#henry could be more competent but he doesn’t exactly see the point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

Don’t look down, Baby Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary : Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic.

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

Dean’s POV

I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

I had it all planned.

But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

And that guy is no Robert…

His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

Abe.

Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

Reader’s POV

I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

September 21, 08:12pm

“That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

Dean’s POV

That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

September 21, 11:49pm

Reader’s Pov

He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

Come already.

I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don��t be loud, that would be so awkward.

When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

Dean’s Pov

Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

September 28, 06:05pm

Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

Ew.

Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

When did we become like this ?

After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

A call.

So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

I can resist him. I can.

I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

Dean's Pov

She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted @hobby27

699 notes · View notes

tra-sh · 4 years

Text

Mine to Hold (Bucky Barnes ABO)

Bucky comes back from Wakanda and you feel different around him. What's your solution? Avoid him until it goes away. This doesn't go over well with him.

Sometimes, on days like today, you find yourself staring out over your surroundings and wondering: how exactly did you get here? When people you where you work, you would answer “Stark Industries,” and nothing more. When those same people inquired who you work for, they would receive a tight-lipped smile, and perhaps a “Tony Stark,” laced with sarcasm. After all, how could you explain to the public that you worked for the Avengers? It was much easier and less exasperating to give a little white lie. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the hoards of fans who would follow you to work or try to convince you to slip them a photo of a sleeping Thor.

You'd long forgotten how you had ended up in this position, but you couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. You spent most of your time working with Dr. Banner, helping in the lab, and performing first aid on missions. Of course, you'd needed combat training, which the team was more than happy to provide. You had been afraid when you presented as an Omega a few years back, but nothing changed in the tower dynamic. No one treated you as if you were a fragile little doll, ready to break with the slightest touch.

You felt as though you were going against your biology and stepping out of the pack mentality-- and hell if it wasn’t thrilling. However, the doting and motherly nature of the Omega would often rear its head in regards to your team. The longer you worked with everyone, the more protective you felt over them. You would flit about nervously if one of them was on a dangerous mission, and launch a frenzy of panicked questions while checking them for injuries upon their return. It wasn’t too bad with the Alphas (Natasha, Steve, and Thor), but you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying over Clint and Bruce (Betas), and Tony who was the only other Omega in the tower. When Peter Parker began to visit, You'd guarded him almost immediately. You would coo over him and dote on the boy, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Peter had yet to emerge into a class, but You secretly hoped he would be an Omega like you and Tony. The tower was constantly full of competing Alpha pheromones and it was very overwhelming at times.

Yes, it was times like these where you looked at your current life and smile. You felt so at home here, and the Avengers were nothing more than family to you.

You walk into the living room and laugh softly at the group that had congregated in front of the TV. Tony was showing Thor the movie Wall-E, and the others had most likely filed in one by one and sat down. There were also times when you felt like a glorified babysitter. You step down into the living room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. In addition to working the med-bay on missions, you often helped Pepper with the more official side of Stark Industries. You couldn't help but feel bad for the overworked Beta and assisted her as often as you could. She'd learned rather quickly that Tony listened to you more than her anyways.

“Tony?” You ask quietly. You rest your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

Tony’s head lulls back, his eyes still trained on the cartoon robot in front of him. You roll your eyes and snort.

“You have a meeting today at 6:00? New York Times interview, remember?”

Tony made a strangled heave as if signaling to you that he didn’t want to go. “I know you don’t want to, but this is the one we’ve rescheduled three times already,” you point out. Tony groans as his head falls back to hit the couch. “Can’t they find some other superhero to interview? How about Ant-man? He has nothing better to do,” Tony offered. You shake your head and sigh. “I’m absolutely telling Henry you said that, and they specifically want to do an article on Iron man,” you remind him.

Tony was about to protest when F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupts. “Sir? James Barnes is at the entrance.” You can't help the fluttering in your stomach as you resist the urge to look at the elevator. Bucky is back?

Tony shot up off the couch grinning ear to ear. “Oh darn! I forgot our dear little soldier's mission ended this week! Guess we’ll have to cancel that appointment?” He feigned disappointment, shooting you a pleading look. You glare at him but eventually give in with a sigh. “You can explain to Pepper why I’m canceling. I’m not taking the fall for this one,” you mutter and pull out your phone. Tony cheered as he sauntered out of the room, presumably to greet the new guest. You hold your phone up to your ear and crane your neck as subtly as you can manage to try to catch a glimpse of the winter soldier. "Hello?" Pepper's voice carries through the speaker, catching you off guard.

"Oh! Hey, Pepper, sorry if I'm interrupting," you apologize quickly. "Not at all. Is something going on?" Pepper asks. You don't usually call her unless there's bad news coming. You spare a glance over to the elevators. "Yes, I'm afraid Tony is very adamant about not going to the New York Times interview today," you explain. Pepper makes a strangled sort of noise over the phone. Uh oh, she's really pissed. "And why exactly does Tony not want to go this time?" Pepper asks, trying to mask the edge to her tone.

Before you can answer, Tony strolls back into the living room with a very shy brunette in tow. Nat and Steve are the first to welcome him back. You feel your throat clench as you stare at him. To say Bucky was an attractive man would be a deplorable understatement. While his body language was very closed off and introverted, he dripped Alpha pheromones. Stupid Omega brain, you think to yourself. You and Bucky were fairly good friends, you'd say. You two would sit in comfortable silence with each other when he wasn't on missions, reading books or making small talk. You knew Bucky was put off by the social ranks, and you were scared for a while that he would avoid you after you presented an Omega. But your relationship stayed fairly stable much to your delight.

When Bucky's scent filled your nostrils and you felt a soothing calm wash over you. He smells like freshly ground coffee, cinnamon, and something earthy- like sage or myrrh. As embarrassing as it was to admit, his smell made you feel grounded and safe. "Hello?" Pepper wondered.

"Right! Sorry, Pepper, actually Tony is here now if you'd like to speak with him," you offer, turning back towards him. Tony blanched and began to shake his head vigorously. You grin deviously at him before thrusting the phone in his hand. "You're the worst- Hey Pepper!" Tony quickly switches to his charming personality, making a beeline out of the living room so no one can hear her yell at him.

You laugh and turn around to look back in the living room. Bucky turns to look at you and gives you a gentle smile, making your stomach perform flips. He lumbers over to where you stand, looking down. "Hey, doll," he greets quietly. You can't help the smile that ghosts across your lips as you stare up at him. Were his eyes always that blue? You try to shake the thought from your mind. "Hi, Buck," you reply. "How was your mission?" You ask quickly, trying to maintain the conversation. Was it always this hard for you to talk to him? "Not too bad," he mumbles. "Shuri says hi."

You perk up at this and beam at him. "You saw her? How is she? Is everyone doing okay?" You can't stop the ramblings as they spill from your lips. Bucky laughs and you feel a hot blush creep up your neck. "Too much?" You ask cautiously. He shakes his head and rests a hand on your shoulder. "Just enough," he says. Your stomach clenches as you look at him. His peaceful smile, the way your skin tingles under his grip. You felt strange and it was beginning to poke and prod at your fight or flight response. "I have to go help Doctor Banner," you say quickly before excusing yourself from the room. Your heart was beating fast and your face felt hot. What was happening to you? Bucky watched you leave, a frown tugging at his lips.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Bruce asks after a while.

Your head snaps up and you stare at him. "What?" You ask dumbly. He scoffs and places his coffee mug down on a nearby desk. "You reek," he points out. You flush and realize he's right; you're putting out distress pheromones. You sigh and move to sit down on the small lounge chair Tony had brought into the lab. Bruce often worked well into the night, so the lab also functioned as a living space.

"Bucky's back," you say hesitantly.

Bruce sits next to you quietly, urging you to continue. "It feels different," you tell him. "Like, before I could ignore his scent and everything and be close you know? But now it's like my brain wants me to jump his bones," you prattle off, your face growing redder with each confession. Bruce listens patiently, waiting for you to finish. "Well, it sounds to me like you've chosen Barnes as a potential mate," he says. You feel your body go rigid as you stare at your friend in shock.

"What?"

Bruce leans back on the couch, deep in thought. "Sometimes Omegas will seek out and choose a mate out of a group of Alphas," he explains. "It's not uncommon, although today you don't really see Omegas taking the initiative. Your body is trying to claim Bucky."

You shoot up from the couch, stumbling away from Bruce as he speaks. "No, no no-- I can't claim Bucky!" You shrill. Bruce sighs and walks over to you. He puts his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down. Betas weren't as commanding as Alphas, but his presence still helped to decrease your heart rate. "I'm afraid it's not up to you," Bruce says quietly. "Your brain chose Bucky and it's not going to let go of him unless the Alpha rejects the claim."

Your body shivers at the idea of Bucky rejecting you. Why does it make you so sad? Despair rolls off you in waves, making Bruce flinch. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he adds. "Is there something you can do? Raise the dose of my suppressants?" You ask hopefully. Bruce sighs, dropping his hands. "That's too dangerous. It could make you miss your heat for a prolonged amount of time, which would only make matters worse," he explains. You look at the ground and feel your eyes sting with unwelcome tears.

What were you supposed to do now?

Over the next few days, you fall into a carefully planned routine. You've discovered that if you only see Bucky in short bursts of time, it's easier for you to suppress the Omega instincts. You sit with him and talk to him for a few moments at a time, before finding some excuse to leave. Although you try to convince yourself it's the right thing to do, it gets progressively harder and harder for you to leave.

Everyone in the tower has noticed your behavior; especially Bucky. He saw through your excuses almost immediately, and it made his stomach sink. He couldn't help the ill-placed thought that you no longer wanted to be around him. He was the only one in the tower that you would avoid and he didn't like it. He almost growled when he saw you train with Sam instead of him. Since when were you so close to Sam?

Bucky didn't realize he was sitting on the couch pouting until Steve came over. "Jesus, Buck," Steve said. "It reeks in here." Bucky's lips pulled into a snarl as he glared at Steve. The blonde super soldier raised a brow at his friend's actions. Since when did Bucky act like this? "You're acting like a lovesick pup," Steve points out. Bucky grumbles something under his breath, looking away.

Why was he acting like this? He wasn't even sure. Bucky feels so on edge like the slightest movement will set him off. It's unfamiliar to him, and he hates it. "I know," he sighs after a moment. "I don't know why." Bucky looks up to Steve with an exasperated expression. Steve hums quietly and sits on the chair across from the winter soldier. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the Omega you're so close with, would it?" Bucky's grip on his metal arm tightens.

"She's avoiding me," Bucky mutters. Steve looks away, his eyes scanning the living room for any unwanted ears. He's noticed your new attitude towards Bucky, but Steve wasn't as naive. He knew mating behavior when he saw it, considering how Tony had acted before they claimed one another. "Have you tried asking her?" Steve wonders. Bucky scoffs and his grip gets tighter. "She won't stay long enough for me to try," he growls. The more he thinks about you and Sam the angrier he gets. Steve smells the anger and tries to suppress his Alpha instinct to fight. He clears his throat, looking at Bucky. "Buck, you need to talk to her. You can't just sit here and stink up the place. You're not the only Alpha in the tower," Steve reminds him. He gets up and leaves the living room quickly, trying to clear his head. Bucky sighs, looking down at his feet.

How would he talk to you if you wouldn't stick around long enough to get a word in?

Bucky stands outside your door, hesitating. He's been in here before, sure. But that was before you'd started avoiding him. He debates turning around and leaving. The last thing Bucky wanted was to fuel your hatred toward him. He felt something in his chest tighten at that thought. Did you hate him? He pushed the thought away and steeled his mind, trying to focus through the Alpha thoughts telling him to find you and take what's his. He knocked softly at the door and waited. No response came, making Bucky frown. Were you still in the gym? He chewed his lip nervously. Were you with Sam?

Bucky felt a possessive surge in his brain at the thought of you training with Sam for over two hours. He pushed his way into the room and looked around. His eyes fell on the bed and he froze.

He stared at the nest of fluffed pillows and clothing on your bed, placed in such a way that there was a little divot in the middle for you to curl up in. He felt something snap in his brain as he looked at the nest with white-hot anger.

Whose clothes had you taken? Who were you nesting with?

He stormed closer to the bed until a familiar scent hit him like a wall. He blinked, staring at the mound of pillows before him. Were those... his? He stared at a familiar pair of sweatpants and a balled-up t-shirt. Did you bring his clothes into your nest? Your safe space? This realization made Bucky's chest flutter. His scent was all over the pillows and sheets, and it made his pride soar. You wanted him in your safe place; he was comforting to you. Bucky couldn't help the smug grin that danced across his lips. Well, now he knew you didn't hate him at least. But why would you avoid him? Bucky decided at that moment that he needed to talk with you- whether you wanted to or not.

Bucky paced around the tower, brows knit together in concern. No one had seen you for a few hours. Where had you gone? Did you leave because of him? To make matters worse, you weren't answering your phone.

Bucky glanced around anxiously. He debated running around the city to look for you, but where would he even start? F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't even know your location. Why was no one else panicking? The elevator in the middle of the floor dinged and Bucky immediately looked up. You walked into the tower looking down at your phone in shock. '23 missed calls from Jon Snow'. You felt your face grow hot as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest. Why did Bucky call you 23 times? He never used his phone unless it was for emergencies. You look up and freeze in your spot. Bucky is standing in front of the elevator, staring at you like a man in the desert would an oasis. You felt your knees grow weak at the desperation in his gaze. "Bucky?"

He's about to question you when an unpleasant smell wafts through his nose. You shrink back at the anger that settles on his features. Was he upset with you?

Bucky glares at your neck, where the unfamiliar smell is coming from. Why did you smell like an Alpha? Had someone scented you? It didn't smell like anyone he knew and it made his blood boil. "Who did it?" Bucky growls after a pause. Your brows knit together in confusion. Who did what? You wrack your brain for what he could be upset about when suddenly it clicks in your mind. "Bucky, it was--" Before you can finish your sentence, Bucky whisks you away to the sleeping quarters. A started noise leaves your lips as he heaves you over one shoulder effortlessly.

Bucky carries you swiftly into his room, dropping you on the bed like a rag doll. "Bucky," you begin again only to be interrupted by the Alpha crawling over you. He pins you down to the bed and brings his head to your neck. You shudder and present your scent gland to him almost immediately. Bucky preens at this and happily marks you. He does it over and over until your own smell is barely a whisper. You know you're practically dripping in Bucky's scent, and something in your brain sighs happily as if to say, 'more!'

He seems satisfied with his work and looks up to your flushed face. You can't help the purr that slips out of you as you look at the proud Alpha above you. Your body feels light and airy as if you're floating. A languid smile drifts across your lips as you stare at Bucky. He sits up, dragging you forward so you rest on his lap. "My 'mega," he mutters under his breath. You preen at the claim, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

"If you've gotten that out of your system, can I explain now?" Bucky nods begrudgingly, making you chuckle. You lean forward and place a soft kiss on his forehead. "I was with Pepper at a meeting for a new Stark Industries internship program," you begin. "One of the interns was nervous and accidentally scented while I was next to him."

Bucky frowned. If you were with Pepper, why didn't anyone tell him? "Who knew you left?" Bucky asks, rubbing his chin on your shoulder absentmindedly. "I told Tony," you say, pausing to think. "Tony and Steve."

Bucky curses under his breath. This was probably Steve's way of making him talk to her. You look at him, your heart swelling in your chest. Had he been worried? Why did that make you so happy? Bucky pulls away and you whine at the loss of his warmth. "We need to talk," Bucky says finally. You feel a rush of dread pool in your stomach but you manage to nod.

"You've been avoiding me." You look away and bite your lip. You knew he would notice eventually, but it still made you nervous. "I know," you whisper. You feel guilt settle in the pit of your stomach and you sigh. You should have told him sooner but you were just too afraid of what he'd say.

"I saw your nest," Bucky adds.

Your face flushes as you look at him in shock. "You did?" You squeak. Bucky nods, looking you in your eyes. "Why were you avoiding me?" He asks. You look down and sigh softly. "I, um," you fumble over your words as you try to think. "I might have-- unknowingly-- claimed you?" You say awkwardly. Bucky feels his stomach flip at your confession. "Did you not want to?" Bucky whispers. "No! I do!" You say quickly, before realizing your words. Your face turns pink as Bucky raises a brow at you. "I know you weren't exactly thrilled about the classes, and I was afraid you'd reject me," you murmur. "Oh, doll," Bucky sighs, leaning forward. He places a kiss on your cheek and you feel his stubble scratch against your skin. "I was worried that you wouldn't like me as an Alpha," he admits. "I didn't want you to think I was just some knot-head looking for a rut." You're quick to shake your head and look up at him with a reassuring smile. "Bucky, I could never think that about you," you say quietly.

He hums in appreciation and peppers your face with light kisses. Your chest flutters at the affection and you turn your head to nuzzle his face with your own. A pleasant silence falls over the room, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat pounding away. Bucky's arms tighten around your frame, holding you close. You reach up timidly and rest your palms on his chest. A small smile ghosts over your lips when you feel his heartbeat speed up at your touch. Bucky leans down and places a gentle kiss on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "Mine," he whispers.

You feel your chest swell with pride and you can't help the grin that takes over your features. You plant a loving kiss against his hair and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders.

"Yours."

#bucky barnes #fanfic #bucky fanfic #buckyxreader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #abo #alpha #beta #omega #im trash #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #bucky #fluff #buckytrash #reader insert

151 notes · View notes

tarhalindur · 3 years

Text

2021 NFL Predictions

Man, as someone who occasionally spends too much time thinking about the NFL (football: the closest thing American sports have to a turn-based strategy game) and trying to predict how its season will go it occurs to me: why do all this work in my head and not write it up? So, here goes nothing:

(Terminology note: “true talent” = estimate of how many games I would expect the team to win given average luck and schedule. The categories are derived off the old 16-game schedule because that’s what I was drawing off of and I’ll need to see how the new schedule plays to calibrate the break points now: as it is, “Super Bowl contender”: true-talent 12-13 wins or better (in 16 games); “division contender”: 10-12 wins; “wild card contender": 7-10 wins, with 9-10 being “upper end” and 7-8 being “low end”; everyone below that is bad.)

- The AFC South got fucked by the scheduling gods (they drew the AFC East and NFC West, likely the two deepest divisions in the NFL), and I will be quite surprised if any team in it gets a wild card. (Let’s take an upper-case outcome and assume the second-place team in the division sweeps two terrible teams and splits with the division champ. That’s five wins. Assume the Jets are terrible too and that’s six. And then... what? Barring a Kliff implosion and/or the Rams rolling injuries to the stars on their stars-and-scrubs roster the worst team in the NFC West should be at least true-talent seven wins. New England could be trash if Mac is bad or gets injured now that Hoyer is their best backup, but otherwise every non-Jets team in the AFC East is true-talent nine wins or better. Cross-divisional? Not likely unless the Colts implode due to injuries and Jacksonville does massively better than expected - they get the Bengals and Broncos, and the Falcons might also count depending on whether that team hits its fail states. The AFC South would even have a hard time benefiting if both the Browns and Chargers implode, because the third place team last year is the one team basically guaranteed to be terrible in Houston. A wild card isn’t impossible, but it needs a whole lot of dice rolls to go in a team’s favor either on the field or between games - which is by definition not likely.)

- The NFC North also gets an uphill climb to a wild card. They rolled the NFC West, the AFC North, and the new cross-conference against the AFC West, an absolutely brutal set. Getting a wild card out of that probably needs at least 4-2 in the division (probably needs exactly one of CHI/MIN to implode, though sniping a game off Green Bay also works) and some good fortune either in games that should be close in true talent or in events elsewhere (the easy road involves at least two implosions in CLE/PIT/ARI).

- The AFC East probably gets a wild card. They rolled the AFC South (likely 2-3 games where you’re heavily favored if you’re even a wild card contender) and the NFC South (admittedly not free, but NO and CAR are both probably winnable and while I’m high on the Falcons they have significant downside risk - there’s also the possibility that Father Time finally gets to the far side of his near-Brady experience), plus the Jets and the new cross-conference game against the NFC East. Worlds where the AFC East doesn’t get a wild card probably involve both multiple implosions in the AFC North and West and at least one of Coach of the Year Robert Saleh and OROY Zach Wilson.

- The AFC West probably gets a wild card? They rolled the other likely weak division in the NFC East, which goes a long way, and frankly there’s enough teams with implosion risk in the AFC North and West (CLE, DEN, maybe LAR, maybe PIT) that it’s probably going to happen to someone.

- The NFC East... they’re probably exporting a whole bunch of wins as well? Not a guarantee, though, I could actually see them get a wild card if there’s enough implosions in either the NFC South or the AFC West.

- The AFC North might be the highest-variance division in football. If they hit the high end they’re absolutely stacked, but there’s a real risk the Browns are fool’s gold (I think they were a true-talent 8-8 team last year that lucked into one of the easiest schedules in years, the question is how much they improved) and that Father Time gets The Older Rapist enough to knock the Steelers down to a true-talent 8 win team (have a hard time seeing them go further down with Mike Tomlin’s team-building, though admittedly they might underperform that given Tomlin’s occasional issues with not covering certain receivers and looking past bad teams on the road). One thing’s for sure: I don’t think there’s enough wins for all of the AFC North, AFC West, and NFC North to get wild cars.

- The NFC South has one good team (barring Father Time finally getting Brady, one that should be decent (Payton isn’t a bad coach), and two that could be anywhere from wild-card contenders to outright collapses. Note that with the Easts and Souths playing each other this year, there’s too many wins for both the NFC East and NFC South to whiff wild cards unless both divisions seriously export wins to the AFC (in which case the AFC North has an uphill climb and there’s a pretty good chance that the AFC East gets two wild cards and the other goes to the AFC West).

(Bonus under the cut: individual team thoughts!)

- Bills: Should be in the playoffs and are the division favorites, but slightly more downside than they’re getting credit for. The problems are twofold: what should have been the second most favorable schedule in the division (because the likely best teams in both the AFC North and NFC East did not finish first last year) is salted by the schedule gods taking away: they draw Pittsburgh in the season opener so are the single most likely team to face a full-strength The Older Rapist, and they draw Washington in September as well maximizing the chance that they get Fitzpatrick before he inevitably turns back into a pumpkin. (Fitzpatrick playing out of his mind and beating the Bills mostly singlehandedly and getting Team fans’ hopes up before dashing them would be peak Fitzpatrick...) More to the point, their early schedule is PIT, @MIA, WAS, HOU, @KC, @TEN; it’s not out of the question they start 2-4 or even 1-5 going into the bye if the stars really align against them, and at that point locker room morale becomes a factor.

- Dolphins: Wild card contender (true talent roughly 10 wins), could be more if Tua really develops or the Bills stumble. Good news: they dodge KC and instead get the Raiders in a quite winnable game, on top of the common AFC East schedule, and now they get the Giants (who I suspect are the worst team in the NFC East) as well. More good news: like, the worst Miami is doing against the Pats is a split, right? Bad news: they face Baltimore.

- Patriots: With Cam gone and Hoyer (a second-tier backup at this point) the presumptive backup the Pats are suddenly one of the highest-variance teams in the league. If Mac Jones is good immediately they’re a division contender, and if he’s even a competent game manager they’re another true-talent 10-win wild card contender given that run game and possibly that front seven as well. If he’s bad or gets injured, however, they now might very well wind up with a top 10 pick. Which might actually be part of the point, on top of doing a vet a solid and avoiding any locker room issues? In a weird sense Belichick is unconstrained by job security in a way no other NFL coach is; he doesn’t have unlimited job security... but he’s also nearly 70, and if the rebuild fails then by the time his seat would really be getting hot he’s probably considering retiring anyways. So he’s playing with house money. It’s not likely, but don’t be shocked if the Pats pull what Arizona did a few years back and draft a first-round QB two years in a row - it’s definitely an option if Mac is terrible.

- Jets: Not out of the question as a dark horse if Zach Wilson is good, I’ve been getting good vibes off of Saleh. Problem is the combination of their division and injury issues; I’m not sure they have the roster to overcome that yet.

- Steelers: Basically covered above. If Big Ben aka The Older Rapist is still above average they’re a wild card contender or even an outright division contender again; if Father Time gets him and they’re stuck with Mason Rudolph or Dwayne Haskins-level play at QB they probably still win a few games because Mike Tomlin is not a bad coach but they have an uphill climb.

- Baltimore: The one obvious division contender in the AFC North, given a very good quarterback and one of the five best coaches in the league. Admittedly their OC is potentially a question mark, but they should get back to the playoffs.

- Cleveland: Actually hard to tell. There’s two offsetting issues here. First, as mentioned above their schedule was soft as fuck last year and that’s unlikely to still be the case. On the other hand, I think there’s a decent chance they take a step forward this year. Ceiling is about where their record was last year barring a massive leap, floor is a 7-8 win team unless a bunch of other teams hit their upside at Cleveland’s expense.

- Bengals: Depends on how good and/or healthy Burrow is, but they probably finish last in the division regardless. Low-end wild card contender if everything goes right?

- Titans: The one team in the AFC South that should actually be good. Exactly how good depends on things like “did they overuse Derrick Henry last year?” and “is the defense any good at all?”, but the fail state here is a true-talent wild card contender in a likely soft division.

- Colts: Depends on two questions: can they get Wentz back to anything resembling 2018 form, and do they keep getting bit by the injury bug? AFAICT the core roster is of the classic “quarterback away” type with good D and a decent running game (see also this year: Denver, Washington, possibly Carolina, Pats if Mac Jones doesn’t pan out). The best case is that they can reclaim Wentz and the injury bug is done with them for the year, in which case they challenge TEN for the division. Worst case Wentz is bad and/or injured and half their roster is on IR, in which case they get a top-10 pick and the AFC East and NFC West are even more likely to get wild cards than they were already.

- Texans: Obvious tire fire, and not just on the field at this point. Problem is the tire fire includes both the new owner and his favorite exec, so they’re likely to remain a tire fire for a while...

- Jaguars: Probably depends on how good Trevor Lawrence is and how quickly, especially since I suspect Urban Meyer is at higher-than-usual risk of flaming out. Best case they’re a true-talent 8 win team that might manage to take advantage of a soft-ish schedule to challenge for the seventh seed. Otherwise look for them to export wins.

- Chiefs: Obvious Super Bowl contender is obvious, barring a Mahomes injury they’re the presumptive division favorite and near-locks for the playoffs.

- Raiders: I’m high on Carr (solid Tier 2 quarterback IMO, on par with someone like Tannehill and I’d take him over Kirk Cousins - and probably Baker Mayfield, too, though maybe not since Mayfield has less track record and thus higher upside). I’m considerably less sold on Gruden, and have doubts about what he’s done to the roster. Still should be a wild-card contender.

- Chargers: How much of last year’s late-season run was fool’s gold? Not sure. Could be all, could be none. IIRC they replaced their head coach, so that hole is at least possibly filled. Herbert is probably good, though I want another season of track record to be confident. The real problem here is that they still seem to be connected to some Indian burial ground somewhere. Upside is division contender, downside is 6 wins or so.

- Broncos: QB-away team in a bad division for it. At least they get the NFC East, but I suspect they finish out of the playoffs again this year.

(Interlude: A general thing to note about the NFC is that due to two QB injuries and one QB retirement there is exactly one team that finished first place in their division last year that I expect to be the best true-talent team in their division this year. Worse, due to the aforementioned injuries two teams I expect to be the best or at worst second-best in their divisions finished third and fourth in their divisions last year, respectively. This is throwing a giant monkey wrench in the usual SOS-based scheduling balance.)

- Football Team: The Football Team has the kind of defense that’s a characteristic of the QB-away team. There’s two differences between the Team and the usual suspect, however. First, I’m not entirely sure how good their line and thus running game will be. Second, and more importantly, the usual QB-away team has a consistently mediocre medium-to-high floor, low-ceiling quarterback. The Football Team, by way of contrast, has Ryan Fitzpatrick, arguably the single highest-variance QB of the last two decades, a man who will absolutely win you games you should have lost… and lose you games you should have won. Also, he’s in his upper 30s and thus at risk of Father Time coming for his NFL career. So, the questions: how many games do you get Fitzmagic and how many do you get Fitztragic? If the usual cycle applies, when exactly does he turn back into a pumpkin? And is the division + the lower end of the NFC South soft enough that it doesn’t matter?

- Giants: Probably the worst team in their division, and my pick for the most likely second-worst team in the NFC. I don’t like Daniel Jones, I don’t like most of the rest of the roster, and their coach is unimpressive.

- Cowboys: Remember those quarterback injuries I was talking about? Right. The ‘Boys are not without flaws – the defense is notoriously questionable (though by preseason reports they may actually have drafted a difference-maker of a linebacker this year) and Mike McCarthy may well be a downgrade compared to Jason Garrett. But barring another injury (eyes Dak’s shoulder nervously) they have a QB (I’m a bit low on Dak relative to most people, but in this case “low” still means a Tier 2 quarterback roughly on par with Derek Carr), and they should have an offense. Barring a Jalen Hurts breakout or Fitzpatrick rolling Fitzmagic for most of the year, with a healthy Dak this is at worst a wild-card contender in a weak division and thus the presumptive favorites for the division title.

- Eagles: Oof. This team is hard to judge, mostly because AFAICT they’re a weird superposition of potentially very good and potentially complete trash (that’s also spelled “very high variance”). The issues are twofold: they have a largely untested starting quarterback who was roughly average last year but might develop (the aforementioned Hurts), and they have quite a few very good but aging players on the roster. Best case, Hurts plays like a Tier 2 or even Tier 1 quarterback, the rest of the roster holds, and they’re in contention for the division title and/or a wild card slot. Worst case, Hurts is meh, the vets fall off or get injured… and then next year might be even worse because at that point you probably need a rebuilding year even if they hit this year’s draft picks.

- Packers: There’s risk here, mostly of the forms “simmering issues blow up the locker room” and “age and/or injury sap Aaron Rodgers and Jordan Love is meh or worse”. But Aaron Rodgers is one of the five best quarterbacks in the NFL until proven otherwise, and both the coach and the rest of the roster are at least decent, so barring those the Packers should be at worst a division contender with Super Bowl aspirations ala the Ravens.

- Chicago: Uh. Hmm. I like the Fields pick, gut says he’s a pretty solid bet at a Tier 2 quarterback of some description barring catastrophic injury. IIRC the D is still good. But I do not like that O-line, and I do not like that schedule, and I’m not a big fan of Coach Nagy either. In the NFC East or AFC South the Bears would have at least a decent chance at the playoffs. Here? Not so much. It’s not impossible the Bears do well, but I think a top-10 draft pick is more likely.

- Vikings: Hmm. By true talent the Vikings are probably a wild-card contender in the same vein as the mid-2010s Bengals. That’s not quite a good comparison, because I’ve got Zimmer as probably a top-10 coach and those Bengals lacked that. But the rest fits: solid if aging roster (ala the later Dalton Bengals years), overpaid mediocre QB. Yeah, I’m low on Cousins; IMO he’s a high-floor, low-ceiling type that gets overrated by analytics, the second coming of Matt Schaub. He’s a solid choice if you want to win 10-12 games (maybe 13 now) and have a shot at the conference championships, but I’ll be very surprised if he ever wins a Super Bowl as a starter. The problem for the Vikes is that they’re in the NFC North and therefore their schedule sucks balls.

- Lions: They’re rebuilding and their schedule is one of the roughest in the NFL. They might surprise someone early before the lack of talent really shows, IIRC I’ve heard about that happening once before with a Dan Campbell team, but this team is playing for a top-5 draft pick and they’re probably going to get it.

- Saints: Actually really hard for me to tell, mostly because I can’t tell how good the non-QB parts of the roster are this year relative to last. They’ve lost a HoF quarterback, and while Jameis has seasoning and a possible QB whisperer now I suspect his ceiling is still a high variance high ceiling, low floor type in the Fitzpatrick mold (absolute peak might be Eli mk. II). Payton is one of the better coaches in the NFL but finished 8-8 with Brees for multiple years. That said, the Saints’ roster last year was better than it was in those years, especially on defense. Question: is that still the same this year? Don’t know; the Saints took non-Brees losses, but I’m not sure how much. Peak is a true-talent wild card team if Jameis is above average and the rest of the roster is good; fail state is probably 6-7 wins by true talent.

- Buccaneers: Let’s be real, this boils down to a single question, the same one we’ve all been asking for over half a decade now: “is this the year Father Time finally comes for Tom Brady?”. At this point I’ll believe it when I see it. And even if yes they’re probably still a playoff team, because the rest of the Buccs roster is still the best in the division and the schedule gods once again blessed Tom Brady’s team with a weak slate of foes – the entire rest of the NFC South has issues, they get the NFC East, and by finishing second-place in the division last year the Buccs get Chicago, the Rams, and now the Colts as their SOS-dependent opponents. The AFC East with the probable exception of the Jets will be tough (but even there the Buccs luck out – they rolled New England early, and even without a possible Mac Jones adjustment period even if he’s good the first month for the Belichick-era Patriots has often been an adjustment period as the team figures out what’s working and what isn’t) and the Rams should be as well (here the schedule gods frown, the Buccs rolled the Rams early – a lot of the Rams’ downside is injury-related volatility, drawing them early minimizes the chance of this happening prior to this game), but even then the Buccs don’t look severely disfavored in any game and everything else looks very winnable and would even if Brady declines to 2015!Peyton.

- Panthers: I’m not going to lie, I actually rather like the Darnold gamble in a vacuum. If you’re betting on anyone in the NFL to pull another Tannehill he’s the one, because I’ve gotten the same vibe off him that I got off Tannehill on the Dolphins: possible tier-2 QB held back by coaching (and the same coach, no less). The problem is, I think he might be better off as a backup behind a mediocre starter for a little while to regain confidence the same way Tannehill was, and instead he’s getting thrown straight into the fire again. (Also, Fields was available, and Mac Jones too though I’m not sure the Panthers would have been a good place for him to develop.) The rest of the roster is another QB-away team with a likely very solid defense, Christian McCaffrey, and IIRC an O-line that is at least decent.

- Falcons: Possible sleeper team. The Falcons have one major advantage that people keep forgetting about: barring a major breakout from one of Jameis and The Darnold, they have at worst the second-best QB in the division, potentially even the best if Father Time gets Brady but not Ryan. And that’s not damning with faint praise; at his peak I had him as the best Tier 2 quarterback and roughly sixth-best in the NFL overall, that MVP year was not a fluke. He’s just been saddled with bad coaching and bad rosters and been unable to overcome that, which I can’t blame him for given all those 8-8 years for the Brees/Payton Saints in the mid-2010s. Good news: Dan Quinn is gone, and the schedule this year is soft (49ers game aside). As I noted above there’s probably a wild card sloshing around for the NFC South and NFC East, and I would not be surprised in the slightest if the Falcons got it.

- Seahawks: … We know the book on the Seahawks by now, right? Top-5 quarterback in the NFL (and of the three I would take over Russ on the field itself, two are old enough for Father Time to be a real concern and the last is testing exactly how bad off-field issues have to be to make a Tier 1 quarterback unemployable in the NFL), average roster otherwise, coach who is average at worst. That’s been a true-talent division contender for the last half-decade, and barring injury or locker room issues blowing up I see no reason why that would change this year.

- Rams: High variance, for a very specific reason. The roster, as constructed, is a wild-card contender, or possibly more if Stafford really goes off. The problem is that due to spending first-round draft picks like candy and not getting enough out of the later rounds to make up for it, this is (as noted above) very much a stars-and-scrubs roster. And the thing about a stars-and-scrubs roster is that it’s vulnerable in a way that a roster with more depth isn’t; if a star gets injured, your team is facing a massive drop-off in performance.

- Cardinals: Honestly, unless Kliff hits one of his downsides (can’t adjust now that defenses figured out last year’s offense and/or loses the locker room) then by true talent this is probably a low-end wild-card contender at worst (~8 wins). The problem is, in the NFC West that makes you the worst true-talent team in the division…

- 49ers: So, let’s just point out the obvious: last year was a case study in just how badly a possible true-talent Super Bowl contender has to get injured in order to get a top-10 pick. Admittedly part of that is that Jimmy G. sure seems to merit the injury-prone label at this point, which is why the 49ers traded up for another QB, but the rest of it is just extremely bad luck and that’s unlikely to persist year-to-year. This is probably the best team in the NFC West, which is saying something. (Unfortunately for them, Shanahan is in the Reid/Tomlin bucket and his weaknesses as a game coach make an actual Superb Owl an uphill climb.)

Bonus: Thoughts on the new QB class!

Trevor Lawrence: There’s obvious sample size issues, but quarterback prospects that highly rated haven’t busted in at least 30-40 years (Luck, Peyton, and Elway were all stars). He’s probably gonna be good.

Zach Wilson: Man, I was all ready to write The Other Wilson off as another LOLJets bust after the draft and then he played well in preseason and Saleh actually looks like the first competent coach the Jets have hired in a while (which may still not help him keep his job because the AFC East is now nuts). We’ll see if that holds during the regular season; among other things he has the misfortune of playing Belichick in week 2.

Trey Lance: So far looks to be talented as fuck and also raw as fuck. Shanahan seems to be pretty good at developing quarterbacks?

Justin Fields: I’ve gotten future Tier 2 quarterback vibes off him ever since he was drafted; the problem is he’s on the Bears, with questionable coaching and at least this year what looks like a terrible O-line as well. Possible next Stafford here?

Mac Jones: People don’t understand the probability curve here – the risk with Mac isn’t the ceiling, it’s the very good but not great outcomes. He got a first-round draft grade despite physical limitations, and he’s almost certainly not just being carried by his school – possibly even the opposite given the talent argument and Bama QBs’ track records. To me, that says he’s a one-tool player whose tool is the mental tool. And of all the QB tools that is by far the most important. So, the question: does that tool play in the NFL? If no, he’s probably a third-tier quarterback at best. If yes? Well, in that case there’s a very real chance he’s a Hall of Famer.

2 notes · View notes

sunnykeysmash · 4 years

Text

A look at: AP BIO S3EP6, “That That That”

So this post is going to be sort of an... in-depth analysis for this episode. I hope people enjoy reading this! It’s a long one, so I apologize in advance. I hope it doesn’t feel rambly.

So the episode opens up with the janitor talking with some rats.

We are treated to a shot from their point of view, as the man talks about the rats’ plead about how they’re “going to change”, and how they say they’re not “going anywhere”. Through this simple quick scene, the episode sets up the entire premise, both on a literal level, with the use of rat poison later on, and on a thematical level, introducing us to what’s going to become, by the end of the episode, Jack’s own point of view. Putting it like this, it’s like already the show is drawing a parallel, making us further empathize with Jack as he slowly starts feeling like a rat stuck in a maze himself.

As we’re introduced to Jack, he talks about preparing a recorded lecture for the University of Wisconsin on trascendentalism.

Jack feels sure that what he wants is to get away from the school he’s in, that he won’t miss anything. He thinks this job is what he wants.

Now, trascendentalism is a philosophical movement that values the importance of subjective intuition, not reached through logic but through imagination. It preaches that people deep down already know what’s right for them, that the individual’s potential is limitless, and that the ego is not your true self. All themes that are slowly woven into the episode as Jack works through his subconscious while high off rat poison to come to the conclusion that he already knew deep down was right, and that he started feeling right at the start when people started questioning him.

As this process begins, he goes to talk to Lynette, his girlfriend. He brings up said lecture that he’s recording, it almost feels like he’s seeking her reassurance.

After that, we see him in the teacher lounge, kind of minding his business.

The scene starts out with the three teachers talking. In the frame, catching my eye immediately, is that fourth empty chair. It underlines that someone’s missing, someone that could be a part of what’s happening.

Eventually we cut back to Jack being in frame, except not really, because he starts out of focus, in the backgroung, listening in to the three teachers, framed like an outsider. This is to show us how he feels in the environment.

Then, as he enters the conversation, he gets into focus.

And we then cut back to the three of them.

There is a purposeful distance felt between the two parties, and it’s one that Jack is establishing by keeping himself to the side. This calls back to the themes of the episode right before this, Mr. Pistachio. They’re inviting him in, there is a place for him, but he feels like he doesn’t belong, he stays distant.

As the girls start talking to each other again, Jack is once again kept out of focus, but still clearly in the middle of the shot, which tells us we should still be paying attention to him.

And pay attention to the visual hierarchy, as well. With Jack pushed to the background, he appears small in comparison to the other figures who are big and overpowering. The full body shot, as he resists getting closer to them, almost feels revealing. Emotionally, what this communicates to us, to me personally, is a deep sense of vulnerability that Jack is feeling.

As he subconsciously starts to doubt where he truly wants to be, he feels exposed and out of place.

After this scene, Jack goes to talk to Durbin, and this is where we’re introduced to yet another small subplot that serves to reinforce the themes of the main one at hand.

Durbin is presented with an issue. He wants to tell his brother that he loves him, he has struggled with it in the past, and this is the week he is gaining the courage to do it. This plot will ultimately end up reflecting Jack’s own epiphany, but we’ll get there.

So finally, it’s late evening, school’s empty, and Jack has prepared the set up to record the lecture.

Visually we’re introduced to this duality of Jack on the screen of the ipad versus the real Jack trying to give a lecture. The perfect competent appearance that actually masks his doubts and hesitation.

Screens being often used in media to show something perfect, fake and unachievable, and this is no exception.

Jack starts its lecture:

“To achieve its perfect form, a caterpillar must withdraw and complete itself alone, in its cocoon. Likewise, for us to achieve spiritual perfection, in the view of trascendentalists like Henry David Thoreau, it is necessary to retreat from the mindless and negative influences of society.”

This ends up being exactly what Jack does, as the rat poison induced trip lasts him an entire week, stuck alone in school, with nothing but his delusional and hallucinatory thoughts, he is forced to confront himself in complete solitude to come to the conclusion that was inside him.

He then commits a mistake, right at the end, calling Henry David Thoreau “Justin Thoreau”, the same way Mary, the teacher, did before. In a way, the school and the people in it are rubbing off on him, their presence in his mind manifests through this lapsus, effectively keeping him from completing the lecture correctly. Keeping him here.

He starts stumbling. He starts doubting himself.

“Is that right?”

He asks, the question resonating bigger than just about his current speech, feeling more like about his path in life and his actions.

A shot quickly zooms in on the camera lens, the frantic pace communicating anxiousness, but this shot in particular serves to fully immerse us in Jack’s shoes.

Feeling watched, feeling judged, scrutinized. Having to directly face his shortcomings, unable to blame anyone but himself, and having to ask himself why. The camera almost literally backing us - therefore, Jack - into a corner by coming this uncomfortably close to us.

He attempts to hype himself up and tries again. The whole thing accompanied by a background music that’s basically nothing if not ticking (like a clock) and percussion. It feels quiet and tense.

We then get another shot that’s a clean transition from the screen to the real Jack. In the screen, he appears confident, but as soon as the camera focuses on the real Jack, he loses tracks of what he was saying and once again struggles. Quietly, he turns to look at the background.

He slowly, tentatively reorganizes a single book, then positions himself back, only to turn again towards the bookshelf, still dissatisfied.

Without a single line of dialogue, this shows us precisely what he’s feeling and lets us understand his slow descent into madness. He feels that there’s something wrong, out of place, something that must not be right, but he’s not yet looking at himself to fix this problem, instead he’s looking at his surroundings, trying to gather back the control that he feels he’s rapidly losing by attempting to control what’s around him.

And so he deeply cleans the entire office, reorganizes and color codes the books behind him.

Being introduced to his struggle before the rat poison even starts to affect him lets the transition between reality and hallucination feel seamless, so much so that during a first viewing we start to doubt what’s real and what’s fake, and when.

The overall eerie tone of the episode makes it feel like a take on psychological horror, as the slow loss of control is accentuated by increasingly bizarre events that go completely unquestioned.

Attempt after attempt, we feel as though we are entering a loop with no chance of escaping. Which is exactly what Jack feels.

We then get this.

Jack is fixating on his issue, without much success in resolving it. He’s facing and confronting it over and over. Visually, it’s made bigger than himself by its oppressive presence in the frame.

The only soundtrack accompanying this is a kind of vibration, a deep and hard to hear sound that just looms in the background. This episode in general is very quiet, which helps the atmosphere feel lonely and tense.

He screams, but there’s no one who can hear him. It’s just himself.

He sees this mouse pad and once again the picture visually reinforces this sense of looping, of feeling stuck and trapped in a repeating endless cycle.

He tries to rip it in half. But he can’t.

Just as he can’t overcome what he’s struggling with, his own cycle that he’s stuck in. He wants to break free, but he’s not sure from what. Is his prison this school he says he hates so much, or is his prison his own ego, trapping him into feeling like an outcast, into isolation, into never opening up or being vulnerable.

This is actually a theme in the entire season, Jack slowly learning to open up and be vulnerable. But this episode in particular feels like a turning point for his character, a moment of realization, of personal intuition. Trascendence. Beyond his limits, beyond his own walls. Through a trascendent experience, the hallucinations.

He falls asleep on the floor, visually representing his rock bottom.

He’s then woken up, there’s faint wind chimes sounds, and he’s surrounded by darkness in a way that feels ethereal. As he exits the room to check the source of the smell that’s almost calling to him, we see nothing but him entering light.

He’s barely visible, surrounded by fog, he can’t see where he’s going very well.

He sees a figure, and asks this:

“Are you in a caterpillar costume?”

When the figure turns to face him, Jack is frightened and runs away.

This immediate association between the very subject he was talking about, and him fleeing in terror, serves to illustrate his true feelings towards what he’s doing by recording this lecture. He’s scared of it, and he’s running away from it.

He wakes up again in the same room as he was before, only this time the light is almost blinding.

Here, Helen appears. This dialogue follows:

Jack: “Jesus, Helen, what are you doing here?” Helen: “Oh, you know I can’t stay away from Whitlock long.”

We quickly find out that this is a dream sequence that Jack is having. Thanks to this knowledge, we know that all the dialogue Jack entertains with the rest of the school workers, all his friends, is nothing more than his internal dialogue manifesting to him through them.

He’s asking himself why he’s at this highschool. The other voice, Helen, replies that it’s because they can’t stay away. They like being here.

But this realization comes with horror and shock to Jack, and so it quickly turns into a graphic, horrid description.

He once again escapes it, going immediately to try recording his lecture again, but Helen bursts into the room kicking the door. All these terrifying thoughts are tormenting him.

He runs away, camera in his hands. Gets interrupted once again.

In this attempt, we are completely unable to see him through the screen because of how out of focus he is to us in there. His attempt at a perfect facade is proving completely infructuous, all we can see is the real Jack, deeply struggling.

He gets interrupted by the three teachers again, and this dialogue happens.

Michelle: “Jack, you’re here! We thought that that video would be done by now.” Jack: “Uh, yeah, unfortunately... it’s not.”

Once again doubt seeps in as he worries about what’s taking him so long, it’s also interesting to notice how the girls use “that that” with no problem whatsoever.

They invite him to join them in playing a game, and he finds himself going along with them at first, before stopping himself, panicked.

Jack: “I don’t have time for your dumb, fun games! I gotta do this video!”

This dialogue sets an intense contrast with the scene with them at the start, in reality.

In that scene, he calls their games “terrible”, then looks at them with fondness.

Here, instead, he’s stressing that he doesn’t have time for it. He wants to participate, as is shown, but he can’t because of his own self imposed obligation.

In other words, this is exposing to him, though still through an horror lense, his realization that he’s gonna miss all these chances to hang out with his friends if he goes through with it.

He keeps running away, and ends up in his class.

His reflection in the screen appears now deeply warped.

The writing on the whiteboard is upside down, something is deeply wrong.

He’s alone, then all of a sudden he’s not, as the camera twists to the side and gets closer.

We are treated to some dutch angles.

He tries again, but the words aren’t even his. He asks if he sounds like Marcus, and the students all nod while creaking sounds can be heard as they do.

Day 2. He’s still eating the same spaghetti as before, and he accidentally gets sauce on his shirt. A stain that just won’t go away. A visible imperfection. He snaps, he covers himself in them, then puts on some makeup powder, helplessly trying to cover it all up. Of course, that does nothing. He’s trying to bury a problem that has become impossible to conceal.

Getting in front of the camera again, he says this:

Jack: “I want this job. I’m so overqualified.”

It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, since he’s not really talking to anyone but a camera lens. Then there’s the part about being overqualified. The thing is, he’s right, and he know he’s right. On a qualification and competence standpoint, he should be able to ace this, no problem. So why is he struggling? Does he want this job?

In comes Durbin.

Durbin: “Jack! ...you’re still here. Working on your video.” Jack: “Yeah uh- but everybody keeps stopping me...” Durbin: “Let’s get you back on the right track. What’s the problem?” Jack: “I got sketty on my shirt...” Durbin: “I’ve got what you need right here. Everything you need is always right in front of you, Jack. Always check the lost and found.”

Lots to unpack here. Everytime Jack encounters someone again, they always comment on how he’s still at school, he hasn’t left. He keeps getting stopped, his subconscious keeps stopping him, since we know this is all a hallucination. He’s going down the wrong path, and Durbin in this situation represents what’s right for Jack, the truth in his subconscious. “Everything you need is in front of you”.

Additionally, the way he explains the problem, speaking like a sad child, makes you feel just how lost he is, just how small he feels. Him feeling small, lost, vulnerable and scared is a huge theme in the entire episode, as you can see.

So he tries again, and this is where we first experience the transition. As Jack is enthusiastic to put on the suit Durbin gives him, we then see that his appearance in the screen is quite different. He looks ridiculous. But in his reality, as his real self, he looks spotless, happy. This is him starting to accept the concept that what he needed was always in front of him. Because whereas the screen just shows us what he wants to present himself as, his facade, the real him shows us his true feelings, how he feels towards this highschool and all his friends and the life he lives here.

By accepting his life as it is, his job at Whitlock, he knows he might end up looking ridiculous and his image may suffer, but inside he feels better, he feels good, happy, realized.

The expression he makes as he sees this suit, is the expression of a man that has found what he was looking for. This is why it emerging from a “lost ad found” box is very significant symbolically.

It’s not just himself that changes inbetween “reality” and “screen”, however, it’s the entire location. His background, everything.

He finally finishes his speech, successfully this time. But Helen comes to take the camera and tripod away.

Jack accuses her of “sabotaging him”, but we as the audience will soon come to realize that he’s sabotaging himself.

He runs after her, and as he does, the lights around him start malfunctioning once again.

He opens a door and sees his mother with a young Durbin. He’s understandably unsettled. His mom having always been something close to his heart, we can even see her as a representation of his most intense emotions and of love. He’s struggling to fully come to terms with admitting that he loves being at this school.

He gets away, only to come closer once again once he hears more noises. He opens the door.

He gets in, softly asks for his ipad, and as he walks closer we get an overview of what’s happening. Jack, on his desk, being dissected by his students, completely torn open.

Once again, this visual serves to show Jack’s sense of uncomfortableness with being open and totally vulnerable.

He’s being scrutinized and studied and analyzed all the way to his deepest insides. It’s scary, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts. “I think I found the heart.” “Girl, that’s his bladder.”, he’s being judged mercilessly. That’s how he feels.

“How would we know? We never learned biology.

There’s a sense of guilt for never doing what he should’ve from the very beginning. He regrets not being there for his students, teaching, he’s scared that he’ll never get the chance now that he knows he wants to. This is manifesting though Sarika.

Jack: “I have to go... why are you keeping me from leaving?” Marcus: “We’re not keeping you from anything, Mr Griffin. You’re doing all of this. Your mind has created an entire world of distractions to keep you from doing that video.” Dan: “You know, it’s almost like you don’t want to leave.” Jack: “Yes I do? ...I think I do...”

In this moment, his most open one, he’s finally confronted with his desire to stay.

And this is when he wakes up.

Now back in reality, his appearance in fact resembles the way he looked like in the screen in his mind. So to reiterate, the real him in his mind was simply how he felt, while the screen was the way people see Jack in real life. At this point in the episode, subconsciously, he has come to fully accept it.

He does try to fix up the room, but it’s too much of a mess by now.

We cut to all of his friends discussing together. In comes Helen, with her nose bandage, and she says this.

Helen: “Oh, I’m so glad to see you guys!” Mary: “Helen, what happened?” Helen: “Well, I’m starting to think that the relationship I have with that animal is not what I thought it was.”

This dialogue is meant to reflect Jack’s situation, as do all the subplots in the episode.

The dialogue continues when Helen asks Durbin how it went with his brother.

Helen: “Did you tell your brother that you loved him?” Durbin: “Oh, well, I... kinda sorta chocked on saying that exact phrase, so...” Michelle: “That’s okay Ralph, it’s hard to be vulnerable.” Stef: “Yeah, and you have to respect the fact that he may not be there yet.” Durbin: “Yeah, I just feel kinda bad because a bunch of times he said “I love you” and I said “Yeah, good good good good good”...” Helen: “Well I’m sure he knows how you feel.” Durbin: “Well, at one point he said “Do you love me? Because I can’t tell.” and I said “I don’t know” and I got into a lift and went to the airport, just full choke.”

This all reflects Jack’s own feelings. He’s not quite at a point where he can openly admit to loving his friends and Whitlock, but at the same time this dialogue shows us that they are understanding of it, they know that being vulnerable and open can be very hard, and they’re patient. They do know that Jack loves them.

Enter Dave, in a wheelchair, injured from head to toe.

Dave: “You know who else choked? Maybe the hardest of all?” Everyone: “JACK!!!”

Enters Jack. Everyone cheers his arrival.

Of course, the dialogue just quoted is a joking way to point out how Jack failed in making that recorded lecture.

He shares a cute moment with his girlfriend, and softly says:

Jack: “You were thinking about me...”

It’s like it comes as a surprise to him, that he’s loved, that other people genuinely like him and want him to stay.

He continues.

Jack: “Um, hey, I should talk to you about something. Uh, in fact, I actually have to tell all of you about something important that I realized while you were gone. I realized that-”

He’s interrupted but the janitor which he had previously punched. The guy who was doing the rat disinfestation.

In other words, he chokes, as well.

Mary: “So Jack, what did you learn?” Jack: “Uh... well, I, uh... I invented a new game.”

Instead he chooses to bring that game he hallucinated into reality, making time for it. Being enthusiastic for it.

He enters his classroom.

Jack: “Alright, everybody, shut your precious beautiful mouths. You know after spending an entire week alone in this empty school... I realized that I can’t survive without community. And I came to appreciate... all of you.”

This reflects the trascendalistic philosophical approach of Thoreau, who retreated alone in nature to find true purpose in life.

He goes to write on the whiteboard.

All his previous writing wiped but still visible. He did do all of that, but it’s gone now, it’s no longer present. It’s solved.

Jack: “And I decided that I wanted each of you to finish this year knowing more biology than any student ever has...” Sarika: “Mr Griffin? I know we’ve had our differences in the past...” Jack: “Uh, yeah, hold that thought, Sarika, because the biggest thing that I learned is that prolonged exposure to rodent killing gas causes hallucinations and irrational ideation. And all these things that I thought I learned? Well... chemically induced illusions... caused by a dying brain”

He draws an X on top of the words “community”, “you” and “biology”.

Jack: But! Now... I got my thinker back in the pink. Everything’s back to normal...”

He takes out a bunch of spaghetti and a box of rat poison, sprinkles them heavily with it, and takes a bite like it’s the most normal thing.

So what does it mean, is he rejecting all that he learned? No. He’s keeping up his facade, as being vulnerable is hard, but inside he’s embracing what he learned. This is communicated to us through him ingesting the poisoned spaghetti, going back into his mind, accepting the embarassment and weirdness and going back to that scary feeling of vulnerability for more. He might say that it’s all back to normal, but we clearly see it’s not, and we clearly know that he’s glad to be back and stay back, we see it through his actions.

Ultimately this is a sort of turning point for Jack Griffin, while he might not yet be able to express his feelings, while still going back to a place of denial using the rat poison as the excuse for everything that happened in his brain, this is his first step towards accepting what his subconscious has known all along, his first step to “trascend from a caterpillar into a butterfly”.

This is... trascendentalism, as construed by AP Bio.

#ap bio #glenn howerton #jack griffin #analysis #that that that #ap bio season 3 #ap bio season 3 episode 6 #yall i cannot believe i just wrote 16 pages of analysis in a single sitting from 3am to 8am #i am literally insane i think #but i hope whoever reads this takes something out of it #glenn howerton if you are reading this i love you buddy youre very talented but please make macdennis canon or i will have to unstan #just kidding im not going anywhere but please bud #does this count as a review #or is this just the ramblings of a crazy person.............#I think I'm right personally #at least somewhat #jack griffin bisexual legend #ok im done i think #when u follow a sunny account for sunny content and then BOOM 16 pages of ap bio analysis #that relatable moment when..........#dont yell at me i know im a mad person but i HAD TO OK

19 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

Sins of the Past Pt.8

Camelot. Past. Morgause’s Guest Chambers. (Morgana knocks on the door and enters.) Morgana: “I didn’t mean to intrude. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m the Lady Morgana.” Morgause: (Smiles, walking towards her:) “I know who you are.” Morgana: (Suddenly nervous:) “How is your arm? You were wounded.” Morgause: “It’ll heal soon enough. Forgive me but... you look tired.” Morgana: “I haven’t been sleeping.” Morgause: “I know for myself how troubling that can be.” Morgana: “Could it be that we’ve met somewhere before?” Morgause: (Shakes her head:) “I’m glad we have met now.” Morgana: “That’s a beautiful bracelet.” Morgause: “It was a gift. From my mother. (Removes it from her arm:) Please, I would like you to have it. It’s a healing bracelet. (Offers it to Morgana:) It will help you sleep.” Morgana: “I couldn’t. You must be tired. I will leave you to rest.” Morgause: (As Morgana reaches the door:) “I hope you will remember me fondly.” (Morgana nods before leaving the room.) Morgana’s Chambers. Night. (Morgana stirs restlessly in her sleep. Standing at the foot of the bed, Morgause watches her and holds up the bracelet.) Morgause: “Gefultuma híe þæt heo onslæpe.” (Morgause places the bracelet at the end of Morgana’s bed and leaves. Morgana stops twitching and falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.)

Wonderland. Present. (Having reached the shore, Ella waves farewell to the sea turtle.) Ella: "Well, what are we waiting for?" Will: "I nearly drowned and was eaten by a mock turtle. Can I have a moment, please?” Silvermist: (Shimmering into view beside them:) “Nope.” Will: “You again?” Silvermist: “I'm actually glad to see you alive, Will.” Will: “That's strange, since you're the one that tried to kill me.” Silvermist: “That was before I heard about the bounty on your head. Turns out you're in pretty deep to the Caterpillar.” Will: “Okay, look. I made a horrible mistake. The thing is, you were right about everything. I felt bloody awful after what happened between us.” Silvermist: “If you ever had a heart, I don't know what happened to it.” Will: “You're right. I don't feel terrible. Not even a little bit. So why don't we both agree that I'm a right bastard and go our separate ways? We don't need to bring the Caterpillar into this.” Silvermist: “Why should I care about your fate?” Will: “You shouldn't. (Points to Ella:) But care about hers. She's a decent person. Don't make the good guys pay for the bad guys' mistakes. I am sorry, Silvermist. For everything.” Silvermist: (Turns away:) “Be on with you, then.” Will: “Really?” Silvermist: “Get out of here. Go.” (Silvermist shimmers down to normal size and flies away.) Ella: (Teasing:) “Was that you apologizing?” Will: “It happens. Don't dwell on it. Come on.” Ella: “Well, in any case, thank you.” Storybrooke. Festival. (There's a cheerful atmosphere in the town as the festival is in full swing. From fire-breathers to jugglers, hay rides to carnival games, everyone has come to have a good time. When an expression of joy and wonder crosses over her husband's face, Queen Roberta manages to deftly maneuver King Richard away from the sword-swallower in favour of the much less deadly ice-cream stand. Meanwhile Xena entertains herself as Gabrielle attempts to recite one of their epic tales to a group of enraptured children.)

Tiana's Rollin' Bayou Food Truck. (Alice, Tiana and Robin prepare to start serving beignets.) Alice: (Looking down at one of her creations:) "I think my beignets are getting better." Tiana: "Yeah, well, at least they're not heart-shaped this time." Robin: "I thought those were cute." Tiana: "Trust me girls, we want them to be more beignet-shaped. So, ready to provide beignets to the masses?" Robin: "We sure are." Alice: "Selling comes natural to me. (Picking up a tray laden with beignets:) I could sell land to a fish." Tiana: "Well we're not charging for these today but as always I love your spirit." Elsewhere... (The Jester searches high and low, asking whomever he passes the same question.) Jester: "Hello, sorry to bother you but you haven't seen Prince Neal by any chance? I've been playing hide and seek with him and he is really good. No? Okay, thank you." (Strolling along the park together, Jasmine and Snow White take in the festivities.) Jasmine: "I've got to hand it to you, Snow, this festival seems to be just what the people needed." Snow White: "Thanks, isn't it wonderful? Originally Storybrooke was to co-host the event with Camelot but I thought it better if everything was centered here and Camelot provided the entertainment." David: (To the crowd:) "Attention, good people! (Raises a silver chalice:) In my hand you see the Chalice of Victory. A priceless heirloom that shall be presented to the winner of the jousting competition we're hoping to have later on today. All those who are interested, sign up now for your chance at glory!" Jasmine: (To Snow:) "Priceless heirloom?" Aladdin: (Joining them:) "It's just a souvenir from Doc's birthday party. I looked at it earlier, it even says 'Doctoberfest' on it." Jasmine: "Ah." Snow White: "That doesn't make the tournament any less prestigious." Jasmine: (As Snow moves to stand by David:) "Actually I think it does a bit." Snow White: (To the crowd:) "Those of you competing in the tournament should know that in the final round you will be facing perhaps the greatest hero of our entire kingdom. A man who slays dragons. (Murmurs from the crowd:) Oh yes. To win this tournament you must first defeat the lord of the sword, my husband, Prince Charming!" (There are groans mixed amongst polite applause at this announcement.) Aladdin: "Oh pull the other one, that one's got bells on! You expect people to take part in a tournament while David walks into the final on merit?" Snow White: "I think he's earned that right." Aladdin: "I bet you do. Well I'm not having it. David, I hereby challenge you to a joust." Jasmine: "Er, Aladdin, have you ever actually jousted before?" Aladdin: "No, but how hard can it be?" David: (Chuckles:) "Well I could use a warm-up match. Alright, Aladdin, you're on." (The two men clasp forearms and the challenge is accepted.)

Forest. (Sitting in a secluded part of the forest, Emma and Regina take time out to feed Maria while the sounds of the festival can be heard in the distance.) Emma: "I don't know where she puts it all." Regina: (Smiling:) "Henry was the same. So was I, if you had asked my mother." Emma: "Yeah?" Regina: (Nods:) "Nothing was ever good enough for that woman. Which is why Daddy would spoil me. We'd have this secret spot where he and I would go and just eat as much candy and chocolate as we could." Emma: (Laughs:) "Your Dad sounds great." Regina: "Yeah. Goodness knows what size I would've ballooned to if I hadn't discovered my love of horse riding." Emma: (Teasing:) "And stable boys." Regina: (Smirks:) "Indeed." Emma: "So are you going to enter the race?" Regina: "If Snow had entered, maybe. I'd love nothing more than to show her what she could do with all those rosettes she has." Emma: "But you're above all that petty jealousy stuff now, right?" Regina: "Me? Of course I am. As far as that goes, there's only one Mills sister who-" Zelena: (Entering the clearing:) "Here you are! I've been looking bloody everywhere for you." (Before either of them can say anything, Zelena lifts Maria into her arms.) Regina: "Zelena! I thought I told you that Maria would be spending the day with us." Emma: "You know, her parents." Zelena: "Oh you say a lot of things I don't listen to. Anyway your race is due to start in half an hour." Regina: "Race? What race? I never put my name down for-" Zelena: "Both of your names are down for the horse race. You, Emma and some other riders I didn't bother remembering." (Regina and Emma look to each other and then realise.) Regina&Emma: "Snow." Zelena: (Already walking away with Maria:) "Come to think of it, it did look like her handwriting." Regina: (Sighs:) "I'm going to kill her." Emma: "Oh come on, it won't be that bad. You might even win." Regina: "Well of course I'll win, I just would’ve preferred to have been invited." Emma: (Scoffs:) "You're that confident you'll win?" Regina: "It's the only logical outcome." Emma: "What about me?" Regina: "You? I taught you how to ride." Emma: "Exactly, so I learned from the best." Regina: (Laughs:) "I may have taught you everything you know about riding, but I didn't teach you everything I know." Emma: "Oh it’s not that complicated. You climb on the horse's back and try not to fall off. I think I can take you too." Regina: (Tilts her head:) "That's sweet." Emma: (Pursing her lips:) "All right, if you're that confident, how about a wager?" Regina: "You're on. What are the stakes?" Emma: "If I win, you have to ride naked on a horse. (At Regina’s look:) Just the length of the stables, with no one else around." Regina: (Laughs:) "Wow. You've been sitting on that particular fantasy for awhile haven't you? All right, seeing as it's never going to happen, I accept. But if I win... let's see... Oh, I've got it. Since I now think you and your mother are in this together, if I win, you have to wear that gaudy monstrosity Snow bought me for Christmas." Emma: (Thinks:) "You mean that big gold necklace?" Regina: "That's the one." Emma: "Now that's just mean." Regina: (Extends her hand:) "May the best woman win." Emma: (Shakes it:) "Thanks, I intend to."

Forest of Balor. (Ruby and Mulan arrive at the mouth of a cave.) Ruby: "Well this doesn't seem ominous at all." Mulan: "Stay alert. The Cockatrice could be anywhere." Ruby: "What does a Cockatrice look like, anyway?" (The Cockatrice roars behind them.) Mulan: (Draws her sword:) “I think we’re about to find out.” (Mulan twirls her sword as the Cockatrice paws at the ground. The beast lets out another roar and lunges. Mulan stands her ground slashing the air with her sword. Standing on its hind legs, the Cockatrice screams before leaping towards her. Mulan rolls under it when it jumps, then as the beast sets its sights on Ruby, throws her sword, impaling the creature’s back and killing it. Ruby grimaces.) Ruby: "So... let's find that flower huh?" (Mulan nods and they head into the cave together.)

Somewhere In Dun Broch. (Lord Macintosh speaks with an unknown figure.) Shadowy Figure: "I have done everything I can to make your dream of becoming King of Dun Broch a reality. However, there are still those who seek to rob you of your destiny. Go forth to the Forest of Balor, and stop them.” (Lord Macintosh nods and leaves with a group of his men.) Storybrooke. Tournament Grounds. (The joust between Aladdin and David is about to begin.) Joustmaster: "Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please! (Cheers and applause from the crowd:) Our first contestant, Aladdin! (Cheers and applause:) And introducing Mr. Cheekbones himself, David!” (Jasmine walks over to check on Aladdin.) Jasmine: “So, you’ve never jousted before?” Aladdin: “Nope.” Jasmine: “Never been on a horse before?” Aladdin: “Nope and I’m completely terrified of falling off and dying.” Jasmine: “Can you even see through that helmet?” Aladdin: “Not a sausage.” Jasmine: “Great, well, good luck!” (At the other end of the field, Snow attempts to hype up David.) Snow White: “We've trained for this. You're ready for this. You're a hero, and heroes always win.” David: “These are all inspiring and valid points. Just one minor problem.” Snow White: “What's that?” David: “I can't move.” Snow White: “Come again?” David: “I literally... I can't move my arms or legs. I think we trained too hard.” Snow White: “You're not serious.” David: “No? Watch this. (Wincing, David attempts and fails to lift his arms. Panting:) That's my full range of motion.” Snow White: “Well, that's not good.” David: “I know it's not good!” (The Joustmaster blows his horn and the joust is on. The crowd cheer as the two men begin their approach. Unfortunately for all spectators, with David unable to move and Aladdin unwilling to go faster than trotting speed, the result is less than thrilling. The cheers and applause stop as everyone watches on in astonishment at the two-would be knights. Upon finally making contact with each other, each man slowly and painfully topple off their horses onto the ground. As if embarrassed to be there, the two horses canter away.) Joustmaster: (Kneeling over both men:) “Okay. Well... First one to his feet is the winner?” Aladdin: “Are you serious?” David: “I think my ribs are broken.” (Both men grunt and groan, turning onto their stomachs in an attempt to reach their feet first.) Jasmine: (When Aladdin looks to her for encouragement, coldly:) “Get. Up.” Aladdin: “Aah!” (In a truly valiant, albeit pathetic display, both men struggle to their feet. David actually managing to stand a fraction of a second ahead of Aladdin before falling backwards with a thud.) Joustmaster: “Aladdin wins!” Snow White: “What? Hey, no!” Aladdin: (Sees Jasmine running towards him:) “No!” (Overjoyed, Jasmine jumps into his arms, knocking them both onto the ground.) Jasmine: “Are you okay?” Aladdin: “I won.” Jasmine: (Beaming:) “I know.” (They kiss passionately as Snow attempts to pick David up from the ground.)

Race Track. (Now dressed in their riding gear, Regina and Emma stand beside their horses, waiting for the race to begin.) Emma: "Hey. (Regina looks up:) Good luck." Regina: "Why don't you come over here and wish me luck properly? (Smiling, Emma does just that and they share a kiss:) Oh, I almost forgot. (Reaches into her saddlebag:) I wanted to show you what you'll be wearing to dinner tonight." Emma: (As Regina holds out the gaudy gold necklace:) "It's lovely." Regina: (Dryly:) "Uh huh." Emma: "Well wait. Don't you also want to show me what you'll be wearing... or not wearing when you lose?" Regina: (Biting her lip:) "Behave." (The horn sounds in the distance.) Emma: "It's show time." (Both women mount their horses and make their way to the starting line. Joined by half a dozen other riders, Emma only has eyes for Regina. Watching the excitement and anticipation wash over her wife's face, Emma is slow to react to the second blow of the horn. Losing precious seconds from the very start, it is all Emma can do to try and catch up to the rest of the pack. Despite this, Emma finds herself distracted once again, this time by her wife's rhythmic riding motion. Catching herself staring, Emma muses that even if she does lose the race, at least she's got one hell of a view.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

7 notes · View notes

sebkijk · 3 years

Text

Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) - Movie Review | SebKijk

This movie review was originally published on: https://sebkijk.nl.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is finally here. I can joyfully say that this movie has been well worth the wait. This movie is truly amazing. Not only is this my favorite DC Comics movie since The Dark Knight, but it is also one of my favorite superhero movies of all time. I’m just going to say it. Zack Snyder’s Justice League is also one of my favorite movies of all time. It is currently my number one movie of 2021. I have to limit my enthusiasm so I don’t just type in capital letters full of joy, but nonetheless, I’m going to fervently tell you why this movie is simply epic. My thanks to Warner Home Video and Day One MPM for their cooperation and screener copy of the film.

Synopsis Zack Snyder’s Justice League

In Zack Snyder’s Justice League, we see how Bruce Wayne is determined to make sure that Superman’s ultimate self-sacrifice was not futile. That’s why he teams up with Diana Prince. Together they try to form a team of meta-humans that can protect the world from an upcoming threat of catastrophic proportions. The task proves tougher than imagined for Bruce, as each member must deal with their own demons before they can form an unparalleled team of heroes together. United, Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg and The Flash may not be up to the task of saving the planet from the cruel plans of Steppenwolf, DeSaad and Darkseid.

Snyder’s Vision

I want to take a moment to talk about the making of Zack Snyder’s Justice League. This film is the director’s cut of the 2017 American superhero film Justice League. It’s directed by Zack Snyder – duh! The film reflects the original and true vision of director Zack Snyder. Zack Snyder outlined his visionary foundation for the DC Extended Universe with his films Man of Steel (2013) and Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice(2016). Snyder’s original plan was to create a five-film arc. The films Man of Steel and BvS were to be succeeded by a Justice League trilogy. Snyder’s original vision was to show the dark and epic mythological side of superheroes.

This did not please everyone – including myself. I am not exactly a fan of Man of Steel, but I could appreciate BvS. However, I have only seen the theatrical version of this movie and not the Ultimate Cut. This ultimate version is also, according to many, the better version. After seeing Zack Snyder’s Justice League, I have also been itching to see this Ultimate Cut. Batman v Superman was mainly poorly received due to its dark tone, slow pace and lack of humor. Distributor Warner Bros. reconsidered changing the tone of the upcoming DCEU films, including the Justice League film which at the time was a month away from shooting.

Reshoots & other Difficulties

The shooting of Justice League began in April 2016 and concluded in December of that year. Months later, multiple versions of Snyder’s Justice League were shown to Warner Bros. executives. These executives considered these versions to be unwatchable. For this reason, Warner Bros. hired director Joss Whedon. Whedon had worked on superhero movies before. For example, he is the director of the Marvel Studios films The Avengers (2012) and Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015). He was hired to rewrite the script and help with extensive reshoots. CEO Kevin Tsujihara determined that Justice league should not exceed two hours in length, and Warner Bros. also decided not to push the release date. This made it more difficult for the filmmakers to finish the film properly. Zack Snyder was expected to film the scenes that Whedon rewrote.

They worked together until Zack Snyder’s daughter Autumn killed herself in 2017. Zack Snyder continued working on Justice League for two more months to distract himself, but finally stepped down in May. His wife – and producer of the film – Deborah Snyderalso left the project. Whedon took full control of the production, although Snyder retained directorial control. It is estimated that Whedon’s version used about 10% of the footage Snyder shot. Composer Tom Holkenborg was also replaced by Danny Elfmanmidway through post-production. The scenes Whedon wrote or reshot for the theatrical release had a different tone and more humor. In addition, the level of violence was reduced in Snyder’s darker direction.

#ReleasetheSnyderCut

More than 90 minutes of Snyder’s footage was removed, but the result still remained the basis of the story. Although the initial cut was poorly received by test audiences, the early screening of Whedon’s cut scored as high as the first Wonder Woman film. For this reason, Warner Bros. decided to go ahead with it. Justice League was released in theaters in November 2017. Many critics and fans were disappointed. The film was described as one in which the work of two different directors – with competing visions – totally failed to come together. Warner Bros. lost about $60 million with this film, according to Deadline Hollywood. Fans rebelled against this version of the Justice League film and created an online petition to see Zack Snyder’s vision of the film.

The movement to see the Snyder Cut continued to grow tremendously on social media under the hashtag #ReleaseTheSnyderCut. On May 20, 2020, Zack Snyder announced that his version of Justice League would be released on HBO Max in 2021. Fans around the world reacted to this news with enormous happiness. Additional scenes were shot in October 2020 that featured cast members such as Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill and Ray Fisher. In January 2021, it was announced that Snyder’s version of the film was completely finished. So this film has a long history, but how glad I am that this film still came out.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is DC’s Crowing Achievement

Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels like an epic comic book movie adaptation that evokes profound emotions. The film may be longer than 4 hours, but the strong quality makes it feel even too short. Snyder put his full vision and passion into his version of Justice League. The film is full of scenes that you’ll have not seen before. These are not only incredible action or mythological scenes, but also storylines where more empathy is generated for the characters. All the main and supporting characters are more strongly underpinned with backstories and motives in this film. Even a weak villain like Steppenwolf is much better fleshed out in Zack Snyder’s version of Justice League. As a viewer, I almost couldn’t believe it, but Steppenwolf genuinely came across as a danger to the heroes. In the 2017 Justice League film he looks and acts like a joke.

The villain’s design may be slightly over-the-top, but in terms of visual effects and CGI, it is certainly as good as the Marvel villain Thanos. Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels like DC’s epic. This is their answer to franchises like the Marvel Cinematic Universeand The Lord of the Rings. Zack Snyder’s Justice League is grandiose, spectacular and exceptionally deep. For example, the character elaborations are so good that as a viewer you start to care about fairly weird DC characters like Cyborg and Aquaman. Your empathy is not only created by the strongly written story and great acting. The camera work and editing also provide many symbolic shots that develop the characters.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is the Better Version

Take for example shots where Cyborg is looking out of a broken window. This symbolizes the fact that this is a broken character with a damaged view of the world. Each superhero gets a chance to steal the show, in that each character is much more fun and better than the characters in Whedon’s version. The Snyder Cut is simply a dream come true. Not only for Snyder, but also for the fans. For those who weren’t already aware; in my opinion, Zack Snyder’s version of Justice League is way better than the 2017 version. The film may be very long (and, according to some, slow), but this does not take away from the fact that the added material has a purpose. It doesn’t just consist of extra fan-service scenes.

These new additions serve a purpose and do not feel like a weakening of the material. On the contrary – it strengthens the entire film and its supporting characters. In Joss Whedon’s version, the superheroes only come together because it’s a superhero movie. In Zack Snyder’s version, the choices and motives are so much better substantiated. As a viewer, you believe that these characters must come together to stop the enemies. This is due to the sincerity of the new scenes. You get to see how these characters must learn to appreciate and understand each other. You get to see how they must learn to function as one team. According to some critics, the story still does not feel earned. The reasoning behind these criticisms rests mainly on the idea that all the characters should have been worked out in solo films first.

Unnecessary Criticism and Minor Flaws

While I can appreciate the idea of previous solo films, I personally think this is bad criticism. It is not based on what the end product is, but on what the end product should have been according to the reviewer. In my opinion, this is not how (film) criticism should work, even though I sometimes understand the urge to review like this. Of course, every reviewer is free to write however they want. The problem is that these critics allow their written opinion to be presented as the truth, when in fact it is their personal opinion. Still, I must say that I (also) have some minor problems with Zack Snyder’s Justice League. For example, there is an overuse of slow-motion scenes in the first and last hour of the film. This can get quite irritating at certain points, but that’s a personal taste issue.

In addition, the CGI and special effects don’t look quite finished at some points. For me, these are the only two minor points that I would like to criticize. Other than that, I for one thoroughly enjoyed Zack Snyder’s Justice League. Also, the work of composer JunkieXL is simply brilliant. It brings together musical themes from different films and characters perfectly. The acting by the entire cast is top notch. In this movie I particularly enjoyed Ray Fisher, Ezra Miller and Ben Affleck. The powers of the superheroes are also used to their full creative potential. This makes for spectacular scenes full of action and suspense. After watching Zack Snyder’s Justice League, I have a huge desire to re-watch Man of Steel and BvS. It has also created desire where I hope Zack Snyder gets to continue and finish his vision for this franchise.

Conclusion

Normally I write an extensive conclusion, but I only want to say two things briefly now. My thanks to Zack Snyder. Not only for creating a top-notch movie, but also for continuing your original vision. And also I hope Zack Snyder can make his two other Justice League movies. In short – #RestoreTheSnyderVerse.

★★★★★

#zack snyder #justice league #snyderverse #deborah snyder #snyder cut #zack snyders justice league #justice league 2021 #sebkijk

1 note · View note

racingtoaredlight · 4 years

Text

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 11 Extravapalooza

Holy moly, we’ve already made it to Week 11. I’m honestly conflicted over whether or not this is a good thing. In terms of basic pandemic mitigation practices, the NFL conducting its season is fucking insane. These guys are all well-compensated pros, but they’re still taking risks well above and beyond what they normally do, and I truly feel pretty shitty about that. In addition, the fact that some stadiums are allowing thousands of fans inside during games is a crime against humanity, and it really lays bare how craven and sociopathic the ghouls who own sports franchises are.

With that said, it’s extremely hypocritical of me to be so disdainful of the NFL’s current existence, since I watch the games, set my fantasy lineup, and generally enjoy all the stuff that comes with an NFL season. I usually bristle and roll my eyes whenever a sporting entity trots out the whole “We feel like we’re helping society by providing a distraction from everything going on” line, but in this case, with where we are right now as a country...the NFL really is doing that. For me, anyway. Is the stress-relief that the NFL provides to me and millions of other people worth all the bad stuff that comes with it? I don’t know. Probably not. But, I’d be lying if I said I’m not thankful that it’s there.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Tennessee Titans at Baltimore Ravens (-6)

It’s odd to have a game between a pair of 6-3 teams widely considered contenders that feels like a “must win” for each scuffling side. A great man once said “Desperation is a stinky cologne,” and the Titans absolutely reek coming into this one, so I’m giving them the edge. Baltimore being down two starting defensive linemen when Derrick Henry comes to town also factors into my pick, but nobody wants to hear that nerd shit, gotta go with my GUT, baby!

Philadelphia Eagles at Cleveland Browns (-2.5)

Hey, Cleveland doesn’t have to play in the middle of a tornado this week! There will still be driving rains, though. Fortunately, the Browns are built for the slop. RBs Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt are both ridiculous, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to G Wyatt Teller, who is currently Pro Football Focus’ highest-graded player...in the entire NFL. That’s some grade A beef! DE and straight-up superhuman Myles Garrett is out for this one, which is an enormous blow for the Cleveland defense. If I had any confidence whatsoever in Carson Wentz I’d think about taking Philly, but that young man is a mess.

Pittsburgh Steelers (-10.5) at Jacksonville Jaguars

I’m once again betting on the Steelers playing down to the level of their competition. The Jags kept things close against the Packers last week, there’s fight in them thar cats.

Cincinnati Bengals at Washington Football Team (-1.5)

I’m still extremely nervous for Alex Smith the entire time he’s on the field, but I have to admit there’s something magical about him making it all the way back to being exactly as Alex Smith-y as he was before (minus the scrambling ability, obviously). Washington RB J.D. McKissic has 16(!) catches on 29(!!) targets over the two games Smith has started. If this continues J.D. is going to owe Alex a cut of his next contract, and possibly the mineral rights to his legs if the need arises.

Today is Cincy RB Gio Bernard’s birthday, so LOOK OUT LADIES!

Atlanta Falcons at New Orleans Saints (-3.5)

I’m making this pick based on the assumption that New Orleans really does roll with Taysom Hill at QB for the entire game, because that’s what all currently available information indicates will happen. I really do wonder if that’s going to be the case, though. I’ve read a couple of things speculating that the reason Hill is starting is that if Jameis plays he’s likely to reach various incentive clauses in his contract and cost the Saints a bunch of money. That seems utterly ridiculous to me, because why the hell would you bother signing him at all if this is how you were gonna roll? Then again, I’m not a Football Man, so maybe my un-browned normie brain just doesn’t understand.

Detroit Lions (-3) at Carolina Panthers

CATFIGHT!!!

The Lions are the orange kitty in this scenario, because Matthew Stafford will be playing through a torn thumb while not having WR Kenny Golladay or RB D’Andre Swift at his disposal.

New England Patriots (-2) at Houston Texans

The concept of an “emotional hedge,” first introduced to me by RTARL commenter Beer, is in play here. I have NO idea if the Patriots are actually decent or not, and this has all the makings of a letdown game coming off of their unexpected win over Baltimore. Reigning Defensive Player of the Year Stephon Gilmore is expected to be back for the Pats in this one, which is very nice. RB Sony Michel is also likely coming back, which could muddy the backfield and take touches away from Damien Harris, which is less nice.

The Patriots have an atrocious rush defense, but Houston’s primary RB, Duke Johnson, is far better as a receiver than as a straight-up runner, so I’m not sure they can take advantage all that much. In addition, Duke’s receiving skills are mostly squandered because QB DeShaun Watson hates checking down and seemingly prefers to take sacks while looking for throws downfield instead. Wait, why the hell am I picking Houston here??? Is this what hedging is? I don’t like it!

LATE GAMES

New York Jets at Los Angeles Chargers (-9.5)

It feels weird to lay 9.5 points with a 2-7 team, but such is the power of the Jets’ ineptitude. To New York’s credit, they were competitive in two of their last three games (against NE and BUF), but those two games were sandwiched around a 35-9 beatdown at the hands of Kansas City. We would all feel better if the cool, young Chargers steamrolled these sad sacks in a joyous explosion of big plays, and this pick is my attempt at speaking it into existence.

Miami Dolphins (-3.5) at Denver Broncos

I don’t know why I have an affinity for Drew Lock, but I do. He probably appeals to the same part of my brain that delights in terrible movies and horrible jokes, which is the most backhanded compliment I have ever given anyone in my entire life. Drew's gonna tough it out and try to play through a rib injury this week, which is gutty and admirable and all that, but I can’t imagine it’s going to help his already shaky accuracy.

Green Bay Packers at Indianapolis Colts (-1.5)

The Packers are getting their best defensive player back in CB Jaire Alexander, which will make life more difficult for increasingly-noodle-armed Colts QB Philip Rivers. Conversely, Indy’s defense is among the best in the league, so I don’t really see a carnival of offense coming from the Packers, either. Honestly, this should be a close, well-played game between two exceedingly competent squads. The kind of game where there will be long stretches where nothing major happens, but you can point out random shit that happens away from the ball and talk about line play and really sound like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. A tremendous game for fraudulent football-knowers everywhere.

Dallas Cowboys at Minnesota Vikings (-7)

It would be an INCREDIBLY Vikings move to lose this game outright. The return of Andy Dalton is being treated like it’s something that’ll get the Cowboys somewhat back on track, but prior to his injury he looked like crap, so I don’t really know where that’s coming from. Also, while he was out with a concussion he had a bout with COVID-19 that “hit him hard.” It’s tough for me to imagine he’s going to play BETTER coming out of what sounds like a truly shitty few weeks.

SNF: Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A lot has been made about how pissed Kansas City is about the Raiders taking a supposed “victory lap” in their team bus around the Arrowhead parking lot after their win over the Chiefs earlier in the season, and I’m choosing to completely buy into this narrative because it’s fucking hilarious. If K.C. has already reached the “needing to exaggerate/outright invent slights to get up for regular season games against inferior opponents” portion of their reign, we’re in great shape for entertainment purposes going forward.

MNF: Los Angeles Rams at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-4)

I don’t remotely trust Jared Goff against Tampa Bay’s defense. I do think this is probably our SMASHMOUTH NOSEBLEED GRIND IT OUT Game of the Week, and I can already see Tom Brady screaming at his offensive linemen at some point after he gets popped a couple of times during a single possession. Should be fun!

Last Week’s Record: 7-5-1

Season Record: 65-68-5

#Sports!#Footballl #NFL #Gambling

2 notes · View notes

spiltscribbles · 5 years

Text

Quiet Things

Alex doesn’t get jealous.

It’s just not a thing that he does, has never thought it worth while. For a majority of his life he was too busy with school and Lacrosse and plotting out his eventual path to the presidency, to ever even fathom caring too terribly if the girl he was seeing was flirting with some other guy, or was being flirted with. Besides, it’s not his place to get all angry about it. If she liked him more than Alex, well he had no right to interfere in that, there’s something called free fucking will.

“Nah, ’S because you’re too obsessed with yourself,” Nora had told him three weeks after their first break up in that somewhat snide tone of voice that she can pull out as effortlessly as her future professor monotone.

“Slanderous,” Alex had sniffed before taking a huge ass bite out his burrito— thank God that Chipotle’s a national commodity now, which means they could stuff themselves silly before the second national debate .

“Accurate my friend,” Nora had retorted with a clucking of her tongue, stealing his side order of chips and queso while Alex was to busy glaring a hole through the glossy photograph of Prince Henry of Wales that’s the front cover of Vogue Italiano’s newest spread. “You’ll always love yourself most.”

“Well yeah babe, I’m the only one who could appreciate me in all the right ways.”

“The only one who can stand you for longer than an hour you mean?”

Alex had pouted, teasingly, and Nora had laughed, adoringly, and neither of them really took it to heart. It was a bit of a quirk, his self absorption that is. Nora and June had noted it fondly for an eon, it wasn’t some new revelation.

Though What was n entirely new revelation was how only a few short years later, Alex fell head first for the fucking pretentious— not actually pretentious— prince of Wales, realizing he was definitely bisexual all along, and being forcefully outted by the old fuck trying to oust his mother from the oval office before her destined eight years are up. All in that order.

God have times changed.

Alex supposes that it’s only right that amidst all of that, he also changed along the way, that he found a guy— a literal Prince amongst men— that makes his heart thud out an uneven staccato with every glance. Someone who makes it so Alex’s ADHD wired brain goes still, goes hyper focussed on him. On Henry’s pretty pale eyes and lovely thin lips and the way one corner of his mouth tugs upwards before the other every time he smiles. He found a guy who he chooses every day to spend his forever with, the first person that makes his knees go weak and the first person that Alex admits is probably his only match. Found the guy he loves more than any other— His person, the one he’d give up the world to be with. The guy who makes his analytical mind shut off in favor for the idea that in all probability soulmates can exist…? And if so, Henry’s more than probably his.

All this to say, Alex now gets it when June— his delightfully neurotic sister— starts asking him a thousand times over if she looks okay in whichever dress she’s got on after she sees an Instagram post with Pez, forever adventuring a new part of the world, tagging a different girl, or when Nora doesn’t realize she’s being flirted with at her new internship at the Brookings Institute by another grad student. “Just cause I fuck dudes now doesn’t mean I suddenly get what’s trendy~” “You’re fucking one dude and only one dude.” “I think you just proved my point?”)

Suddenly Alex wishes June were here, even in all her craziness, at least then he could have an honest analysis on what’s playing out right in front of him, in the middle of fucking douchebag Phillip’s birthday party. Just there, out in public, right next to the table holding up the thirty four thousand dollar cake. And oh! Look! The fucking gross ass prick just snuck a finger to lick off some of the frosting!

Desecrating stupidly expensive desserts is there thing damn it!

The aforementioned prick is all high cheekbones and long lashes and such big brown eyes. He’s Hassan Nair, “Call me Haz.” No Alex will fucking not, thank you very much.

The prick, as Alex will be referring to him here forth, is the son of some Dubai business magnate, worth probable billions and is so sickeningly pretty that Alex would feel bad if he wasn’t dating the literal prettiest man alive, he’s kinda accustomed with not being exactly the hottest guy in a room. But fucking prick boy must concede the point if the way he’s been gazing down at henry since this shindig has begun is anything to go by, and Jesus Christ, is it actually fair that he’s like half a foot taller than Alex too! No it’s not! None of this is fair!

Alright, okay. This is not cool. Alex should not be just lurking in the shadows like some sort of Twilight love interest, gazing hopelessly at Henry and letting this totally new and totally unwelcome feeling— a bit envious, a lot inferior, and just slightly worried— be eating him hole. He’s fucking Alex Claremont Diaz. He’s the son of the American President! He’s going to an amazing law school! He’s hot and smart and fun damn it. And Henry chose him! Henry chose him when he first plunged down to kiss him, this edge of frantic, the night of that New Year’s party. Henry chose him when they stood hand in hand facing the crowds with their chins tipped high and their love holding strong. Henry chose him when he bought that Brownstone in New York and adopted a dog with Alex’s name as the co owner.

Truly? Who is Hassan Nair in the face of all of that?

Alex watches him wink at Henry for the third time in the past five minutes and he sees red.

God damn it the prick does look like a One Direction stand-in, doesn’t he?

Fully intending to just find Beatrice and bitch about Hassan fucking Nair to her, Alex swigs down his Bellini, but stutters still when Henry pivots around, his ever alert eyes softening once catching on him.

Damn it, Alex is a weak, weak man.

“Lost you in the crowds?” Henry asks in greeting once Alex saddles up to them, slinging an arm around Henry’s waste in a way that Alex prays comes off nonchalant.

“Didn’t wanna just intrude,” Alex corrects, brow kinked playfully. “I’m not so gauche.”

Henry rolls his eyes heavenwards, but Alex knows he’s reluctantly charmed when that ghost of a smile passes across his lips.

“You once dragged me out from a conversation I was having with President Macron because you wanted to compete over who could catch the most bugs.”

“Hey! They were fireflies not just bugs you ass!” Alex charges, fully indignant now. “And you’re only pissy because my jar was like a thousand times brighter than yours!”

“You started for like a quarter of an hour longer,” Henry says airily, pale head tilted, imperious.

“Excuses don’t become you sweet cheeks.” Alex informs him, positively gleeful over the dusting of red that comes over his elegant features.

“Ahem,” the prick interrupts with a cough, eyes skewering Alex. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“We have,” Alex corrects with a thin lipped smile. “At Phillip’s wedding— Erm ah before the incident.”

“I don’t recall,” the prick just shrugs, turning his full attention back to Henry, and yikes Alex has to give him props, he’s definitely mastered the cold dismissal thing down pat. “Henry we should grab lunch soon, it’s been ages since we’ve caught up.”

Did this guy just ask out Henry right in front of Alex? What the actual fuck?

“Of course,” Henry says in that blithe, detached sounding way he does whenever he’s trying to be polite and doesn’t know how to react. Fuck is Alex so happy he knows how to decipher his different moods. “But I reckon Alex and i best get going, we promised a friend that we’d meet them for dinner.”

The prick’s bright eyes dim and he just nods. “I’ll call you?”

“Sure,” Henry grabs for Alex’s hand and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

“Didn’t know we promised any such thing your highness?” Alex goads as they slip into the rental car, Amy and Shaan in a separate one tracking them back to the castle.

“I needed an excuse Alexander, and I never claimed to be above fibbing if it means I get to escape social situations,” Henry intones, lying back with his eyes shut. Sometimes Alex has to catch his breath when looking at him, sometimes forgets just how stunning he is.

With a swallow, Alex forces his eyes back on the road and wills himself to sound normal.

“He seemed nice?”

Henry’s lip quirks and fuck, apparently he’s just as easy to read.

“You hated him.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“I did not!”

“Lying doesn’t become you sweet cheeks,” Henry parrots in a nasally voice that Alex refuses to call an imitation of him.

“He looks like a privileged prick,” Alex finally admits, feels his heart swell at the casual way Henry clamps a hand against his thigh, squeezing lightly.

“I reckon you thought the same of me not too long ago,” Henry prods.

“Oh I definitely still do babe,” Alex snorts, winces slightly when Henry moves to pinch his side instead. “Ouch.”

“You’re rude.”

“I love you,” Alex soothes, picks up Henry’s hand and kisses the tops of his fingers dotingly. “’s Why I was so annoyed by his flirting with you so blatantly.”

Henry stiffens slightly before relaxing, flickers his gaze to Alex’s profile meaningfully. “He was not flirting.”

Alex scoffs.

“He was literally undressing you with his eyes the entire night!”

“We’re old friends,” Henry says weakly, pillar going pale. And Alex suddenly remembers what Henry had told him over a year ago now. That his first time was with one of Philip’s old school friends when he was only seventeen. That they were both firmly in the closet and understood how to keep things quiet. That Henry appreciates it for what it was but was still so confused and terrified and lonely in the aftermath.

And oh, it makes sudden sense now.

He wonders what different sorts of expressions must be playing across his face at this moment because Henry’s just goes sad, presses closer to him.

“I think you’re my first love,” he says, and Alex can read the words that go unspoken that hug around the non sequitur.

“Me too,” he assures him.

Henry nods, soft and slow, before he presses a kiss to the hinge of Alex’s jaw, the corner of his mouth, lands on the hollow of his cheek. “From the first moment Alex Claremont Diaz,” he says in the same voice he had right before their first kiss. “I knew you were it, no matter how hopeless it seemed or how much you evidently hated me. I new you were it.”

It’s Alex’s turn to flush, tries tempting down his smile.

“Shut the fuck up you dork.”

“You’re so witty and quick and too smart for your own good,” Henry just continues on, adjusts himself so that he’s got a better look at him.

“So help me.”

“You are so beautiful and bright, like a supernova, you know that?”

“Henry I swear to God I will kick your princely ass out and make you walk.”

Henry shakes his head with a tsk, tsk. “Such pretty lips and such a dirty mouth.”

“Now you’re sounding like a porno,” Alex laughs.

“Shall I move onto complimenting your ass or would that be too explicit for your mild sensibilities?” Henry asks, mock owlish.

“I literally despise you,” Alex groans before pulling over on the side of the road and kissing him senseless.

He’s not sure how much time passes but is forced to move off him when Amy and Shaan begin beeping their horns in a crass cacophony of sound.

“Promise to help you with the tent downstairs once we get to bed,” Henry guffaws, and in turn Alex just repeats the fact that he utterly hates him with as much feeling as he could muster, goofy grin splitting his face in half all the while.

Two weeks later they see the prick at one of Beatrice’s charity luncheons, and Henry doesn’t take his hand out of Alex’s back pocket the entire afternoon.

It’s fucking fantastic.

#FIRSTPRINCE #Alex Claremont Diaz #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #red white and royal blue #SPILT INK

66 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

How Double Dragon’s Abobo Became a Beat em up Legend

https://ift.tt/2F8DPGk

In the late ’80s, video games started featuring over-the-top, meaty musclemen. Metro City had Mike Haggar, a shirtless former wrestler who became mayor and decided that being “tough on crime” meant ridding the streets of criminals with his bare hands, his girlfriend’s psycho boyfriend, and a ninja in Nikes. Circus strongman Karnov scoured the world for adventure and treasure, fighting all kinds of mythical monsters. Bald Bull was trying to dominate both the boxing ring and the arm-wrestling circuit. Gutsman was a jacked construction robot who was later rebuilt as a 40-foot-tall tank centaur.

And then there was Abobo, the gigantic antagonist from Double Dragon. He wasn’t THE antagonist. Hell, in the first game, you fight him within the first two minutes. Despite his low-level status, he’s still far more fondly remembered than the main Double Dragon bad guys like Willy and the Shadow Master. There’s just always been something about this random brute that’s made him special.

Abobo’s journey begins in the original Double Dragon, Technos’ 1987 arcade hit. The game’s story is very simple. A dystopian, lawless, post-nuclear war version of New York City has been overrun by a gang called the Black Warriors or Shadow Warriors or Black Shadow Warriors. (They kind of workshop that name from game to game.) Billy and Jimmy Lee are two martial arts brothers whose mutual friend Marian is captured by gang members. Off they go to lay out everyone in that gang with their bare fists and occasional barrel/whip/knife/baseball bat.

While the cannon fodder is mostly made up of normal-sized guys, out walks Abobo, who makes his entrance by punching his way through a brick wall. From the moment he appears on screen, it’s clear Abobo is meant to stand apart from the rest. He has longer reach, takes more hits, can’t be thrown, and is able to throw Billy and Jimmy like ragdolls. The only guy more dangerous than Abobo is Willy, the final boss, who brings a machine gun to a fist fight.

Weirdly, Abobo has various forms in the game. His initial form is as a bald, pale guy with a mustache. Soon after, we fight Jick, an Abobo clone who closely resembles Mr. T. Later, we face off against an Incredible Hulk version of Abobo. This is post-nuclear war, so I suppose this tracks.

But it was NES port that really delivered the ultimate form of Abobo, whose appearance was seriously altered for the 8-bit console. With orange-brown skin, Abobo is still bigger than everyone else, but also looks inhuman. He has a giant, bald head almost the size of his bulky torso, and a black arch on his face that is apparently a mustache merged with a frown! While the NES version had its own quasi-fighting game mode with everyone redrawn with a bigger and better sprite, Abobo looked exactly the same. You just can’t mess with perfection!

Abobo sort-of-but-not-really appeared in the sequel, 1988’s Double Dragon II: The Revenge. In a game filled with giant enemies, there was a guy named Bolo who looked exactly like Abobo, but with long, black hair. Actually, in retrospect, he looks a lot like Danny Trejo.

Huh.

Abobo sat out of the next few Double Dragon games, as the Lee brothers busied themselves fighting mummies and chubby clowns. But he returned in a very unexpected crossover: 1993’s Battletoads/Double Dragon: The Ultimate Team. The game featured a bizarre team-up between the Dark Queen from Battletoads and the Shadow Warriors. As Double Dragon didn’t have too many memorable boss characters that could stack up to the likes of a giant rat in a singlet, they went with what they could get.

As with the other bosses in the crossover gamer, Abobo was depicted as an absolute giant compared to the Lee Brothers and the Toads. He was also very generic-looking, appearing as a shirtless, bald guy with no ‘stache. Due to the sci-fi nature of the crossover, his storyline ended with him getting booted off a spaceship and sent spiraling through space itself.

1993 also gave us the Double Dragon animated series. Somehow, this thing ran for two seasons (26 episodes) and Abobo was there from the beginning. The first episode was a weird Saturday morning-style retelling of the NES game’s plot, down to Billy Lee having to fight his “evil” brother at the end. Abobo acted as a henchman, alongside a very colorful take on Willy.

In the cartoon, Abobo was a bald muscleman with blue skin, meaning he has the same mysterious complexion situation as Captain N’s King Hippo. Abobo was also strangely competent on the show, all things considered, although the only fighting he ever did was throw oil drums at Billy and miss every single time. He spent more of his time annoyed at Willy, who was depicted as a psychotic cowboy with a laser gun — one-half Yosemite Sam and one-half the Interrupter from Late Night with Conan O’Brien.

The second episode introduced the Shadow Master, who immediately showed disgust at his underlings’ failure by magically bonding Willy to a giant mural of punished souls. Abobo tried to run for it, but succumbed to the same fate. The two would remain in that mural for the rest of the series.

While there was a fighting game released based off of the Double Dragon cartoon, Abobo wasn’t part of the roster. It was just as well. Double Dragon V: The Shadow Falls was a really bad game and Abobo had bigger things on the horizon.

Abobo was about to go Hollywood!

In 1994, Imperial Entertainment Group released the Double Dragon movie, a total cheesefest that couldn’t make back its $8 million budget. But Robert Patrick’s scenery-chewing main villain made the movie almost watchable. The story takes place in a version of Los Angeles that’s a cross between The Warriors and No Man’s Land from the Batman comics. Billy and Jimmy are teens who get roped into a plot that involves two dragon-shaped necklaces that form an all-power medallion when put together.

Initially, Nils Allen Stewart plays the gang leader Bo Abobo. As head of the Mohawk Gang, he’s there to act all intimidating in a goofy ’90s bully sort of way, but he really doesn’t actually do much. He takes part in a car chase and teases a fight scene, but nothing happens.

Then, the villain Koga Shuko transforms him into a literal steroid freak with some experimental machine. From there on out, Abobo is played by Henry Kingi in a bloated, rubber suit. Despite being a muscle golem at this point, Abobo STILL doesn’t actually fight anyone and is instead kidnapped by Power Corps.

Abobo eventually sees what he looks like in the mirror. Broken over what he’s been transformed into, he turns on Koga and…still doesn’t fight anyone. He just gives Power Corps some advice to help turn the tide against the bad guys. At the end of the movie, he asks the Lee Brothers if they could be buddies and recklessly drives their car.

Yeah, it’s…almost something. Not the awfulness of Super Mario Bros, but not the good-for-the-time quality of Mortal Kombat. It’s also not quite as fun-bad as the Street Fighter movie, but it does share one major similarity to it.

Much like Street Fighter, the Double Dragon movie had its own fighting game spinoff. Rather than a one-on-one fighter featuring digitized actors (which was the original idea until it wasn’t deemed viable for the deadline), Technos put together a Neo Geo animated fighter that isn’t so well-known these days due to how run-of-the-mill it was. It looked like your average SNK fighting game, with no real identity of its own. The game was released for arcade, Neo Geo CD, and PlayStation.

The 1995 fighting game was loosely based on the movie’s plot and featured some FMV clips. Showing up from the movie are Billy Lee, Jimmy Lee, Marian, Shuko, and Abobo. The rest of the roster is made up of original characters, though Technos did redesign Burnov, the Big Van Vader-looking boss character from Double Dragon II: The Revenge. Abobo more closely resembles his initial, more human-looking form from the movie, complete with mohawk, although he’s cartoonishly big in the game. Fortunately, he occasionally transforms into his blobby, tumor-like mutant form during certain moves and winposes.

His ending in the game features him eating a lot of meat at a restaurant, demanding to eat meat so rough that it’ll make his teeth bleed. Heh. And Roger Ebert said video games aren’t art.

Games

Double Dragon and Kunio-kun: Retro Bundle Coming Soon

By Rob Leane

Games

Double Dragon 4: Story & Multiplayer Modes Detailed

By Matthew Byrd

After the inexplicable crossover, animated series, failed movie, and fighting game tie-ins, Double Dragon as a franchise was finally spent. As the arcade scene died down in the late ’90s, the side-scrolling beat ‘em up disappeared for a time, and it would be a little while before nostalgia for it would kick in.

Fortunately, there was still some juice left in the fighting game genre, and in 2002 the Neo Geo had just enough time left before SNK’s hardware line was discontinued. The company Evoga developed what was, for a time, meant to be a Double Dragon fighting game, but ultimately the team wasn’t able to secure the rights and was forced to make the game with a knockoff cast of characters. The result was Rage of the Dragons, a tag-team fighting game featuring Billy Lewis, Jimmy Lewis, and Abubo…

Abubo does not have a tag partner and is instead a mid-boss so powerful that it takes two opponents to stop him. He’s depicted as a low-level mob boss with a ponytail, sunglasses, pink tank top, and overly-long, muscular arms. It’s a decent enough redesign of the original, but…Abubo? That’s the best they could come up with?

As for the official Double Dragon, it made its comeback a year later. Double Dragon Advance for the Game Boy Advance took the original arcade version, updated the graphics just enough, added more stages, enemies, and attacks, turning this installment into a souped-up take on the classic. This of course meant the return of the real Abobo!

2012 would be a banner year for the musclebound henchman. Since 2002, I-Mockery’s Roger Barr had been trying to develop an Abobo-based fangame, and in early 2012, the free-to-play masterpiece Abobo’s Big Adventure was released to the public and we were better for it.

Using 8-bit graphics, the game follows Abobo as he searches for his kidnapped son Aboboy. Each level is based on a different NES title and features a dizzying amount of Easter eggs. There’s a Double Dragon level, underwater Super Mario Bros. level, Urban Champ, Legend of Zelda, Balloon Fight, Pro Wrestling, Mega Man, Contra, and finally Punch-Out. The game is an absolute blast, especially for anyone who grew up with the NES and features such whacked out moments as:

Abobo mating with the mermaid from Goonies 2, which gives him a forcefield powerup made up of Abobo/mermaid hybrid babies, one of which begs for death!

An Abobo vs. Amazon wrestling match that includes the summoning of Hulk Hogan, Ultimate Warrior, Roddy Piper, and Undertaker assists in the form of Pro Wrestling sprites.

Taking on Krang’s giant robot body with Kirby in the abdominal area.

An incredibly long and over-the-top ending that gets extremely and laughably violent. If you’ve ever wanted to see a muscular child drink blood from the Shredder’s dismembered arm, this game is for you!

In terms of OFFICIAL nostalgia, 2012 also saw the release of Double Dragon Neon for the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 (and later PC). Using 3D graphics, the game was a modern update of Double Dragon’s playstyle while playing up the 1980s aesthetic. It was a lot more ridiculous than the original series. In fact, it’s more in line with the Battletoads crossover since this game also lets you launch Abobo into the deep recesses of outer space to die.

This game also gave us the first – and, as of this writing, only – polygon Abobo. This time a towering, hunched over brute with lots of spiked armbands. All that AND the mustache!

But of those two 2012 releases, Abobo’s Big Adventure is surprisingly the better game in terms of its portrayal of the big man, as it solidified his status as nostalgic beat em up icon.

In 2017, Arc System Works put together Double Dragon IV for the PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch, and PC. Rather than emulate the arcade original’s aesthetic, the game took its art style from the NES games. That meant the return of the classic NES Abobo as not only a recurring enemy but an unlockable playable character. Double Dragon IV actually lets you play through the story mode as various enemy characters, but honestly, who else would you pick in that situation? Well, maybe Burnov.

Sadly, playing as Abobo in Double Dragon IV leads to a non-ending. I know you can’t improve on “Abobo punches Little Mac’s head off so hard it transcends time and space,” but at least TRY!

Around the same time, another game tried to play up Abobo’s ironic/iconic status. River City Ransom: Underground was released for the PC in early 2017. The River City Ransom series has always had ties to Double Dragon, but this high school brawler goes the extra mile by putting Abobo on a big pedestal. First off, he’s the school principal. If you attack any of your teachers, you’re sent to Principal Abobo’s office to suffer a serious slap on the wrist, shoulder, jaw, spine, etc. Sometimes he’ll even enter classrooms by punching holes through the brick walls, all while shirtless and talking like the Hulk.

Even better than that? Abobo’s not only the school principal but the Mayor of River City! No wonder everyone’s always kicking the shit out of each other! God bless Mayor Mike Haggar for being a true trendsetter.

The Double Dragon/River City connection only grew stronger when 2019 brought the absolutely must-play River City Girls. As the story goes, River City Ransom heroes Kunio and Riki have been kidnapped, so their badass girlfriends Misako and Kyoko go on a violent rampage to save them. Early in the game, while Misako and Kyoko fighting in a classroom, there’s a projector playing a short film about a boy learning about puberty.

It just so happens that the kid in the video is being taught by Abobo, who thanks puberty for his monstrous size and strength. This, my friends, is foreshadowing, as Abobo shows up later in the game as a boss.

Misako and Kyoko confront Abobo about their missing boyfriends, and Abobo admits that he isn’t sure whether or not he kidnapped them since he kidnaps a LOT of people. They throw down and we’re treated to the most powerful take on Abobo yet, considering the length of his life bar. Once defeated, Abobo admits that he has nothing to do with the missing boyfriends, but gives the heroes a lead by talking about his side job as security for an upcoming concert.

In 2020, Arc System Works released a collection for PS4 and Switch called Double Dragon & Kunio-Kun Retro Brawler Bundle. It collects 18 8-bit games, including the three NES Double Dragon games, River City Ransom, and all the old spinoffs from the River City Ransom universe. And who’s on the cover?

Yes, despite technically being in one game out of 18, and not even being the final boss of any of them, Abobo gets a major spot on the cover of this huge collection among the games’ hero characters. Finally, the world understands that Abobo is a star. Now we just need Abobo to appear in Guilty Gear Strive and then we’ll really be cooking.

The post How Double Dragon’s Abobo Became a Beat em up Legend appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Gl5jJ9

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

3 notes · View notes

brittle-bone-gabe · 4 years

Text

Erase Me: Introduction

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven

Summary: Welcome to the never ending, never changing loop. The loop can’t break, it’s always been the same. Henry never realized he was trapped, but coming back to the animation studio for the “first time” just to see a small, human-like child makes Henry realize that dreams really do come to life.

Read on other platforms: AO3, FFN, Wattpad

August 15th, 1963

Henry Stein was a man of not so many words, yet a man of the paper; while he wasn't great with speaking he could draw out exactly how he was feeling, getting his thoughts down on paper was one of his greatest strengths. That's one of the reasons his wife, Linda, loved him more than the world itself. He was a hardworking, talented man who could've went after whatever he wanted and be successful. In fact, Henry was considered to be a success as he and his former friend and business partner, Joey Drew, opened Joey Drew Animation Studios together, creating popular cartoons back in the day. Henry was co-founder and animator, creating the popular characters of the time, such as Bendy the Dancing Demon, Boris the Wolf, and Alice Angel. While he did have the time of his life working there, his only year there was enough to see that Joey's work ethics were becoming… questionable, to put it lightly. He had begun making erratic business choices, hiring more and more, making people stay for hours, even days, on end; one of the reasons Henry just had to leave, he was missing his wife Linda.

It's been thirty-years since Henry left Joey Drew Studios and moved with Linda to Pasadena, California. Did Henry regret leaving the studio? Sometimes. He surely did miss his coworkers, he missed Joey, he missed his creations, even though he was across the nation Henry never missed an episode of Bendy playing on the TV. Seeing the joy that he helped create on the silver screen, in fact, Henry heard that there were plans to expand on the merch of Bendy and his friends, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was. Besides the merch and plush toys, Henry thought they were making great money based on their popularity. Henry would be a liar if he said he didn't own a Bendy, Boris, and Alice Angel plush toy himself.

Honestly, Henry bought them hoping to pass them down to his children someday, unfortunately for the Stein's while they wanted children and tried multiple times, it turned out that Linda was infertile. For the longest time the news had put a strain on their marriage, as they both so badly wanted to have children someday, but it is what it is, and they did enjoy their company more than anything, so it wasn't an entire deal breaker for their marriage.

Henry had recently retired from being an animation manager at a low-tier animation company. They weren't anything fancy, certainly not trying to compete against Joey Drew Studios (not many companies were brave enough to do that), mainly this studio worked on animations for advertisement purposes. The company was laid back, the owner had more or less "normal" work ethics and didn't work their animators to the bone, perhaps that's why Henry was so drawn into staying for as long as he had. He had only worked five days a week, nine-to-five with great pay for an animation manager. As long as Linda was happy then Henry was happy with his job.

This Thursday felt like any other Thursday since Henry retired and lived the life as a man free from the chains of work, Henry had agreed to go out to the store while Linda stayed home and tidied up the house while he was away. It was an agreement they had in place, Henry does the shopping while Linda did the cleaning, it was a great deal on the fact that Henry hated cleaning and Linda hated going to the store. While Henry was out, he noticed a huge pile of Bendy the Dancing Demon plush toys with various characters that children were going absolutely wild for, begging their parents to buy them one. Henry couldn't help but smile, seeing the joy that his creation brought to children all over America was enough to satisfy him until he day he dies. The best part about these plush toys? They squeak. Something that other plush toys didn't do, although people did complain that the squeaks made their dogs tear up the toys. Whoops. A bit of an unthought of backfire on the designer's end, but oh well. Whatever sells, right?

Once Henry got back from the store he checked the mailbox, as that was normally his job to do anyways. Huh… nothing was in there. That was odd, the mail usually came around this time, unless Linda got the mail?

"I'm home," Henry called as he carried all six plastic bags in at once, not wanting to make another trip out to the car that was now parked in the garage. He wandered into the kitchen to set them down on the counters and floor so he could help put them away. Linda was already in the kitchen, a bright smile on her face, the smile that she gave Henry whenever she saw him. She stood up on her toes, giving him a peck on the lips. "Did you grab the mail, hun?"

"Well…" Linda started, turning around, picking an envelope, "the mail man was told to bring this directly to the house," she explained, handing it to him.

Henry took it from her, noticing the Joey Drew Studio stamp printed on the front, the envelope was addressed to Henry. Odd… He had no contact with Joey or the studio in thirty-years, what was going on? He took a seat at the table in the kitchen while Linda began to put away the cold groceries so they wouldn't get ruined. Henry gently opened the envelope with a letter open, not wanting to possibly damage whatever it was inside. Just digging his fingers around inside, whatever parchment this was written on was rather thick, so it must have been an official letter of some kind.

Pulling out, it was a small letter written in thick ink on a sepia colored paper with a little Joey Drews Studio logo printed on the bottom right hand corner. Henry instantly recognized the handwriting to be that of Joey Drew himself, even after thirty-years Henry could recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Dear Henry,

It seems like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away, doesn't it? If you're back in town, come visit the old workshop. There's something I need to show you.

Your best pal, Joey Drew

Henry flipped the paper over, making sure there wasn't anything printed on the back. There wasn't, so he flipped it back around to make sure he read that correctly. After all these years Joey wanted to open the studio back up? Last Henry heard was that the studio shut down, he didn't know the specifics, but he knew that it was locked up. As long as Joey didn't change the locks Henry could still get in considering he still had a key to unlock the front door of the studio.

Well, what could be so important that Henry had to go all the way across the country to see what Joey had at the studio? Surely if it was something important he could've sent him a longer letter? A flight from California to New York City was a rather long one. Henry could surely afford the trip, but would it be worth it? It must be if Joey's sending him a letter after thirty-years…

"Bad news?" Linda asked her husband by only judging the look on his face.

"What?" Henry asked as he looked up at Linda who had a small smile on her face. "Oh, no. No, not bad news. It's from Joey."

"Joey? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he…" Henry trailed off, looking at the letter again, "he wants me to come back to the old studio. He said he has something to show me." He looked back up to see what Linda's expression was. She looked both worried yet interested on what it could possibly be.

"It must be something important if he's sending you a letter," she pointed out, throwing some plastic out in the garbage can. "Are you going to go?"

"What do you think?" Henry didn't want to just up and leave Linda to go across the country without asking her opinion on the matter. Her voice mattered just as much as his wants did.

"I think you should go," she said without missing a beat, which surprised Henry as last he recalled she hated the studio due to the fact that it took up all of his time, especially his time from home when he was gone for days at a time. "It's been thirty-years, besides, I think it would be good for you to see your old friend again, reminisce about the old times," she said with a smile.

"Only if you're okay with it," Henry said as he stood up from the chair, "one-hundred percent sure?"

Linda let out a small chuckle, wrapping her arms around Henry's neck, swaying a little bit. "I'm one-thousand percent sure, Henry. As long as you don't work for days on end again." That comment caused Henry to chuckle, pressing his forehead against hers. What did he do to deserve such an amazing wife?

-----

Henry paid for a plane ticket to head to New York that left Saturday morning, he had packed a small bag as he didn't plan on staying for too long, he had reassured Linda that he would be back in a couple of days. It was odd leaving his wife behind while he went back to the studio, it made him think of the old days when he left for work just to end up staying there for days on end working while the couple was left missing each other terribly. Henry was a family man, no doubt about that, he would put Linda before anything in his life, even a good job, as that's already been proven.

Once the five-hour plan landed in Brooklyn, New York, Henry took a cab to the closest hotel to the studio, so he didn't have to ride very far to get there. Plus, he wanted to do as little traveling as possible around here, Brooklyn was hard to get around as it was.

After checking into his room and getting settled with his stuff, Henry pulled out the old studio key that he had kept all these years. Just in case he would tell himself and Linda over and over as an excuse to not get rid of it. Maybe he actually wanted to keep it in case of emergencies, or maybe he wanted to keep one last souvenir of a company that he loved and helped build from the ground up. Henry would never admit it out loud, but he was eager to see how the studio looked after all these years, probably not in the best condition due to the fact it's been closed since 1959. Four years could put a lot of strain on an unused building.

Once Henry was ready to face his past, he grabbed a taxi and took a short drive down to the old brick building that once held his entire future. The building itself looked to be in fairly good shape, the only imperfection was the letters that once said Joey Drew Studios were missing, only leaving behind shadows and outlines of what used to be there. Henry thanked his taxi driver, giving him a tip before getting out. He stood outside the building for a moment, taking everything in, still not sure what he was expecting from all of this. What did Joey want? What was so important that he couldn't add more to the letter that he sent? It was so vague… What else could be in the studio that Henry didn't already know about? Time to stop thinking and time to investigate.

Henry took out the key he held on tight the entire drive over here, putting it in the lock of the door. Henry was half expecting the lock to reject the key, leaving him no way to get in, but a small burst of anxiety filled his chest once the key turned completely, causing the door handle to click. He pushed the door open with his fingertips, some dust escaped the old abandoned building, causing Henry to let out a small cough as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Alright, Joey. I'm here. Let's see if we can find what you wanted me to see."

#my fic #bendy #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine fanfic #bendy and the ink machine fanfiction #batim #introduction #video game fanfic #henry stein #bendy the dancing devil #joey drew #Break the Cycle AU

2 notes · View notes

courtneystapleton · 5 years

Text

Six and the Unreliable Narrator

The Unreliable Narrator is one of my favourite tropes in literature and media- since I first heard of it nearly a decade ago, I have been of the opinion that every narrator is unreliable, albeit some more so than others.

Six the Musical is inherently about disproving the unreliable narration of history, while also falling into it. The premise of Six is the Six Wives of Henry VIII are a girl band, and competing to see who would be the front woman. Each queen gets to have a go through of telling her story. Since each queen only gets 4-7 minutes to sing her story, a lot does get left out, and each woman has a different take on what happened during her lifetime- but two queens stand out as the most unreliable in their story telling.

Jane Seymour sings of the love she bares for HVIII and their song, saying that despite all HVIII’s done or will do- she loves him truly. It plays to her motto that she kept during her queenship, bound to obey and serve. It’s a beautiful ballad, she opens by singing You have a good heart at HVIII. She’s singing a soft song about love at the man who had abused and threatened her. She’s fallen into the trap of listening to what people have said throughout the centuries- she didn’t have it as bad as the other queens. She acknowledges that had she not have had Edward, she would have been discarded, HVIII’s love would disappear- but she loves him anyway. This, along with her opening speech where she acknowledges that he raged and stormed but she stood firm, despite her doubts, is our only true glimpse as to what Jane might have felt throughout her short marriage with an abusive man. Her unreliability concerning her marriage follows through to her lines in Six, where when she speaks of family, much of the audience leaves believing that in her Happy Alternate Universe she is still with HVIII- the man that discarded and murdered the women she has just shown a connection with- and it is only after deeper thought and looking past surface level that one realizes the family she speaks of is herself, the other queens, and their children.

Katherine Howard begins her story and her journey of abuse with Henry Manox, saying that despite her young age of thirteen she was aware and consenting of what was happening to her. She even makes him younger in the song- twenty three, compared to the thirty-six he was (we could delve into this as a question of authorial intent- did Moss and Marlow do this because of the rhyme, but we’re looking at this as if Katherine decided to say it this way)- perhaps because she knows what happened to her was wrong, and she was trying to make it appear... lesser. She sings of Manox caring for her, telling him he doesn’t need to plead, she wants this as much as him, she thinks he’s the one for her. But then he isn’t. And she brushes it off, saying she turned to the next guy- Francis Derham. A grown man who worked for her step-grandmother, the woman she was living with. Her facade slips speaking of Derham- instead of being on semi-equal footing (as she thinks she was with Manox), Derham is obviously in charged. She does things as he requires, he can’t wait to get her corset on the floor, she’s sure that this will be the right guy. But he isn’t. And then she meets HVIII- he gives her nice things, he’s kind to her, he agrees that she belongs at court. And then he starts calling her love- and by this time, we see her act starting to crack- she’s aware she’s telling a story to an audience. And then they get married- something she almost pretends to be excited about, but can’t quite make it. And then Thomas Culpepper shows up- she’s queen now, she’s safe. He can’t hurt her and he doesn’t want to. They’re just friends, right? Until he wants more. This time, it’s all about him. He says they have a connection. Unlike at the beginning, she isn’t attempting to make the audience believe she’s a willing participant- making the audience question the first two men even more- the hints (and outright acknowledgment) of being a victim of grooming and assault- her whole tale is now unreliable.

The entirety of Six is the narrators- the queens, knowing and keeping information from us. They open the show with announcement of a competition, who’s the greatest, who had it worse. And they go through the show, the competition, until the end, when they let it slip it was all an act. The entire point was to show they should not be compared. But that makes us question it all.

Their cutting remarks and quips about each other, the shade thrown- is this them, or are they acting for the competition. We truly know very little of the actual characterizations of the queens- because all that we know of them has been through one lens- the fake competition. If they lied to us about this, what else have they kept from us? Who are these women, truly, when the competition is gone? When the act is no longer going on.

From the song Six, we know that they support each other and see each other as family- Jane Seymour sings of her family growing and creating a band; exactly as the queens have. Catherine Parr sings of only needing Six- the six women who have been through similar circumstances as her and support her.

The entirety of the show is nearly made null by the last song. They told their stories, yes, but it was all for a fake competition, a competition they knew was fake the entire time.

#six the musical

25 notes · View notes

sunsetcurve · 5 years

Text

and it’s right before your eyes

summary: she zooms in, snaps a picture, and then it’s done. it’s over, she has exactly what she needs, exactly what she’s been looking for for months now. henry hart is kid danger, and she’s the first person with real, tangible proof. / or, in which charlotte and henry have been rivals from the start, and charlotte knows she’s right about this.

fandoms: henry danger

relationships: henry hart & charlotte page-bolton

word count: 1,293

a/n: so i know i’ve been posting a lot about a random character who wants to expose henry as kd and it was a joke at first, but then i had this idea. and it kind of started off as like, a mini post of headcanons but then it turned into actual writing and surpassed 1k words so i thought what the hell, i haven’t written an official fic (that isn’t in chat format) in a while. so here’s this, all rambled out at once and barely edited and un-beta’d. i hope you enjoy.

dedications: please don’t feel any pressure to read this! but i’m just gonna tag @ciara-knightly @bizackmartin @mychenrymadness @just-a-j-reallly @charlottepage @cactus-con @up-the-tube @bijerbear and @taylorswiftrulestheworld

* * *

here’s the thing: henry and charlotte aren’t best friends.

far from it, actually. maybe hate is a strong word, in charlotte’s mind (although henry is all-too-quick to use it), but they’ve been at odds since they were kids. really, it’s hard for either of them to pinpoint when it started. maybe it was in the first grade, when henry broke charlotte’s magenta crayon and insisted he wasn’t the culprit. maybe second, when they had to share a cubby together, which led to constant bickering. maybe fourth, when charlotte ratted him out for playing on his nintendo ds in class. but at some point, they started hating each other. and they’re not really sure why they still do now—that’s just the way it’s always been.

they compete over everything—student council positions, academics, sports, even stupid, trivial things like instagram followers. and to be honest, charlotte doesn’t like being that egotistical person she becomes whenever she’s trying to one-up him, but she can’t help it. he’s so prideful and careless and arrogant and it’s infuriating.

and when kid danger shows up, she’s the only person who isn’t fooled. somehow, she knows its him; maybe it’s the height, or the haircut, but she knows. and she confronts him, and he denies it vehemently, but charlotte knows better than to fall for it. there’s clues everywhere, and she prides herself on being smart—so of course she picks up on the little things that no one else seems to notice.

like how henry’s always late to class. how he’ll always miss school right around the time that kid danger shows up. how he’s always so eager to get to work, how he has to step away from his friends before taking calls, how his watch always beeps and he acts like the world is ending.

“i know that it’s you,” she says, and the smirk on his face is so smug that charlotte half wishes she believed in solving issues with violence just so she could wipe it off of his face.

“prove it,” he replies.

and she tries. she hangs around the stupid junk store he works at more often than any normal person. she watches his every move like a goddamn hawk. she listens to his phone conversations more closely than she’d like to admit. she talks to loose-lipped jasper, who’s henry’s best friend and someone she’s been close to ever since they started sharing fashion advice and physics notes, but either he’s really good at playing dumb or henry really hasn’t told him yet—and is better at keeping secrets than she would’ve expected.

but she knows. it has to be him—and she isn’t going to stop until she gets her proof. she’s not even sure why it means so much to her; maybe it’s a mixture of pride and stubbornness but she knows she’s not wrong and she needs the evidence.

and then—of all places—she’s at burger castle.

three masked men bust through the door, and there’s shouting and screaming and gunshots fired at the ceiling, and everyone’s ducking under the tables. and captain man’s out of town for the weekend; the news had spread like wildfire through swellview, so maybe that’s why the robbers choose now to do it (but a fucking burger castle? seriously?)

and then kid danger saunters through the door. he’s all witty comebacks and an overall air of carelessness, but there’s a note of relief mixed in with the annoyance in charlotte’s chest. he takes them down fast, but it’s a messy fight—he somehow ends up with ketchup covering his hands, so he strips off his gloves.

and that’s when charlotte sees it. there’s a birthmark on the side of kid danger’s wrist, and maybe she doesn’t like henry hart but she knows him, maybe too well and at least well enough to know that he has the same one in the same place. she zooms in, snaps a picture, and then it’s done. it’s over, she has exactly what she needs, exactly what she’s been looking for for months now. henry hart is kid danger, and she’s the first person with real, tangible proof.

then, she looks over at him. he’s kneeling in front of a crying girl who can’t be more than six, with his hands on her shoulders and a gentle smile on his masked face. he says something that charlotte can’t hear, and the girl giggles, and for a moment, she doesn’t see the pride and arrogance that always seems to surround henry. she just sees a hero.

then he turns, and his eyes lock on hers, and maybe he knows her as well as she knows him because he takes one look at the phone in her hands and the look on her face and the expression drops from his. charlotte half runs out the door, and then she makes a decision.

“charlotte!” he catches up to her, and tugs her behind the building and away from the news vans that have just pulled up. his eyes are so wide with panic that she thinks she can hear his heart racing.

“henry,” she says, and he looks, for the first time that day despite staring down the barrel of a gun only a few minutes ago, afraid.

“you have proof, don’t you?” it’s not really a question. he tugs a hand through his hair and swallows as she nods mutely .

“please,” he says, and of all the ways she’d pictured this moment going this was never one of them. “i know we’re not...friends, i know we’ve never been friends but i can’t—this could put everyone i care about in danger.” he sounds so desperate. “and i’m sorry i’ve been a jerk to you for so long, it was so stupid, i don’t even know why i ever did any of that stuff to you but now i’m asking you, charlotte, please don’t tell anyone. i can’t let this get out, that would mean that it’s all over and i—”

“henry,” she cuts in, and when he glances up at her his eyes are rimmed in red. “i deleted the video.”

“you what?”

charlotte bites her lip, shifting on her feet—and she’s not usually one to get nervous or awkward but henry looks like he’s about to cry and she’s just doing her best to explain herself. “you’re right; we’ve never been friends. but you—you saved a lot of people today. you’ve been saving a lot of people since you started doing this, and i’m not gonna take that away because of some petty grudge that,” and she laughs a little despite herself, “i can’t even remember the reason for. so, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. i won’t say anything.”

the look on his face is so intensely relieved that it’s almost endearing. “thank you,” he says, voice a little breathless, and she nods at him, smiling softly.

“it’s the least i could do, kid danger,” she replies, and as a smile slowly eases on his face she adds, “besides, maybe now i can help you. some of your tech needs a major upgrade.”

he laughs, a clear, warm sounds that lights up his whole face, and she thinks fleetingly about how much time they could’ve spent sharing those smiles instead of arguing. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?” he jokes, and she punches his shoulder and thinks that this is something that she could definitely get used to.

#guys you don't understand i came into this with the intention of writing like. a four paragraph headcanon thing #and then this happened #i'm happy with it though #henry danger #charlotte page bolton #henry hart #chenry #my writing #fanfic #hd fic #henry danger fanfic #kind of an au?#yeah #au #//umanawrites #otp: i’m not leaving you

61 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

All Was Golden in the Sky (21/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, thanks for reading this. For realz.

“Wait, wait, wait, where are we going?” Emma can’t move her feet quickly enough, far too many vines and low-hanging branches, but this kid – Henry, he said his name is Henry – appears to be picking up speed the more they walk. He doesn’t actually answer her, just nods his head and flashes a smile that’s probably supposed to be comforting.

She kind of feels like her eyes are going to fall out of her head.

And neither Killian nor Kristoff have sheathed their swords. “Is this a good idea?” Ariel asks, clearly trying to keep her voice low, but it comes out like a hiss and the whole jungle is making enough noise that Emma swears she can feel it reverberating in her. As if the whole jungle is entirely pissed off by what they’re doing.

She shrugs. “Do we have another choice? I mean, if there’s another person on this island--” “--Anna,” Kristoff cuts in, and Emma doesn’t have the heart to correct him. She’s doing her best to temper her own expectations, mostly because she’s a little worried that she’s going to break her ankle if they keep moving at this pace, but her eyes keep flitting towards Killian anyway and every bit of hope Emma swears is coursing through her system is reflected back on his face.

“We don’t know that,” she mutters. A branch nearly slams into her face. “Ah, fucking--ok, let’s just…”

She can’t see Henry anymore.

The birds are definitely getting louder, caws and cries and several different varieties of squawks, like they’re communicating or sending out warnings and Killian’s eyes widen when Emma glances his direction again.

“I don’t know,” he says, answering a question she hasn’t bothered to ask.

Kristoff practically growls. “Communicating silently is not helpful. And where in all hells did that kid go now?” “You’ve got to stop using that,” Killian mutters. “The all hells. It’s just...it doesn’t make any sense at all.” “And you’ve got a lot of experience with hell, do you, Captain?”

Killian’s eyes go impossibly narrow, all threat and a rather jarring lack of hope. “Stop talking.” Emma can’t help the sigh that falls out of her. It’s a strange sound, not entirely disappointment or anything except complete exhaustion, the magic in her turning to a low simmer or some other cooking pun that’s entirely out of place in the middle of goddamn Neverland. She feels like her skin is bubbling, steady ripples of power and emotion, a muddled mix of want and desire, a frustration she hasn’t been able to shake for what’s felt like years because those same years have been filled with curses and misunderstanding and she just wants to sit down.

She wants to sit and sleep and be, for just a few moments.

It’s not an option.

Her option is Savior. And prophecy. Her option is magic and control and repenting for every single mistake she’s ever made.

Apparently.

A never-ending stream.

Apparently.

“Swan,” Killian murmurs, and she doesn’t remember him turning in front of her. His gaze has shifted again, soft in a way that only really happens when he’s looking at her and whatever sound she makes when he brushes his finger across her cheek is as far removed from hero as it is possible to be.

“I’m ok.” “No, try that again.” “Fine.” “Emma.” “Fine,” she snaps, and it’s not fair. It’s the audible sound of all those emotions, sharp and abrasive and a dozen other decidedly negative adjectives that would also be appropriate when describing kitchen utensils.

She licks her lips when Killian blinks, a heavy silence that isn’t right either. The birds are far too loud for anything to be silent. His thumb is still on her cheek, a light pressure against her skin that Emma tries to focus on because everything else seems to be spinning and twisting, her eyes unable to fully adjust to the sky and the stars.

He smiles at her.

Not much, not really, just one side of his mouth tugging up, but it’s there and Emma sighs again. Her head falls forward slightly, the soft brush of Killian’s lips ghosting over her hair, trying to occupy the same few inches of space he is. She squirms against his chest, like that will let her move into him or something equally absurd, but Emma wants, wants, wants and she always has. Probably more than she should.

“Talk to me,” Killian says softly, and she nearly laughs. It comes out far more strangled than she’d like it to.

“That’s not fair at all.” “Desperate times and all that.”

“Have we reached that point?” “Eh. You’re avoiding, love.” “I’m fine,” Emma promises, and it’s only kind of a lie that’s only kind of obvious because he clicks his tongue in something resembling reproach. She tilts her head up, chin jutting out.”Not good, huh?” “Really, really bad.” “Exceptionally bad, honestly,” Ariel agrees. She’s leaning back against a tree, one leg pulled up slightly, and Kristoff only looks a little put-out by the whole scene. “Still crazy impressive magic, though. Are we trusting the kid, then?” Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat – neither an agreement nor otherwise. It hurts. Of course it does. And she glances towards Kristoff, his face going slack, disappointment wrapping around both his shoulders like it’s a visible thing.

Killian kisses her hair again.

She’s lost track of that particular number.

“I don’t know why I know,” Kristoff whispers. “And it’s--it’s crazy to think that it could be her, but--” “--When you love someone, you know,” Killian says, and Emma’s magic jumps. It makes her eyes fall shut, a blast of adrenaline to every single nerve ending she’s got, and her muscles feel like they’re never going to recover, but the whole thing is kind of romantic and maybe they can win on the power of positive thinking alone.

Mary Margaret’s going to be very disappointed she missed all of this.

Kristoff nods. “Yeah, exactly that.” “Oh, that was nice, Hook,” Ariel adds, and the words only sound a little teasing. “Tink? Anything to add?” Emma’s head jerks up at the inclusion of Tink, who’s barely strung two words together since they got her out of the trap. She’s staring at her shoes, fingers wringing together with enough nervous energy that it could probably do serious damage.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to answer,” Emma says. Nothing. Tink doesn’t lift her gaze or untangle her fingers, just keeps looking down, shoulders shaking when her breathing turns slightly erratic.

And Emma’s drifting very close to the precipice of furiously annoyed when she hears the crash behind her, hands flying up and swords moving on the edge of her vision, Ariel scrambling to get back on her feet with a distinct lack of grace.

Henry blinks. “What’s taking you guys so long?” “Gods,” Emma grumbles, hand flying to her chest and the ring hanging there. “Ok, kid, first rule of this--” “--Operation?” “What?” “Any good journey should have a name,” Henry says reasonably, and whatever noise Killian and Ariel make is oddly similar. “That’s how all the stories go.” Her magic does something. Emma has no idea what it does, but it leaves goosebumps on her skin and prickles of feeling in the tips of her fingers, an understanding she can’t place because she absolutely does not understand what the hell is going on.

Killian shrugs. “I’ve got no bloody idea.” “The mind reading thing,” Emma mutters, but she’s still kind of charmed by it. Always. Indefinitely. Forever.

Henry’s mouth twists when it’s clear they aren’t paying explicit attention to him, Emma mumbling a quiet apology, when she reaches a hand out towards him. He flinches. And, she supposes, that’s understandable. He’s been on that island for the Gods know how long, for reasons she hasn’t gotten around to asking about yet and whatever tears dot her vision are not for her.

They’re for this place.

And this magic.

And another group of people she has to save.

“What should we call this, Henry?” Ariel asks, doing her best to redirect the conversation with forced lightness.

He brightens immediately, a flash of smile that’s far more child than anything else and Emma is going to do something exceptionally royal to pay Ariel back for all of this. “Oh, that’s easy,” Henry says. “Operation: save Joan.” Kristoff is going to do permanent damage to his sword if he keeps dropping it like that.

“What did you say?” he rasps, trying, without much success, to wrap his fingers back around the dirt-covered hilt.

Henry furrows his brows. That’s fair. They’re not doing a very good job of presenting themselves as competent adults. “Joan,” he says slowly. “That’s her name.” “Where do we go, Henry? How far away are we?’ Can we get there now?” “Not that far. But, um---” He shakes his head, limbs flailing slightly when Ariel mutters another fish-related curse under her breath. “There’s some stuff.” “Stuff. What kind of stuff?” “Neverland stuff.” “So not good stuff,” Killian suggests, Henry humming in agreement. “Lady Bell,” he continues. “Did you have some kind of idea about this not so good stuff that we’re about to encounter?” Tinker Bell tenses. It’s, hands down, the strangest sentence Emma has ever thought.

Which is really saying something at this point.

“Oh, that’s not an immediate answer either,” Ariel points out. “Should we guess? Would that make it more fun, then?” Kristoff groans. “Can we not guess? Do we have to fight something? Destroy it? Slaughter things? I’ll be honest, I’m prepared to slaughter more than a few things.”

Killian scoffs at that, but Emma doesn’t look away from Tink – she’s still not breathing evenly, inhales that are far too large and exhales that seem to rattle their way out of her. She keeps chewing on her lower lip, alternating between twisting her fingers together and tugging on the side of her dress.

“It’s not a something, is it?” Emma asks, and Tink’s eyebrows jump. “You said it already. The island makes you relive your worst memories. So what do we have to do now? Watch it, instead of smell it?” Tink shakes her head. “No. And we haven’t timed it exactly right.” “That’s not my fault,” Henry grumbles, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. Emma’s heart lurches. “And we’re pretty close, Tink! It’s almost midnight.” “How can you tell?” Ariel mutters.

Henry’s whole body shifts. He looks taller, suddenly, shoulders rolling back and it is a genuine miracle Emma’s heart manages to stay in her body. Because she knows that look. She knows every single one of the emotions that play across his face, has lived them, memories that have been knocking on the back of her consciousness since they’d gotten close enough to this infernal island for its magic to reach her.

Alone. Shivering. Without a second glance or an understanding look.

Lost.

A lost boy who’s been in Neverland far longer than he should.

She takes a step forward, slow and as unthreatening as she can make it, both hands held up like she’s approaching a frightened animal instead of a ten-year-old kid. His eyes widen, body tensing and mouth parting with a soft gasp as soon as Emma’s fingers curl around his shoulder.

“How long have you been here, Henry?”

He shakes his head, barely enough movement to even shift the far-too-long strands of hair near his brows. “I don’t know.” “But you’re not...you want to help us. What about Blackbeard?” “Him?” Henry squawks, and that head shake is a little more confident. Emma can feel Killian shift behind her, a heat that’s probably not actually there reaching out and brushing against the back of her neck. It takes her a second to realize it’s magic. Again, or whatever. “Nah. He wasn’t good. He was like the other one.” “Rumplestiltskin?” Henry hums, and Emma knows she doesn’t imagine the way he twists into her hand. “He wasn’t here long. He brought Joan and he--” His whole body shakes when he shivers. “He had other people with him. Bad people.” “And you can just tell who’s good and who’s bad, huh?” Killian asks. His hook finds the small of Emma’s back again, a slight press into her skin that might be a question or more misplaced hope. She leans back.

“Sometimes,” Henry shrugs. “Mostly I’m just really good at figuring out where people fit in.” “Into what?” “The story.” Emma is thankful for the hook. She’s fairly positive it’s the only thing that’s keeping her upright, resting most of her weight on it and the arm that wraps around her suddenly, Killian’s chest shifting against her back as soon as she stumbles backwards.

“What do you mean, Henry?” she asks, only a little guilty when she ignores Kristoff’s cries of protest. She knows this is important.

It’s definitely getting brighter out. And later. This island makes absolutely no sense.

Henry makes a wholly child-like sound, lips curling and hands waving through the air. “I’m good at telling stories,” he says, and Emma has to look down to make sure her magic hasn’t turned her phosphorescent. She’s only glowing slightly. So, that’s a win. “Ms. Joan likes them.” “You talked to her a lot?” Kristoff croaks, another shrug and Henry’s starting to look almost comfortable around them. “What did you talk about?” “Oh, loads of stuff. She told me about the trees where she was from. How different they were from here. The leaves don’t hang like ours, you know?”

Kristoff nods, a quiet hum that’s more hope and Tink’s eyes are starting to resemble pinball machines. Something about this is wrong.

Emma wishes that would stop happening.

“She’d tell me things and I’d put them in my story,” Henry continues. “It doesn’t always work though. That’s what Rumplestiltskin said when he found me. He said I wasn’t ready.” “Ready for what?” Killian asks, and there’s no mistaking the venom in his voice.

“He never really explained it. But I think it’s what I can do.” “And that is?” “Tell things,” Henry answers simply. “Some of the other boys like it. When they’re not--well, can you hear them?” Killian nods. “They’re sad and lonely and that makes it difficult for them to believe sometimes. They forget.” “Forget,” Ariel echoes. “Forget what?” “Home. Everybody should have a home, don’t you think?” “I do.” “And what about you, Henry?” Emma asks. “You never forgot home?” He shakes his head. “Ms. Joan helped. She’d tell me about her home and it--it sounded like the place I was from. So I’d put it in the story. Mixed our homes and I tried to get us there sometimes, but I don’t think Neverland really liked it much. It always hurt when I couldn’t do it the right way.” “Wait, wait, I’m confused,” Ariel says, Kristoff muttering that makes two of us behind her. “Henry, do you have magic?” That makes him freeze again, an obvious surprise and possible overstep because he kind of looks freaked out. “No,” he says quickly. “I just--it doesn’t work. Not always. I couldn’t get Ms. Joan back home.” “What did you try to do?” Kristoff asks. His voice isn’t quite as gruff as it’s been, a quiet entreaty to it that makes Emma wonder how her heart is going to survive this entire trip.

“She told me about the trees.” “Yeah, we get that, kid,” Emma mutters. “But you said you could take what people told you and put it in your story. Does your story---is it alive?” Henry’s lips press together tightly, the clench of his teeth obvious and no one has ever blinked that much in the history of any realm, magic or otherwise. “Ok, ok,” Emma presses, trying to figure out what question to ask next, but none of this makes much sense and--”When the Dark--” She nearly bites her tongue in half, a grunt and gasp, the press of Killian’s hook cold when it finds its way under her shirt. “When Rumpelstiltskin was here, did he say anything about you having magic?” “No.” Emma narrows her eyes, the skin on her cheek tingling like the lie has reached out and slapped her. “Let’s do that one more time, huh? When you tell these stories, can you feel something? Like--like it’s warm?” Henry stares at her like she’s crazy. That’s fair. Emma feels a little crazy.

“I just talk,” Henry sputters, voice rising until it cracks on the final few letters. “I--I listen to Ms. Joan when I can get in and---that Rumplestiltskin he didn’t like her. He said she had to stay here so no one would know the truth and the man that was with him--” “--Just one man? “I didn’t like him.” “Neither did we,” Killian mumbles. “He wrote her--Ms. Joan, I mean, did he write her into wherever you’re leading us?” Henry blinks. And looks a little impressed. Killian may actually be blushing. “Yeah,” Henry breathes. “He--he had this pen and he didn’t like me. Rumplestiltskin thought I was interesting, but that other man. He looked at me like I was wrong.” “Not wrong, kid,” Emma promises. “Just better than him.” Ariel sighs. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” “That’s how he got to the Land Without Magic,” Killian explains. “Rumplestiltskin. He found this man--Isaac, who could write people into situations. The kind of magic that could change everything, cross realms and land right inside the Storybrooke town line. That’s how it worked, isn’t it, Swan?” “He was very dramatic though,” Emma grouses. “Lots of rolling fog and bright lights to make it look like Rumplestiltskin was more powerful than he was.” “Hold on, hold on,” Kristoff stammers. “You’re telling me this Isaac idiot is the one who brought Anna here? Why?” “That’s probably a question she could answer,” Emma says, expecting the glare she gets for her bit of misplaced sarcasm.

She exhales, mind still racing and jumping from point to point and she can’t quite figure out what Henry is. So, naturally, Killian asks about it.

“Henry,” he says slowly, and she can practically hear the metaphorical gears creaking when his tongue swipes the front of his teeth, “where did you come from? It wasn’t this realm, was it?” Emma’s left leg buckles. Just her left leg. It is absurd.

And Henry looks torn somewhere between dazed and astounded, mouth hanging open and face turning as hopeful as anything Emma has ever seen. He’s practically radiating with it, a low thrum of noise that makes the birds shift above them and the leaves flutter around them and it clicks. Quickly. Suddenly. Obviously.

“He believes in what he’s saying,” Emma whispers, Killian’s quiet hum of agreement barely audible over the rush of her own magic and the continued twist of her left knee. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?” “It’s an educated guess on my part, Swan, but, uh--aye, I think that’s what it is.” “You’re all magical jerks who communicate in code,” Ariel shouts. “What does believing in things have to do with anything? And where is Henry from?” Henry shuffles again, rocking his weight between his feet. “I hadn’t been there long,” he says. “There were a lot of houses and I was--I was tired of it. I wanted a family. I wanted...I wanted someone to want me, but this place it wasn’t that. It was bad. It was dark and cold and the grown-ups there didn’t seem to really care what happened. So, um---” “--Did you run?” Emma asks, already knowing the answer. Henry nods. “Where?” “As far as I could go. But it was cold and I was hungry and I--I heard something.”

“What kind of something?” “I don’t know,” Henry admits. “But it was loud and it was...it scared me. I didn’t really know where I was anymore and I wanted to figure out what was happening.” “Brave lad,” Killian mutters, drawing a loud scoff out of Ariel. Tink is staring at the sky now – like she’s waiting for something to happen. “What did you see?” “A giant circle. Right in the middle of the ground. And I--I thought I saw someone walking away, thought they might be able to help me, so I kept walking and I just...got yanked back.” Emma wants to say something other than what. She really does, but that seems impossible and her lips are already parting to form the word again. The word never makes it out of her throat.

Killian’s whole body sags, the burst of air that flies out of his chest practically dripping with regret and it clicks. Again. And even worse.

“That’s not possible,” he argues, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself. “That’s not how portals work. I’m not--” “That’s not your fault, babe,” Emma says. She knows the sentiment falls on deaf ears, can see the way his face crumples as soon as she turns towards him, a hand on his chest and the other hanging in the air just above his jaw.

“It was always dicey magic, Hook,” Ariel reasons. Killian doesn’t move. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing. “What about Ursula, though?” Emma blinks her. “What about her?” “Well, she’s able to control the water, right? That’s why I knew she’d be able to find Lake Nostos and make sure it got the bean back, but what if she did something else?” “Aside from cursing me?” Killian growls, and Ariel does not look impressed. “Yes, Hook, aside from that. Nostos brings things back to life, makes them powerful again. What if that did something else to the bean, something even Ursula didn’t expect?” “Like keeping a portal open longer than usual?” Emma ventures. “That seems like kind of a reach, doesn’t it?” “I’m trying to find some bright spots here.” Emma sighs, her own brand of regret in the sound. “Yeah, I know. I just--oh damn.” “That sounds promising.” “Henry, how soon after you got here did Ms. Joan show up?

“Not long,” Henry says, screwing one eye shut when he tries to remember. “It’s tough to keep track of time here, though.” “Right, right, ok, so, bright spot? I think the portal stayed open for Henry.” Killian makes a contrary noise, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek when he shakes his head. “Swan, that doesn’t--” “--Ok, if you're going to do this whole blaming yourself thing for the rest of the day, I’m going to get really annoyed.” His tongue moves. It’s distracting. “He just told us he was looking for a way out of the piece of garbage situation he was in. You gave him that, babe.” “And sent him to Neverland!”

“But that didn’t stop him believing,” Emma argues, and she can feel it, the certainty that she’s right surging through every single organ she has. Her fingers brush across Killian’s cheek. “And I think Ariel’s on the right track. Nostos brings things back, makes them strong and--” She twists, smiling at Henry. “It made your ability to believe even stronger, kid. So strong that you could bring it to life, visualize that and keep the other people here believing too. And, I think, help us all get out of here.”

Emma’s smile is wide enough that it hurts her cheeks, a quick nod like that’s proven her point and no one says anything. Not a single word. That, admittedly, kind of sucks.

“You think I’ve got magic?” Henry whispers, barely mumbling the words out.

Emma blinks back more tears that aren’t for her, far too much prophecy and fate and everything falling into place because she’s fairly certain this kid has been waiting for them. She breathes deeply, doing her best to look comforting when she moves forward again, dropping to her knees and ignoring how quickly the mud moves through the fabric of her pants.

Henry licks his lips, refusing to meet her gaze, until––Emma exhales, measured and, at least, four seconds long, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. And that’s all it takes. His legs give up and his body shakes, soft sobs because no one should be on this island and she probably doesn't have any right to be as proud of him as she is.

She manages to keep her balance when Henry falls forward, head burrowing into the side of her neck when Emma wraps both her arms around his middle. She’s never been particularly good at this – comfort or support, but the words fall out of her with relative ease, the hand that brushes across the back of her hair making it a little easier.

“It’s ok,” Emma promises, letting her fingers drag up Henry’s back until she can cup his head, holding her against him like that’ll prove how much she means it. “It’s going to be ok. Nothing is going to happen to you anymore.”

“We won’t let it,” Killian adds. He has to shift his coat slightly to move down to their level, and it shouldn’t make Emma’s magic leap the way it does. That’s never really mattered though. “I’m so sorry, my boy.”

Her magic is a goddamn symphony – soft light at the end of her hair and the tips of her fingers, circling around her wrist and ghosting over the lapels of a coat she may actually be starting to like again. Time is cyclical like that, she supposes, but Emma’s mostly focused on possessive pronouns and possibilities and she’s apparently thinking in alliteration now.

“Ok,” Henry nods against Emma’s collarbone, leaving damp marks on her shirt and her skin. She doesn’t let go of him. “But---” “But?”

“Even if what you think is right and I can--” He waves his hands over Emma’s head, nearly elbowing her in the process. “The stories didn’t always work. It’d be kind of...half there. I could never actually get anyone out of here.” “Did you try?” Kristoff asks archly, Emma twisting to glare at him. He blinks.

“Sometimes,” Henry says. “But it’s hard. It’s--” “--Everyone needs to believe him,” Emma whispers, wonder clouding her voice when she realizes what she’s got to do. “And he just needs a little spark.” Kristoff kicks something. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” “Swan--” Killian starts, but she shakes her head deftly. The exhaustion is still clinging to her, trying to pull on her and douse the bits of light she’s created, a mix of her own fear and worry and whatever this goddamn island is capable of. She tugs Henry back against her side.

“No, no, this is part of the gig, right?” “It’s not exactly top-billing.” “That was funny.” “Aye, it happens.” He sighs, fingers tugging on the back of his hair, and Emma knows he wants to argue more. He doesn’t. So, more points.

Kristoff is going to single-handedly destroy the Neverland ecosystem. He lands another pretty impressive kick to the nearest tree trunk, staring at them with barely filtered anger. “Ok, now that we know the kid isn’t actually going to turn on us and will, maybe--” “--Definitely,” Emma interrupts sharply. “Can we go save my fiancé now?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Henry cries, trying to use Emma as leverage and Killian has to catch him around the waist to keep him from running forward. “Are you the one Ms. Joan talked about?” He pauses mid-kick, Ariel’s laugh ringing out around them. “Oh, this is actually very romantic.”

“I hope so,” Kristoff breathes. “I--” Henry grins, nodding back towards the jungle he’s already ventured into. “It’s not that much farther and we’re running out of time.” And Emma is almost confident until she hears those words, a flutter of dread in several different pulse points. Killian snaps his head towards her. “Menacing, huh?” he mutters, lacing his fingers through hers as they follow behind Henry.

“A requirement it seems. Tinker Bell,” she adds, and the fairy nearly flies through the air. That’s probably an insensitive thing to think, really. “Why were you so worried all of this?” “I’m not.” “Oh, real bad. Definitely the worst lie we’ve heard so far today.” “By a rather large margin,” Killian chips in, lifting a branch up so Emma can duck underneath it without threat to any part of her face. “Your highness.” “Gods, the flirting has got to stop,” Ariel yells. She’s more than a few feet behind them, fingers curled around the back of Kristoff’s sword belt so she can keep her footing.

“It really is kind of ridiculous,” Kristoff says. “And you’re giving Tinker Bell an opportunity to keep deflecting her answer.” He turns on Tink, several inches and muscle, Ariel still clinging to his back with an expectant look on her face. “I hate to suggest that your current record is not very good, ma’am, but--well, you did wind up in a net earlier today.” “I’m not leading you into a trap if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Tink sneers. “Strange, is that what it sounded like?”

“This is worse than their flirting,” Ariel mutters, an impatient-sounding Henry standing at the mouth of a cave that absolutely was not there two seconds earlier. “Holy seashells.” “Fisk, that doesn’t make sense,” Killian says. She snarls at him.

“C’mon,” Henry yells, bobbing on the balls of his feet. “We don’t have a lot of time. The Echo Cave only opens when the stars are in the right spot.” Emma lifts her eyebrows, gaze darting back towards Tinker Bell. “And that position is midnight? Honestly?” “I didn’t make the rules.” “Just don’t like explaining them.” “Let’s get inside first.”

Emma grumbles, but she doesn’t actually object, following Henry and his shouts and she can’t help but let her shoulders sag when she takes in the scene around them. It is, in fact, a cave, high walls that shimmer slightly from residual condensation, stalagmites or the other ones, Emma’s not all that concerned with proper names, hanging from the ceiling and rising up from the ground. A ground that is very far beneath them.

She can’t decide what to look at. Every thing appears worse than the last, a vast expanse of nothing stretching out between the lot of them and the tiny pillar of rock in the middle of it all. There’s a cage sitting on top, a shadow that Emma can barely make out because the air is doing that thing again and she’s having a difficult time staying focused.

“Anna,” Kristoff cries, lunging forward and both Henry and Tink make matching sounds. She steps into his space, clearly mismatched, but that same determination from earlier is back in her gaze and his chest heaves against her palms.

The cave walls shake.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mumbles, reaching for Emma. She squeezes his hand tight enough she’s likely leaving nail-shaped marks on his skin, but he doesn’t tell her to stop.

“What is happening?” she asks. “How the hell are we supposed to get to her? Is that even actually Anna?”

“Kristoff?!” The voice isn’t loud – scratchy at best, but there’s enough emotion there that it’s obvious who’s fingers are wrapped around the rung of that cage. “Anna,” Kristoff shouts, another leap forward and he nearly steps on Tink in the process.

“You can’t do that,” she scolds, pressing up on her toes. So she can slap him.

“Holy shit,” Emma gaps. “Alright, can we not resort to attacking each other?” “He can’t keep moving like that. The cave is going to react.” “The menacing has really got to stop. What does that mean?” “The cave,” Tink repeats, waving her free through the air. “Can you not feel that? “ Emma opens her mouth – an undeniably snarky and less-than-thought-out retort on the tip of her tongue, but Killian answers before she can actually begin to formulate words. “I’ve heard of magic like that,” he mutters, a note of something in his voice that makes her shiver. “Eye for an eye. Tit for tat.” “Wait, wait,” Emma stammers. “You think we have to give something up? Like what?”

Tink hisses. “A piece of yourself.” “I’m sorry, what?” “How do you do that?” Ariel asks, the question shaking its way out of her. It’s getting darker in that cave. And they’re running out of midnight. “This place doesn’t expect us to chop off our own limbs, does it?” “No, no, nothing that archaic.” “Small miracles,” Emma grumbles. She doesn’t remember moving, standing perpendicular to Killian with her shoulder pressing into his chest and his cheek resting on the side of her head. Her arms wrap around her middle, trying to contain the magic roaring in the very center of her, but that’s a fool’s errand and she understands. Again. It’s the worst. “It is like before, isn’t it? Reliving our worst memories?” “Like that,” Tink agrees. “It wants a secret. Your darkest secret, words and thoughts you’d never admit out loud.” “Fuck, that’s the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard. Deepest secrets though? That seems a little--” “--I’ll go,” Ariel says, squaring her shoulders and Emma’s not entirely surprised. She takes a deep breath when she stops, pressing her arms into her side and nodding once. “I knew Hook was back. The entire royal family of Misthaven had returned and I--I thought about finding him, but it wasn’t until there was this,” she glances over her shoulder, flashing a tremulous smile, “another quest, right? And, I--I missed that. The danger and the darkness and all of it. I know I shouldn’t and you’re so much better now than you were, Hook. Gods, the way you look at her. It’s--but I thought maybe it could be like it had been. Adventure at our feet.”

The cave shakes again, but, this time, instead of sounding like it’s falling down on top of them, the ground stretches out, several feet of stone. It’s not nearly enough to get to Anna, but it’s proof positive that they’re on the right track.

Kristoff curses quietly, pulling Ariel back away from the edge. “I want to save Arendelle,” he murmurs, “get rid of Hans and help Elsa reclaim her throne, but I’d give up all of that to keep Anna safe. I’d--the people in Arendelle couldn’t fight. Not after Elsa was gone and I think most of them just chose to believe she was dead. It was easier that way. I’d--I wouldn’t mind a little easy at this point.”

Another shake, more stone and there are tears on his face when he lifts his head, the weight of his admission leaving him gasping for air.

“I hated her,” Tink says suddenly, an unexpected addition to whatever twisted honesty hour they’re staging. Emma’s eyes bug, a quick swallow and Killian gasps when her nails break the skin on his hand. “The blue fairy,” Tink continues. “She was--maybe still is, in charge of the fairies and I--I knew I was breaking the rules, but I didn’t care. I wanted to help and she wouldn’t let me. Now, I--” She pauses to drag the back of her knuckle under her eye. “Oh, I’ve been here too long,” she whispers. “I’d rip her wings off If I could and I’d enjoy it.”

The stone gets longer – nearly enough to reach Anna, but there’s still far too much open space and none of them do, actually, have wings. Emma’s mouth goes dry. “I don’t--” she starts, but Killian spins her back towards him, eyes impossibly blue and-- “We didn’t have to break to it,” he says. “The curse. We could have stayed. In that realm and that city. Gone on that date. Ignored Times Square completely. I--almost wish we hadn’t. That it could just be that simple, two people who are--” “--Aren’t we?” Emma asks, not sure what her interruption will do to the magic or the goddamn cave, but she can’t quite cope with the way he’s staring at her, like this is the worst thing he’s ever thought. It may be the worst thing she’s ever thought. Her willingness to want it, to miss the jacket and the library chairs and cinnamon in her coffee.

“I wasn’t here for the magic, Swan, but sometimes I wish the magic wasn’t here at all either.” His teeth find his lower lip as soon as the words are out of him, letters and syllables that stretch out that final bit of stone. Emma closes her eyes, letting go of a breath when her head drops forward, and for a moment they’re nothing more that that – tangled limbs and magic that was and wasn’t and won’t ever go away, her heart thumping in her chest hard enough that it feels like it’s bruising her rib cage.

And that might not be wrong.

“Ah,” Emma groans, hand flying towards her chest. “What the--” Her knees buckle with the flash of pain that sparks in her, another cry that sounds far too shrill to have actually come out of her.

Killian’s hand and hook move quickly, trying to pull her up or, at least, keep her steady, the fear that laces his voice sounding impossibly far away. “Swan, Emma, love, what--” “--The island doesn’t want her here,” Tink says simply. “And it will demand more than a simple statement from her to get across that bridge.” “Like hell, she’s crossing that bridge!” “Yes, not until she concedes to what the magic demands.” Killian gapes at her, unsteady breathing and anxious hands. The bridge shakes precariously, as if it’s trying to prove its under a time limit, and Henry groans softly behind them. “I think it’s almost over,” he warns. “Ms. Joan, can you get the door open?” Anna ignores the question. “Get out of here! All of you! If you get stuck in here--” “--I’m not leaving without you,” Kristoff objects. “That’s not an option!” He tries to run forward, but the first step on the bridge sends him flying back, a burst of magic that Emma swears she can hear and she can’t seem to do much more than claw at the sides of Killian’s jacket. “No, no,” she mumbles. “It’s got to be me.”

“Emma, no, we’re not doing this again,” Killian says. “You said you wouldn’t. No more sacrifices or danger and--” “--That’s not really how it works, babe. Part and parcel of the whole Savior thing.” “Fuck that, I’m not letting you go.” He says it with such conviction that, for a moment, Emma allows herself to believe it. She revels in it, the way he looks at her and that one piece of hair hanging across his forehead, still there, probably, just to torment her and make her pulse sputter.

She tries to smile. It doesn’t feel like it works.

“I love you.” “Swan, that’s--” She cuts him off, a quick press of her lips against his that leaves Killian half-chasing after her and Emma tries to focus on that when she turns back towards Tink. “What do you think I have to do, then?” “You’re stronger than the island,” Tink answers. “It doesn’t appreciate being challenged like that. So--” She nods towards the hand that has, somehow, wrapped around her ring. “You have to give up your biggest strength. And that’s how much you love, Emma.” The blood rushes from her face. She can feel it. It makes her vision swim and her head feel light, as if she’s running out of oxygen and that might not be all that far off, honestly, depending on what time it is and what kind of schedule this cave sticks to.

Emma’s dimly aware of Killian objecting – voice rising and Ariel trying to calm him down, but the walls are starting to shake again and Henry’s looking more than a little anxious and she’s not entirely sure how to do this. So she acts on instinct.

Again. And always.

She takes a deep breath and plunges her own hand into her chest.

It’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

Mostly there just doesn’t seem to be enough room for all the things Emma’s body is now trying to hold and the addition of her fist makes it difficult to actually take a deep breath, but all in all, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever done.

Emma grits her teeth, twisting her hand and trying to find the right organ and she can’t help but gasp when something squishes in her grip. “Oh shit, that’s gross,” she mumbles, drawing an absurd sound out of Killian.

“Are you kidding me, right now?” She clicks her tongue – mostly to focus on that instead of the far-too-familiar sound of a heart being yanked out of a human being. Henry runs forward, slamming into Killian’s side with a trust that’s incredibly new, but also not entirely uncomfortable.

Killian wraps his arm around his shoulders.

And Emma barely notices, eyes falling towards the still-beating heart in her palm. It’s red, a brightness to it that gives her a questionable amount of confidence, but there are a few dots of darkness, a swirl in what may be the left ventricle that gives her pause and--

“You’ve got to go Savior,” Tink says, furtive glances towards the barely-open cave mouth. Anna is still trying to get them to leave.

“Right, right,” Emma nods. She thrusts her hand forward, Killian’s eyes widening and brows jumping. “Here,” she says, well aware that the whole thing is kind of maudlin. “It’s always been yours anyway.”

Killian chokes out a laugh that’s more like another exhale, gaze going glossy. He holds his hand out anyway. “This better work.” “I’ll be right back.” And really they don’t have time. Her heart is in his hand. But Emma feels his hook catch her around the wrist, pulling her up short before she’s even gotten a step closer to the bridge and it’s a very strange thing. She tilts her head up, knowing that the kiss is inevitable and it’ll be good and comforting and a slew of other very positive and decidedly romantic adjectives.

She doesn’t really feel them, though.

She feels the brush of his lips, the quick swipe of his tongue, all desperate and terrified because this has to all end eventually, they’ll get to be two people and their own people and each other’s people, but that’s obviously not now and Emma has to think about how to respond.

She pulls away, can see the flicker of disappointment in Killian’s gaze and her smile isn’t right.

“Go,” Killian mutters. “I’ll--”

The rest of the sentence gets caught in another tremor, more than a few pieces of stone falling into the chasm underneath the bridge and Emma runs. She tries to keep her weight on her toes, darting forward quick enough that her calves ache and her lungs burn, skidding to a stop in front of a woman with dark bags under her eyes and dirt caked under her nails.

Her hair still manages to catch a bit of light though.

And some of that light is coming from between Emma’s fingers.

“Are you Anna?” she asks, a silly question that warrants an even sillier laugh.

“Was that not obvious?” “It’s been a very long--I don’t know, life. I just..I just want to make sure we’re not bringing back the wrong person or evil in disguise or something.” “My name is Anna, my parent’s name were Gerda and Agnarr. My sister is Elsa. She was with your--what is George to you?” “A nightmare that gets dimmer the longer I’m awake.” Anna blinks, eyeing Emma like she’s looking for the lie and is only a little pleased to never find it. “Here,” she adds, tugging on a chain around her neck. She brandishes the snowflake that hangs there, an unspoken challenge to Emma that she doesn’t have any interest in. “My sister. She’s got a very similar one, doesn’t she?” Emma nods. “Yeah, she does.” “I want to find my sister. That’s how I ended up here.”

“I don’t--”

Anna huffs, tongue darting between her lips as Emma tries to figure out the the door to this cage. “Henry must have told you. I--the Dark One brought me here. Or, at least the man I thought was the Dark One.”

Emma freezes. “You didn’t know?” “Not until it was too late. The meeting with Blackbeard was a trap. I was no closer to finding Elsa and then I heard rumors that there’d been a curse and Misthaven was gone and I was running out of options. So I decided to try and find the Dark One. I’d found my parent’s old notes and they’d been looking for him before.” “What?” “To try and figure out what was wrong with Elsa.” “There’s nothing wrong with Elsa,” Emma snaps, Tink yelling something about time and a distinct lack of it.

“I know that. And you know that. But my parents were--they were scared. No one’s ever had magic like that in Arendelle. They went to the Rock Trolls for help, but they couldn’t do anything and then--” She has to catch her breath. “I didn’t know,” Anna whispers. “I was young and our parents left. They got on a ship and they were gone and then they never came back, but I found the notebook and I think--well, I think that’s why Elsa never tried to get back.” “You think she found out,” Emma breathes. “About your parents and the Dark One. That’s why she went to George? To try and fight him?”

“I do. I--she never trusted her magic, did her best to hide it because my parents thought it was dangerous. I think she was looking for answers.” “But you still sought him out? Even after all that?” “You were gone,” Anna shouts. “Kristoff was bound to a pirate ship. I didn’t have a lot of other options. I thought he might know where she was. Only I finally found him and the Dark One wasn’t that, was just a man without any magic and the certainty that I needed to be taken care of and the next thing I knew I was here.” “I’m sorry.” Anna scoffs. “You’re sorry? What happened in Misthaven?” “George was working with the Dark One,” Emma says, a lack of emotion in her voice she’ll probably blame on her heart eventually. “The whole time. He was...we were all being lied to.” “Shit.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, uh...well, we’re here to save you. We’ve got some magic and a pirate ship in a bottle and--”

She cuts herself off when Henry yells her name, a shrill cry that makes her spin on the spot and Emma has to admit she’s not entirely prepared for what she sees. Because they’ve clearly run out of time.

There’s no opening at the end of the cave anymore, half a dozen shadows moving towards them, but her eyes barely linger there before she’s yanking on the front of the cage, a burst of strength that’s nothing more than adrenaline at this point. She tosses the stupid thing over the side of the bridge and her footsteps aren’t quite as light this time, pounding down stone like she’s going downhill.

Anna collides with Kristoff almost immediately, arms wrapped around her middle and toes dragging across the ground because she wasn’t wearing any shoes. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she chants, grunting softly when he tightens his hold. “Gods, you’re really here, right?” “Here, I’m here,” Kristoff says.

It’s nice enough that Emma almost forgets, but then the whole world appears to shake under them and--”Killian,” she yells, falling to her knees, more pain than she’s entirely ready for. It explodes out of the center of her, directly where her heart should be.

“Emma!” He dodges forward, handing her heart to Henry and trying to move into her space, but that only makes everything hurt more, “No, no, bloody hell. None of it worked.” “Just get my heart back. It’s--” Whatever else she’s about to say dissolves into a scream, barely able to keep her head upright and she can just make out Killian’s left boot move. That’s as far as he gets. There are flames around him, a circle of fire and flicker of heat, lapping at the side of his legs and the ends of his coat. “Killian!”

“Get your heart,” he bites out. “Now, Swan.” Emma shakes her head, not sure if it’s a disagreement or general disbelief. She’s breathing heavily, every soft whimper Killian makes leaving her gasping and Ariel has both her eyes closed. There’s smoke in the air now.

She really has no idea how she stands up. It takes every ounce of everything she’s got in her – which is saying quite a lot since there doesn’t appear to be much of a pulse without her heart, legs that feel like they’re also made of stone, but Emma gets to her feet and she will eventually wish she was more graceful about the whole thing.

She shoves him.

Hard.

It works, though. And Killian brings her with him, falling out of the flames and huffing as soon as Emma’s entire body weight lands on his chest, hair in his face and fingers finding their way under her shirt.

The door to the cave opens.

“What the hell is that?” Emma demands.

“Magic for magic,” Killian whispers, and she can’t hear anything except wonder in his voice. It’s nice, after all this time. “True Love, Swan. Emma, you chose me, that was the test. The island can’t object to that.” “God, fuck this place.” He laughs, pulling her closer to him and dragging his mouth against her jaw. It will probably feel better once she’s got a heart again, but it still manages to feel pretty nice and they’re not done yet. “Aye, love, that’s exactly it.”

“So, uh,” Anna starts. “What happens now?”

Emma lifts her head, letting her chin rest on Killian’s shoulder and Henry flashes her a nervous smile. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” he mutters. “You can do it,” Emma promises. “You’ve just got to believe and you’ve got that in spades.” “Misplaced reference,” Killian whispers in her ear. He hisses when she shakes on top of him.

And Henry still looks worried, but then then Anna’s moving, a soft tut as soon as Kristoff tries to follow. She smiles, a bit of her own belief in the movement and Henry gasps as soon as her fingers find his. “When I was little,” she says, “my sister and I used to sneak into the forest. The trees were so tall there, like they were their own castle. And the air was always so crisp. It would hurt at first, cold enough to make goosebumps pop on your skin, but then it was almost nice, a stillness that made us feel like we were the only people in the world.” Henry’s eyes have fallen closed, lips moving with unspoken words. Anna keeps going. “The snow drifts always seemed enormous. Getting to the top was our favorite game, sliding down and--” She sniffles, lips tugged behind her teeth and it isn’t easy for Emma to get back to her feet again. She reaches her hand towards Anna’s free one, her other fingers curled around Killian’s hook until they’re a string of limbs and stories, memories and moments. “Sometimes Elsa would freeze them, make them into slides so we could get down quicker and oh, I bet you could hear our laughter for miles.” “Elsa?” Henry asks, one eye cracking open.

“That’s my sister. I--my name isn’t Joan, Henry. I’m...I’m Anna and I’m from Arendelle.” The light that flares around them is as blinding as it is warm, a sudden rush that’s the exact opposite of any of the oppressive heat they’ve felt in Neverland. It’s like early-morning sun and the kind of comfort from a good night’s rest and blankets that are soft as silk. It’s home and safety and belief.

In its purest form.

The cave walls start to disappear, the light growing and both Anna and Henry are talking now, Emma doing her best to focus her magic. She whispers her own words under her breath, promises and her hopes, and the air around them smells different.

Like pine trees.

There are pine trees around them and a silhouette in the distance that’s larger than anything they saw in Neverland.

“Is that a castle?” Ariel asks, Anna letting out a whoop of triumph. Henry sways on his feet, both Emma and Killian moving in tandem. He falls into Killian’s arms, not objecting to being lifted up, while Emma’s hand presses into his back.

“You’re alright, my boy, you’re alright,” Killian mutters. “It’s ok. You did it.” Ariel scoffs. “Where are we?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Anna asks. “Arendelle. We’re home.”

#cs ff #captain swan #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #this turned very captain cobra swan real quick #lemme tell you

37 notes · View notes

ranjxtul · 5 years

Text

Fire and Reign: Necromancy

Finally, we have witches au chapter four! I am so sorry for the delay here, and for the length. It’s a bit shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be action packed! I don’t think there are TWs for this chapter, so enjoy loves

Ao3 Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249039/chapters/47313391

“Find anything else since we last talked?” Called Aragon as she made her way into the greenhouse with a mug of coffee in her hand, eyes still bleary from sleep.

A sleep deprived, but alert Catherine Parr glanced up to her godmother worriedly, it was abnormal for her to be up this early. She glanced at the clock. It was only eight. Usually Aragon awoke around an hour later, looking much less frazzled. Stray curls stuck out at angles and she still wore her pajamas.

Catherine frowned then, at the question asked. In reality, she hadn’t been able to uncover anything new, even with the help of the American Supreme. “You’re up earlier than usual,” she nodded, completely avoiding the subject as a whole.

“Didn’t want to sleep in,” Aragon shrugged, quickly dispelling any further discussion on the topic. Parr nodded, knowing when she didn’t want to broach a topic.

“What about Henry? I need to know if we have anything new,” An unspoken, ‘I have to do something,’ stayed in her head. Aragon tried again. Since Anne’s sighting the previous night, she’d practically been on hyperdrive. Sleep had been fitful and erratic because all she could do was contemplate possible avenues, and who his next victim might be.

Realistically, it could be anyone in London. The lack of knowledge concerning witches and the secrecy put blinders on most people, including young witches themselves. As a result, Henry’s scope of possible victims had much greater magnitude than she would have liked.

Finding witches and protecting them would be ideal; however, Catherine knew the semantics of that plan were much more complex in practice. Finding young witches was about as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack, unless of course you were finding their mangled corpses, she thought bitterly to herself.

Parr observed the other woman, the clipped question’s brittle tone bounced off of her. She could only imagine what it would be like to be in the Supreme’s shoes. As a child, she’d dreamt about the idea of being the Supreme and being trusted to lead, but as she’d grown to understand what the job entailed, she realized she didn’t want that. She wanted to care for her coven, but her decisions couldn’t be the difference between life or death. She understood Catherine’s stress, and if she was honest, everyone in the house now felt it.

Shockwaves of the harsh reality that Henry was ready to kill, hadn’t settled easily among any of the queens. All of them had known in a certain capacity it was true, but there was something about the casual encounter that reminded everyone of the immanence in the situation.

“No,” Parr finally answered. “I’ve done just about everything I can, and contacted the Supremes in Spain, France, and Germany. They never linked the killings even. It seems like whoever’s employing him was moving him around or giving him spot kills there, but of course I have no evidence to back that up. It’s purely assumption, and he’s smart. He doesn’t leave a paper trail or physical evidence. If we knew a last name it could be helpful, but even then I'm not sure we’d have anything concrete,” she admitted with a regretful shrug.

“So we’re stuck?” Aragon asked, her mouth falling into a thin line as she wracked her brain for anything helpful. Nothing. Then it hit her, his victims were the key. “Do you think that he’s killed everyone here in the same location? Or at least remotely so,” she added.

Parr tilted her head, “Probably, he seems consistent in London.”

“Great. That’s all I needed to know,” Aragon nodded, a small smile replacing the frustration, a bit self satisfied with her own idea. “I’ll talk to you later, love, but I think I might have an idea of something we can do.”

Catherine raised an eyebrow in shock but nodded, “See you later then.” Aragon turned to exit the greenhouse and return to her office. First things first, she had to do some research of her own, then she needed to speak to the council.

She wasn’t sure she had the proper books in her office, Most likely, she’d have to search the attic.. Necromancy as a whole was risky business, and when done wrong, things could go south in the blink of an eye. Of course Aragon was competent enough to perform the type of magic properly, but not without proper research. The last Supreme, her mother, coincidentally, had always had a bit of an interest in the darker aspects of magic and the more ‘forbidden’ things.

For example, Catherine vividly remembered her mother practicing descensum frequently. She’d later explained she’d only done so in an attempt to understand hell and understand who and what lived down there. Aragon herself had never had much of an interest as a result.

She understood the consequences of failing descensum. One would be trapped in hell and their body would disintegrate. No matter if they beat their personal hell, if they didn’t bring themselves back in time they’d be gone. She hated that her mother ran that risk so often, and for what? As far as Aragon was concerned there were no practical purposes, as understanding hell was futile.

Catherine’s own experience with descensum had been as she’d expected: hellish. Her hell consisted of the coven disowning her and her being thrown to the streets only to have Henry and his manipulative, vindictive ways waiting for her outside the doors. No one thought she’d make it back in time, and truthfully she’d only just made it back before dawn, panting and panicked she’d bolted up. How did anyone get used to beating their hell and how did anyone do it regularly? The concept baffled her.

Her mother had fittingly also been interested in learning about necromancy, which granted was a lot less dangerous than casually practicing descensum. It couldn’t directly destroy the caster, but any number of bad outcomes could occur without understanding how to properly control such magic and without knowing exactly whom one was contacting. At one point, Catherine had a mild interest in the basics, but quickly strayed away from it once she began to understand the negative consequences: it could put those she cared about in danger.

Now it seemed she’d have to return to her old interest and ignore the overly analytical and cautious voices in her head that told her necromancy was a bad idea. Upon a small browsing of her office shelves, unsurprisingly, she found nothing of use. With a short sigh of impatience, she turned to traipse her way up the stairs to the attic.

Upon pushing the door open, she observed Jane’s workspace. Books sat strewn on the table’s surface and pages of notes sat stacked in one corner. Her stones sat atop one open book and a separate sheet of notes sat beside the stones. Part of Aragon felt inclined to see what Jane had been working on, but she stopped, reminding herself that Jane would let her know when the time was right.

Instead, she made her way toward the dust covered boxes containing her mother’s old books. She went through two boxes before she found what she needed: books on the foundations and extended applications of necromancy. Now that she had the books she could hopefully find what she needed. And once the adequate research was done she could call the council and see if they approved of her plan. Back to her office to read, it seemed.

By the time she finished relaying the cornerstones of her reading and in detail her plan, Anna and Jane each had their own looks of shock and intrigue on their face.

“Do you think that’ll work?” Asked Jane.

“The magic or the plan?” Anne countered the blonde as if Jane’s question hadn’t been directed at Catherine. She was caught up in the semantics and possible dangers of what Aragon her proposed to even question effectiveness yet.

Jane glanced at the short haired woman beside her, “I was addressing both actually. Messing with necromancy can be dangerous, and in practice this plan is basically built on assumptions.”

Aragon cut in, “I know the dangers, but we’re at a practical roadblock on learning anything else. We haven’t been able to ID any of his victims easily, and I’ve had Cathy doing some research for me. She’s also been unable to find anything else. If my hunch is right, then this could get us somewhere,” she insisted.

“But if something were to go horribly wrong, for example, you could contact the wrong spirit, and set something free or be unable to contain it. There’s also physical safety to take into account when you think of this. What if someone happened upon you?”

“I’m planning to take Anne with me. You know she’s not easily scared off by a task, and should something happen she knows how to fight,” Catherine raised a brow. She understood Anna and Jane’s concern, she needed to do something. “As for what we talk to, I should be able to contain it. I’m no novice,” she added with a hint of mirth in an attempt to lighten the mood.

The other two women shared a weary look, ultimately Aragon did have a final say in what she did. They hadn’t had to have been called in, which meant she most likely wanted their support and help ironing out details of the plan. “So, when do you want to leave?” Jane asked after a moment’s silence. She could feel waves of urgency and underlying anxiety radiating off the Supreme potently.

“I’d like to go tonight. The sooner the better, and around ten. There’s no need to cause more disruption than normal,” she shrugged, a bit relieved the two relented in the doubts at least verbally. When she listened to their thoughts, she could hear the doubts screaming loudly. That was a confidence boost for sure.

“I’d suggest later. If your location’s right, you could have a chance of running into him if he’s found a victim,” Jane pointed out tilting her head.

“Go after midnight,” Anna suggested directly after Jane spoke.

The other two were right, an earlier time was a gamble. Well, in reality, this whole trip was a gamble. She only nodded though, “Brilliant idea.”

The girls were absolutely correct. This could be fatal, useless, too much of a risk or all of the above. Catherine did her best to suppress the whirling thoughts of what that failure could be though. She had to do something about Henry, and in her mind, knowing the enemy was the first step to beating the enemy.

If they could gain the upperhand by learning more information about Henry Tudor before he gained more intel on them, they’d have the upperhand. So far, nonmagic routes hadn’t gleaned enough information. If she wasn’t desperate, she wouldn’t push less ‘safe’ options for informational purposes.

Truth be told, she was still shaken from the night before, and she was waiting on news from Maria that there’d been another victim. Realizing she’d spaced out for a moment, she shook her head in an attempt to play it off, “I’m going to find Anne. Make sure when we’re gone to hold down the fort, yeah?” she joked with a quiet laugh.

“Yes ma’am,” Anna jested back, accompanied by a nod and smile from Jane. With one final nod, Aragon slipped out of her office to search for Anne. The brunette would most likely be in her room or roaming about the house, considering it was nearing dinner. Luck seemed to be on Catherine’s side when she peeked into Anne’s room to see the other with a book open on her bed.

“Anne?” Catherine called quietly, so as not to startle Anne from her reading.

The brunette glanced up, her eyes wide for a second, until she recognized Catherine in the doorway. “Hm?” she hummed in response closing the book and pulling herself up.

“Mind if I come in first of all?”

“Be my guest,” Anne shrugged with a vague gesture to the room. With a nod, Aragon stepped into the messy room, maneuvering small piles of clothes or the several fallen objects on the floor. “What’s up?” Anne asked as Aragon made her way to sit down at the desk chair.

“I need a favor,” Aragon started with a deep breath.

“Oh?” Anne leaned forward curiously.

Simultaneously, in a pub in the city, two men sat at a corner booth. One had an angular jaw and sandy stubble dotting that same jaw. His grim face, contained smile lines only shown in malice. His accomplice sat across from him. This man’s features were polar the first man’s. His dark hair, dark eyes, and complimenting five o’clock shadow contrasted the light blonde man’s features. The similarities though, sat in the stone cold hollow eyes and in the understated intimidation of his muscular stature.

“You know,” the dark headed man started, “You can’t just keep waiting for them to do something. This wasn’t supposed to take as long as it has. I mean, three years? That’s excessive, even if they’re being wise Henry.”

The newly named Henry shook his head, “They’ll stop being careful soon enough, and that’s when I’ll catch them.”

“You were supposed to get in and take them out,” the second man persisted.

“I know, Thomas, but they were smarter than I anticipated!” his nostrils flared in a flash of irritation. “That’s completely on me though, I will admit. I shouldn’t have underestimated them.”

“At least we know what we know, and we have our inside contact, well if that’s what you call her,” Thomas shrugged, appraising his own words.

“She’s served her purpose, and continues to. She keeps up my wards and gives me information and I don’t kill her,” he shrugged in return as if what he said were the simplest agreement ever.

“Speaking of which, has she turned up anything new?” Thomas asked in curiosity.

“Katherine Howard, the one about a week ago is alive. Anne got her out of there apparently.”

The other man’s eyes lit up in recognition, “Howard?”

Henry narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, you know her?”

Quickly, realizing his sudden interest hadn’t been inconspicuous, Thomas forced himself to sit back, “Heard the name before.”

An obvious lie, but Henry didn’t care to push it. Instead he pushed forward, “Last night was an easy one. She was young, sixteen, and out too late for her own good. If only the others were as easy. God, it still baffles me that Catherine is the leader, and that Anne is alive. Of course now it all makes sense, knowing Jane’s a healer. If only I’d gotten that much out of her that night. I was so close to nipping the problem in the bud with her,” he shook his head, thinking of the drunken night Jane had begun to divulge the London coven’s secrets when he’d been with her.

“And now you have baggage now. What’ll you do with the son once you deal with everyone else?” Thomas asked.

“Eh, haven’t really thought about it. There are merits to getting rid of him with his mother or keeping him. We’ll see how everything pans out, then I’ll deal with it all.” In one statement, Henry Tudor had revealed truly how little he cared for life. He cared for manipulation, ease, and power above all else.

While Thomas definitely was unbothered by murder, the idea of murdering a baby didn’t settle well with him. The kid hadn’t had much of a chance to live. It must have shown on his face because Henry’s face hardened, “You got a problem with that?” he asked carefully, his brow raised.

Forcing his expression back to neutral, Culpeper shook his head. He had more interest in Katherine Howard, even if murdering an infant didn’t sit well. He wouldn’t have a part of it bothered him so much. All he cared about was seeing Katherine again.

“Good. Can you go take care of the body from last night sometime tonight?” Henry continued.

“Always sending me to do your dirty work, eh?” Thomas scoffed. “Yeah, sure.”

#catherine of aragon #six the musical #catherine parr #anne boleyn #anne of cleves #jane seymour #katherine howard

28 notes · View notes

secret-diary-of-an-fa · 5 years

Text

Hidden Gems of the Silver Screen (And, to a Lesser Extent, the Telly)

It can’t have escaped your notice that the majority of my more recent posts (and fuck knows I’m not posting regularly at the moment) are about movies and TV. The reason for that is pretty simple: 2019 has, surprisingly, yielded some great movies and TV... and also some really torrid shite. On the one hand, films like Ma, Brightburn and The Perfection continue to breathe new life into the horror genre. On the other hand, sci-fi as a cinematic and televised thing continues to ignore its actual audience in favour of sniffing its own farts in a sound-proof chamber designed specifically for next-level virtue-signalling. One thing I will say about the dreck of 2019 is that it’s interesting dreck, at least so far. Another Life, for example, isn’t just bad: it’s mind-bogglingly, fascinatingly bad, as though someone set out to make the worst TV series imaginable and accidentally created a portal to another dimension made entirely of crap.

With all the amazingly wonderful and transifxingly terrible visual media on offer lately, it’s easy to forget that there’s a rich repository of films and TV series from just a few years ago that you’ve probably never watched. You see if you, like me, are a snooty, card-carrying member of the elitist intelligentsia, you probably missed films and TV series that looked dumb as soup on the surface on the grounds that they weren’t worth your time. Luckily for you, I’ve dived nose-first into the detritus of our dying culture, so you don’t have to, and I’ve ferreted out the diamonds from the pig-swill. Without further ado, I’d therefore like to present my list Easily Overlooked Gems.

1. Mandy The phrase “Nicholas Cage stars in a sword-and-sorcery rape/revenge thriller” does not inspire confidence. It’s therefore easy to ignore Mandy and the promptly forget it ever existed. Which is a shame, because it’s kind of a work of genius. The plot is exactly what you’d expect: a cult kidnaps, rapes and kills Cage’s girlfriend, Mandy, and Cage sets out on a mission of revenge culminating in a blood-bath. The nature of the revenge quest is what puts a sting in the film’s tail- or tale, if you’re feeling puntastic. You see, a lot of the bad guys exist in a constant hallucinatory haze after taking a drug that sent them mad after one dose. In order to fight on their level, Cage has to take a dose too. As a result, the world around him slowly but surely transforms into a nightmare landscape that looks like a cross between a D&D illustration and the cover of a heavy metal album and his grubby, personal mission of fury takes on the unmistakable resonance of a Conan-esque hero’s quest. By the end of the film, you have to wonder if Cage has actually slipped into some sort of alternate dimension or if he’s just lost his game-pieces completely. In places, it’s nearly as painful to watch as Landmine Goes Click (crikey, there’s one for the history buffs) but it looks and feels like Beyond the Black Rainbow. Worth your attention just because of how weird it is. I give it a solid four-out-five decapitated rapists.

2. Baby Driver Nothing about Baby Driver suggested it would be a good film: the way it was advertised as a car-chase movie trying to be cute; the stupid title; the fact that it came and went through cinemas like a fart in the night. Which is a shame, because it’s secretly brilliant. It’s a highly stylised crime film populated with the archest archetypes money can buy (to the point where some of the dialogue has a weirdly beat-poetic feel to it). It’s saturated colour palette and off-beat affect actually have something of a full-colour Jim Jarmusch flick about them. The hook, of course, is that the lead character (only ever referred to as Baby, because he’s got a punchably youthful face) has tinnitus and therefore has to listen to music constantly to drown at the buzzing in his head. The practical upshot of this is that a) every single scene is overlayed with surprisingly great and situationally appropriate music and b) he goes through life like he’s always dancing, so his way of moving lends to the film’s easy-going sense of flow. It also explains where his preternatural driving skills come from (I mean, not really, but within the context of the plot): he’s used to sliding effortlessly into patterns and rhythms because of the music thing. All of this could make a terrible film, of course, but execution is everything and, to everyone’s surprise, especially mine, this flick was executed with an astonishing level of panache. I rate it ten out of ten grizzly motor way pile ups.

3. Nightflyers It’s not just films that get overlooked as the tide of culture washes back and forth, like a great big sea of effluent. TV series also vanish unduly into the dustbin of history. Case in point, the criminally underappreciated Nighrflyers: Netflix pre-Another Life sci-fi offering that was actually good. It’s a pretty classic set-up: a group of mismatched wing-nuts on a spaceship, all of whom have secrets that that will threaten to tear them apart while they try to make contact with an alien life-form. What elevates Nightflyers is just how fuck-uped the cast are. There’s an angry British psychic whose spent his whole life in captivity in case he goes full Scanners on somebody’s head, a guy who only ever appears as a hologram for reasons too twisted to explain here, his evil mother whose uploaded her mind to the ship’s computer and gone batshit crazy, a genetic superbeing and a hacker who can send her mind into computers via a dodgy implant and who may or may not be drifting out of touch with the human condition. It’s great. 6 and half billion out of 7 billion monkeys, boiling in the void.

4. Hardcore Henry No, I don’t know who thought that title was a good idea either, but the point is that Hardcore Henry has no motherfucking right to kick as much arse as it does. It was clearly made on a budget that would embarrass a Youtube shampoo commercial, but it just flat-out rocks. Shot entirely in first-person, it follows the adventures of a mute cyborg as he seeks revenge against the bastard psychic entrepreneur who first built him then tried to kill him. Along the way, his main ally is a dude who keeps dying and coming back to life in a series of identical bodies but with radically different personalities and haircuts (this is eventually explained, but I’m not going to spoil it for you). It’s premise is demented, it’s surprisingly well-choreographed and its soundtrack is an aphrodisiac for your ears. Also, Tim Roth is in it, so that’s just yer seal of quality right there. It came out to a lot of fanfare and many, many cinema trailers back in the day and was then promptly forgotten about as soon as it launched. So I’m dragging it kicking and screaming back into the limelight. It’s on Netflix right now, so go watch it. I rate it a solid 11 out of 15 creepy duplicates of Tim Roth.

5. Upgrade Another lesser-known film about a cyborg. Unlike Henry, however, this cyborg’s life doesn’t so much ‘rock’ as ‘suck balls’. He gets crippled and then ends up with a sentient computer chip in his head that allows him to remote-control his own body despite not having a working spine anymore. Naturally, his experimental tech attracts the attention of some unsavoury characters and he and his brain-chip have to work together to figure out what’s going on, often through a series of ultra-violent, gory fight-scenes that horrify the protagonist himself. Of course, all might be well, except that the head-chip is a homicidal little shit that clearly has its own agenda. I give it at least 0000 0111 out of 0000 1001 painstakingly restored vintage kill-bots.

6. The Tick The Tick isn’t as overlooked as everything else on this list, especially since there have been a couple of previous televised incarnations of the franchise to lay the groundwork. However, I still feel like the modern iteration doesn’t quite get the love it deserves, so I’m throwing it out here. Following the adventures a mad, amnesiac and possibly stupid superhero and his neurotic sidekick, The Tick explores a world where superheroes aren’t the paragons of good from classic comics, the corrupt psychotics of The Boys or Watchmen, or the eternally struggling, walking moral life-lessons of modern cinema. Instead, they’re just ordinary people operating at various levels of competence/incompetence and mental illness and working within a bureaucratic, wildly inefficient framework. That might not sound like a recipe for a successful TV series, but it really is. Drawing out the mundane, human side of heroes and villains against the backdrop of cataclysmic, civilisation-threatening events makes for infinitely compelling and very, very funny viewing. It’s kind of doing for the superhero genre what Futurama did for sci-fi a few years back. It’s also where the phrase and/or popular song ‘seven billion monkeys boiling in the void’ comes from. My rating is four out of five sapient, homosexual boats (which will make sense when you watch it).

7. The Void Amid the high-budget horror extravaganzas of recent years, it’s easy to forget about the void, which feels like the best story H.P. Lovecraft never wrote and looks like David Chronenberg tried to adapt a Heironimous Bosch painting... in the ‘80s. The actual plot concerns a group of people getting trapped in a hospital by murderous cultists and discovering dark secrets and, arguably, a whole other dimension in its basement. You’re not exactly there for the plot though: The Void is a mood-piece and an exercise in visual FX craftsmanship. You’re there to drink in the atmosphere and see what each new cosmic horror looks like. I am delighted to award it ten out of ten unspeakable whisperers in the darkness. That’s enough for two barbershop quartets, an emcee and a supporting act.

8. Happy Death Day It’s Groundhog Day but as a horror film starring a really annoying lass in her late teens has to keep dying horribly until she learns to stop being such a terrible person... and also kill her murderer with a little help from her newly-minted, non-cunty friend. There’s a sequel that I haven’t seen yet, but the original is a low-key, oft-overlooked delight. I give it 9 out of 11 suspiciously similar corpses.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #films #tv shows #movies #Mandy #Baby Driver #Nightflyers #The Tick #The Void #Tick #happy death day #Upgrade

13 notes · View notes