cashmere sweater with gray, pressed slacks, a nice pair of oxfords to finish his style. It’s enough to keep him warm during the winter season.

Christmas, such a mainstream holiday. Loki abhors this season what with all the festive cheer and decorations that litter NYC. You can’t walk two feet without being guilted into giving money to the people who stand on corners with bells for the Salvation Army. You can’t buy something nice without a cashier smiling at you, as if all knowing, and asking who you’re giving this gift to with cheerfulness in their high pitched voices. What he especially hates is that Odin expects him to show up to the family dinner every Christmas, seeing as Thor has a wife and has to spend half his time with her family. Loki is the black sheep that’s expected to pick up where his brother has neglected. All in all, Loki would demolish this one holiday from existence if he had the even the slightest chance.

The only good thing about being a doctor was that meant he could get away from most of the holiday by working through it. He couldn’t always escape the dinners seeing as his mother, Frigga, was of administration and Dean of Medicine on his floor. Not only did that hinder him but his father owned the hospital, so he was at a disadvantage, if only by a bit.

“We are condemned to useless labor.” Loki sighs out, his fingers playing with another yellow sticky note, crushing it into a ball.

“Fourth circle of hell,” Thor replies with a roll of his eyes as a paper ball launches towards him, hitting him in the cheek before falling to the ground. “Charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all classic poetry, brother.” Thor says lightly. A suggestive twitch of his lips all Thor gives to a bored Loki.

Loki takes time from making paper balls to look over at the pile of charts next to him, sitting on the clinic’s lobby desk, waiting for his attention. He’s sure if the charts came to life they would resemble a dog, desperate for attention, wagging its tail with excitement when he finally looks at it. “Writing down what we already know to be read by nobody,” Loki brings his attention back to making another paper ball, completely ignoring the fact that Thor had rolled his eyes so hard he probably has a headache. “Pretty sure Dante would qualify that as useless,” Loki says lightly, a frown on his lips.

“You’re two weeks behind on your charting!” Thor says with exasperation, stopping his fiddling with the Santa to look at Loki as if he had offended Thor personally.

Loki flicks another ball at Thor, however he misses his target and, it sails past Thor, hits Frigga on the chest whom had just walked into the clinic. She watches the paper fall to the ground, giving Loki a look of disappointment. The man gives his mother an innocent smile from his seat. “Oops! I missed.”

“Are you eight years old?” The poised woman asks with a squint in her eyes as she walks over to the side of the desk Loki and Thor reside at. She picks up one of Loki’s charts and reads it with flickering eyes.

“Could an eight year old do this?” Loki asks, catching Frigga’s eyes, and sticks his tongue out at his mother who rolls her eyes. What is it about Loki that causes everyone to roll their eyes? Something he’ll never get the answer to, not because he can’t but because he doesn’t care enough to find the answer when it’s so painfully obvious.

Loki’s mother lifts Loki’s chart, she had picked up, a little higher as if trying to garner Loki’s attention, after she had finished reading through it, and looks at him with frustration. “You have a patient in exam one, Loki.”

Loki settles further into the rolling chair, throwing the pad of sticky notes on the desk, bringing his hands together over his stomach and lacing his fingers. Loki embodies the epitome of comfort and relaxation. He shrugs. “Yes but see I’m off at twelve and it’s already five off...” He shakes his head minutely with a look that says ‘Not much I can do’. He’s rather hoping his mother will let him off the hook this one time. He knows she has a soft spot for him and takes full advantage of that. Thor remains quiet on the matter, playing with the plastic Santa that’s supposed to sing when you press its button.

“She’s been waiting for you since eleven.” Frigga says with finality. Setting his chart down, Loki swears he could hear a gravel slamming down, and then she leaves but not without a pointed look at Loki. This meant Loki isn’t getting away this time. He sits there with his lips pursed and a frown etched into his eyebrows as he watches her retreating form.

“Melancholy without hope, which circle is that?” Loki pointedly asks Thor who looks at him with a sympathetic look only causing Loki to scoff and rolls his eyes as he stands, grabs his cane, and makes his way towards exam room one.

Loki limps into the room, already conscientious about his gold and green cane, making sure it doesn’t hit the wall as he slips into the exam room.

Looking back Loki doesn’t regret the choices his made on the cane. The man liked attention from the right people. He hates most casual people seeing as he usually finds them boring, predictable, and the need for small talk not something he takes much joy from. The cane definitely stood out and was the starter of conversation for common man that passed him by, unfortunately. This wasn’t enough to make Loki regret his ostentatious picks on his cane though.

The cane itself is light but durable. The stabilizer at the bottom had four anti-slip feet, covered by a wide quad base, all black and shiny. The cane, in all its glory, was emerald green, specifically requested by Loki, and had snakes engraved in the metal base. The snake outline, repeated around the entire cane, were then dusted in gold and, shined pretty and proper when in the sun. The snakes that run from the bottom to the top, run up the cane with open mouths as if devouring the brethren that followed up the last snake. When they reach the top of the cane, the handle’s edge, they stopped. The handle itself was covered in pure gold. The inside of it was carbon so it was lighter to carry but still very durable. The handle was fashioned after the head of a Black Mamba. Sleek and slim but one of the deadliest, most venomous snakes in the world. A symbol of Loki’s true power, or at least that’s what he told anyone that asks. In all honesty, Loki had picked the Black Mamba head because he thought it looked cute. He had a reputation to uphold, however.

Loki pushes his way into the exam room to find three nuns, one on the medical bed with two nuns on each side. As he closes the door he turns his head so he may let his eyes go wide without the women seeing his exasperated look. He turns his head back after the door is closed and he reins in his emotions.

“Hi, I’m doctor Odinson,” Loki supplies the three women, setting his cane aside in the room and looking up at the women with a small tilt of his lips. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks the woman sitting on the bed.

“Show him your hands, Augustine,” One of the sisters demands of Augustine, the woman on the bed Loki tabs in his head.

As the woman shifts the cloth covering her hands Loki takes the time to pop a pain pill into his mouth, swallowing without water if only because he’s been taking them for years for his disability. The use of the word disability is new, seeing how he didn’t take to the word too kindly in the beginning. As of now, he has accepted it for what it is and calls it as it should be, a disability. Something that may hinder him but does not define who he is or ever shall be.

Sister Augustine lifts her hands in front of her and they shake a bit as she holds them out for Loki to examine. They look raw, red, and as if they’re wet but in reality it’s because they’re covered in an ointment and severe rash. They’re pruned as if they spent too much time in water. When she turns over her hands to show him the palms he notes that they’re also raw and red, but more so and bleeding probably from scratching.

“It looks like stigmata.” The sister on the right of Augustine needlessly announces to Loki, or possibly to no one in particular. The other sister on the left shushes at her. Loki has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at her remark. Of course this ignorant nun would condemn her sister for something as simple as an allergic reaction. She finds the rash to be a form of disgrace on her sister. Typical.

Loki steps forwards, his eyes on her hands, “Must be all the talk around the holy water cooler.” He lightly supplies the three sisters with a joke to break the tension that had risen from the sister’s remark of stigmata. His eyes come to rest on her hands and as he reaches up to hold them in his own says, “You been washing a lot of dishes lately?” Loki glances up at sister Augustine’s aloof face.

“I help out in the kitchen.” Augustine replies.

“Anything new in the kitchen?” Loki asks, trying to pinpoint what’s causing the rash.

“We just got a donation of pots and pans this week.” The nameless nun tells Loki which supplies Loki with an answer for her reaction. Dish soap, pots and pans wouldn’t have caused such a reaction.

“I unpacked and washed them.” Augustin gives Loki, trying to help him out.

“Should have spent your time saving souls,” Loki says, his natural sarcasm coming over him, “It’s easier on the hands.” He says with a face that could be taken as contrite but is actually irony. “This is contact dermatitis. You’re allergic to dish soap.” Loki tells the nuns, his mind bored with how easy this diagnoses is.

As Loki turns to write down his report in the chart one of the nameless nuns speaks up. “Nonsense! We’ve always used that soap, why would it be a problem now?” She asks Loki.

Loki lets his head tilt back as he looks at the ceiling with a playful look on his face. “I’ve been a doctor for years,” He looks at the nun who spoke up, “Why do I have to keep assuring people I know what I’m doing?” He asks rhetorically. Not only talking about the nuns, Loki thinks of the many times where he has had to convince his own mother, and brother, that he knew what he was doing, going so far as to proving it.

“A person can become allergic to substances they’ve had repeated and prolonged exposure to.” Loki explains, his eyebrow raising perfectly, as if asking if the sisters had any other remarks to make before he looks down at the chart for Augustine to write his report real quick.

Loki then makes his way to the cabinet and picks out a small box inside of it. “Good news is, free samples!” He gives a fake smile, and excited tone, to the nuns. “I’m giving you an antihistamine to stop the allergic reaction,” He explains his process. “Take one every eight hours, might make you sleepy, and get some over the counter Cortisone cream, for the itchiness.” Loki looks at sister Augustine to make sure she understood his words, nodding at her when she gives an understanding nod, then handing her two pills from the box he had pulled from the cabinet.

“Thank you, doctor.” Augustine says with a small smile and nod.

“Want me to get some water?” Loki asks the women.

“I have some tea!” A nameless nun says, grabbing her thermos and giving it to Augustine.

Loki nods at the nun and backs up to pick up the chart. “Relax for a minute, the pills work pretty fast.” Then he leaves the room thinking he is done for the day in the clinic, thank god.

Loki throws the chart on top of his other charts he had left on the desk with Thor, in the lobby, and sighs as he limps around the desk and to Thor’s side.

“Still out by twelve.” Thor says, more so to grate on Loki’s nerves than anything.

Loki lets it go but replies, “How do you solve the problem of dermatitis.”

“Doctor? I want to thank you for your patience.” A sister says interrupting the conversation Loki was about to have with Thor. One of the sisters from Augustine’s side now stands in the clinic’s lobby with Loki and Thor. Her face showing she genuinely means it.

Loki manages to give Thor a disparaging look when he asks, “She talking to you?” As if shocked Loki was getting any kind of compliment. Loki can’t fault him there, he isn’t used to getting compliments either. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t bask in it but it is a little uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, she’s certainly looking at me...” Loki says back to Thor, shifting his weight from foot to foot in discomfort. He turns, watches, as the sister makes her way over to him, standing a little over a foot away. Enough distance to be comfortable since she is a stranger but a little too close for Loki’s comfort anyways. He hates people, so physical, so sentimental.

“It’s so good to get a secular diagnosis.” The nun offers Loki with a gratified look on her face, her body swaying with her words like she really means them.

Loki feels the frown come over his face and he tilts his head down at the sister.

“The sisters tend to interpret their diagnosis as divine intervention.” The nun explains to a bewildered Loki.

“And you don’t?” Loki asks, his voice not betraying his confusion but it’s definitely there. This sister is very...different from regular nuns, he can already tell. Her ideologies being promulgated so plainly are leaving Loki in an almost disoriented state. “Then you’re wearing an awfully funny hat.” Loki says, his sarcasm coming out to hide his true feelings on this whole conversation. The sister merely tilts her head with a look that says ‘Very funny’.

“Oh boy.” Thor whispers behind Loki. Loki can feel him shifting as if he wants to escape this situation just as much as Loki. “Excuse me.” Thor says grabbing all his charts and reports so he may make a swift exit. Loki glances back at Thor, his face now shifting from its usual neutrality to a look of perplexity and a hint of longing as he wants to leave too. Loki looks back to the sister, hiding his emotions again as she speaks.

“If I break my leg I believe it happened for a reason. I believe God wanted me to break my leg,” The sister says, her face showing nothing short than utter earnestness that almost makes Loki gag. “I also believe he wants me to put a cast on it.” The sister finishes causing Loki’s lips to twitch upwards and forget his brief nausea. He likes her, something no one that truly knew him would take lightly.

“Doctor! Something’s wrong!” The other sister says loudly as she races into the lobby. This breaks the little moment the sister was having with Loki and he stands at attention.

They all make their way back to exam room one with hast in their steps and Loki’s limp.

When Loki enters the room he finds Augustine to be hunched over, rapidly breathing but the air is filled with wheezes as if she can’t get breath into her lungs. Loki quickly tabs this as an asthmatic attack but grabs his stethoscope and brings it up to her chest. “Lift up your chin.” He demands softly, letting the stethoscope land on her chest when she does and moves it from the left to the right side listening to her lungs and heart as she panically breathes in faster.

“Sister you’re having an asthma attack, I need you to relax,” Loki drops the stethoscope from her chest, taking it from his ears, and turns to the drawers in the room, “Roll up her sleeve, please.” He demands of the sister next to him. He quickly picks up an syringe from the drawer he opened and turns back to sister Augustine. “I’m going to give you epinephrine,” He explains. “It will open your lungs and help you breathe.”

Loki uncaps the shot, by mouth, and quickly sticks the sister’s arm, injecting the liquid components of the epinephrine into her upper arm with fluid movements as if he’s done this a thousand times before, because he has.

Loki looks up at sister Augustine to assess the situation. The cap of the needle still in his mouth which he lightly grinds around with his teeth, almost nervous but not quite.

Everything is quiet for a moment. Loki takes this time to remove the needle from the sister’s arm and replace it with a cotton ball which he presses to her skin with moderate strength to stop any blood flow that may have followed the intrusion.

“What happened?” One of the sisters ask.

Loki foregoes the answer to that question to ask his own, “Did she take the pill?” He looks at the sister next to him, the one that had warned him of the situation and had stayed behind with sister Augustine. The one that had called it stigmata.

“Yes.” She says in a tone that betrays confusion and defensiveness.

“It’s an allergic reaction.” Loki explains ignoring the sister’s emotions at his question.

“She’s allergic to an anti-allergy medicine?” The same sister asks in an incredulous tone now.

Sister Augustine sits there taking in small mouthfuls of air, as if she now understands breathing is a commodity. Her body is still hunched over as she grabs at the medical bed with a white knuckled grip. Loki looks at her sympathetically. “How are you feeling?” He asks thinking about what variations he can use to treat her allergic reaction on her hands now that the blood rushing experience is over. “I’ll put you on some steroids instead.” He decides out loud, capping the syringe he used and throwing it away in the designated red safety box.

“Is my heart supposed to be feeling so funny?” Sister Augustine asks breathlessly, Loki watching as she brings a hand up to grab at her chest.

“It’s called adrenaline, makes the heart beat fast.” Loki says flippantly but puts two fingers on her pulse point on her wrist just to check if it’s something worth looking into. Loki looks at Augustine with concern, his eyes flitting around the room in thought, “But not this fast.”

Sister Augustine takes in a deep breath, wheezing again.

“Get a nurse, please.” He tells one of the sisters in a calm but pressing tone.

Sister Augustine leans into Loki’s body with a whimper and he grabs her so he may lightly rest her on the bed in a supine position. He leans over her watching her and trying to figure out what’s wrong, what could possibly be causing this, and how to fix it, fast.

“Somebody help!” Loki hears the nun call outside the room.

His attention is diverted when sister Augustine passes out. He quickly puts the stethoscope in his ears and puts the diaphragm on her chest, checking for her heart beat first, then her lungs. There is no comforting beat to be heard and her breathing has completely stopped as if it never existed, pulling this situation from a simple allergic reaction to something far, far more serious than Loki had anticipated.

“Somebody get in here!” Loki yells out frustrated no one has answered their calls for help. Finally a nurse in blue scrubs comes in, realizing the situation is of immediate emergency and looks at Loki so she may help.

“Call a code and charge up the defibrillator, she’s got no pulse.” He says speedily, starting to perform CPR on sister Augustine. The nurse flees from the room in record time to grab a defibrillator and yell at someone to call a code blue.

Loki manages CPR for a few minutes until the defib team comes in and takes over. They only barely manage to bring sister Augustine back to life.

Loki stands at the doorway, the two other sister next to him praying, he bites at his thumb. His mind is racing with the need for an answer. What caused this? What was he missing? It’s an allergic reaction, there’s no doubt about that, nonetheless he can’t figure out why everything he tried sent her into further shock. She couldn’t possibly have been allergic to everything he gave her, antihistamine and epinephrine. There is a factor here that he doesn’t know about, something is missing, and he would figure it out if it was the last thing he did.

Loki barely glances at one of the sisters as they take a drink from a thermos before going back to saying their Hail Mary’s.

Tagging (because they showed interest for this series): @rosaline-black @blueberrynonnie

I won’t tag yall in any other posts unless you specify you’d like that! i just wanted you both to know i started it and if you’d still be interested 😊

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taurus-official · 3 years

Text

My partner was drawing fanart for a show they like. I overanalyzed it. They wanted me to share. This post is very long.

The show is called Bolts and Blip. It was made in 2010, and ran just one season into 2011. The initial premise I was told was that robots competed in sports on the moon to solve disputes that happened on earth.

Initially I thought this was an odd way for democracy to operate, but hey, I don’t make decisions for the government, so moon robot sports is how things were.

This intrigued me for a few reasons, such as

It takes place in a post-war era of “world peace”, in approximately 2080. Judging how things are going now, I find the concept of 2080 being after a world war very believable.

There was seemingly one democracy on earth now, and that democracy decided unanimously to settle all further disputes via moon robot sports, as stated.

Humanity was technologically advanced enough at this point to not only create robots that could play sports, but they played these sports in a large city on the moon!

My initial question was this: Do we know who built the robots?

Yes of course, its common knowledge on the moon. Just two scientists are responsible for all the robotic life on the moon, creating a number of robots in the ballpark in the thousands. This is a lot of moon robots.

There is a need for so much raw material to create even a thousand robots, enough for a civilization, NOT TO MENTION the massive city they all inhabit. Where they probably don’t get new shipments of materials on the reg, this would mean the scientists could continue making more until they ran out of resources.

However, besides these main robots, one of the scientists also created a race of at least 100 robot leprechauns living under the ground. Or, at least... One of the leprechauns.

Then, allegedly, this one robot created more than a hundred more. I do not know when the first robot leprechaun was created, but I fear for the safety of the human race if there was any interplanetoid travel between the earth and the moon while they existed.

The resources sent to the moon for the purposes of making robots would be very finite. Thus, if these scientists created the robot leprechauns before they had used the resources up, the leprechauns could apparently self replicate using the materials on the moon. This is how there became more than a hundred of them.

This may not be the case, but if a single one of the sublunarean self replicating leprechaun robots happened to board a spaceship that was heading for Earth... With a near infinite supply of resources, enough to spare on moon robot sports, the number of leprechaun robots would quickly grow. The earths infrastructure could be at risk. I’m talking sinkholes that are miles wide. Why?

Because the leprechauns were programmed and built for the moons gravity. The leprechauns create more of themselves on earth, as many as they are able to, but are still programmed for the moons gravitational density. The Earth is much heavier, and when the build their subterranean halls, they would not know that our planets density is more prone to collapse. Catastrophe.

But even that is purely conjecture, because Earth is never once seen in the show. Let me get back to what we know.

The leprechaun robots, as well as the main race of robots were all created by one man. Dr. Tommy, colloquially known as the ‘good’ scientist. The ‘bad’ scientist is called Dr. Blood, which is a kickass name 7 days a week. I will explain why there are ONLY two humans on the moon shortly.

The primary species of robots that Dr. Tommy makes participate in team based sports, interpersonal relationships, jokes, goofs, and gambits. The concept of Artificial Intelligence making jokes, playing sports, and creating bonds is not unheard of, or at least, it might not be in 2080. However, my next questions make me think these robots were not AI. My questions were:

Do the robots have the concept of death?

Do the robots ever say the word ‘heck’?

To both of these, the answer was a horrifying yes.

Yes, it is confirmed, that robots on the moon say heck. The implications of this are astronomical. I will spell it out thoroughly because lockdown has given me endless time with which I can do as I please.

Heck is, of course, derived from the word hell. Hell is the counterpart to heaven, both terms used to signify the existence of an afterlife. Where there is the word heck, there are beings that believe in the afterlife.

These robots have souls.

The circumstances in which these robots die, which they are entirely able to do because of their soul, is such: The Reformatter. To simplify, the Reformatter grinds the entirety of the robots body to scrap, which it then melts together to make household appliances. This is what happens to robots who are not ‘good enough’ in society.

What the nightmarish fuck.

Not only do the souls of the robots face heaven and hell, they also face being reformatted to become the brave little toaster if they do not serve their society.

Their society which is made by one human

Let me emphasize this; they treat him like he is unto a god. How can they not? He created them, their world. He is their father, their everything. They even built a statue of him, holding an enormous double sided wrench which is clearly symbolic to remind them.

Dr. Tommy gives life, and it can be taken away.

The method of which he gives life is a puzzlement to me. I am told that our dear Dr. Tommy refers to a robots as having a ‘Heart’. This Heart is described to me as a magical piece of leprechaun gold, so the robots are able to feel.

The robot Heart is likely a simplification. The show is advertised as a Family show, and must cater to the understanding of all ages, including small children. Breaching the topic of souls, mortality, and the afterlife likely wasn’t something the writers or creator were able to do. My theory is, the Heart is a future technology that can instill a soul into a robotic body,

Which, wow. Big, if true. At first I was boggling at the concept of manufactured souls being a technology that humanity could see in my lifetime, but then I remembered one of the three key pieces of knowledge I was initially given.

“It takes place in a post-war era of “world peace”"

....Throughout human history, one social class is legally subjected to inhumane treatment; Prisoners. Once you are in jail, internment camps, concentration camps, those that are keeping you there believe you have less rights as a person. Medical experimentation, slavery, abuse, forced sterilization, nothing is illegal.

And after a war like the doozy Earth must’ve recently went through, there must be a lot of war criminals. Those that were so engulfed in carnage and bloodshed, there was no way for them to reenter society. The newly forming singular government, if they had access to the necessary technology, may have used it on these criminals.

Think about it. The dust settles from an all out world war. There cannot be peace without someone to shoulder the blame of the atrocities. There must be an evil, if there is to be peace. So, the individuals who excelled in war and killing became the reason there was war and killing. These people are now less than human for what they’ve done. They can be treated as such.

I think this is when their souls were taken. As each warrior passed, their spirit was caught and kept. And then, in a classic move from 1788-1868, they transported all the criminals to somewhere they would never harm humanity again. Somewhere out of the way, remote, and it was the moon. You knew where this was going, they sent all the souls to the moon.

Along with a large amount of other people! The two scientists certainly did not build an entire moon colony on their own, and at this point, the robots were not even in production yet. The moon colony was made, and then the scientists began their work.

Starting with the leprechauns, who I believe were not made from the souls of war criminals. The first one may have been another scientist, the one responsible for creating the ‘Hearts’ in the first place. This is why that one knows how to create more of itself.

Then, the robots were made. There would have been a prototype, but let me focus on what the show covers for a bit.

The sports that these robots engage in is between two existing teams, complete with names, colors, and esprit d’corps. These games vary from episode to episode, some involving hang gliders, some with miniature fighter jets, some involve a battle with guns... that squirt water. The logic there is that if they are hit with the water, they rust and die. Which, okay. Right.

But a lot of the games and sports they play seem to be quite combat based. Furthermore, the robots seem to take to them naturally.

Not to mention, there are bomb mice and big laser guns as well. These robots are armed. Why the hell are these robots armed? Who thought it was a good idea? After all, these robots are clearly capable of malice still. Why wouldn’t they simply turn violent against the humans?

I think they did. Here’s my theory of how it went down.

Dr. Tommy begins using the souls of war criminals in a prototype of robot

The robots can recall their life on earth as humans, but are now trapped in metal vessels because their bodies have been destroyed

The robots begin reacting to the existential nightmare of being soul trapped

Some despair and destroy themselves

Some are enraged and destroy humans

Most of them, actually

Most of them turn their wrath against humans

The people who inhabited the moon, who created the cities, were suddenly under attack by the most skilled killers around.

This is when Dr. Tommy hits the kill switch for these robots. They are recycled, and maybe he even collected the souls again but maybe Dr. Blood took those ones.

These happenings left only two humans left on the moon. Dr. Tommy began making a new version of robots, who’s souls could not remember their time on Earth. Perhaps, in taking away everything about their humanity, he gave them the most innocence of anyone.

These robots now know that

Dr. Tommy is good, for he created them

They must contribute to the society Dr. Tommy has made for them

If they fail to do so, they will not only die, but go to hell

Dr. Tommy is the good scientist. He doesn’t want the robots to be used for evil, he doesn’t want them to hate each other. Not like that Dr. Blood, who encourages these robots who have no memory of who they were before and might be able to unlock those memories to become more warlike.

However, look at what Dr. Tommy makes them do. The robots are still using their combat knowledge, independently of their memories of war on Earth. Their knowledge is being honed and enhanced, while the repercussions of their actions are not something they are privvy to. But, Dr. Tommy is the good scientist. The robots know this, because he said so.

Or because they will be obliterated and condemned if they go against his word.

It is also worth noting that the good doctor also usually lives remote from his creations, in a little space shuttle.

In conclusion. I believe Dr. Tommy is knowingly creating an army of supercombatant robots, imbued with the souls of the most bloodthirsty war criminals, that will do his every will. He intentionally killed every human on the moon colony that he could. I fear what this will mean for the future Earth of this show.

Final notes:

These robots, once their souls memory was wiped clean, would have no gender. Gender is a construct originally created to indicate what a persons sex characteristics were. Not only is that a spectrum on humans, but robots would not be given any such characteristics, nor would the concept of gender transfer over. All the characters seem to perscribe gender to themselves though, which was not something they were given at their ‘birth’. This makes none of them are cisgender, so every robot in the show is transgender.

Further cementing my belief that Dr. Tommy made these robots for combat is that at LEAST the main characters have “super” modes, where they become even more powerful and capable of succeeding in combat. What’s the hyper-killing mode for, Dr. Tommy? What’s it for?

The humans that were killed on the moon are still somewhere, probably frozen? One joke alluded to the characters being able to purchase human body parts (a stomach) in the run of their average day. Its very possible that the human anatomy is being extensively studied by the robots. Whether this is for medical purposes, or to more accurately kill humans, or to satisfy their innate bloodlust, I do not know.

I am also told that at the end of the only season, a space ship that is also a school bus arrives on the moon! It is full of children. Which. Oh god oh no.

I understand this turned into a grimdark internet theory of a cartoon. I also believe that, without the ability to think critically, we will never be able to come to rue understanding of our own nature. It is still a cartoon. My thoughts and words should be taken with a singular grain of salt, because I am a human who is often wrong. That being said, Andrew Knight, if you ever read this, let me know what you think.

#bolts and blip #cartoon #cartoons #theory #tw

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bookandcranny · 4 years

Text

If You can Change Your Tune

The interloper arrives in a rented moving van, the same sort as all the ones before.

“Are you sure about this?” her friend asks as they pull up to the house. “I know you’ve always had a thing for fixer-uppers but this place might be beyond saving.”

Even as she unlocks the front door the wind whistles a note of warning through its rickety frame. The floorboards beneath their feet crackle and moan at the intrusion.

“All it needs is a little love,” the interloper retorts. Her name is Ann. I remember her from the showing, a woman of insufferably good cheer walking room to room with the equally annoying realtor of the week, a dopey smile hanging from her lips.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. People like her come around from time to time with aspirations in their heads of moving into the rural countryside to rehabilitate my thickets into sprawling gardens or write the next great American novel from within my historic walls. Seeing the reality of the place in person was usually enough to convince them to chase their fantasies elsewhere. However, it appears this particular happy-go-lucky thorn in my side needs a bit more work to dislodge.

“Are you sure you’re not in over your head?” the other one asks. I try to guess at their relationship. Friend? Sister? A lover? I’m sick to death of couples.

“It’s a little late for me to back out now,” Ann laughs, twirling the keys around her finger. “Don’t worry, Nick’s bringing his crew over tomorrow to start on the repairs. She’s a project but the foundation’s sound. Next time you see this place she’ll be a real beauty.”

“’She’?”

“Yeah, you know, like how people call cars or boats a she.” She climbs the stairs and runs her hand along the dusty banister. I think of splinters— with luck maybe she’ll get tetanus- but nothing comes of it.

The house is my body. Two stories, twelve rooms not including the attic, an old-fashioned spiral staircase, and me, the greatest antique of all, left to rot. Once upon a time a family used to live here: a mother and father, a veritable litter of hyperactive young children, uncles and aunts and cousins who would stay with them some summers and during Christmastime, and the wizened pale face of a grandfather who watched over them from above the mantle. It was all very precious, very southern hospitality, very postcard perfect. All very gone. Not even their ghosts remained; just me, and all the better for it.

Chesterfield is the name of the county as well as the nearest town, though from what I understand that’s using the term lightly. Most folks local to the area know better than to disturb me, but sometimes they get bold. Bored teenagers mostly, or suited vultures looking to see if there’s any profit to be squeezed from the property. In its heyday, the house was probably a sight to behold, but I wouldn’t know much about that. Memories of my life, if ever I truly lived, are slippery like oil on the water’s surface, impossible to grasp.

Though without eyes or ears or a mind to make use of them, I can “see” through my many windows— if eyes are the windows to the soul, maybe windows are can be eyes to the spirits— and “hear” any sounds that tremble through my frame. I’m grateful for these senses; they help me keep things in order. If someone starts to get a little too cozy with my corridors, and providing the spiders don’t scare them off first, I just slam a few doors, flicker a few lights, and they go running.

The interloper and her extra finish moving in the last of the boxes. She squeezes her arm and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll send you pics once I’ve got my room set up,” she says.

“Bold of you to think you’ll survive that long. This place is definitely haunted. Do you get cell service out here? I want to call a coroner and tell them to save your spot.”

“I don’t remember making this big a deal when you moved into your first place.”

“It had bed bugs, but it didn’t have ghosts.”

Ann makes a face. “I’ll take my chances with the ghosts.” She puts an arm around her shoulders. “Kim. You’re acting like I’m dropping off the map. You’re the one leaving the country.”

“For two weeks!” Her expression grows tense. “I feel bad leaving you like this. I should’ve been there for you, there was just so much going on.”

“It wouldn’t have changed my mind.”

She sighs dramatically. “No, nothing can, can it? I fear for whoever you end up tricking into marrying you.”

Ann slaps her playfully on the arm. “Do not start on that. Speaking of which, don’t you have a honeymoon to be on? Go on, get.”

Kim puts her hands up in mock surrender and backs out the front door. I raise one of the loose planks on the porch and she trips, just barely evading a tumble down the front steps.

“See? Cursed!”

“Go!” But she’s laughing as she adds, “Thank you for the help. It means a lot, even if Sophie is gonna kill me for keeping you this long.”

“I’ve got time to talk her down.”

The U-haul rumbles away down the dirt road until it’s a muddled blur in my perception and then, finally, gone. I’m alone with the enemy now. More importantly, she is alone with me.

I slam the door. It’s the easiest most classic trick in the book. Ann jumps and looks around. I know what she’s thinking. Just the wind? Or could it be…?

But no, one small act like that won’t be enough to convince her. With a shrug, she returns to the task of moving in. She shuffles around a few boxes in the foyer and starts moving them one by one up to the second floor. All things considered she hasn’t much to move in, but I’m not fooled. Where one intruder appears, more will follow, and bring all their junk and their noise and their petty living problems with them.

All my original furniture was auctioned off in an estate sale. It took place right here on the lawn, and I watched through my windows as they divvied up my family’s belongings, breaking them down into numbers and measures of worth for the masses. For the most part though I didn’t miss it. The absence of clutter made the space feel bigger, and I got used to the emptiness.

The interloper sets up in the master bedroom and unpacks some supplies to give the room a cursory cleaning. The agency normally sent someone over to prepare the place for new residence, but since the last few rounds of movers had come and gone, they hadn’t bothered. If Ann minds, she doesn’t show it, and I have to admit it’s nice to have someone sweep away the dirt and detritus.

After cleaning to her satisfaction, she starts opening boxes with foreign labels and assembling her furniture from strange little kits, turning sheets of instructions over in her hands as she nibbles on a hangnail. The result is a set of cheap-looking geometric furniture that makes her curse as she accidentally attaches the table leg to the chair and the chair leg to the bedframe. Something about watching her work transfixes me. Probably her comical ineptitude.

After she fixes all the furniture she dresses her new bed and starts cluttering her shelves with all kinds of bizarre toys and knickknacks. Among her affects is a paperback book titled “the art of moving in and moving on”. I scoff.

“This is a temporary arrangement. Very temporary, you got it?” I tell her, though I know she can’t hear me. I know this, but it still annoys me. It feels like she’s ignoring me.

The interloper smiles to herself and takes out a black rectangle that she holds up like a camera, though the shape is far too small and thin. She lowers it, considering, and then from yet another box digs out a string of Christmas lights and hangs them up above the bed.

“It’s June,” I say, dumbfounded.

I look at the string of lights and put pressure on one of the bulbs until it bursts. She jumps, but the moment passes. She spends the bulk of the evening fussing with her camera-thing until she falls asleep.

Fine. If she wants to play hardball, I’ll play hardball.

In the morning, the interloper’s camera-thing plays a tune to rouse her. Her waking is both a curse and a blessing, for while I was glad to be free of her active meddling, even as she slept I was never able to completely ignore her presence. I feel her like an itch, like a stubborn pimple forming beneath my skin, and I’m glad to sense her rising if only because it means I can get back to business sooner rather than later.

The water heater and other facilities are still in good condition from the last unfortunate newcomers I drove from my doorstep, which frees her to take a long shower, singing obnoxiously all the while. This, however, is a perfect opportunity for me. When the heat from the shower fogs the chipped bathroom mirror, I brandish my loathing like a pen and write her a message. Granted, precision isn’t my forte, so the words come out a little smeared and crooked, but still the intent is clear as can be.

LEAVE

Ann squints at the streaked mirror. “Love?”

“Are you really that stupid?”

She looks around but, seeing no one, shrugs it off again and starts to brush her teeth. When she ducks her head to spit, I quickly try again.

MINE

“Mina? Who’s Mina?”

I groan. Okay, perhaps a more symbolic approach. I will the mirror to shatter, but just then a loud knocking sounds and Ann runs off in a frenzy before she can see the long crack forming down the center.

“Door’s open!” She calls from the landing as she hurries to finish dressing with one hand and wrangle her hair into a towel with the other.

I try to hold it shut, but despite my efforts, the door is forced open and a parade of half a dozen handymen file into the entryway. As they start setting up, a burly towheaded man breaks from the pack and goes to meet Ann as she’s bounding down the stairs.

“Careful, careful. Don’t put your foot through anything before I’ve even had the chance to bill you.”

“Nick,” Ann says fondly. “If these stairs could handle me, Kim, and the fifty-pound mattress we lugged up there yesterday, I think they’re stable.”

“You gals didn’t have to do all that. I could’ve—“

“It’s fine,” she insists. “You’re helping me out enough as it is.”

“Yeah, well, we’re even for that whole thing at Kim’s wedding now.”

“More than even,” she agreed. “I know this was last minute. Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll order enough pizza for the entire crew.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You haven’t seen how much Seth can eat.”

Their easy banter disgusts me. Living people are all the same; wandering around with blind optimism or bemoaning every bad turn, blissfully unaware of how little it truly mattered. One wrong step with those tools of theirs and any one of them could be joining me among the shiftless dead. I don’t have any desire for that kind of company so I decide to wait until they’re done with their renovations before I risk trying to scare anyone again.

As it is they hardly need my help. Ann, it turns out, is more than just clueless, she’s a klutz. If that isn’t enough she insists on “helping” right up until she almost shoots herself in the foot with a nail gun. Nick warns her not to try it again but I don’t feel any anger from him. The crew are all familiar with one another and with her. They chat and toss around jokes between tasks; someone puts on music.

The feeling isn’t quite a tangible one, but then neither am I. It’s an energy I struggle to describe, something like wading in a river and being aware of a splash rippling from upstream. Compared to the sharp tang of fear I’m accustomed to, all this amicability is nauseatingly sweet.

Ann beams, and the high arches of her cheeks dimple and flush darkly, round as apples.

“What exactly do you have to be so happy about?” I hiss in her ear.

As much as I hate to admit it though, I can understand why someone like her moved so easily among the crowd. Even when she was getting underfoot, she’s a difficult person to condemn for it. How could anyone begrudge her excitement when it was so abundant? Or her love when it was so freely given?

Growing impatient with it all, I knock a toolbox off the top of a stepladder and send its contents scattering in all directions. It lands hard and the sounds of work, the music and the laughter, all come to an abrupt stop.

“What was that?” someone asks. A worker crouches down underneath the arch of the ladder to collect some of the scattered screws and I, with great satisfaction, tip the thing over on top of him. The damage is little, but it’s enough to get the entire crew good and spooked.

“I didn’t touch it,” the injured handyman insists as he nurses his bruises with an icepack. “It just collapsed.”

“Maybe this place is haunted,” another jokes, but her smile doesn’t quite cover her nervousness.

“Kim said the same thing,” Ann muses to herself. Nick looks at her and she startles, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.

“I was wondering how you were able to afford this place, even with the damage.”

“Oh don’t start with all that black cat broken mirror stuff. You see bad omens in everything.”

“And you don’t see red flags until they’re waving right in the face. Not even then,” he accuses. Her guilty expression says there’s some truth to his words. “Tell me honestly, is this house haunted?”

“That’s silly. Of course not.”

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” I demand with frustration.

“Then how do you explain what just happened?” asks the injured worker.

“Thank you!”

Ann hums thoughtfully and looks up at my aged walls, my decrepit ceilings. “The realtor warned me there were rumors about this place. This house has survived fire, flood, and an attempted demolition; somehow nothing was ever able to destroy it, and every person who’s lived here had reported seeing strange things. Objects moving on their own, strange sounds at night.”

Nick leans forward in his seat. “And what did you say when they told you all that?”

“I told her it sounded perfect.”

He puts his head in his hands. “Ann. Mary-Ann Thorne. Tell me you did not buy an actual haunted house. When Kim told me you just up and bought a house on a whim I thought that was crazy enough but this…”

“I didn’t buy a haunted house,” she says. She stood up straight and spread her hands with a dramatic flourish. “I bought a survivor. Houses are like people. They have personalities, they have their own little quirks, their likes and dislikes. Old houses most of all. I could tell as soon as I walked into this place that… well that she had something special. I can’t explain it, I just felt so drawn to her.”

She places her hand on the wall and holds it there. If I were alive I think I would shiver.

“She’s been through a lot, but with some TLC she’s gonna sing, I can feel it.”

“That’s crazy,” Nick says, but she isn’t listening. Not to him. It’s almost as if… almost…

“Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t respond. Of course she doesn’t. I berate myself for even daring to expect something so deluded. However, her little speech seems to encourage the crew, or else they’ve just calmed down enough to put aside their reservations and get back to work.

Watching them I feel… strange. Even when my house had been lived in before I had never really felt so cared for. It’s all ridiculous of course, a blind act of charity sprung from some silly woman’s misguided and misdirected affection. While the workers patch holes and replace crumbling pieces, the interloper sweeps and scrubs, eager to do her part.

Evening falls, and Ann prepares to head into town to pick up dinner.

“The guy on the phone said they don’t deliver to this address for some reason,” she says. “Weird.”

“Why don’t I go,” offers Nick. “I’ve got the truck. There’s more room.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agrees. “But I’m still buying, clear?”

“Crystal.” There’s a faint air of nervousness wafting from him, I think. I suspect he’s been hoping for an opportunity to get away from me for a while.

The rest of the crew seem mostly recovered from their brief brush with the supernatural. I intend to fix that.

I start by flickering the lights, another classic. Someone gets up stammering about checking the fuse box in the basement, but as he and Nick each go for the doors I slam them both at once, creating a nice echoing effect that rings all through the house.

“Try writing that off as the wind.”

“I got a better idea,” another someone offers up. “How about we all go into town for dinner? It’ll be nice to get out of— it’ll be nice to get out, let the dust settle here.”

“Come on, Ann,” Nick gestures. “We can swing by the bar after. It’ll be fun.”

She hesitates, a strange look on her face, and takes a step back. “You all go ahead. I’m not that hungry.”

“Ann.” He speaks more sternly now, looking something like an older brother with a neat wrinkle of worry taking up residence on his brow. “Come on.”

“I’m fine here, and you’re being silly. If you don’t believe me, bring me back something after you eat and you’ll see that I’m perfectly safe here alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” I whisper, for nobody’s benefit but my own. “What would you say, if you knew. If you really knew.”

“Besides, I’ve already spent the night here once. If something were going to happen, why didn’t it?” She pulls a smirk, puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe it’s just you guys my house doesn’t like.”

Nick huffs an almost-laugh and relents, not entirely satisfied but not looking to argue the point any longer. He tells her to call him right away if anything changes and then he leaves. The workers file out after him, the last of them gingerly shutting the door behind him, so as not to anger me.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” I ask her. My voice, such that it is, takes on a plaintive edge. Pitiful. I correct myself, refocus my aims. “You’ve had plenty of chances to run, and it’s only going to get worse from here on out. You know that, right? You’ve got to know this isn’t just some twenty-four-hour fever. You can’t get rid of me. It’s my house.”

She starts up the stairs. I follow. I have no other choice.

“Are you really this dense? How can you ignore the signs? How can you believe there’s anything here worth salvaging?"

She walks into the bathroom and stares into the cracked mirror.

“What are you doing now?” I complain. “Looking for answers? I couldn’t give them to you if I had them. Or are you just admiring your pretty reflection?” I stroke the mirror’s surface. “Must be nice, to be young and lively. If you leave now, you could have years and years of perfect ignorance, uninterrupted by those pesky reminders of death. You could have a life, and you’re wasting it.”

She touches her fingertips to the cool glass with a mystic look in her dark eyes.

“Mina?” she whispers.

“My name isn’t Mina.”

Or maybe it is. Might as well be, for all I know. I think I must’ve had a name once. Surely there was a word, a simple sound, some collection of syllables that meant I see you. Surely there had been someone to speak it and make it real in their mouth. But how should I know? And if such a person did exist, what does it matter now? I’m not a person anymore, I’m a thing that happened, a thing that’s happening still. I’m a box built to hold my history, filled up to the rafters with hurt and resentment. That’s as close as I get to living. If I could move independent of my dour walls like her, I think, I wouldn’t be wasting my time moldering in the darkness.

Ann shakes her head. “Silly. I’m being silly,” she tells herself. Looking up at the dim light fixed above her she adds, “I should probably check on that fuse box after all.”

She goes back down and opens the door to the basement. She flicks the switch on the wall a few times but that bulb's been long neglected. Even those who swear up and down they don’t fear the fables or superstition became suddenly shy when it comes to probing the deepest depths of this old house. Ann turns, presumably to seek out a flashlight, when her heel catches on one of the repairmen’s screws that had rolled loose. It’s not even my fault this time, technically.

Like some kind of morbid slapstick, her foot shoots out from under her and she stumbles backwards towards the open basement door. It’s a long drop that awaits her, followed by a fast end if she’s lucky. And I know well enough by now that she isn’t.

Without thinking, I push her. Instead of that foresworn drop down the basement stairs, Ann finds herself tripping backwards into the wall instead. She rights herself, takes in a sharp breath, and then releases it with a sigh. She’s dazed but unharmed. I find myself mirroring her relief.

She smiles. “Thank you,” she says.

Then she closes the door and walks away.

That has never happened to me before. Normally, to manifest, to have any direct impact on the physical world, I have to summon up a great deal of anger. That isn’t too hard for me; I’ve been angry a long time. But in that moment, I hadn’t been angry. I think I’d been afraid. For her safety? No, of course not. More likely I’d been worried she would leave behind a ghost and I’d be stuck with her invading my personal space for eternity. Still, I’d never… never done anything like that before. I’d never helped somebody. I suppose I’d assumed it couldn’t be done, even if I wanted to. Ghosts, spirits, malevolent spectral entities or whatever you like to call it, that’s not what we're for. That wasn’t what I did, until I did it.

I become aware of singing coming from the kitchen. The fool is never not singing or humming or whistling something. I know music; it’s not as if I’m totally uncultured. While I have no lungs nor lips to make sound, sometimes on a stormy night the wind whistles through my walls, each creak and moan playing for me the orchestra of slow degradation I’ve come to know well.

This is not that. This is… I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know the words. Is it too late, I wonder. I can’t. I’m not ready. Oh but if you can give me time, stranger, I think I want to learn your song too.

#my writing #short story #ghosts #haunted house #paranormal romance #lgbt #horror romance #4k words #first person #original fiction

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nellie-elizabeth · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: One World, One People (1x06)

Oof, okay, so I obviously enjoyed watching this, but I do have some things I would like to discuss.

Cons:

The biggest one is honestly about Isaiah. I understand that this is a superhero show, and there's some cheesiness baked into the very concept of it. I like the idea of a triumphant ending for our heroes, where amends are made and everyone is brought some measure of peace. BUT, I feel like a more nuanced, more true to reality ending here with Isaiah might have been different. Maybe he gives a tip of the hat to Sam, says he's happy he's found his peace, but he still doesn't agree with his choices. See, the thing is, some people who have been hurt by systems want that system to acknowledge its mistake, to apologize, to make amends. That's what Sam is pushing for. He believes we can do better, and all that. And that's a wonderful perspective. But other people who have been hurt by systems might not want anything to do with that system ever again. At the end, when Sam sets up the part of the museum for Isaiah, he says "now everyone will know what you did for this country," and Isaiah seemed pleased and touched by this. But I couldn't help but think... he was forced into doing those things, and then punished for doing them. If he'd decided he didn't want acknowledgment, didn't want to be linked to the idea of American heroism... I couldn't blame him for that. It might have added more nuance to the ending. Sam could have even said that it's okay if he and Isaiah don't agree on the best way forward, they still have mutual respect, or whatever.

As a white lady, maybe I'm off base. I'm just really curious at what the reaction is going to be. All through watching this show I kept saying to myself that an ending where Sam takes up the shield and becomes Captain America can't stand on its own. There's got to be nuance. There's got to be some good justification for it. And as I'll talk about in a moment, I think they've done an okay job... but I also wouldn't be surprised to find some people enormously dissatisfied with this conclusion. Steve Rogers handed the shield to Sam, yes. But should we forget what he did before handing it over? Well, he walked away from the government and was on the run because he didn't respect their choices. Just some food for thought.

I also just want to say: ????? to that ending for John Walker? It was so bizarre to see the light banter moment between him and Bucky after Walker had quoted Lincoln. Like... that felt so out of place. And now he's being made into an American agent? I don't understand that random lady's role in events. I don't know if I'm supposed to think it's sinister and creepy as fuck that John still has a uniform, and even the suggestion of authority (I do think it's creepy as fuck, for the record), or if I'm supposed to be... pleased that he got a new job? Just, tonally, the stuff with Walker in this finale was all over the place. He didn't seem to really matter, and yet he was still there, and the episode didn't seem able to reckon with his presence.

Oh, also, I can totally respect a bit of ham-fisted politic in a show like this. It's really the only way to do it. But Karli saying that Lamar didn't matter, and John saying "you think Lemar's life didn't matter?" was, perhaps, a little on the nose. I'm not sure I like the BLM mouthpiece being blond haired blue eyed John Walker, especially when Lemar's death, at least as a narrative function, only happened to allow John to get sad and angry about it. Where's his wing in the museum, huh?

Also Sharon Carter, she's my girl or whatever, but I gotta admit she was kind of boring to me in this whole series. I wanted more from her. The reveal that she was the Power Broker had me shrugging. I wanted to be more shocked, but she was so clearly telegraphed as being fishy from minute one. The fact is, we haven't had enough time with this character to figure out who she actually is as a person, yet. I don't understand her, and that's a shame.

Pros:

That was a long "cons" section, especially for an episode that kept me riveted the whole way through!

First off, the action was exciting and different and had so many classic "superhero moments" while not totally abandoning a more grounded feel. Sam holding the car up was such a Moment. Also the "that's Black Falcon!" "No, that's Captain America" moment was so cheesy but exactly the right kind of cheesy, you know? We got to see everyone being a bad-ass, crowds applauding, Sam's fantastic entrance with the new suit, the wings, the shield... damn. It was all cool in the way the best Marvel products need to be.

So, Sam taking the shield. I think it works because of his speech to the politicians. Specifically calling out the power they have, and the people they have in the room with them when they make the decisions that will affect so many people. There's this wonderful moment when one of the politicians asks a legitimate question: what about people who came back after the snap to find someone else living in their house? It's so complicated. And as the show ends, we're not given a simple answer. Sam merely points out the miracle of having everyone fighting the same fight for once. These rich and powerful people have had no idea how impossible it can be, and now they're getting a taste of that. There might just be the power of equalizing in all of this.

And most important to me? The government didn't hand Sam the shield. Sam took it and took ownership of it on his own terms. Think back to the legacy of Steve and the shield, honestly. Yes, he was given it by the government, but then he stole it when he ran away, then he gave it up, then Tony gave it back to him... it's a lot more complicated than it might first appear. Nobody's going to argue that the shield was Steve's to give, and he gave it to Sam, and Sam took it for his own. That made it work for me, as a direct contrast to the way in which John Walker got his hands on it.

Karli's death was inevitable and tragic. While I never cared all that much for her character as an individual, she worked quite well as a symbol. Sam points this out in his speech as well. Hasn't anyone stopped to wonder why people believed in this cause so much they were willing to die for it? That matters. It means something. And more will follow. I appreciate that the show ends on an ambiguous note. The people in power are still the people in power. And yes, their decision has been postponed. They've decided not to relocate people and replace the borders immediately. But what is the long-term solution? How does the world begin to heal? Well, we don't know. We don't get to see that.

If anyone got short shrift in this finale it was Bucky, but I'm honestly okay with that for a couple of reasons. One, this is Sam's show and I'm happy that it stayed that way. And two, we saw Bucky's emotional arc come to a head in last week's episode. The work isn't done, but he knows what the work is that he has to do, and we see him start to do that. He gives the journal up to his therapist. A way of letting go of his guilt, but also of saying goodbye to Steve in a way that can give him some actual closure. He confesses to his friend Yuri what really happened to his son.

And more than all of that, he shows up to hang out with Sam and his family. He brings cake. He goofs off with the kids. He hugs his friend, his partner, Sam Wilson. I can see Bucky coming to peace with some things. Coming into his own. It breaks my heart that we don't get to see more of that play out on screen. The show had to make a choice about whose story to prioritize, and in my opinion it made the right choice. This was a show about Sam's journey and Sam's decision here at the end was the capstone of that.

That scene at the end, though... the kids hanging off of Bucky's metal arm was such a poignant image for me, because this man is a killing machine, was designed to be so, but has remade himself into something else, and this moment really showcased that. Also, that gay-ass ending of Sam and Bucky looking out over the water together and then strolling away, Sam's arm around Bucky? Thank you for my life, Disney, I guess. And we got Bucky calling Sam "Cap," and his obvious admiration and pride in him for his speech... I just love them, y'all. I really do.

I wouldn't say anything about this show broke the mold or made me really excited about Marvel again. I enjoyed it, because I already liked Sam and Bucky, and I got to spend more time with them. I was nervous about how they were going to navigate certain political stickiness, and honestly I think they did... an okayish job. I could have wished for them to go even further, but they didn't take the easy way out, in my opinion.

I hope they make more of this someday. Regardless, I'm not ready to say goodbye to Sam Wilson or Bucky Barnes, so I hope we get to see Captain America and the White Wolf grace our screens again in some project or other!

8.5/10

#review #fatws #fatws review #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier review #falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier review

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wintersxsoul · 5 years

Text

Come Back To Me

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, memoy loss, mentions of torture.

A/N: This was highly inspired in the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but I hanged the ending a bit. Thank you to my beautiful beta reader @all1e23 for putting up with my bullshit since I started writing this piece. Italic paragraphs are memories/flashbacks.

Before you, all Bucky Barnes knew was darkness, pain, a hollow chest with a broken beating heart. You appeared like flowers bloom in Spring, taking away the remnants of Winter, giving color and life to a grey world. He thought it would be impossible for someone like him to even talk to someone like you, but as always, fate had its own plans.

There were a few Hydra bases left but The Avengers needed help to locate them since the only clue they had was written in Ancient Greek. Natasha knew Latin but after a few days trying to translate, they knew they would need a professional.

That’s how you ended up in a meeting room with The Avengers. You were one of the best translators in the world, you knew more than 15 languages, written and spoken, you had four Ph.D. in History, Mythology, Literature and Art. After a few months working for them they eliminated almost all Hydra bases. You had to leave New York to do a Mythology seminar in London for two weeks, so you forgot about everything about the team and focused on your work.

In the four months you stayed with The Avengers, Bucky Barnes struggled with his feelings towards you because he had fallen in love hard and fast, so when he heard that you would be gone, his heart shattered. You both were oblivious to the feelings you had for the other, making it a bit harder for you two to communicate.

“Steve, I can’t go. I just can’t.” Bucky told his best friend, who just assigned him to go on a little trip to London. Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, Buck. You are the only one on the team available, so I’m sorry, but it’s vital for you to go.”

So that’s how he ended up in one of your conferences, sitting at the back of the room, taking in all the information you were throwing at the audience. The passion and professionalism with which you spoke had his heart beating rapidly on his chest. Your whole face lit up when you saw his large figure and his blue eyes watching you, your knees almost failing you when you paced around the stage. You paused the talk for a 10 minute break and honestly, to gather yourself. Bucky almost ran down the stairs to meet you, engulfing you in a tight hug, his scent filling all your senses.

“Not that I am not happy to see you but, what are you doing here?” You tilted your head and placed a strand of hair behind your ear nervously. He smiled sweetly and explained that they needed you once more for a top secret mission he didn’t even know about.

“As much as I would love to help, I have to attend two more conferences in the following days, so I can’t go today.”

“Uhm, I...I checked your schedule and informed the team. So I’ll be staying around until you are done, if that’s okay.” You really tried not to show any kind of excitement but failed miserably. Your heart fluttered at the thought of Bucky attending your talks and after decades doing this, you felt nervous.

Bucky thought it was impossible to fall in love with you even more, but he was wrong. You started explaining the myth of Eros and Psyche, your eyes never leaving his. If your Oratory teacher saw you right now, she would be kicking you for being so unprofessional, but you really couldn’t care less.

The myth of Eros and Psyche is probably one of the best love stories in classical mythology. Eros, son of Aphrodite, was the personification of intense love desire and he was depicted throwing arrows to people in order to hit their heart and make them fall in love. Psyche, a beautiful maiden, personifies the human soul. In fact, she is the symbol of the soul purified by passions and misfortunes and who is, from now on, prepared to enjoy eternal happiness. In the love story of Eros (Cupid in Latin) and Psyche (meaning "soul" in Greek), we can see the perseverance of a man even when he is possessed by passion and the effort of a woman to overcome many obstacles in order to achieve the happiness of love.

Bucky’s eyes gleamed under the dim light of the room, and you accidentally smiled at him. He moved to the front rows so he could be closer to you, so know the whole audience knew you were probably ignoring them and just spoke to that single person you were smiling to.

When you finished explaining the whole myth, you saw a few hands rising to ask questions, and you felt pride bubble in your chest because that meant they were interested and not bored to death.

“So how did Psyche lived forever?”

“Well, Zeus decided to give her the Ambrosia, the food of the gods, so she could be immortal.”

After answering a few more questions, you saw a shy gloved hand and you shivered, not expecting him to participate at all.

“I would like to ask what this myth actually represents and what it means to you, ma’am.” Your shaky hands grabbed the glass of water that sat on the small table and drank a bit to ease your nerves. You cleared your throat and smiled.

“The interpretation I gave was the true connection of the soul and love. Eros and Psyche are the proof that everyone has a soul and is capable of love, even the darkest soul.”

Everyone started clapping when you finished, your smile only growing wider when Bucky looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

“You can’t tell me what this secret mission is about?” You heard Bucky sigh loudly when you approached the table he was sitting at, waiting for you. He had asked you out to have dinner and since you were staying at the same hotel, you thought it would be a good idea.

“Okay, punk. Whatever, I gotta go.” He hung up and smiled at you, his eyes roaming your figure. You were wearing your favorite dress, the soft golden silk hugging your curves amazingly. You sat rapidly, tripping on the chair and almost falling. You giggled nervously and Bucky just smiled at you, his nerves eating him alive.

“Is the dress too much?” Bucky shook his head rapidly and cleared his throat, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“No, you look beautiful.” You smiled shyly and he added “I mean, you always look beautiful, but now...there are no words to describe how you look.”

You spent the whole evening exchanging information about the other, asking questions back and forth. He asked about your childhood, the pressure of being a prodigy child and being the daughter of a genius, the lack of a normal teenage life since you entered college at 13, the disastrous first and only relationship and travelling around the world alone. Bucky shared the bits he remembered of his childhood, his academic records, war and his time being the Winter Soldier. You, of course, were dying to interview him for professional purposes since you were currently working on a book about the ending of WW2 and the Cold War.

At the end of the night, he kissed you at the door of your room and before he could turn to leave, you pushed him in your room, kissing him like it was your last day on this world.

He caressed your naked skin slowly, taking his time exploring every inch of your body, kissing and worshipping you like the goddess he believed you were. You kissed him as adoringly in return, running your hands all over body, feeling every muscle and scar, loving every inch of what Bucky Barnes was.

You were stroking his hair softly, his head pressed on your chest, your heartbeat soothing all his doubts and in a moment of pure bliss and realization, he said those three words.

“I adore you.” Your fingers froze and your breath hitched, a deep warmth spreading all over you.

“Y/n?” You realized you’d been silent for far too long so his heart started beating rapidly, the thought of you rejecting him starting to cloud his mind.

“I love you.” You said softly and he turned to face you, his expression full of love and adoration just for you. He kissed you and made love to you again, the feeling of your bodies together was like a drug to him and you were more than happy to give it to him, surrendering completely to him and him to you.

When you both got back to New York, Bucky discovered that there was no mission. Steve plotted with the whole team for you two to stop with your mutual pining and realize your feelings, his smug face pissing Bucky off.

“I told you a long ago to tell her, Barnes.” Nat added, rolling her eyes and elbowing him jokingly. You just smiled at your friends and thanked them, because without them none of that would’ve happened.

Everything was dark and cold, the thick leather straps that held your body tight to the metal chair making your skin raw. Your head was spinning, the immense pain you were feeling was blocking all the physical pain your wounds were causing. What did they do to you?

You were unconscious most of the time, but you knew they were doing something, changing something in your body, in your mind. Your loud screams numbed all the voices surrounding you but you still caught glimpses of conversations in Russian.

“He will come to get her, our mole knows how much she means to the Soldat.”

“It’s been a week already, and we haven’t heard nothing. What if she is the wrong woman?”

“It can’t be, I saw them together while following the Asset, it’s her.”

You tried to move or speak, but all it came out of your mouth was a low whine. You tried to open your eyes, your heavy lids making it hard. Everything hurt, stung, your skin felt like it had been burnt over and over again.

“Is she ready?” A thick voice asked loudly and you felt deeply terrified. Ready for what? What have they done to you?

“Well, unstrap her and prep her, he won’t take much longer.” You wanted to scream, to run, to try to fight your way out, but you couldn’t move.

“Tony, we need to find Y/N. Bucky is going insane and I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold him back much longer.” Steve found your location that exact morning, after a week of your disappearance. Apparently, you were in one of Hydra’s last bases in Siberia, one that was unknown for everyone, even for Bucky. Tony just nodded and looked at the files.

“Gear up, we’re getting our girl back.”

But it was too late, Bucky hacked the database, something Tony would be pissed off about, and got the location before Steve could even talk to him. He knew it was reckless to leave on his own, but he just couldn’t wait any longer to get you, to save you from Hydra’s claws.

Bucky Barnes was himself, but he also was the Winter Soldier, all that violence and cold blood was in him still, would always be. He was ready to enter hell for you, even if that meant never getting back home.

The morning light was bathing his room, hitting your skin and making it glow. You were smiling at him tiredly, your eyes full of adoration for him. Bucky leaned in to press his forehead to yours, chuckling lightly when you licked the tip of his nose. He narrowed his eyes jokingly and you started squealing when he pressed his hands in the most ticklish spots on your body.

Breathlessly, you sat down, still laughing and managed to speak.

“I hate you.” You pressed your hand to your belly trying to ease your laughter. Bucky tilted his head, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“You know, you were never a good liar.” You pressed your hand to your chest and looked at him, fakingly offended. He shook his head chuckling and kissed you, pressing your body to the mattress.

You jolted awake, drenched in sweat and dust, the memory making your whole body tremble, silent tears streaming down your face. You scanned the room you were at, and realized you weren’t strapped to that metal chair. Everything was awfully quiet and there was no one around. You stood up but your legs failed you, making you hit the stone cold floor, scraping your knees and palms. You reached for the makeshift bed and help yourself to stand up and once you gathered enough strength to walk, you got out of the room you were at.

Bucky was beating the last Hydra agent alive, trying to get any kind of information out of him. He laughed maniacally and spit blood to the floor.

“Hydra needed someone like her, but she was too damn stubborn to cooperate. So we fixed her.” A metal fist hit his stomach, probably breaking some organ. The agent coughed blood but kept talking.

“If we can’t have either of you, you won’t either.” Bucky could feel his bile rising at the thought of what you’d suffered while he was failing at rescuing you earlier.

“What did you do to her?” The agent smiled, clearly in pain.

“Nothing that cannot be reversed. All we need is for you to control yourself, to be compliant.” Bucky pressed his metal hand in his neck and squeezed hard enough to hurt him but not to kill him. Not yet. He pressed his body to the closest wall and held the agent against it.

“Tell me what you did to her.” Bucky muttered, the blinding rage surging throughout all his pores.

“You remember your shut down word, soldat?” Sputnik. That was the word they used when they needed to shut him down before cryo. Bucky nodded and squeezed a little tighter.

“Well, we implanted that on her, but the effects being worse.” Bucky’s eyes widened, knowing the way to implant something like that deep in your mind.

Before Bucky could say something, the agent spoke again.

“We thought it was too cruel even for us, so you have 24 hours to keep her safe forever. But if you say the trigger words before the time’s up, she will be gone for good.” He smirked wickedly and Bucky squeezed harder, until he heard the neck break.

24 hours. He had 24 hours left.

“Come on, say it.” Bucky shook his head, too afraid to say those three meaningful words. You smiled at him but deep down it hurt you, it hurt that he couldn’t say them.

“You know I do, why do you need to hear me say it?”

“Because it becomes real for me.”

“I can’t say them, not yet.” Bucky’s expression fell but you just shrugged and added a “whatever” with a smile, trying to convince him that you were fine with it.

“Whenever you are ready, I will be here waiting for you to say it.” You kissed him, smiling into the kiss, feeling his tears mixing with your lips.

You heard screams and a familiar voice, so you ran like hell, your body working on its own, your mind racing with thoughts of you and Bucky. You were close to him, you could feel it in your bones, and when you entered the training room, there he was.

Bucky’s eyes widened, taking you in. You were okay. He sighed relieved and moved towards you while you did the same, meeting him in the middle. You gasped when your arms finally touched his body, the sensation of finally being safe and home wrapping you. He pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, needing to check it was really you.

He held your hand and lead you to the Quinjet, you were finally going home.

“Buck?” Your mouth suddenly let out, and you frowned because you had nothing to say. He hummed, waiting for you to continue.

“I love you.” You started to cry uncontrollably, the sobbs getting louder and louder. Bucky pressed the autopilot button and moved to where you were, kneeling in front of you. He placed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled at you sweetly, all his worries finally leaving him. You were safe, nothing had happened. It was all probably a bluff.

“I adore you.” He told you and you frowned again, because you felt like something was controlling you, was controlling your thoughts and words.

“Say it. I need you to say it, please.” You begged him, crying. He loved you, he had always known that, but he needed time to admit that to himself before being able to tell you. After everything that happened, he knew he was ready, and seeing you so heartbroken made him brave.

“I love you, Y/n.” He pressed his hand to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. Something inside you clicked, and you smiled at him. You leaned in to kiss him, the tears already gone.

“I love you, Buck. I love you.” You laid down on the seats and closed your eyes, sighing contently. He finally said it.

“I’m very tired, please wake me when we arrive.” You opened an eye to look at him and after him nodding and kissing your temple, you closed your eyes, the tiredness taking over your body.

As soon as Bucky landed the jet, he glanced at your sleeping form and smiled, you were finally home and safe. Everyone was waiting for you to arrive at the hangar, impatiently and some of them even pissed. Bucky made a reckless move that could’ve endangered the two of you, but he knew he would succeed, just for the sake of your safety.

Bucky kneeled in front of you and stroked your head lightly, whispering softly for you to wake up, but when you didn’t even move, he started freaking out.

“We gave to subject Z10 strong doses of Apomorphine enough to kill a healthy adult, electroshock therapy for hours and we’ve succeeded to implant trigger words, stronger than the ones implanted in our first subject, The Winter Soldier.”

“Subject Z10 will be compromised as soon as the trigger words reach her hippocampus, blocking the NEK7 protein, forgetting all that is strongly attached to said words. Subject will never be able to recover those memories, but effects can be reversed if there’s no usage of the words implanted in the following 24 hours.”

“Y/n?” You slowly opened your eyes and Bucky sighed relieved but as soon as he saw your eyes, he gasped. You frowned and sat up fastly, looking frantically around you.

“Who...who are you? What am I doing here?” You cried out, confused and scared. The man in front of you retreated fastly and you could see he had a metal arm. You shivered, frightened.

“Y/n, it’s me, Buck.” He said with a deep sorrow, his eyes shining with unshed tears. You snapped your head towards the door of the jet you were at, two new faces approaching you. The man was bulky and tall, blond hair and blue eyes. The woman was small but seemed strong, a redhead with fierce green eyes. They both looked familiar but you couldn’t place them.

“Buck, what’s going on?” The tall guy asked, stepping in front of Bucky so you couldn’t see him.

“Steve, She...I- I was warned but I still used the trigger words.” Bucky cried, his knees giving up, making him fall to the floor, his body collapsing to the wall. Steve kneeled and hugged Bucky, holding his head to his chest.

“Y/n, my name is Natasha. I’ll take you to our medical bay so they can run some tests, okay?” You looked at your body and you could see a few ugly bruises and you immediately looked at the man with the metal arm. Natasha shook her head, already knowing what you were thinking.

“He would never lay a hand on you, he saved you from who did that to you.” You nodded and followed her out and into the huge building.

“Buck, if you had to choose, would you prefer to lose your memory and not being able to remember me, or me dying but keeping all of our memories?” You smiled when you saw Bucky’s eyes widening, a deep frown seated on his forehead.

“I cannot choose, both of them are the worst things that could happen to me.” You giggled and held his hand, caressing his knuckles with your thumb.

“I know, but if you had to, what would you choose?”

“Forgetting you. Life has its funny ways so maybe we could find each other again. And you?” You frowned now and placed your head on his shoulder, his scent reaching your senses.

“I had my ideas clear, but after your reasoning, I don’t know.” Bucky chuckled, his whole body vibrating, making you laugh as well.

“You would prefer for me to die but remembering me, right?” You nodded, embarrassed because you didn’t reason as he did. He bumped his nose with yours and smiled, his lips brushing yours lightly, waiting for you to kiss him.

It had been weeks since you left after Shuri ran those tests. She was able to recover your memories of the team, but Bucky was totally erased from your mind. You knew who he was, but because he was Steve’s best friend and the ex-assassin, The Winter Soldier. You were a bit shaken off after you said your goodbyes, but Bucky was totally devastated.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” A sob escaped his trembling lips, hot tears running down his cheeks. His eyes looked dead, all the light that Bucky used to be, gone. “I hope we...I hope we can find eachother again.” You frowned, not understanding what he meant, but when you felt your cheeks wet, you realized something was off, but you couldn’t place it.

“This was never meant to happen, I should’ve died. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what he meant at all, but your heart was aching, the man in front of you was grieving and all you could do was frown, not remembering him at all. You approached his trembling figure and hugged him, trying to bring comfort, a basic human touch.

“Thank you for saving me, James.” And like that, you left, taking with you Bucky’s heart and soul.

“May we meet again.” He whispered, hopelessly.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes heavy angst #angst and fluff #memory loss #bucky x reader #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #avenger!bucky

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

Text

1x16: Shadow

Previously on Supernatural:

Sam and Dean are hard at work looking for their dad.

Now:

Down an empty city street, a lone woman walks into a dark, foggy alley. A sudden wind storm sweeps through the area and shadows dance across building walls. The woman starts running (and like, seriously, I don’t care how late at night this is, there’s no one else around??) and makes it back to her apartment, sets the alarm and locks the door. Whew, she’s safe, or at least that’s what the music is telling me. She then plays messages on her ANSWERING MACHINE. Lol, sometimes I laugh at how old this show is.

Anyway, a shadow creeps along the wall and SPLAT, we have a cold open victim after all.

One Week Later

Sam and Dean, professional cosplayers, are dressed as alarm system employees today. Dean is a tad incredulous they have to play dress-up (but secretly LOVES it, let’s admit it.)

He ribs Sam a little bit about a play he did in high school (Dean’s such a supportive brother to go watch that. Poor Sam can’t act himself out of an alternate universe where he IS an actor.) They enter the victim’s apartment. The landlord tells them their company sucks. The windows were locked, the door was bolted, and the alarm system was still on. Hmm. Everything was in order, but Meredith. She was in pieces all over the floor.

The brothers start looking around the apartment. Dean previously spoke with the police (and ofc he’d hit it off with a Sagittarius) and reveals that the victim was missing her heart. They speculate about what they’re dealing with until Dean sees a pattern in the blood splatter on the floor (My sweet, smart son). He starts laying tape to form the pattern. It forms a symbol that neither brother recognizes.

Later, at a bar, Dean is busy talking up the bartender when Sam wanders in with notes from the case. Dean checks in, and normally at this stage in the game I am eye-rolling hard at overcompensating Dean, but he is SO proud about getting the bartender’s number. (Like, why Dean? You’re an A+ charmer and you look like Jensen Ackles.)

Honestly, though, Dean was doing the job. He gathered a heck of a lot of info on Meredith. They have another victim but there doesn’t appear to be a connection, except with how they died.

Suddenly, Sam takes off. He finds his old travel buddy, Meg. WHAT A CRAZY COINCIDENCE. (Also, <insert old WB joke here>) She yells at Dean for making Sam do things he doesn’t want to do. Look at Dean’s face when he looks at Sam! Guh. Then he pulls the classic Dean move and makes light of the comment and walks away to get a beer. AND then he looks back at Sam again as he’s walking away. This gives Sam and Meg some time to talk and Sam gets her digits.

Later, when Sam and Dean are leaving the bar, Dean asks about Meg. Sam doesn’t really know her and finds it weird to have run into her again. Dean wants to know more about the shit talk Sam was spreading about him but Sam is trying to talk about how weird it is to run into Meg again. He tasks Dean with learning more about Meg Masters and the symbol at the victim’s apartment. Sam is going to watch Meg, and Dean finds this infinitely funny.

Later, Dean calls Sam, who’s outside Meg’s apartment, to tell him that she checks out. He encourages Sam to ask her out. And at the end of the day, I can’t help but love Dean’s way of helping Sam. Maybe it’s not the most understanding but he really wants to help Sam move on and heal. Anyway, he also learned about the symbol. It’s a Zoroastrian demon sigil. Sam wonders how Dean learned all this, and Dean makes it clear that HE READS TOO.

For Science:

But Dean realizes that he’s not performing enough and tells Sam that he asked a friend of John’s. All the same, Dean says that from the info he (NOT CALEB) gathered, the demon has to be summoned and that means someone is controlling it. Anyway, Dean gets gross and Sam hangs up on him. Then Sam gets gross and watches Meg change through her window.

Meg leaves her apartment and Sam follows her to an old warehouse. Once inside, he finds that she’s set up a nice little summoning altar. She talks to someone/thing in a chalice. She’ll await their arrival.

Sam sneaks out of the elevator shaft he was hiding in. He sees the altar and is literally like, “What the hell?”

“Dude, I gotta talk to you,” is how these two giant nerds simultaneously greet each other back at the hotel.

Sam fills Dean in on Meg. She’s the one who’s been summoning the daeva. Dean reveals his own new intel. His police contact got him the victims’ files: they’re both originally from Lawrence, Kansas. Dean calls their dad and tells them they might be close to the thing that killed their mom. (“That’s where everything started.” Crying noise. Crying noise.) Before they head out to the warehouse, Sam dumps a big bag of weapons on the bed.

Sam is like me packing for a trip at 2 a.m. Uh, idk, maybe I’ll need this? Better pack it just in case. Holy water, ritual books, and just about every weapon he can think of. “I’m not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything?” I feel you, Sammy.

Then the boys talk about how NOT nervous they are - how totally chill they feel about possibly confronting the thing that killed their mom. If they succeed, Sam would go back to school. Dean, though? He’s in the life for good. “There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.” Sam asks Dean if there’s anything he wants for himself (crying intensifies) and Dean bursts out that he doesn’t want Sam to bail on him again. “You and me and dad. I want us to be together again.” Oh, Dean Bean.

On that fun note, let’s go kick some ass! Sam and Dean climb back up the warehouse elevator shaft. Meg stands on one side of the room facing a wall and muttering incantations (as one does). They creep into the room while she chants and take up defensive positions. Without even turning around, she calls them out. “Hiding’s a bit childish, don’t you think?” (Meg, the proper word to tell them to stop hiding is olly-olly-oxen-free.) She tells them that she was waiting for them. It WAS a trap! She commands the daeva to attack.

The daeva slices the hell out of Sam’s face and hurls the boys across the room, knocking them out. They wake up a little while later, trussed up to beams.

Sam tries to unravel why Meg targeted the two victims. It turns out their deaths were meaningless; killing people from Lawrence was simply bait for her Winchester trap. Dean tries to cut through the villain monologue and find out why they’re still alive, but Meg tells him that the trap she set isn’t for them…it’s for their dad. “He has one weakness,” Meg says. “He lets his guard down around his boys. Lets his emotions cloud his judgment.” BOOM. Cue the feelings.

Meg lets her snarky demon flag fly around Sam. She taunts him about watching her, wanting her. Meg starts to kiss Sam (gross gross yuck gross) until she hears a snick of a blade as Dean tries to break free. She tosses away Dean’s knife and goes back to Sam, who head butts her, revealing his own released hands.

On Dean’s direction, Sam topples the altar, freeing the daeva. The daeva goes after Meg, dragging her to the window and tossing her to the ground below.

Back at their hotel, they open the door to find a mysterious shadow. It’s their dad! It’s Hugchester time.

Dean apologizes for not spotting the trap and John tells them that a) he knew it was a trap so no worries and b) he was in town as well. HEY John, thanks for warning your kids. John reveals that he’s working on a way to kill the yellow-eyed demon for good. But he’s (tosses hair back dramatically) got to do it ALONE.

It’s Hugchester time AGAIN, when suddenly John gets hurled across the room. The daeva’s back in Daeva’s Revenge: Part Two: The Wreckoning. The daeva proceeds to wreck the hotel room, and toss Dean and Sam around as well. Outside, Meg approaches with a daeva sigil necklace. It’s looking bad for our heroes, when Sam lights a flare to chase away the shadows (including the daeva).

They all stumble from the room, bruised and bloodied, and make their way to the Impala.

They’re about to head out together when Dean tells them that John can’t go with them. Meg was right - John’s vulnerable when he’s around his sons. Sam begs John not to leave but John’s already got both feet out the proverbial door. They give each other the worst sort of goodbye hug - a manly pat on the shoulder, and then John takes off in his truck.

Meg watches them leave town. It’s not over, boys. Not by a long shot.

________________________________

Only the Shadow Quotes:

You think credit card fraud is easy?

I came, I saw, I conquered. Oh, and I met what’s-his-name, something Michael Murray at a bar.

Maybe you’re thinkin’ a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?

What’s the significance of Lawrence?

What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I’d sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again.

Things will never be the way they were before.

Dad’s vulnerable when he’s with us. He’s stronger without us around.

Alright, you little pervert

You don’t have the corner on paper chasing around here.

________________________________

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#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 1x16 #shadow #dean winchester #sam winchester #meg masters #john winchester #supernatural season 1

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

You Make My Daisy (Branjie) - Mac

AN: All my love to Writworm and grapefruit for beta-ing and being amazing people as usual. I’m really happy with how this turned out, and I may make a few more parts…we shall see.

Summary: Vanessa works at a bakery; Brooke works at a flower shop. Over time, they meet and talk over their shared lunch break. Their friendship only grows stronger. Vanessa goes on dates all the time, and always buys flowers from Brooke for her partner. They talk about her dates in detail, and Brooke suggests flowers that fit with that person’s personality. One day Vanessa comes in describing her date (who sounds an awful lot like Brooke-can you see where this is going?)

The bakery across the street–well not really street, more like sidewalk, really more like a small road with cobblestone that people decided to drive down every once and awhile. The bakery had opened up a few months after Brooke took over the shop. It hadn’t been in the best of circumstances, her godfather passing away and all, but it had been her dream, so it was a sort of a happy-sad.

Brooke had always loved visiting her godfather at his work because he would take her around to all the flowers, teaching her something new and exciting, well, exciting for a four-year-old child with no friends and a houseplant named Steve. He told her intricate, and most likely fabricated stories of how the gods created each flower in its own unique way. For each unique person. Her mother would scoff in the background and mumble under her breath that there was “only one God.” Brooke would pay her mother no mind, as she ran around the small shop with a watering can as big as her head, and not a care in the world.

The bakery owner was new, but the building sure wasn’t. The pastel colors clashing with the classic cobblestone street/sidewalk/road gave it a gaudy, yet somehow modern feel as well. It wasn’t Brooke’s personal style, but she supposed it works for some people. The flower shop retained the same rustic and homey feeling that her godfather had left it with. The stained wood and small, but purposeful windows that lined the front of the shop allowed enough natural light in to illuminate the hardwood floors, that had definitely seen better days. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked, and it was home.

Vanessa started working at the bakery a few months after Brooke first opened her doors. The only reason she knew that the girl’s name was Vanessa was because she could hear the owners yell it from across the road/street/sidewalk every day when the girl would inevitably fuck something up.

Brooke didn’t get to hear Vanessa’s name from the girl herself, until one day on her lunch break when she hit her with her bike.

Yes. Hit her with her bike.

Brooke was in her head, as usual, imagining the rest of her night cuddled up with her cats, and didn’t notice the petite woman making her way across the sidewalk/street/road.

The resulting crash sounded a lot worse than it was. It happened in a flash, and the only reason Brooke knew she hit anything was the squeak the younger girl let out before she fell gracelessly to the ground.

Brooke jumped off her bike immediately and gave the girl her hand.“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” She mumbled pulling her up. The girl was a lot lighter than Brooke mentally calculated for, and as a result, she ended up pulling Vanessa flush against her. Brooke stepped away quickly, ducking her head to hide the blush that threatened to creep up her neck.

Now would probably be a good time to mention that Brooke had been hopelessly infatuated with Vanessa from the first day she saw her. The petite latina had the body of a Victoria’s Secret model and the voice of a tractor; it was a stark contrast that Brooke found endlessly fascinating.

“Well if this is the kinda treatment payin’ customers get, maybe I should take my business elsewhere.”

Vanessa was joking.

Brooke was thankful she wasn’t mad. Brooke also seemed to have forgotten every word in the English language suddenly.

“Lost ya voice there? Thought I was the one that got hurt.” Vanessa’s words snapped Brooke out of her trance.

“Oh fuck, god did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. Come inside, let me clean you up.”

“It ain’t nothin, Mary. I’ll be fine.”

“Well at least take some flowers as an apology.”

“Well if you insist, Miss Brooke.”

Brooke started at the sound of her own name from Vanessa’s mouth, she almost opened her own to ask, but Vanessa cut her off, “You think I’d have worked across from a tall drink’a water like yourself and not creep enough to find out ya name?”

Brooke did blush at this, and almost dropped her keys. She could feel Vanessa’s smirk and eyes burn into her, as she fumbled and finally, fucking finally, got the door open.

Brooke threw the keys in her pocket and flipped on the lights and the OPEN sign. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the rows of hanging hydrangeas as Vanessa made her way around the small shop. She had an amused smile on her face all the while, as she sniffed and ran her fingers so slowly over petals.

“You’ve always been on break when I try to come over and check this place out.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t-”

“Don’t apologize, Mary. It just means we are going to have to start taking lunch breaks together.” Vanessa came to stand in front of her. “You owe it to me after nearly killin me with your bike.”

Brooke let some of the tension out of her shoulders as she chuckled lightly. “You’ve got yourself a deal-”

“Vanessa.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Vanessa.”

Vanessa’s smile filled her whole face, and Brooke had to look away or she was going to do something very stupid, like kiss her.

Brooke coughed lightly. “What flowers can I get you, as an apology?”

“Which ones you think? You da expert after all.”

Brooke smiled. She didn’t even have to think before making her way to the front of the shop. “Astilbe.” She said to herself and Vanessa, but mostly herself. The flower was fern-like, but the bright purple blooms feather out in your hands, which often left Brooke with a feeling of whimsy.

“Oh yeah, why?”

Brooke blushed again. “They are supposed to symbolize patience and dedication.”

Vanessa’s smirk widened as Brooke still didn’t meet her eyes. “They’re beautiful.” Brooke noticed how close Vanessa suddenly was to her, and almost jumped back when the smaller hands brushed against hers to take the small bouquet.

Just as the tension became unbearable, a customer entered the shop, shattering their little paradise. Vanessa gave Brooke a quick smile, but just before letting the door close behind her, she shouted, “Don’t forget you owe me lunch tomorrow too.”

Brooke never asked how Vanessa knew when her lunch break was. But the younger woman met Brooke right at three, as she promised, with her purse and a smile as big as Brooke’s chest felt.

They made their way in relative silence along the street/sidewalk/road, only stopping when they both inhaled the scent from the local cafe. They gave each other a look before bursting into giggles. Brooke held the door, and the rest of the hour passed in a daze.

It took them a while to warm up to each other, Vanessa’s brash personality often overpowering Brooke, but still intriguing her to know more about the Puerto Rican spitfire. They made a habit of it though. Every day at three they would get lunch. Vanessa would appear on her doorstep with her purse and a paper bag with the bakery’s logo on it. They would try to be adventurous and go to new restaurants around the small shopping area, but they always ended up at the cafe.

They would get their food to-go and sit on the roof of the old movie theatre while looking out over the town. Vanessa would steal the fresh cookies right out of the oven and bring them for dessert. She would eat half of them before getting to Brooke, but Brooke never minded. They would sometimes eat in silence, and other times they could hardly finish their food they were talking so much.

One day Vanessa came in earlier than usual. “Hey Miss thang, so I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on lunch today.”

Brooke tried to control her face so it didn’t display the sudden pang in her chest. “Oh yeah? Got a hot date or something?”

Vanessa wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah, actually.”

Brooke’s brain suddenly screeched to a halt.

This was fine.

This was normal.

Beautiful girls like Vanessa must get asked out all the time.

It shouldn’t be a big deal.

But that doesn’t stop the pang in her chest from growing to a beating against her ribcage.

“Well, I’ll have to catch up with you later then.” Brooke turned to get back to work.

“Brooke, wait. I actually need your help.” Vanessa was wringing her hands together, clearly nervous. “I wanted to bring him flowers.”

Great, just fucking great,Brooke’s mind spoke. “Oh, ok, sure. What kind were you thinking?”

“Could you do that trick you do?”

Brooke smiled softly. On some days, when Vanessa got on lunch before her, the younger girl would come sit behind the register and ask Brooke which flowers reminded her of people. She would give her reasoning, mostly based on logic, and appearance, and Vanessa would giggle and nod along to her explanation, then pick an entirely different one because she thought it fit better. The hateful thing was that sometimes, Vanessa’s wild guesses based off of no knowledge or thought were right.

“What’s he like?”

Vanessa smiled. “He’s tall, with black hair. He’s kinda macho man on the outside, but he’s real sweet to me.”

Brooke again held back the facial expression she so desperately wanted to make. She picked a bunch of bright blue cornflowers and tied them neatly before handing them to Vanessa. “Bright and cheery like you, but hardy and tough like him. They were usually worn by men in love. They say the flowers will bloom and become more beautiful when the love is reciprocated.”

Vanessa gave her a knowing smile, before rummaging around in her puse for her wallet. Brooke stopped her. “My treat. To the happy couple.”

“It’s just a first date ma, not marriage.”

And that comment shouldn’t have hit Brooke as hard as it did. They had only known each other for a few months, why did the thought of Vanessa marrying some guy make her nauseous.

The latina threw her one last dazzling smile before the bell above the shop gave out a heartbreaking ring.

Vanessa made a habit of stopping by the shop before dates, not that she had many, just the first dates. She would describe her lover and Brooke would pretend her heart wasn’t breaking.

One day everything shifted. Vanessa came in early, meaning she had another date. Brooke steeled herself so as not to show any emotion. “Hey Mami, gotta another lover lined up for tonight. Can ya help a sister out?”

“You know the drill by now. What is he like? Tall, dark, and handsome, again?”

“Wow, you tryna clock my type?”

Brooke didn’t like being called out. She knew that she took too much of an interest in the guys Vanessa dated, she didn’t need the other girl knowing about it.

“Well, sheis really funny and charismatic. She-”

Brooke had zoned out at this point.

She.

Vanessa had said “she.”

Vanessa dated women.

Vanessa liked women.

It shouldn’t have hurt more than the others, but it did. If Vanessa just wasn’t into girls it would have been hard, but Brooke wasn’t here to turn straight girls.

But the reality was actually a million times worse, because Vanessa was into girls, she just wasn’t into Brooke.

Brooke mindlessly grabbed the nearest flowers, tying them up, and not meeting Vanessa’s eyes. She couldn’t stand to hear about how this girl’ssmile made her even more beautiful. She thrust the bouquet in Vanessa’s face, maybe a bit too harshly.

The younger girl looked at her, slightly shocked. Then, realization dawned on her. “Oh. I thought you knew. Sorry.” Brooke shook her head lightly. “Well I did tell you that Aquaria and I were more than just roommates.”

“I don’t care who you sleep with, ‘Nessa.” Brooke spat out.

Vanessa’s face turned darker, and her voice took on a sharper tone.“Well it seems like you do.”

And Brooke did. She really fucking did.

“Whatever.” Before Brooke could blink, Vanessa was out the door. The bell rang in Brooke’s ears for the remainder of the day.

She didn’t see Vanessa for a week. Brooke knew she had only herself to blame. Lashing out at her like that. She hadn’t meant to. But Brooke was never good at dealing with her emotions. She was called “too emotional” when she was younger, and thus, was the most picked on kid in her class. She learned to stop showing those emotions. So much so, that when she was older people chastised her for being “too cold.” Brooke couldn’t win.

After a week of not seeing her, and missing her more and more every day, Brooke bit the bullet and texted her.

Look, I’m really sorry. Can we talk?

Vanessa had sent a simple “ok.”

Brooke waited impatiently for the clock to hit three. And right on time, as usual, Vanessa appeared in front of her. They stood there for a while. Neither looking at each other. Until they both tried to break the silence.

“Look-”

“Listen-”

Vanessa smiled lightly. “Go ahead. Sorry.”

Brooke started. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I shouldn’t have acted that way.” Brooke smiled softly. “All I know is that I miss you. I miss hanging out with you, and this week has been horrible.”

“Yeah. I missed your stupidly tall face.” Vanessa smiled. “Apology accepted.”

Brooke pulled her into a hug and tried not to let her mind soak in Vanessa’s perfume. Vanessa pulled away first but stayed close with a hopeful look in her eye.

“Well, I actually am going on another date tonight, hopefully. So, I needed your help anyway.”

Brooke plastered on her fake smile again, and ignored her chest constricting. “Sure.”

Vanessa looked up at her, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, she’s really sweet. She cares a lot about me.”

“Everyone cares a lot about you, ‘Nessa. You’re amazing.”

Vanessa winked at her. “She’s also really bad at keeping secrets. She told me once that she spoiled her mom’s birthday surprise because she was so excited to give her gifts.”

Brooke’s smile vanished. She looked at Vanessa shocked, as the younger girl continued. “She’s also really tall. Got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” Vanessa stepped closer to her, making the space between them almost nonexistent. “She’s got the biggest heart of anybody I ever met. She sometimes can do stupid things and drive people away, but it’s only cause she’s scared of gettin hurt.” Vanessa got up on her tiptoes, and they were centimeters apart. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Brooke.”

Brooke believed her.

They both leaned in at the same time, and everything fell into place. Vanessa’s arms came to wrap around Brooke’s neck, and Brooke’s hands made a home on Vanessa’s hips. Vanessa’s lips were soft and pliant, and she was every bit as much as an amazing kisser as she was an amazing person.

When they finally came up for air, Brooke rested her forehead on Vanessa’s. Their eyes stayed locked, and huge smiles broke across both of their faces.

“I think I know just the flower.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #flower shop au #bakery au #lesbian au #fluff #misunderstandings #happy ending #you make my daisy #ymmd #mac

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tisthenightofthewitch · 5 years

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GHOST'S TOBIAS FORGE: TOP 5 HORROR MOVIES THAT INSPIRE ME

"I like horror movies that have a degree of coziness to them," says Ghostmastermind Tobias Forge when Revolver catches up with him on tour in El Paso, Texas. "Even Friday the 13th and Halloween have a little bit of a cozy nature. I love that street in [fictional Halloween locale] Haddonfield, Illinois — even if it's really in Hollywood. I love that all-American, autumnal street with the trees and the leaves. I always longed to go to a street like that in October and go down to someone's dad's TV room with the wooden panels and watch a film."

While Forge has endless enthusiasm for the classics of the Seventies and Eighties, most modern horror films don't do much for him. "I must say that I'm not very fond of new horror films at all," he says. "I never, ever, wanna see The Conjuring again — ever. I don't wanna see Annabelle again. Most of the films I've seen that are new, I don't wanna see again because there's no safe haven. There's nothing cozy about them whatsoever. And I think that's something that's truly gone amiss in modern horror filmmaking and is ever so present in the films I've mentioned and want to mention."

He does see some hope, though: "Lately, there seems to be a resurgence in what I like about older horror films, so I think some directors may have picked up on it. It may have started a few years ago with The House of the Devil. A more recent example is Stranger Things, where they've combined horror with the feel-good vibe of the Seventies and the Eighties."

Of course, Ghost has catapulted to fame by capturing much of what heavy metal and horror fans love about those bygone eras and giving it a melodic, modern makeover. In that spirit, we asked Forge about the cinematic inspiration that lurks behind the monster he's created.

5. 'Halloween II'

"These are great representations of the feel-good slasher film. I'm a big fan of the first one, but one of the first horror films I ever saw on my own was Halloween II. That was my first real experience of Halloween as a concept because in Sweden in the Eighties, we didn't celebrate Halloween. We have All Hallows' Eve, but that's a completely different thing. The pumpkins and trick or treating, that was something that was embraced in the early Nineties and onwards. It was basically my generation — people who were 15 or 16 in the mid-Nineties — who did that. We saw that as an excuse to have a theme party around the time of All Hallows' Eve, and it's still one of my favorite times of year. If you go to Sweden at that time of year now, it'll be very Halloween-y. But thirty years ago it wasn't, so when I saw Halloween II in '87 or something like that, it felt very foreign. And because I'm an Americophile, it definitely contributed to my longing to go to America. Even with this man fucking that night up, I still wanted to go to Haddonfield, Illinois, and just hang out. I should also mention that I went to see the new Halloween, and I liked it. I'd see it again."

4. 'The Omen'

"I think you need to see parts one, two and three of The Omen. And then just skip the ending of number three — it's so bad it makes me want to put my foot through the TV. [Laughs] It's got all the things I [like] about in The Exorcist, but even more so. As a teenager who felt somewhat on the outside of the norm — especially imagining being in touch with higher powers — obviously Damien Thorn was a very sympathetic figure. [Laughs] And the idea of being the one appointed antichrist, destined to greater things, was of course very much in line with my 13-year old self.

"The Omen is an interesting social comment. If you regard the idea of Damien Thorn as an industrial magnate granted these powers in order to basically take over the world with very evil intentions, it's easy to draw parallels to a lot of contemporary things that we know of, which makes the film even better. It's a great story of evil coming to power. You might wanna go presidential on that one.

"I think there's a lot to learn from The Omen series. That speech Damien has in front of the Jesus statute in Part III — if you revisit that, you'll notice that I've stolen a lot of the things he says there because it's so powerful. There's so many things being said about the devious nature of religion, and Damien Thorn is pointing those things out — the sanctimonious nature of what is supposed to be the good side, but it's not really the good side. Historically speaking, Christianity is not a trail of happiness. It's a trail of tears and blood and terror. That's why the end of the third film is so unmotivated. They've already explained that the Christian, God-fearing side is not the good side. So the ending is a contradiction.

"To me, the devil is a symbol for liberation. He's a symbol for intellectualism. He's a symbol for art and expression and sexuality and freedom. If you look around in the world, the people who argue for the "good side" are more or less against all those things. So who's the bad guy? The Omen series explains that brilliantly."

3. 'Jaws'

"Jaws has everything — a dangerous meat-eating creature lurking in the ocean, and Amity is a very cozy little town. I'd love to sit in Chief Brody's house looking out over the water. The characters also have a lot of character, which you don't see often in horror films. You've got the conflict of having moved to a new place, the conflict of being parents, the conflict of doing the right thing while you're being told to do the wrong thing in the interest of commerce — the whole conflict between Chief Brody and the mayor. There're so many layers; it's fantastic. And it's such a good story about this fucking fish that threatens to kill whole town because tourism will go away.

"I saw Jaws when I was maybe five or something like that. [Laughs] My dad is now retired, but he was a photographer and also did a lot of documentary films. He was very keen on explaining films to me. He had all these issues of American Cinematographer magazine, which talked about all the groundbreaking movies that were being made at the time — Jaws, Star Wars, E.T. So he explained to me that a lot of Jaws was really just underwater filming, mostly of vegetation. The only thing that makes you think it's scary is the music. That's what makes you think is a shark there. That's the magic of film."

2. 'The Exorcist'

"As a teenager and pre-teen, I was very fascinated with the idea of Satan and possession and the powers of the dark side. The Exorcist embraced all of those things. You had this demon who could do magical things in the name of Satan, and that just struck a chord with me. I probably first saw it when I was 11 or 12, which is when I was getting deeply into the idea of embracing Satan's character. As I've seen it many more times over the years, it really stands out as a fantastic film. And again, even though most of the film is very troubled, it has that autumnal quality. I guess it takes place in Washington [D.C.] and it's really cozy. They live in a really nice house."

1. 'The Shining'

"I'd say this is the best horror film ever made. This might be a taste thing, but I'm very much a fan of alpine living — I like wooden houses buried in snow on a mountain. The Shining obviously has a lot of that. And there's something about the Overlook Hotel — it's frightening and huge, yes, but there's still something about it that seems very hospitable. The film also gives us a throwback to a time when there were a lot of people there — it had grandiose days in the past when it was very alive and vibrant. Nowadays, when horror films do throwbacks, the past is equally dark and menacing."

All rights owned by Revolver Magazine

#Tobias Forge #The Band Ghost #Cardinal Copia #Tobias Interview

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nhouvang-blog · 5 years

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Pankaj and I first met in graduate school, by way of introduction from a mutual friend. Over the course of several months, our friendship blossomed. He asked me to go on a date with him several times; I was initially skeptical, but eventually conceded. I still remember staying up all night after our first date, talking about our families, our shared love of travel, and our life’s ambitions. It was as if we had known each other in a previous lifetime. We knew right away that we wanted to marry each other, but, of course, the actual proposal came years later. Ultimately, I found myself marrying my best friend and the man of my dreams.

What was your wedding style/theme/colors & how did it represent the two of you: Our goal was to create a magical, memorable, elegant experience for our family and friends, that was a true reflection of ourselves, our love, and our gratitude. The entire process really was a labor of love. Pankaj and I are both very detail-oriented people, so we poured our time and energy into making the wedding weekend an experience that everyone would remember forever. We brought on board Beth Helmstetter and Madeline Hunter, of Beth Helmstetter Events, to bring our ambitious vision to life. Beth’s creativity inspires me and she has such vast experience with luxury destination events; we knew that she was the one right away. Even now, several months after our wedding, we still receive countless compliments on how beautiful and meticulously planned the wedding was. The credit for that goes to her – she and her team are extraordinary. All events were held at the Ritz Carlton Bacara Resort & Spa in Santa Barbara, California. We wanted every event to be distinctly different from the others in terms of mood, décor, and color palette. The resort has such a striking beauty of its own, so it was important for us to keep the décor elegant yet simple, to enhance the natural beauty of the surroundings without competing with it. We were fortunate to be able to take over the resort for the weekend, so that all guests could be hosted on property to create a unified experience. The staff was amazing and took great care of our guests, which meant a lot to us.

The wedding was held over an extended weekend in September 2018. The events were as follows: Intimate mehendi gathering on Wednesday AM. The wedding festivities started with a small mehendi gathering on Wednesday afternoon. This was an informal event for family before the rest of the guests started to arrive. It was held in a private villa overlooking the ocean. The goal was to have my mehendi ready by Thursday night, so I could move around and enjoy the Welcome Party the following night. Vaishali Gordhan, of Henna by Vaish, was my mehendi artist. She has a wonderful energy and she did a beautiful job of bring my creative vision to life. We used fleur-de-lis motifs to symbolize the city of Paris, where Pankaj and I got engaged, and wave patterns to symbolize Santa Barbara. In the end, Vaish captured our love story beautifully through her art. I wore a crimson colored silk slip-dress and an off the shoulder blush cashmere cropped sweater. I paired it with mother’s vintage pearl and diamond necklace and earrings. The hair and makeup were natural.

Welcome dinner and Mehendi Party on Thursday PM: The Welcome Dinner was on Thursday night. It was a fun, summery, bohemian inspired event that was held in a private, enclosed lawn space on the resort for our closest family and friends. The space was decorated with suspended, hanging lights and hundreds of candles and lanterns. We had one long dinner table, which was draped with block print textiles and mismatched china. Centerpieces featured florals with feathers in dusty tones, periwinkle, and pale blush interspersed with gold lanterns and wooden bowls of heaping nuts and fruit. A separate lounge area with polished ivory furniture paired with mismatched block printed pillows and Persian rugs was created for guests who wished to get their mehendi done. Dinner featured a farm-to-table family style menu, incorporating seasonal produce local to the region. Guests especially loved that Ronobir Lahiri played renditions of modern songs on his sitar, filling the air with beautiful and mystical sounds. Pankaj wore a draped, mousepeach colored jersey kurta, with silk churidar style pants. He paired it with a mousepeach and silver brocade vest. All were from Shantanu & Nikhil. Accessories included an Omega watch, which was an engagement gift to him from my parents, and Grecian-style sandals by Joy. I wore a custom JADE by Monica and Karishma organza wrap blouse with a matching netted ivory and nude lehenga skirt. I paired it with champagne wedges and a Whiting & Davis silver clutch. Jewelry included Tiffany & Co gold leaf, pearl, and white diamond earrings and necklace. I paired this with my grandmother’s vintage gold and pearl bangles.

Wedding Ceremony on Saturday AM: The wedding ceremony was on Saturday morning, on a lawn overlooking the ocean. The celebrations commenced with a baraat procession around the resort property, which led into the wedding ceremony. Upon arrival to the ceremony, guests were greeted with rose water lemonade. The Hindu ceremony took place under an 18 foot mandap made of a light mango wood. Overgrown blooms in shades of deep red, fuchsia, aubergine, blush pink, and cream were wrapped around the mandap, giving the appearance that they had been there for years. The stage was covered in layered rugs in the same color palette. The ceremony was adapted to include our personal vows and ended with a kiss. Following this, guests enjoyed brunch overlooking the ocean. Pankaj wore an ivory sherwani from Sabyasachi, paired with a matching ivory raw silk kurta and churidar pants. In keeping with the tradition of his family, he wore an ivory silk safa tied in a traditional Rajasthani style. He paired it with ivory suede loafers from Joy, a vintage emerald kalgi brooch, and an emerald necklace. He looked so handsome! Originally, for my wedding day, I wanted to be a non-traditional Indian bride and wear a muted palette. However, as the setting of the ceremony was finalized, we realized that a more vibrant color would be more striking with the blue sky and ocean as our backdrop. I ultimately decided to wear a red and gold lehenga from one of my favorite designers, Sabyasachi. It was traditionally inspired, but with a modern feel – a perfect representation of who I am as a person. The blouse had a sweetheart neckline and the chiffon dupattas had playful gold polka-dots. The all-over golden embroidery featured an intricate paisley pattern. I paired it with gold wedges. My mom and I made a special trip to Hyderabad, the city in India where she was raised, to pick out my wedding jewelry. I ultimately decided on a set from Kishandas & Co, a heritage jeweler in Hyderabad. I wore a maang tikka headpiece, earrings, collar choker/necklace, and bangles featuring raw, uncut diamonds, emeralds, and pearls in yellow gold. It was exquisite and complemented the lehenga perfectly. The whole experience of picking it out with my Mom was a memory I will treasure forever. Bridesmaids wore couture saris designed by me, in collaboration with Megha Rao of holiCHIC. Groomsmen wore bespoke raw silk kurta-churidar sets arranged by Mallika Oberoi, an upcoming Mumbai-based designer. She was incredibly resourceful for our wedding outfit preparations!

Reception on Saturday PM: The reception was held later that evening. This was a formal affair with women in summery gowns and men in summer suits. We wanted it to feel like an intimate dinner party with 250 of our closest friends and family –it was romantic and elegant. Cocktail hour was held at sunset, on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Grey tarnished bars were donned with saturated blooms repurposed from the ceremony. Guests were greeted with custom cocktails and treated to sounds from Ybarra, a local Spanish guitarist. Guests were then escored to the Bacara ballroom, which was draped with a soft grey velvet. Half of the tables were light wood, and the other half were linened with a luxurious textured linen in shades of cream. We used a combination of cream velvet, rose velvet, and X backed wooded chairs. The tabletop featured gold leaf china with gold flatware and classic glassware. Centerpieces featured blooms in shades of lavender, blush, and aubergine. Blush and grey taper candles were placed in gold holders, with tealights in rose colored glass votives. We especially loved the chandelier with overgrown green foliage and twinkle lights, and the custom leaf-printed gobo projection over the dance floor. The rest of the room was filled with potted plants and trees, in keeping with my vision of bringing the outdoors in. One of the most special memories was our first dance, which was to “La Vie en Rose.” Anthony Ybarra, a local Spanish guitarist, was kind enough to play this for us. Pankaj and I had spent countless hours with our choreographer, practicing every turn and twirl. But, in that moment, nothing else mattered – it was just the two of us, husband and wife for the first time. This was followed by sentimental toasts from our parents, our siblings, and our closest friends. Shortly thereafter, guests jumped on the dance floor and didn’t stop partying until 2 am! The afterparty consisted of guests wrapped in blankets, under the stars, enjoying late-night snacks. It will be a night to be remembered for years to come! Pankaj worked closely with the Executive Chef at Bacara to develop a custom-plated Indian-inspired menu using local ingredients. Our triple-berry wedding cake was brought in from Sweet Lady Jane, one of our favorite LA bakeries. Pankaj wore a made-to-measure tuxedo from Tom Ford and woven leather shoes from Lanvin. He paired it with his Omega watch, and his David Yurman black diamond wedding band. I wanted to wear a soft pastel shade to complete the romantic feel of the event, and a modern silhouette that would contrast with my previous looks. In the end, I wore a custom blush version of the Sunset Gown by Naeem Khan. It was so special to be able to visit his atelier in New York and work with the team on this special dress. It featured a deep cowl neck at the back, and intricate crystal beading that shimmered under the candlelight. I paired it with a custom a yellow diamond bracelet, cocktail ring, and earrings. Shoes were from the French designer Jonak, and sourced from their store just steps away from where we got engaged in Paris. Clutch was from Inge Christopher.

For us, the most special parts were: -Milni: This is the Sanskrit word for “meeting” and is an opportunity for the family of the bride and groom to welcome each other. Our mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and elders greeted each other, exchanging smiles and garlands of roses. It was really special to see their willingness to embrace one another.

-Vows: Somehow, in the all the last-minute preparations leading up to the weekend, I had forgotten to write my vows. I remember well staying up late to write them on the night before our wedding. Once I put the pen to paper, though, the thoughts flowed freely. It was very special to be able to share these promises to one another, in front of our friends and family.

What about your venue made it “the” place: Pankaj and I had always fancied a destination wedding. We really wanted to create something special and memorable for our guests, who would be flying in from all over the world. We explored several destinations, but ultimately kept coming back to Santa Barbara. We have a long-standing tradition of visiting every year: it’s stunning and picturesque, but also feels familiar and intimate. It’s one of our favorite places, and we wanted our family and friends to fall in love with it just as we did many years ago.

What flowers were used in your bouquet: The bouquet featured blooms in shades of fuchsia, raspberry, burgundy, nude, and pale blush. Holly, our florist, affixed lockets containing photos of each of my late grandparents on their wedding days at the base of the bouquet. This was a really special way to include them in the festivities.

What from your wedding was DIY: One of the most fun aspects of wedding planning was preparing for the Sangeet dances. We had a joint dance for Pankaj and I, a bridesmaid dance, a groomsmen dance, and then one huge group dance.

We hired a local choreographer, Ana Perales of Get Amped Entertainment, to help us create Western choreography to several of our favorite Bollywood songs. Most of our bridal party didn’t have dance backgrounds, so we were really humbled by everyone’s willingness to participate. It was endearing to see how focused and eager they were to master the moves! The whole process brought us much closer together as friends.

Most memorable moment from the day: One of my favorite memories was our first look, which took place on a private bluff overlooking the ocean. The clouds were clearing, and the sun was breaking through; there was something so beautiful about it. At the time, it felt like some sort of blessing. In that moment, there was a rush of emotions. I’ll never forget the look in Pankaj’s eyes – we couldn’t hold back our tears of love and joy. We had both been dreaming about the day for so long. Now, in hindsight, we never could have anticipated how that moment would change our level of commitment to one another and solidify us as a team, ready to take on the adventures of life ahead, hand in hand. Another really special moment was the Father Daughter/ Mother Son Dance during the Reception. Pankaj and I wanted to recognize the special role our parents have played in our lives. Without them, we wouldn’t be who we are today. In an effort to acknowledge them for that, we did a Father-Daughter/ Mother-Son Dance. While the dance itself was space, the preparation for it was arguable more memorable. We took two joint dance classes at the Arthur Murray Dance Studio in Santa Barbara during the week leading up to the wedding. There were lots of smiles and laughter (and crushed toes)!

How long it took you to plan & the biggest hurdle you overcame: We planned our wedding over the course of a year and a half. Pankaj and I are both physicians, and our unpredictable work schedules would have made it hard to plan any quicker. For us, it was just the right amount of time to be thoughtful about our decisions and mindful of the guest experience. The biggest hurdle was learning to reconcile our differences of opinion. In the end, we compromised and our weekend really was the best reflection of both of us. We are both very proud of what we accompanied. I am in tears every time I look thought our photos and watch our highlight film! I believe that planning a wedding represents the first of many challenges in life, and it’s important to remember that things won’t always go as planned. That’s OK. Focus on what is most important: the commitment to love each other unconditionally and to prioritize each other above all else. Stay positive and forward-thinking. Having all of your loved ones in the same place to celebrate one of the most special moments in your life is priceless. Other advise would be to put yourself in the shoes of the guests. They have come long and far to celebrate this day with you. How can you make the experience enjoyable and seamless for them? When planning your bridal looks, start as soon as you can. It takes a lot of time to produce, ship, and alter these garments. And, on top of that, you need accessories for multiple outfits. Decide early and order well in advance! Meet in person with key professionals that will be with you throughout the weekend. You want to make sure that you are surrounded by the right kind of positive energy during that time. When it came to assembling the rest of our team (photography, videography, makeup artist, priest), we were very discerning. I had a particular vision of how I wanted things to look and be captured, so I spent a lot of time researching, meeting with, and selecting the right people to make it happen. They all did a wonderful job.

The post MEGHNA + PANKAJ // Santa Barbara Wedding Photography by Lauren & Abby Ross appeared first on South Asian Bride Magazine.

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floggingink · 6 years

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Riverdale, “Chapter Nineteen: Death Proof”

Death Proof is a great movie. there’s one man in it and he gets Pussycatted at the end. Vanessa Ferlito gives a lap dance. Zoё Bell’s abs have a starring role

Jughead is a Serpent now, so it must follow that he’s taking care of Hotdog voluntarily

did he take the couch? Jug took the couch. he’s writing again, so he’s got his groove back via an emotional plateau/Toni

Betty hung up and was like, Shit. SHIT!

Nick has a knife for...protection? cocktail garnishes?

Mrs. St. Clair seems thrilled to meet Betty and then not at all surprised that Nick has charges brought against him, the ennui of the ruling class

Betty gets a free pass for her suspicious appearance at the apartment for just having been that much of a pain to Sheriff Keller by now

I liked Betty’s tone of disappointed confusion when she says “You didn’t kill him.”

I don’t like BH talking about “nakedness” in any context, no matter who he turns out to be

I want to say those are Veronica’s shimmery blue pajamas?

Penelope’s icy disregard reverts Cheryl back to calling her “mommy,” which I think is like Cheryl’s PR thing? Cheryl continues to be fascinating. she’s called Penelope “mother,” hasn’t she? it’s all about context. it’s all about context with Cheryl

Jughead eats: at breakfast with Jug, Toni daintily eats fruit out of a parfait cup, like Veronica

Toni’s uncle locks her out of his house, so there’s that. the Serpents don’t have somewhere for her to sleep?

Jughead was honestly about to be like “Last night was…[fun/amazing, similar],” because that’s what people do in Bridget Jones and he’s flying without a net here

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: in a remarkable turn, Toni puts an end to the whole affair, because she has better things to do (girls), which is a stress off everyone’s shoulders

Jughead’s “not over Betty” because it was like six hours ago?

also props for the classic bad girl-bisexuality revelation. it doesn’t get badder (it’s GOOD). this is PRECISELY what I want but now I want optical proof

Betty is done with the BH’s “Simon Says”

The Blossom spawn: “the people” at “the Farm” (CAPITALIZED in the closed captioning!) will help Polly “disappear” for while? I’m gonna need a Farm episode pronto. what the HELL is THE FARM

Archie checks up on Betty in the morning and takes care of her of best he can, because this is a Good Archie episode. Good Archie wants to know why Betty hasn’t fixed it with Veronica yet. Good Archie never lets you walk alone. Good Archie stops you from walking into your ex’s brunch

Certified pedigree: the sheer SPREAD of personalities at Alice’s living room shaming. the mayor and the sheriff and their felon children. BOTH Lodges showed up. can Fred handle any more disappointment? Reggie has a parent?? what’s next!!!

Nick’s party was “bacchanalian,” so it’s probably best Alice only saw Jughead’s birthday party from across the yard

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: “Except for my Betty”

I’VE HAD SOME WINE LET’S GET THIS BITCH DONE

SUCCUBUS VERONICA IS GREAT VERONICA. ARCHIE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT A SUCCUBUS IS

I relate to Kevin because “HASHTAG BUGHEAD IS NO MORE?” is coincidentally what I woke up screaming two Thursdays ago

Hiram says “ACID QUEEN ALICE” because there’s something in Riverdale’s water that just gives you that kind of inspiration!!!! apparently he knows some shit about her too!!! everybody’s parents seem to “know” about Alice. she’s got a lot of attitude for someone whose secrets EVERYONE KNOWS

—just like Betty!

“The Southside is the source of all our problems.” HOW’S THAT, HIRAM? because your northside succubus children were the ones who tossed it back like green apple sugar powder in a Baby Bottle Pop

Archie’s 180 with “Not all Serpents are dealers” is the kind of whiplash Archie is capable of. he knows he fucking broke up with his boy. fucking fix it with Jughead you twit before he gets a bigger tattoo

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie was SO HOPING she would get out of there with plausible deniability!

Jughead is like NODDING ALONG with every word Mr. Phillips reads, waiting to be abandoned

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: JUG LEAVES THE INSTANT HE GETS A CAPSLOCK TEXT FROM THE BOY HE LOVES

he interrupts a totally warranted scolding from his beloved English teacher to PROBABLY get reamed again by Archie, but he CAN’T RESIST WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN

Archie coming to get Jughead is probably Archie’s “WHAT’S UP IS I SAW YOU, ARCHIE” moment. it’s not equivalent but rather proportional in that you know this is the best I could hope for from Archie, but also—I don’t want to shortchange him! he went to the scary school where everyone hates him, through the metal detectors (OR NOT!!!!!!), and stood dithering in the hallway until he saw his Jughead!!!!!!! HE CAME TO RESCUE JUGHEAD

this is a great example of Archie’s hands-on “justice,” which is sometimes more in quotes than other times, but he didn’t CALL Jughead, you know, he ran over there! fuck! FUCK! WHEN ARCHIE IS GOOD HE IS VERY VERY GOOD

Archie is like hauling him out by the fleece collar too, like Jug wants to get Toni, and Archie, his arms locked around Jughead’s waist, teenage boys scrambling

What damn high school in America: Sweet Pea punches the locker when he gets arrested, because of injustice

I think Veronica would have listened to Betty if Kevin had not interrupted!

“She’s not worth it” is way harsh, Tai, but Betty did seemingly attack her out of nowhere

anyway of course Betty answers the phone, because she’s stressed, down two friends, and doesn’t want to have done all that for no reason

the “Sugar Man”? the “Sugar Man”? SUGAR MAN

if one more person tells Jughead that the Serpents deal jingle-jangle, he’s going to absolutely blow a gasket

“Tall Boy wants to parley” is going to be a code sentence of mine for something. if we’re on the phone and it suddenly sounds like I’ve dropped it and you just hear “TALL BOY WANTS TO PARLEY!!!!,” the Winter Solider is there

Fifth period is AP English: Cheryl is sunbathing, in the shade, outside Thistle House reading Baudelaire because...it helps her feel calm…

Cheryl’s sheaths: I want to say those sick black sunglasses are Miu Mius

“Is there no memory, however traumatic, you won’t defile?” is an Alice-level read

oh, Fred would like to know how Jughead’s doing? ISN’T THAT NICE, YOU PRAWN

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Malachi’s House of the Dead is exactly what I wish I’d had the guts to make my dorm room look like, like all the cool lesbians’ rooms in the art majors’ dorm building, like the cellars of the Opéra Populaire but in the Strand

Gay?!: quick question: if Tall Boy weren’t here, would Malachi be fucking Jughead?

Cheryl had so seamlessly incorporated the Sugar Man into her emotional life as a first grader that she drew a family picture with him in it, like in Children of the Corn (her parents are two TINY stick figures in the background, it’s incredible)

is Sheriff Keller letting Betty have “one question” a red herring? asking for Jughead

the zoom in on Betty looking at Veronica and the cut to her audibly sipping on a milkshake is classic art

Veronica is right that Betty needs to “break up” with BH, but Betty’s Bettiness instead makes her want to “turn the tables on him”

HOW EASY WAS THIS CONVERSATION, BETTY. YOU COULD HAVE JUST TALKED TO THEM TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO

OH MY GOD! Jughead and Archie, together again, it’s been like THIRTY YEARS!!!!!

Archie knows why Jughead joined the Serpents, has learned some lessons maybe? (no)

the second god-blessed cut to Archie (in his letterman jacket) and Jughead (fleeced, his man-about-town look) with the prison phones to their ears

“SP-24601”: FP Jones played by Hugh Jackman would be a sight to behold

poor FP has lost everything except his honor and now he’s lost his SON. his hair is such a mess. he’s gotta SLAM THE PHONE

“Ghoulies dress like fops” is great

they drive hearses, like Claire Fisher

“RIVERDALE DRIFT”? Jughead did NOT watch that franchise? (Archie’s expression is fantastic)

FP’s like, I hate that you joined my gang, but now you’re going to break some laws for me

Penelope eats hard boiled eggs with toast soldiers

the Caravaggio reproduction I liked from the wake escaped the fire!

did Penelope know about the drugs? I thought she didn’t know but I guess just knew the Sugar Man was sketchy and avoided him for Legal Reasons

“I wouldn’t even go cruising here.”

Reggie DOES look good in the county’s blue vest

I hope the reason Betty’s avoiding talking to Jughead, LIKE ARCHIE KEEPS TELLING HER TO DO, is because it’s too important and she’s scared to see him

Veronica’s purple pumps

God bless jingle-jangle: Verne the JJ dealer is a cutie!

you know he’s a Ghoulie because he hand-stitched a leopard-print patch onto his studded sleeveless vest

Veronica was rich: $150 for two stix of the JJ??? this is how you know it’s the northside kids with the drug problems!

“Drugstore Cowboy”

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: these angels hot glue the ends of the stripey jingle-jangle sticks, because it’s a family-owned business. I kind of love the Ghoulies? like I’d rather hang out at Malachi’s than the Whyte Wyrm from what I’ve seen so far, as long as I get my next tetanus shot first

Jughead calls Archie his “boy” to impress Malachi, Archie is wearing his Riverdale jacket probably without thinking about the political symbolism

I couldn’t believe Maggie Kiley had the audacity to stage the “Veronica/Betty?” “Archie/Jughead?” face-to-face, but she’s this season’s Lee Toland Krieger, she is an artist

Y’ALL REALLY GONNA TAKE JUGHEAD’S FIFTH HOME AWAY FROM HIM?

“SHARON”?????????

Cheryl’s red crop top and paisley trousers

“an unrepentant spore”

Penelope is Cheryl’s “cobra-like mother”

I swear Graham Phillips was darling on The Good Wife

Archie approached Reggie for the car and Betty approached Jughead about fixing it, and that’s that

Jughead consented to sulk next to her while she tuned it up, because he loves her but he’s mad

and it’s okay that he’s mad, for the record, because he’s been broken up with three times in two days

his voice cracks, preciously, when he’s like YEAH AND YOU BROKE UP WITH ME

I love how pissy and curt Jughead gets when he’s peeved. “You just called it a date.”

I’m curious about “You did the one thing that could hurt me.” EVERYTHING hurts Jughead

Betty’s in denim overalls and Jughead’s in a mechanic shirt for no reason except they’re next to cars

Cheryl is getting some grade-A maple syrup this episode! leveraging the St. Clairs’ check for dirt on the Sugar Man? GIRL

The female gaze: Veronica slept with Archie one last time because he literally might die today

aw, he’s proud of Veronica for her Ghoulie stunt

Hiram and Hermione are LITERALLY playing chess

OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY WHEN VERONICA SAID “HE TRIED TO DO IT TO ME,” EVERYONE IN THE ROOM WATCHING WITH ME WHEN HIRAM LOOKED UP WAS LIKE OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!! I’M TELLING YOU!!!!!

Hiram is about to rip someone’s face off with his teeth and Hermione steps into frame and it rack focuses on her, GENIUS

These students are legally children: I want to say Tall Boy is the only adult at the race. the FP at Jughead’s party, if you will

Best costume bit: everyone of course looks fucking incredible at the race. the Ghoulies? slick and absurd dandies. Kevin’s powder blue bomber jacket? he’s not at Needle Park, and he’s cruising. Betty’s high-waisted post-WWII skinny Express trousers? she knows Jughead’s looking. Cheryl’s $1,000 leather jacket and Quentin Tarantino foot-fetish slingback? she knows I’m looking. and Jughead in all black? Jughead looks GREAT in leather. Betty, write this down

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Betty’s bandana and ponytail

Please protect Betty: Veronica and Archie get to make out, while Betty and Jughead have to make do with Betty telling him she can never stop loving him and to drive good

Jughead doubts it: Jughead’s “You’re an enigma, Cooper” is the second-greatest thing he has ever said to her, after “That was haunting, Betty.”

so Jughead can drive? Jughead can drive STICK?

Toni and Sweet Pea got out on 1) lack of evidence or 2) Penny Peabody threatening someone

Gay.: Toni got a face full of Cheryl and she’ll be back. Toni, save Cheryl from the evils of this world

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl was ABSOLUTELY “born for this moment”

Sixth period is Intro to Film: I know this is Grease, and I can appreciate Jughead being the Danny Zuko of this moment, but I don’t want to forget the chicken run from Rebel Without a Cause, where Natalie Wood starts the race with only her elated sky-high jump and tiny 50’s waist

Jughead gives Cheryl a thumbs-up and Malachi makes the rock-and-roll index-and-pinky signal

Cheryl’s hair: God, the see-through scarf? her immaculate cutout shirt? her Jesus Christ Superstar heavenward arms? CHERYL WAS BORN FOR THIS MOMENT

I don’t think Jughead is shifting gears

BUT HE IS HAVING A GREAT TIME!

oh NOW you say “abort”

Archie > Dawson: TURNS OUT ARCHIE HAD A GREAT PLAN! WOWZERS

Jughead can drive very well, has very strong arms, and can run very fast. these things I didn’t know!

okay but the race is forfeit, right? buys them some time, maybe

Betty and Veronica watching Jughead go lite-ballistic from stress and Archie being like, Dude, dude, calm down, like something was not right with the world (Archie did a great job)

although Jughead is right that the power politics are complicated and everyone is in danger, although it was frankly that way before

I liked Archie using a chessboard analogue. Veronica is rubbing off on him

is Betty getting a ride home with Reggie? classic

“Careful you don’t get burned again.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Penelope’s left hand makes her so uncomfortable that she wears ONE leather glove

when one Sugar Man retires, another seamlessly takes his place, like the Dread Pirate Roberts

“Damn good coffee”: fucking correct me if I’m fucking wrong, but is that the nightmare painting hanging over the fucking fireplace?

Cheryl hands the check back over, because as you will remember Cheryl honors business deals, but Penelope decides to be “a mother”

Pop’s trademark blue purgatorial lighting bathes the girls in their plotting booth

The Blue & Gold is basically just Betty’s awesome blog at this point

her “Care to comment?” is WICKED though

Betty has resolved to find BH, which means he has about three episodes left. the Serpents should really start involving Betty in their maneuverings, as she is just as much a hereditary Serpent as Jughead and much more effectual

50 Shades of Betty: SHE’S BREATHING DOWN HIS NECK AND SHE LOVES IT. this is her driving fast! they love danger!!!!!!

was Mr. Phillips protecting Jughead by telling him to stay away from the drug world??? (I mean obviously he was, but because Phillips was an insider and liked Jughead and didn’t want to have to kill him) or did he just not want Mini Woodward and Bernstein on the case?

he and Jughead make the exact same sort of grimly resolved/horrified eye contact, respectively, as FP and Jughead when FP got arrested last season

Toni TOTALLY knows this shattered something of Jughead’s Southside foundation. look at her little smile

Archie thinks his plan with the race backfired and he’s worried he’s losing Jughead, PUNKIN

Fred’s popping Chekhov’s Valiums, so he’s about to be addicted to drugs

I can’t even do it out here with the fucking Lodges sitting around their cream salon with Andre being like, the St. Clairs are dead or whatever, ma’am, and Hermione’s like, Thank you Andre, go get yourself something nice

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica’s like, I HAVE HAD A STRESSFUL DAY AND IT MAKES ME FEEL POWERFUL

“CHECKMATE,” HIRAM? HIRAM, HAVE YOU MURDERED? DID YOU JUST MURDER?

Betty and Jughead I want to say are back together, but they did not kiss this episode, which means I have to start over with the tally marks on my wall

Betty’s reading The Silence of the Lambs, to better figure out what her game is going to be (Jughead had a copy)

Jughead looks over at her like, Damn. My girlfriend is fucking scary. I fucking love my girlfriend

SUGAR GETS GOT!!!!!!!! BODY COUNT OFFICIALLY TWO! he’s almost caught up to Hiram Lodge

NEXT WEEK: Sheriff Keller does me a solid and takes his shirt off

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

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wintermell · 7 years

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coming out of my cage (and i’ve been doing just fine)

[ @jonsa-countdown GOTTA GOTTA BE DOWN BECAUSE I WANT IT ALL! i have to admit, i’m always a slut for mr. brightside, so i put that into an angsty fic. the diner in this story was actually inspired by one near where i live, which has great belgian waffles. anyways, here’s some tears and fluff. enjoy! ❤, amelia ]

coming out of my cage (and i’ve been doing just fine) (ao3)

day five : songs

Sansa wipes tears from her eyes, hugging her arms across her chest. She carries her broken white heels in one hand. There’s a white marble fountain at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Red Keep Country Club. She tosses the heels in the water and continues in her bare feet. It should feel satisfying, but all she can comprehend is anger and pain.

There’s a bench on the sidewalk which is protected by several tall oaks. Instead of sitting on it, she sits beside it. Somehow, the ground is more comfortable.

Her dress, her beautiful dress, is torn down the side. She had been so proud when she put it on earlier. It’s a sleeveless, pale gold, knee length dress that spun beautifully when she danced. To make matters worse, it’s a jagged rip that she’s not sure she’ll be able to repair. Sansa hadn’t thought to bring a coat or a shawl either, and the cold November air bites her to the bone.

Inside the country club, she hears a new song begin. It’s Mr. Brightside. She buries her face in her hands and sobs. On top of everything, of course she’d be crying out on the sidewalk while her favorite song in the entire world played inside.

When she regains control of her tears, she pulls out her phone and dials the first name on her emergency contacts list. It rings twice before the line is picked up.

“Hey, Robb?”

“Hey, Sansa, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just… can you come pick me up? I’m at the Red Keep Country Club for Joffrey’s birthday party-” Her voice breaks. She hopes he doesn’t hear how desperate she is.

“I’m so sorry, Sans, I’m at Margaery’s right now. I mean, if you can wait forty five minutes, then I can come get you,” he says. “Are you alright, though?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just forget it,” she says, hanging up abruptly. Tonight, she has no patience for her brother’s well-intentioned bullshit. The next name on her emergency list is Jon Snow. With only a few seconds of hesitation, she presses the call symbol. It rings, and then goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Jon, sorry I’m not here. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Jon, it’s Sansa. I’m at the Red Keep Country Club. I really need a ride. Please let me know if you can come. Thank you.”

She hangs up and sighs. It’s an hour’s drive back to her family’s house. If no one can pick her up, it’s going to be a very long walk home.

Her phone buzzes seconds later. She picks it up and reads five lifesaving words- I’ll be there in 10.

When his old pickup truck pulls up, Sansa doesn’t hesitate to slip inside. She slams the door and slumps into the passenger seat. The radio is tuned to a classical music station, and she recognizes Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture playing quietly with intermittent static.

“Sansa, what- Jesus Christ, are you okay?” His dark curls are in disarray, and he’s wearing his glasses instead of contacts. She woke him up to come get her. The guilt is eating her alive.

“I’m alright,” she lies in a hoarse whisper, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Do you want me to call the police? I swear, if anyone hurt you-”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Sansa, I’m really worried about you right now,” he says. Concern is slathered across his handsome face.

“I wouldn’t let Joffrey fuck me in a country club bathroom, so he broke it off. Jon, I don’t want to talk about this right now. I really want to go,” she begs, and he immediately pulls away from the curb.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Not home,” she says, thinking of her family. Sansa doesn’t want to come through the front door with a ripped dress and mascara stained cheeks. Arya will want to fight someone, Bran will question her relentlessly, Rickon will start to cry on her behalf, and Uncle Benjen (bless his soul) will probably take the initiative call the cops. “Anywhere but home.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he says, offering a smile that she can’t bring herself to return. Jon pulls over into the parking lot of a small diner. A large neon sign outside reads Castle Black Cafe. The sign listing the hours shows her that it should be closed, but the door is unlocked and there’s a man in an apron standing inside, wiping down the counter. Thankfully, there are no other customers.

“Hey, Sam,” says Jon, “could we have a couple minutes here?”

“Oh, sure! Be my guest. The tables are all clean, and I can put on some music while you eat.” He looks at her and grins. “You must be Sansa! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hi,” she says, wondering exactly why Sam has been hearing about her. A light pink blush has settled across Jon’s cheeks. He picks a booth next to a window overlooking the road. Outside, the streetlight changes from red to green. A delivery truck drives down the boulevard with a deep baritone rumble.

“Can I get you two anything?” Sam asks.

“I don’t have my wallet,” mutters Sansa.

“It’s on the house,” says Sam. “Any friend of Jon’s is a friend of mine!”

“Let me get a Belgian waffle with blueberry topping and a slice of lemon meringue pie. And two hot chocolates,” Jon says.

Sansa smiles faintly. She loves lemon meringue more than life itself. Sam waltzes away to the kitchen.

“Hey,” says Jon, “if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But if you do, if you ever do, I’m right here.” He reaches over and hesitantly wraps his fingers around hers.

Sam comes back with their food and hot chocolates. Sansa expects Jon to turn his attention to his waffles (which smell heavenly), but he just looks at her with sad brown eyes.

“I’m angry. I’m lonely. I’m sick and tired of people treating me like shit. Everything around me is falling apart. It feels like I’ll never be able to survive in this stupid word,” she says.

“You’re one of the best people I know, Sansa. You’ve gone through so much fucked up stuff. I know it’s hard with your parents gone. Just remember, you always have me. I’m never going to abandon you, I promise,” he says.

That small promise means more to her than he could ever know. A thought at the back of her mind begins to ring through her head. Maybe Jon Snow will be the start of something better. She has to push it aside, though, to face her other worries.

“I can’t go home,” she whispers. He nods, tracing circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

“You can stay at my place for as long as you need to. I really don’t want you to feel lonely. There’s a spare room- I don’t have any extra sheets, but you can take my bed and I’ll go out to the shops tomorrow- and I know Ghost loves you,” he says sincerely.

Sansa wishes she could throw her arms around him and never let go. Suddenly, she realizes that soft music is playing through the diner. Fresh tears well up in her eyes. I’m coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine...

“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong? God, I’m sorry,” Jon says quickly. She shakes her head, hiding her face.

“No, it’s not you. I just need a minute.”

Her tears fall on her lemon meringue. Jon presses a kiss to her knuckles and does his best to comfort her. When Sam comes back to check on them, Jon asks for two takeaway boxes.

It’s two o’clock in the morning when they leave the Castle Black Cafe. Sansa’s eyes are bloodshot and her throat is dry. She shivers when they get in the freezing car, and Jon drapes his flannel jacket over her shoulders and finds a pair of thick wool socks for her to slip on her feet.

His apartment is cold (he explains that he turns down the heat to save money), and is surprisingly tidy. Ghost, the pale white Shiba Inu, is asleep on the sofa. An array of papers are spread across the coffee table, with Jon’s careful calculations printed across them. There are three framed items on his wall. The first is his internship offer for NASA, the second is a picture of him when he was three, all smiles as he rode on his mother’s shoulders at a carnival, and the third is a picture of him, Robb, and Sansa. They’re in the middle of laughing wholeheartedly, sitting around a campfire on a summer night.

“I’ve got some salad in the fridge if you’re still hungry. Do you want to watch TV? I’ve got HBO. Robb told me about a new series that’s pretty good. There are some board games in my room, too. And if you want to sleep, my room’s just over there-”

“No, thanks,” she says. Of course she’s tired to the bone and her ribs hurt from crying, but she knows that being left alone to her thoughts will only make matters worse.

“Tell me what you need. Anything at all.”

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her music. Mr. Brightside is the first on her favorites playlist. Sansa hits play and sets it down on the coffee table.

“They played it at the party while I was outside waiting for you… I didn’t get to dance, and it’s my favorite song,” she explains.

He opens his arms, and she falls into them without question. Sansa leans against him and sighs. Jon smells like mint and campfire smoke, which is her new favorite combination. The loneliness is beginning to melt away.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more of a Wonderwall person,” he says. She laughs for the first real time in ages.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispers. He kisses the top of her head and murmurs always, love into her hair.

As long as she has him, she’ll be just fine.

#jonsacountdown #jonsa #jonsa fic #coming out of my cage

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adventureswithten · 7 years

Note

Hi, I have been looking for you for sometime, just started following you. Can I request a imagine were the Doctor gives reader a necklace. And it is an ancient Gallifreyian custom, to give your intended a necklace. Basically the pendant is in ancient Gallifreyian writing saying who you are being courted by. And you run in to the Master, this has been driving me up the wall I just can't write 10 yet. I am using the plot on one of the classic Doctors. Thanks for your time.

It had been another close call for you and the Doctor. It hadn’t occurred to you that when you agreed to travel with him so many other species wouldn’t be so civil. You’d just outrun the hexagontals, an alien that strongly resembled fire breathing dragons from fairytales. You and the Doctor had rescued their counterparts the aquanots, i.e. Water dragons, from slavery and dehydration by their stronger brethren. Needless to say the hexagontals were less than pleased with you.

The TARDIS doors bolted open as your foot soles slammed to the main control room floor. With your back you held the door closed, a little singed and smelling smokey but no worst for wear. At the console the Doctor twisted knobs with soot on his handsome face, his glasses on in a flick and his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips. You blew out a puff of breath and then jumped as a weight punched the doors. Before you could panic the tubes at the center began to swish and pull and the reassuring whooshing whirring of time travel filled the space.

“Where are we now?” You asked sometime later, when the TARDIS had stilled and the Doctor was smiling at you again.

“Well, I thought we’d take a moment to have a breather. That sort of thing.” He said crossing the room to put his long fingered hands on the door. You smiled as he quirked and eyebrow and looked over his shoulder. His ancient brown eyes seemed to search yours before he opened the doors and left. For a moment you stood there, thinking of all he’d become to you, and how you’d come to love him so fiercely. You were sure he’d never feel the same, because sure he thought you were clever and kind, and yes he smiled at only you in that way that crinkled those ancient brown eyes, but romance was not his cup of tea.

Your pondering was interrupted when those long dark tresses and gorgeous delicately freckled face popped back inside the TARDIS. He extended his hand and asked, “Coming ___________?”. You nodded, shaking your forlorn thoughts and gasped when you took in the world around you, hands lifting to your mouth in awe.

The sky was pure purple, a mixture of the deepest plum and the prettiest electric violet. The sand beneath your feet was pale pink, shimmering like tiny pearls made up each grain. The waves crashing against it was made entirely of sapphires rolling with white diamonds dotting the tips like foam. You’d never seen anything like it in your life. When you looked at the Doctor, he had that toothy white smile marveling at the delight on your face and by the set of his shoulders you could tell he was quite pleased with himself.

Still speechless you eased yourself down to sit in the sand and he followed your lead, stretching his long brown pants clad legs in front of him, off white converse showing more visibly. Suddenly his hand was on yours as you sat in comfortable silence. You wanted to look at his face, to find meaning in the touch of his hand but instead resolved to allow his immense warmth to seep from that touch all the way to your bones.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, ___________. Your absolutely brilliant, and I could watch your face to see your expressions and see how you take every new adventure in forever.” He said, braking the silence. You inhaled and turned to see he was still staring at the sapphire ocean as he spoke, but his thick brown brows were pulled down and lines creased between them. You’d seen that look before, it meant he was thinking about Galifrey, his home planet. About the time war. It ached you inside to see that face.

He pulled his hand away and kept that serious and deep looking, easing from the sand and standing before you. Finally, he outstretched his hand and you took it happily, searching your mind to find a way to pull him out of his self doubt and despair.

“Doctor I-” you began to say but he stopped you.

“Long ago, on my home planet, there was a ceremony and this custom we Time Lords had. It was for those we loved, sort of like the way humans propose marriage, only a bit different. Maybe it won’t even mean much to you, but we’ve had a lot of tough journeys lately.” He said, those ancient and endless brown eyes boring into yours, one hand in his pocket and concern marring his brow. You were trying desperately to understand so finally your hand touched his suit jacket sleeve.

“You can tell me anything. You can talk to me about Galifrey. I know it makes you sad but you can talk to me about happy things too. I want to know all about where you come from.” You answered, encouraging him to go on. He ran a hand down the back of his head and smiled shyly.

“Right. Weeellll, here ya go.” And carefully he placed something in your palm and squeezed your fingers over it in one swift motion. You laughed and opened you fingers delicately. Inside was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you’d ever seen. It was a delicate chain that glimmered like starlight and hanging from it was the circles and odd symbols you’d seen somewhere in the library in the TARDIS. You were profoundly happy but also confused, what did it mean and how was it connected to proposals on Earth?

Seemingly satisfied with your joy, he then took the chain from your fingers and stood behind you. You weren’t sure if maybe you were imagining it but he felt closer and warmer than ever before, as of you could nearly feel his hearts jumping out of his chest to press against your back. He eased the pendant in front of your eyes and you could feel him connecting the chain.

“Once when these were worn by other Time Lords, it showed others who was courting you. Who you were meant for. Who you’d want to spend your life with. And now I’m giving it to you. It’s mine, it says the Doctor. It doesn’t mean I own you, and if you ever change your mind I don’t want it back. I just felt like you deserved something to mark how you are the end of my loneliness.” He said and tears filled your eyes. He was wonderful, he was perfect, he was impossibly maddening and you felt the weight of what he’d done heavily in your heart. Because you know he’d just admitted how much he loved you, how he’d want you as his companion always. Finally you flung yourself into his arms, catching him off balance as he fell to the soft sand and you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Oh thank you, Doctor. Thank you.” You whispered.

The memories flashed across your mind if you’d been on that sapphire shore only days ago, instead of months. The Master, the last Time Lord and the exact counterpart of your beloved Doctor had you strapped against a metal board standing upright. You weren’t afraid as mad as the Master was, your Doctor would come for you. He always did. It wasn’t until the maddening eyes of the blonde man caught your necklace did you begin to worry. In a swift motion he tore it from your throats and you cried out as he tossed it aside, it skidding across the floor and into the shadows.

“You don’t belong with him. And he can’t save you now.” The Master mocked, seeing the clear and very real fear and distress on your face.

“Wouldn’t say that if I was you.” And you fell lax against your bonds as you heard that soft and authoritative voice. There he was, standing long and lean against a darkened doorway, the silhouette of those messy brown spikes, the blue suit and bright red tie, sonic screwdriver at hand and fierce eyes.

“Alright?” He asked you and you nodded vigorously. Of course you were now that he was here. The Master wasn’t willing to give up that easily though and threatened to blow the entire ship to bits. You panicked but only for a second, because the Doctor had gotten the two of you out of tougher situations.

With a loud thud the power system shorted in the ship thanks to the handy sonic, and your bonds released automatically. You rubbed the place they’d been pressed against your skin and started to run to your Doctor. Before you made it to his safe and warm embrace you heard the chilling, grated sounds of the word, “Exterminaaaaate.” In seconds the room was filled with Daleks and the Doctor yelled, “We have to go. Run.” And his hand was just within your reach. Beans began flying though the air, hot and murderous as bullets, buzzing with voltage beyond human knowledge.

Your mouth set in a firm line and your chin jutting out just so, you slid to your front on the cold grate floor and dove into the shadows.

“___________!!!” The Doctor cried and the sheer fear and helplessness, the edge of rage nearly broke you in two. Fumbling blindly with your hands you finally clutched the metal chain with the pendant attached. You breathed a sigh of relief and pressed your lips to the sacred Galifreyan writing. Quick as lightning you were on your feet again and running to the Doctor. His warm hand squeezed yours hard and he led you down a darkened hallway, the Daleks following and sending death beams at your heels.

At last the TARDIS was in sight and with the force of all his strength the Doctor shoved you through the doors and your palms smacked the floor. You nearly flew back out to help him when you heard the buzzing of the sonic and the Daleks slowing down, their words becoming deeper and slower. For a moment you were frozen with fear and wishing the silence didn’t stretch so long.

At last he flew inside and brushing past you began flipping switches and biting his sonic between his teeth. With a shake the ship flew into motion and you remained sitting on the floor trying to catch your breath. Hands in his pockets he began pacing the control room and you realized he was upset, in fact you’d venture to say he was pretty angry. You were pretty sure you knew why.

“I’m sorry it’s just-” you began to say but he cut you off biting the pad of his thumb just before he began to speak.

“Don’t know what I’d have done. If you’d been hurt. Or worst.” He said.

“I know and I’m sorry. It’s just, that pendant, it means more to me than anything, any gift I’ve ever received. And I just couldn’t, I couldn’t bear to lose it.” You said, tears filling your eyes at the thought of never seeing it again.

“It’s a piece of your home. Of you. And I’m turn it’s part of me, and my home. Cause that’s wherever, or whenever you are.” You continued, meeting his eyes and speaking without even blinking or looking away. Before you could take your next breath his hands were on your face and his lips were pressing to yours in soft and tender emotions deep as space. Your hands fell to your sides, the necklace still at hand as you poured all your lent up longing and love into kissing him back. It could’ve been hours, it could’ve been seconds, but it felt like the greatest moment of your life and it would never be long enough. Then he pulled away and issued you that perfect white smile at full wattage.

“How bout I fix that for you?” He said happily, putting the tip of the sonic to the broken chain, easing his black thick framed glasses up his nose while the light headed and giggling feeling from his kiss remained with you.

#tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who #reader insert #reader #request

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