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o-w-quinlan · 3 years

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Digimon Adventure: (2020) Final Thoughts

Considering I stopped reviewing this series episode by episode months ago, they’re more positive thoughts than you’d expect, though still not all that positive.

To summarize, this is an entertaining series with plenty of individual good aspects and great episodes that nevertheless leaves me cold as a whole. Much as I enjoyed following it week to week, I can’t say I recommend this series to anyone but hardcore Digimon fans, or hardcore fans of the wider “monster” genre.

Action

It felt appropriate to start with this, considering a focus on action was what the initial interviews promised, and they delivered in spades. It wasn’t perfect or too consistent, there were several times when the Digimon not evolving when they could just broke any tension the fights had, but this series had some of the best fights in any Digimon anime. Anything in the first 3 episodes, Greymon/MetalGreymon vs MetalTyranomon, SkullKnightmon vs Greymon and Garurumon, Mugendramon vs DoneDevimon, Mugendramon vs WarGreymon, Millenniumon vs the dragons, Omegamon vs Abbadomon Core… all of them among the best things the franchise has to offer in terms of action scenes, which after so many series where fights were solved by having a protagonist Digimon evolve and one-shotting the enemy, comes as a breath of fresh air (to be fair, this series also had a lot of that, but it had actual great fights to compensate).

Worldbuilding

Another thing promised in interviews was the use of Digimon from all over the franchise, and not only did they deliver, but they also included plenty of references to the “null canon” to enrich the experience for the most hardcore fans. The series made sure to constantly emphasize the savage nature of the Digital World, bringing back the Tamers worldbuilding of Digimon consuming weaker Digimon in hopes of achieving evolution. Along the way we saw a lot of allies fighting back against this status-quo, from things as overt as Leomon organizing a resistance or Petaldramon protecting weaker Digimon from the all-consuming Entmon, to less dramatic stuff like weak Digimon settling down to live together, or the mere presence of a restaurant where everyone can rest for a while of the hardships of their world.

The biggest flaw here was in how the series handled its antagonists. With very few exceptions, every single enemy Digimon in the series lacked dialog, whereas nearly every single ally Digimon could speak normally, and this disparity cheapened the whole thing, because instead of coming across as “this mentality is normal for this world”, it came across as just your normal “everyone lived together in harmony until the villains attacked”, which is very much not what the series was telling us.

Characterization

That brings us to the next point: the lack of personality for most villains. I joked elsewhere that Minotaurmon from episode 19 was the most compelling villain of the series, and that’s not completely a joke. Almost every single villain of the week was flat, plenty of the “main” villains were lacking in dialog (Algomon in the first few episodes, Nidhoggmon, Millenniumon) or turned mindless halfway through (Devimon, DarkKnightmon). Negamon/Abbadomon in the final episodes managed to benefit from this by being the embodiment of an “instinct”, but in general this meant a mook-of-the-week like Minotaurmon managed to be a highlight among the villains simply by having dialog and non-trivial desires.

But what of the protagonists? The popular opinion is that everyone is far blander than they were in the original series, and I agree. But rather than comparing it with the first series, let’s look at what it had to offer to us. Where in other Digimon series, the backstories and issues of the protagonists and their reactions to what’s going on around them make for most of the drama, in this series the drama comes from the villains trying to destroy everything, and for the most part that means the protagonists only need to be distinct and charming on their own, no necessity to create conflict between them. There is an overall character arc for all of them, though: accepting and interiorizing their new duties towards the world they had ended up stranded on, getting to know and love the Digital World. Was this well done? Not really.

Taichi and Takeru, for example, were so much the embodiment of the stock shonen hero that accepting their place in this new world didn’t really reveal anything about them we hadn’t already seen from their first few appearances.

Jou got stuck as an unfunny punchline 90% of the time, to the point of damaging his few “serious” moments in some of his focus episodes. His development of becoming assertive was compelling in theory, but it got muddled with so many unfunny and uncomfortable hotsprings jokes that the impact was lost.

Hikari started as an even more blatant plot-device “mysterious character” than she was in the original series, before unconvincingly changing to cheerful little girl afterwards (the whiplash between her in episode 33 and her in episode 34 was something else), and only really managing to settle into a compelling character in her last focus episode (58, defending the Digitamas from the Bakemon and SkullBaluchimon, which to be fair is a great episode and probably the best showcase for Hikari as a character in any product or continuity).

Koushiro was mostly fine, although we all remember the several times the series seemed to promise it might do something with him (his uneasiness when his family was mentioned, or that line about having to “face the darkness of his past” in the HerakleKabuterimon episode) that ended up being nothing.

Mimi is the fan-favorite, being charming in nearly all her appearances and having some of the best focus episodes, and it’s mostly deserved. If there’s anything I criticize from her, it’s that her focus episodes don’t really add up to anything.

Yamato was fine, started out as a stock shonen rival before becoming the single most chill “lone wolf” in any Digimon series, probably because of what I said before of the conflict between the protagonists no longer being the source of drama. He gets a slow development of caring only for his brother to starting to care for other Digimon for the sake of Sora and Gabumon to caring about the Digital World just as much as everyone else.

Sora was made fun of by a certain section of the fandom for having the worst focus episodes early on, and I agreed, but having finished the series I can’t get rid of the impression that her focus episodes, while perhaps not that good on their own, when taken as a whole explore her character the best of any other. Yeah, this mostly means exploring her compassion (these are not very multi-dimensional characters), but they deepen and deepen both her impact on the Digimon she saves and how she is impacted in turn by them, moving her away from saving others through her combat prowess to saving others by empathizing with the grief of another caring soul, and by the end I honestly ended up considering her my favorite character (despite none of her episodes making it to my list of favorites).

As for the Digimon… it’s following in the footsteps of other Digimon Adventure products by not really having much of interest for the Digimon themselves except for Tailmon.

Overall, for the most part the main characters were decent, but besides Mimi and ultimately also Sora, I don’t think they’re very memorable. All of them start out promising, but never really improved from that promising start (again, except for Sora).

Pacing

And now we get to the biggest problem of the series: Pacing. I’ve seen it stated elsewhere that this series was more episodic than most (any?) other Digimon series before it, and part of the backlash it got was from not being as serialized as fans expected it to be. This isn’t exactly true. From episode 16 (Eyesmon) to episode 24 (DoneDevimon), this series was as serialized as any other Digimon series has ever been, with nonstop escalation that demanded you keep watching it week after week. Then, from 25 to 35 (Angewomon) or 36 (BlitzGreymon), it pulled slightly back from that never-ending escalation, but was still pretty serialized. It was only afterwards that it became heavily episodic, and by that point it wasn’t expectations set up by previous series that hurt it in the eyes of the fandom, it was expectations set by this series itself in its first half.

Not that the episodes themselves were bad. Honestly, I found myself significantly more entertained by the episodic later half of the series than the serialized first half. Maybe it was because they didn’t feel the need to convince me they were the most exciting, tense thing I had ever seen when they were clearly not (hello, Mamemon episode), or maybe it was that there were more than just endless fights to them, but I normally ended up those episodes entertained and satisfied, whereas with a lot of episodes from Eyesmon to BlitzGreymon, I mostly just felt frustrated after watching them. I agree with the criticism that, when seen as a whole, breaking momentum so hard for so long after months of never-ending escalation wasn’t the right choice, but when seen week after week, I can’t see this change of approach as that bad of a thing.

Conclusion

I think that sums up the series for me. On a weekly basis, it’s pretty entertaining. It’s when seen as a whole that the problems really become clear. There’s been some speculation in the past few weeks of how much the current situation in the world might have impacted the series, but ultimately, I have to judge what actually happened, and I can’t help the impression that this series ultimately left me with nothing of substance after it was all said and done. Like, I enjoyed this more than, say, Appli Monsters, but Appli Monsters have things that stick with you after it’s over. Not so much here, unless you’re a hardcore fan that loves the Omegamon lore this added (which I am, btw; love that Omegamon lore). I don’t think I can recommend this series to anyone who isn’t a hardcore Digimon fan, or at least a hardcore fan of the wider “monster” genre.

One thing I’m grateful to this series for, though, it’s the commercial boost it has given the rest of the franchise. I’m not going to credit it for all the successes it currently has, after all the Card Game would have fell off by now if it wasn’t genuinely well-done and the Vital Bracelet happened because of years of the virtual pet division progressively building up its audience after it had nearly died off, but it’s undeniable they wouldn’t have sold as well without this anime advertising the franchise week after week. Next week, we’ll have the first episode of Digimon Ghost Game, the first time since 2001 that we have a Digimon series being immediately succeeded by another. If that isn’t a sign of how well the franchise is doing right now, I don’t know what is.

Favorite Episodes: 1 (Tokyo Digital Crisis), 6 (The Targeted Kingdom), 12 (Lilimon Blooms), 20 (The Seventh One Awakens), 32 (Soaring Hope), 42 (King of Inventors, Gerbemon), 49 (The God of Evil Descends, Millenniummon), 56 (The Gold Wolf of the Crescent Moon), 58 (Hikari, New Life)

#digimon #Digimon Adventure:#Digimon Adventure 2020

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

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Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?”

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

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4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou

1K notes · View notes

thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Note

hello mel i Love You

HELLO DIL I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE!!!

You had me SCREAMING! Criminal genius/Detective Annabeth is my new hyper fixation, I fucking swear T_T

My brain went OVERBOARD with this! It’s super long! Please enjoy!!

(I’ve withheld this story due to the current political climate and I still feel sorta a way. But if reading about the p*lice triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I wholeheartedly understand if you want to skip this one. Also... the story has some... a little bit of heat in it. Not much, it’s SFW. But it’s there <.<)

And: law enforcement, medical and science side of the pjo fandom, I doubt that this will make any sense :D

Also thanks again Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!!

The Golden Age (WC: 9,5k)

“Absolutely not,” Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.

“We need his statement, Chase,” said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. “It’s his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he’s operating from prison again or someone’s copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!”

“Even so, we’re busy with the robberies in Chelsea.” Annabeth didn’t want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.

“Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don’t have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That’s an order,” Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.

“Don’t you think we haven’t tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars,” Beckendorf explained.

Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.

“When will I speak with him?” she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.

“In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files,” Dougenis said.

Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.

He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn’t hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.

“You’ll be fine in there?” asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.

Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth’s eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.

“Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You’ve managed roughly a third so far.” Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.

“Annabeth, you know me,” Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. “Call me Percy,” he winked.

Her neck felt hot. “It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.

“Okay, Detective Chase.” How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?

“The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that.” And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:

Make Perseus Jackson sing.

“I need information.” Annabeth’s mouth was pressed to a thin line.

“Straight to the point, Detective, huh?” The attractive man leaned forward. “And what information do I supposedly have?”

“Your family never stopped your business,” Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.

“Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you’re behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone.” She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.

“Oh?” Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.

“I’m pretty sure that I don’t have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you’ve been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective,” he then smiled.

Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.

ii.

Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn’t make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.

He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people’s lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:

Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.

Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.

Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.

All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn’t do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.

Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy’s being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.

“And?” Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.

“Poseidon is willing to speak to you,” her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.

“Okay.”

“Only you. Not anyone else. I’ll drive you.” Annabeth nodded.

The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl’s lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.

Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn’t have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.

Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. “Ah!” he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.

“Detective Chase!” Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.

“What can I do for you?” he asked friendly.

“More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?” Annabeth smiled.

Poseidon laughed. “Which one? I have many.”

Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.

Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.

“The youngest,” Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.

“Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?” Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.

“Sorry, confidential,” Annabeth deflected and pouted.

“Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-” Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. “My son isn’t here.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call.”

She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. “Of course, I will Miss Chase.” Another friendly smile.

The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.

“Thank you, Drew!” he said before pressing a number into the small device.

“Yes?” asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.

“Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?” The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.

“What?” Now he was wide awake.

“I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud,” complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.

“I will take care of it.”

“Yes, you will.”

The line was dead.

And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn’t drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.

“See you tomorrow!” said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.

“See you!” Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.

“Great.” Her steps got faster.

Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn’t realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.

“What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?” His friend nodded.

“Have you eaten something?” The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind something to snack on,” she confessed.

Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” asked Grover and looked to the door.

“Whiskey. Double.” A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.

Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.

Perseus looked… good. Good didn’t even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father’s. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.

“A little bird told me you were looking for me,” he winked.

Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren’t her lungs functioning normally?

Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?

“Your father,” she commented.

The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.

“Do you mind?” the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?

“I usually don’t smoke,” he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?

“And you do now because…?” The interest was honest.

“I only smoke when I’m having a good drink-” He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. “And am sitting next to a beautiful woman,” Perseus winked.

Annabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.

“So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth.” The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.

“It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy. Kinky. I like it,” he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.

Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. “Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right.”

“Grover, shut up!” she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.

“Now I’m interested.” He tapped some of the ashes off.

“You really want to know the details of her love life?” Grover asked.

“Oh, I definitely bite,” Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.

“Could we come to the more pressing matters?” the woman groaned.

“Sure,” Jackson shrugged.

He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.

“I need information.” Chase cutting the chase.

Percy smiled. “Everything comes at a price.”

The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.

As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.

What’s worse? Being wrong or being crazy?

iii.

“I’m pretty sure you got the wrong person,” Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. “I know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got the right person,” Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.

“You’re the key. You were the blueprint and now someone’s running off with your legacy. And you’re more than okay with that?!”

“Mmhh,” Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn’t lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth’s eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.

“Are you fucking serious, Jackson?” she spat.

The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. “It stinks in here,” he sighed.

Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.

“No,” she whispered.

His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.

iv.

“Is this really necessary?” Annabeth questioned Beckendorf’s decision behind his back.

A visit to an art gallery. Perseus Jackson decided to become visible to the public eye all of a sudden and started to work as an art collector and conservator. He had meetings with clients, he had visitors in his studio and seemed to actually use his degree for something. Whether it was for the good or not was a matter of perspective. The criminal went to the gym daily; he even bought his own fucking groceries. Observing him had been nerve wrecking. Especially since probably he knew that he was being watched and therefore enjoyed every second of Annabeth’s annoyance. The detective felt like a true voyeur. He hadn’t done anything suspicious unless being a little piece of shit counted. Jackson didn’t separate his waste for an instance. Prick.

When Luke told her that Jackson had planned the opening of a gallery and proposed that they should go, the blonde almost laughed. A public event where no invitation was needed. A ballsy move. It seemed like Jackson really gave no fucks. Unfortunately, Beckendorf caught wind of it and now she was forced to go.

“I’m afraid so,” Luke said as he rubbed his temples. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with Annabeth. She was an opponent that just maimed you with arguments.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” her colleague asked. “You wanted to find Jackson the entire time. You’ve worked for years on this and now you’re basically backpedaling. This is so not you.”

For better or for worse, Annabeth didn’t talk about Luke with her meeting with Jackson at The Grove. Something told her that she should hold onto the information.

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling I guess,” she confessed. Annabeth didn’t know what would happen once Jackson was aware of her presence. And he would definitely see her.

“You’re not alone.” Luke patted her shoulder. “Grace, Beauregard and hell even that di Angelo informant guy said they would be present. Jackson must have pulled a big gig if even the Italians are interested in his shitty joint. Nothing will happen to you.”

I’m not so sure about that, Annabeth thought, but the only thing she did was nod.

A month had passed, and the day of the gallery opening was finally there. Annabeth stood in front of the building where soft string music could be heard from the outside and guests flooded in. Annabeth saw how undercover cop Jason Grace entered. He quickly glanced in her direction but turned around. Annabeth understood; he was a valuable asset who could not let his cover get blown over.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curves tightly and the high heels that she chose made the detective regret every life decision that led up to that exact moment. Her soles would be burning the next day and it wasn’t like in the movies. An attempt to run in those things would be a one-way ticket to the ER. The wire in the dress didn’t make the discomfort any better.

“Chase, everything's fine?” asked Beckendorf in her ear. Of course, she had been bugged.

“Yes, everything is good. I’m moving,” she said.

Annabeth mingled with the crowd and entered. The blonde actually stood in awe and registered all the modern pieces. Pop art, minimal art, abstract expressionism, all sorts of different post-modern works that fought for space but harmonized wonderfully together in the rooms. How the fuck was that criminal scum be able to display works from Andy Warhol, Helen Frankenthaler or Jackson Pollock?

They had to be either stolen, bought for a large sum, rented, which was not the style of the Greek syndicate or, something that was Jackson’s supposed specialty, be forged. A waiter offered her champagne which she politely declined. As much as Annabeth would love to cloud her mind, she could not afford it on that evening. She had to look out for Jackson. The blonde made her first round at a slow speed.

“Can you see him yet?”

“No, not yet. Oh, there he is! With Chiara Benvenuti!” A known mafia bride. Chiara was surrounded by her bodyguards like always as she pointed towards a picture.

“Good,” Beckendorf breathed into her ear. “Perhaps we can finally raid this place.”

The painting was an abstract piece with lots of red elements. Blood that was spilled on the dance floor. Something fitting for a coldhearted villain.

“Of course, painting it was a task, but I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Annabeth heard Jackson say. The way Benvenuti laughed made her rage. Jackson joining her, didn’t make it any better. The fact that Benvenuti stared at his tanned chest as he had left some of the buttons of his shirt open, pissed the detective even more off.

Jackson’s sea green eyes shifted to the right and caught her staring at him. A pleased expression rested on his face and the smile could almost be considered to be honest. Embarrassed, Annabeth turned around and immediately left the corner. Fuck that mission. Fuck everything. Fuck that man in particular and the uneasy feeling that rested inside her heart. She saw Luke mingling with two people in black suits, they looked like they would fit the description of some of the Golden Age’s lackeys. Luke was irritated but there was no time for explanation. Annabeth needed alcohol, she needed it badly.

“Chase, what’s going on dammit?” hissed Beckendorf as he heard her frantic steps. She was glad he was unable to see her in that pathetic state.

“Nothing,” Annabeth lied. “Don’t want to blow cover.”

Fortunately, another waitress was making her rounds and Annabeth grabbed a glass which she nearly inhaled. She was wandering through the gallery and tried to figure out her next steps. Too little, too late.

“You left me waiting. Good evening, Detective.”

Annabeth almost let the glass fall as she heard his deep voice behind her and felt his large hand around her waist. A scent of musk and fresh sea breeze crawled into her nose. The grip wasn’t extremely tight, but it was clear that Perseus Jackson had no intention of letting her go.

“Fuck!” hissed Beckendorf into her ear. It was too early to storm the place. They had nothing in their hands against Jackson.

“You have quite the collection,” Annabeth complimented him.

“Thank you, love.” She punished him with a sour look that made his grin only widen.

“Interested in buying?”

“If it’s real perhaps.”

“Oh, my dear Annabeth, everything is real.” The warmth of his hand spread throughout her entire body. Her glass was empty, and he gave it to one of the lackeys.

“Mister Olympianidikis,” the boy nodded and ran off with it immediately. Oh, the power of someone in the higher hierarchical position of a crime syndicate.

Jackson accompanied her through the gallery and showed her his favorite pieces.

Annabeth could picture Beckendorf walking up and down in the small van, nearly losing his shit at the man babbling about oil colors or frameworks that he or other painters used. Jackson was hindering them on purpose. Something was going on.

“There’s something I want to show you. Follow me.” He took her hand and walked to a hidden niche. Jason Grace who stood in the corner and spoke to a woman eyed them with suspicion.

A white door was there with the words Emergency Exit engraved on it. A cold and naked hallway was in front of them. Lights were off and the moon was the only orb that illuminated the place. They were alone.

“And what are you supposed to show-” Jackson cut her off. With a brutal kiss.

A spark that set the entire place in flames. Annabeth did the one thing she was not supposed to: not use her intelligence. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. Their lips fought a battle against their lungs, and they dived into each other again and again. Taste. That was all they thought.

Percy pulled away from Annabeth. She was beautiful. Her citric smell was divine. The delicate updo was no more. The lipstick was smeared. Her lips trembled and there was something else written in her eyes. Lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. A wild look was on his face. He kissed her again. He held her close to his body and pressed her against the wall.

Annabeth felt how one of his hands slid underneath the dress. Did Annabeth exchange the boy shorts for a thong in the last minute? Yes, she did. Did she regret that decision? No, she did not. But his hands had a different goal in mind. The yanking made her shriek into his mouth. A solid welcome for his tongue. The wire underneath her dress was no more. Only then did he place his tight grip on her ass.

Oh, two can play this game Annabeth thought and grabbed the wire that stuck out of his collar.

“Guess that no one’s listening in on us anymore,” Percy commentated.

“It seems like it,” Annabeth agreed. A calm before the storm. A storm that broke loose as they kissed each other again. Percy’s lips wandered.

“Who told you to waltz in this place with this fucking dress?” He claimed her neck with kisses. His beard tickled her. “You look perfect!”

Annabeth wished she could retaliate the compliment. Percy looked fairly handsome in the beige suit, but her brain was short circuiting and only focused on not moaning too loudly and enjoying the feeling of being pressed against him. The probability of her colleagues rushing in that compromising situation was way too high.

Percy broke the kiss off for good. He made a move towards the staircase. A foot was set to the lower step. “Come with me!” His hands reached out for her.

Annabeth was panting. Heart or sanity who would win? Annabeth made one decision that would seal her fate forever. She took his hand and the unlikely pair fled out of the building.

As soon as they opened the backdoor, Annabeth heard a frantic scream for her name. There was no turning back now. A black car was waiting for them in the hidden alley. It looked like Castellan didn’t do his homework properly and had received the wrong plans of the building to study.

Percy held the door open for her and she slipped into the limousine. Percy followed. “Leo!” he barked. The vehicle moved with screeching tires and drove through a garage which led to a tunnel that Annabeth had never seen. She stopped paying attention to it as Percy claimed her lips yet again.

The car ride was a blurry memory. They entered another garage which was when the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” announced the chauffeur.

Percy nodded to the front and then exited the car. He reached out for Annabeth and helped her out of the car. “Where are we?” she asked as they entered an elevator.

Percy pressed a key card against the board. “My home.”

There was no time left for sightseeing. They immediately entered the bedroom. His jacket was tossed aside, her dress slid to the floor. Both of them fell to the bed. Both of them never wanted to leave the bed.

Annabeth woke up to the wonderful smell of coffee. Her eyes fluttered and the memories hit her. The wonderful night she had shared with a wanted criminal. Her naked body was wrapped in satin sheets. The blonde sat up. Her pale body was sore and ached but in the best way. She didn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone; work had been way too busy. She didn’t want to remember. What Perseus Jackson did to her would be fairly impossible to top.

Said Perseus Jackson entered the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and two mugs. Oh yes, he did enjoy his daily workouts. “Morning,” he smiled.

“Morning,” she replied and thanked him for the cup. A delicious aroma took over the room. Annabeth took a sip.

“Mmhh,” she delightfully sighed. Two pumps of hazelnut and heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

“Yes, I did do my homework,” he laughed and drank his tea. “You aren’t the only people that study others. Was seeing me work out at least fun?”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Annabeth blushed. He laughed.

The cop finished her cup and Percy put it on a nightstand. “And what do you want to do now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s coming to my mind.” His light eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. Annabeth pushed the blanket aside, revealing her perfect self.

“That insatiable?” she laughed but didn’t receive an answer as she felt his lips on hers again. Her hand went on to grasp his black curls.

“Very,” he said as his hands roamed over her very naked body.

Putting the blue dress on again felt wrong. Percy wouldn’t have minded for Annabeth to stay the entire day at his apartment, but he knew she had a point when she said that her colleagues would searchthe entire city for her. Turning brick by brick if they must.

“I honestly can’t come up with a good excuse for my boss. You didn’t think this through.” Annabeth wandered through the modern apartment. It was bathed in light and had window fronts that showed her the entirety of Manhattan and the green of the Central Park. A dream apartment. The Golden Age had money, no doubt in that.

“Well… I actually have an idea,” Percy started. Annabeth turned to him with one cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like I won’t like it,” she predicted.

He opened a cabinet and showed her the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well as you’ve said. I didn’t think it through,” he shrugged with a goofy grin. It made him look adorable. Stop Annabeth. No time for that. Percy grabbed a cloth as well.

“Let’s just say that I never had the honor of being treated that way,” Annabeth muttered. But she agreed with him. It would make the lies that were about to come out of her mouth easier.

Percy kissed Annabeth one last time and brushed a lock out of her beautiful face. “Sweet dreams, Annabeth,” he wished her.

Then he pressed the drenched cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she was embraced by darkness. Annabeth slumped down but Percy caught her.

Four hours later, Luke Castellan and Jason Grace made their way to Annabeth’s apartment, looking for possible clues. Both of them were fucking pissed. At Jackson, at Annabeth, at the entire fucking operation. The police force was frantically looking for her. They got Paris Olympianidikis for kidnapping at least. If they would catch him.

Luke had a key to Annabeth’s apartment because they were close friends. Annabeth had actually defied orders, nearly ruined a mission and drove him to the hospital as his wife gave birth three years ago. He had to find her. Not to make it even, but to know that his friend was safe.

“Look for anything useful,” Luke commanded. Jason nodded.

Luke entered the living room and Jason worked through the bathroom which was followed by the bedroom. He nearly slipped to the floor.

And there she was, sleeping like a princess.

“Annabeth?! Annabeth! Luke, she’s here!”

The next thing Annabeth remembered was waking up in the hospital. She knew that everyone was pissed at her. But Castellan had defended her for the stupid act of following a criminal to nowhere. Jason had seen where they left, and Annabeth thought the Sergeant could hear important information. Who would have guessed that the wiring would be cut off?

Examinations. DNA samples were taken to get a hold of Jackson. Questions. So many questions. A knock. Yet another person that wanted to annoy her. “Yes?” Annabeth sighed.

“Annabeth,” Beckendorf entered the hospital room. Annabeth felt patronized but of course her hands were tied. She refused to speak with her boss about a certain criminal. She covered up the truth and enjoyed living her life in lies. The young detective had no family who anyone could call. That made Beckendorf extremely worried about her.

The tall man took a seat next to her bed. “I’m not here to tear you apart, pretty sure Captain Dougenis had the pleasure.” Yes, he had. “I want to hear from you what happened.”

The blonde retold her vision of events. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was a trap. I can’t remember how I ended up in my apartment.” Annabeth spoke a little truth in her web of lies.

“The way our connection cut off as soon as you left the exhibition… I thought it was static. Then you were gone.” Oh no, he heard us making out Annabeth thought. She tried to suppress the panic that was bubbling up in her and was glad that Percy had discarded the wires. The technicians at the police department would have immediately figured out that there had been no static. She remembered almost everything. The staircases. The car. The apartment. The way he felt between her legs. The way she straddled him. The way he grabbed her throat. The pleasures and the cries.

Beckendorf looked deeply into her eyes. He knew that she had something to hide but was wise enough not to ask. The old man was one of the few people that blindly trusted her instincts in the department.

“Okay,” was all that he said. “I’m trusting your judgement.” She nodded. He was a kind soul.

“Take the next week off. You need the rest.” Beckendorf stood up.

Percy saw how her delicate fingers grabbed the folder and closed it. The shiny object fell into his vision.

“I like your ring.” His sea green eyes shot up to her face. He saw a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered and played with the small white band.

“Someone very important gave it to me a long time ago. Someone dear to my heart.”

He blinked twice. She blinked twice.

A devilish smirk rested on his face.

vi.

Their affair lasted an entire year. The fact that it came to an end was saddening. But it was predictable. Star-crossed lovers from two entirely different universes that weren’t meant to be. Otherwise the balance of both of their worlds would crash, burn, and fall.

Annabeth had insight into the police work and Percy had insight into the Golden Age. That was the sole reason they barely saw each other in a work related context. They actually managed to live a fairly happy life outside of the working hours. They went on secret dates, they visited museums after they had been closed and reopened only for the powerful son of Poseidon, they watched movies together, they even flew out to visit his Hawaiian mother Sally who adored Annabeth. And the sex was amazing. A welcoming bonus. Both felt happiness for the very first time. Both felt love for the very first time.

The secret studio in his art gallery was one of the few places where they could be free.

“And here’s the Mona Lisa,” Percy grabbed the painting out of the box. He showed Annabeth some of his latest pieces that were part of his collection or creations. Real paintings and forged ones.

“Wow, that looks so real. An incredible copy.” Annabeth had visited France in her college days.

“The thing that’s hanging in the Louvre?” he winked.

“Tell me you’re joking.” The corners of his lips pointing up was all she got.

Annabeth laid next to him a week later. They were inside of her shitty apartment. Percy had surprised her because of course he could cook as well. To the question “Is there something you can’t do?” Percy only answered, “Change a tire and board planes because I hate heights.”

He might have been joking, he might have been serious. Annabeth did not care. She had returned from yet another demanding shift. This time her task force had hunted down one of Zeus’ kids. Aristidis also known as Ares. Despite being in his late 40s he was an annoying little piece of shit. The fat fuck tried to sell child slaves on the dark web and barely managed to escape them.

As Annabeth had entered her apartment, she was greeted by the delicious smell of parmesan that melted over fresh pasta. Seeing houseman Percy cook was not only a picture for the gods but something she could get used to. Annabeth placed her bag on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to greet Percy with a kiss. A passionate kiss.

“Aren’t-” kiss. “You-” kiss. “Hungry?” he asked between their kisses.

“Well, I think we can eat later.”

“Grover is right, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to food,” he joked. The Grove was another spot for them together. Once the customers left, the three would sit together and joke. Mostly at Annabeth’s expense.

Annabeth pouted and then kissed him again. The only thing that broke her silence was her stomach grumbling.

Percy broke off from her with a roaring laughter. “Eat first. Then we can come to the more fun activities.”

Annabeth pouted but Percy unfortunately had a point.

Now she was fighting against falling asleep as she laid on his chest and he played with her hair. He inhaled her smell. Raindrops were racing on the window as gravity pulled them down. The shower on the outside calmed them. “There’s a good reason why you never found me. Why no one found me,” Percy started.

Her tiredness was gone. Curiosity won. “The fact that my father uses me as his master forger is abundantly clear, right?”

Annabeth nodded. They didn’t talk much about his business ventures in the Golden Age, but she had pieced large chunks of the puzzle together.

“I want to leave my family,” he confessed.

“What?” That came as a surprise to Annabeth. Percy seemed fairly content with his life in the family business. He joked about it and enjoyed the high standards of life that came with the fruits. Then again, Annabeth had seen the dark shadows that followed the Golden Age everywhere they went. Blood, bodies, chaos, destruction.

“A rule that my father engraved into my brain was to be invisible. Live like there’s no tomorrow, but don’t forget to clean the remains of yesterday. The day me and my cousin Ethan were caught shoplifting seventeen years ago changed me. It changed us all. We were so naive, and felt so invincible. For normal parents that would have been a tirade and grounding. Our parents think differently. For Ethan, whose idea it was to begin with, it cost him his eye.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. The cruelty of parents. The fact that the Golden Age had no problem with hunting their own down was still sickening to her.

“It didn’t matter. Four months in and he had been shot by the Russians, the Bratva. Nearly started an entire fucking war,” he sighed.

“Percy, that’s horrible.” Annabeth tried to see if there was any emotion left in his eyes. There was none. His eyes were dull from the wars he had seen. Percy was blind and used to the cruelty of the survival of the fittest.

“Annabeth, I’ve witnessed my first murder as a thirteen-year-old. At least I haven’t pulled the trigger myself yet. Not in a deadly way.” He stared at the white ceiling.

Her heart broke for the boy that lost his honest smile. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” Percy hugged her tightly. “I want to be free. Die as a free man. Live in the sunlight and not in the shadows. Not in fear of getting gunned down by a crazy family member. My father spoke with my uncles. They gave me an impossible task. Once I solve it, I’m a free man.”

“Who are you? John Wick?” she joked. She wasn’t in the mood for cracking stupid jokes, but she had to uplift the situation or else the mental image of Percy losing his innocence as a child would forever haunt her.

“That guy is amazing; I’m not going to lie.” Percy managed to crack a crooked smile.

“And the task?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded a smoke. “It stinks in here, the three of them had said. ”He turned to Annabeth. “There’s a rat.”

A rat? she thought. “Someone that betrays my family. They mix up our business and create chaos from within as if they want us to implode. I have to find and either obtain or eliminate them.”

Someone that betrayed the Golden Age? Whoever they were, they were crazy and suicidal.

“And what do you want to do once you’re free?”

“Move to Hawaii. Be reunited with my mother again. Find a woman,” he looked at her and grinned. “Marry her, pop out a kid or three. Be an artist.”

Silence. Annabeth was speechless. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that and being a part of that,” she whispered.

Percy only kissed her.

Another month later. The fact that Percy disappeared around her birthday upset her, but that was life. He had been in Los Angeles for a gig. Which gig exactly she did not ask. Was it a legal gig? Highly debatable. It had something to do with the rat. That was all that he told her.

A small package got sent to her and she was curious to see what it was. No sender. Carefully she opened it. A small ring box was in there. Tiffany’s & Co.

A card was attached to the box. Happy Birthday, Princess – P.

“Oh no…” Annabeth opened the little box. The ring had a small silver band that was covered in small diamonds. Her jaw dropped. The ring was beautiful. And it was meant to be for her?

Annabeth put it on. It sat perfectly on her ring finger. Annabeth looked at the box again. It had a code on it. The detective grabbed her phone and searched for the ring.

“WHAT THE-”

Perseus had spent fifteen thousand dollars for that little piece of jewelry.

“No…” she cried. How could he have spent so much money on her?

Annabeth ran into her bathroom and shoved a loose tile aside. She used that little space to hide something. That something was the burner phone that Percy had given her so that they could always stay in contact. Annabeth called him.

“And?” he asked.

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” she yelled.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Why? Don’t you like the ring?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I love it. We have to talk about the price.” Her left hand already played with the beautiful ring.

“Why? Do you want a more expensive one? Let me know which one, I’ll buy it,” he stated.

“What?! No! You’ve spent way too much on that ring! I can’t accept this!”

Percy laughed. “You can and you will. It is my gift for you. Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

Annabeth wanted to scream. Denying his gift felt so wrong, but it was the right choice she made.

“Once you’re here we’re going to have a talk. We have to return this!”

Annabeth could practically hear how he shook his head. “You’re going to like the ring and you’re going to keep it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Annabeth accepted her fate and waited until the days of solitude would be over. Until she was reunited with her Percy again.

The year had passed. Then it happened. The day Paris Olympianidikis would fall.

vii.

“Cooperate with me, Jackson,” Annabeth sounded soft. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“Cooperate and we can make a deal. Better conditions in prison, a reduced sentence perhaps and-”

“I want out,” he boldly stated.

Annabeth stared at him blankly. “Pardon me?”

“You said cooperate and we can make a deal. That’s my end of the line.” Jackson leaned back into his chair again.

Annabeth was speechless. He had beaten her with her own game. She closed her eyes for a second before focusing on him again. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked as he loved to hear that answer. Then she remembered what he had said.

“You said it stinks in here?” she repeated. Annabeth eyed him suspiciously.

“Yes, Detective,” he truthfully answered.

“What does it smell like?”

“Colors, Detective.”

“Why?”

“You should be able to see it for yourself.” He scratched his temples.

viii.

They got him. They didn’t get him with drugs or anything else that would give him a long sentence. But they got him with one of his forges. The good old Al Capone method. If you don’t get him with the big guns, try to stick to the petty crimes. Criminals get sloppy. Especially criminals that do way too much in too many places. The meeting was over, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Annabeth.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Hell, Annabeth. You’ve spent more than three years on this case.” asked Travis Stoll.

“It’s just…unbelievable. The fact that everything comes to an end. Goal completed and all,” she smiled sadly.

Annabeth dreaded her seeing Percy again. He was waiting in her apartment and probably preparing food for them. The sight of her apartment complex made her heart sink. Where once was joy, ruled depression.

“Annabeth, what happened?” Percy ran to the door as he saw her in her desolate state. The door closed and she told him what would happen in the next sixteen hours.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Percy just held her and hugged her tightly as the tears blinded her. He fought his own tears that threatened to rise. Their future, destroyed.

“It was bound to end like this,” he said. Sadness rested in his voice. But also, tranquility.

“No.” Annabeth shook her head and buried her face into his strong chest.

“Whatever happens. I’ll be fine. Most of the prisons and the judges are smeared.” He kissed her head.

“Of course, they are,” she laughed darkly. Knowing that he wouldn’t be subjected to fights in prison didn’t do much to calm her down. She’d rather have him next to her.

“Annabeth. I want you to arrest me.”

“No. Never.” She violently shook her head again and slapped his shoulder.

“I mean I’m already used to your cuffs, now’s the chance to make it official,” he grinned.

“Percy! Now is not the time to joke about our sex life.” They shared a laugh anyway.

“I have another wish. Move on, Annabeth. Live life to the fullest,” he whispered.

“Everything but that.” She refused to move on. How could she?

“Find an idiot, marry him, have kids and live happily with him. Do that for me. Please,” he continued.

“I want you to be that idiot,” she pressed and looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll wait for you.”

He kissed her. Don’t do this Annabeth. Don’t give me hope he thought.

The unlikely couple hugged each other tightly as they went to bed. One last time. It didn’t come to Annabeth as a surprise to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His side. His side was no more, it was only her side.

Perseus spent the night and morning hours in the art gallery. He had one final piece to finish. He drank and smoked and cursed. The bottle of cheap whiskey nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to catch it.

The oil painting was a self-portrait. An anchor to the last few moments of his life as a free man that hid in the shadows.

The task force broke into his gallery. He had a cigarette in his mouth and put the paintbrush down as his lover approached him. He had a sarcastic smile on his lips which vanished as he registered the pain in her eyes.

“Perseus Jackson, you are under arrest,” spoke Annabeth with a commanding tone.

She put him into cuffs and read him his rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court... A glance at the painting he had been working on ever since he left the apartment.

Annabeth knew immediately that it was them. Percy in the painting hugged her but their faces had been cut off. She saw the birthmarks on her back and the accuracy of how he portrayed his hands on her hip. Percy’s final act of love to her for all of them to see. Unfortunately, all of them were blind to it. All of them but Annabeth.

The moment she was at home she ran to the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Gush after gush came out of her. Her mouth felt sour and dry, the teeth hurt and had an ugly yellow color, the tears that blinded her ran towards her nose. “What have I done?” she cried and looked at her pathetic self in the bathroom mirror.

Judgement day came eight painful months later. The judge slammed the hammer and sealed his fate.

Twelve years. Twelve years was the sentence. Perseus lost his coolness for one second. Annabeth’s heart broke in two. Poseidon who sat on the other side of the room looked like he wanted to shoot the judge right then and here and Annabeth would have gladly joined him.

They were robbed of twelve years together. Percy was put into handcuffs. His sea green eyes searched through the ranks until they found her gray ones. He blinked twice. I love you. She blinked twice. I love you too. The police officers around her almost cheered.

They complimented her for the worst decision of her life. An act that had destroyed her life. Her lover was gone. And a free rat was still out there.

The trail of memories stopped. Annabeth knew that Luke was restless behind the one-way-mirror. The talk had stretched into eternity and gave little information to the hidden detective, but so much to Annabeth. Percy had been right. He was roaming freely in prison. He was able to talk with his family day in and day out. And most importantly. He knew of operations. And he knew of his own operations the best.

Finally. There was movement in the gallery. Whoever was decided to continue the work of Percy Jackson was stupid enough to revisit the place where it all began. The rat would be caught in a trap.

“NYPD PUT YOUR - no.” Annabeth had the gun pointed at him. But she couldn’t believe it. The rat. The rat that had cost her four years of their life.

“I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he sadly smiled. Then he pointed his gun at her.

A shot.

Annabeth had closed her eyes. The bullet didn’t hit her. It had hit him as Luke Castellan had fired a warning shot into the abdomen. The detectives moved to him.

“Call an ambulance!” yelled Annabeth to the cops that flooded the place. He laughed on the floor as he bled.

Jason Grace. Secret son of Zacharias Olympianidikis also known as Zeus. He not only wanted to act in revenge as Percy’s brother Sciron had killed his older sister Thalia. He wanted to spite him and take over his businesses as well. The money and the gold. The cars and fame. In his twisted mind he was able to run the syndicate and destroy it at the same time. It was over.

Annabeth saw as the ambulance drove off. Percy scratching his temples as an indication for the glasses and his talk about colors to point to the gallery would be his ticket to freedom. Hopefully.

ix.

It was the first time that Percy had seen the sun as a free man again. He left prison with the clothes he entered. The deal with the district attorney went smoothly although the old man would have rather wrung the half-Greek’s neck.

A black car drove up to the prison. Two people exited the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Sally and Poseidon hugged their free son tightly.

“You are stupid!” cried Sally. “Both of you!”

Father and son winced. That was Sally Jackson for them.

Quitting her job had been freeing. She had made the decision about half a year ago. Annabeth wanted to see something new. Experience something new. She was on the way to the small airport. The day was sunny and warm. A new day to start a new chapter in her life.

Annabeth arrived. “You can stop hiding, we aren’t being followed,” she laughed.

Percy yawned in the backseat. “I was sleeping,” he excused himself.

“Of course, you were.” She rolled her eyes and smiled into his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Her colleagues were upset, especially Luke, but it had to be. She had to quit for her own sanity. Beckendorf would check up on her and then see who she was with and connect the dots. But he would be wise enough not to contact her, not to rat her out. He would be happy about the fact that she had found love.

They would live with Sally and her little family for a while before they would buy their own house. The private jet that Zeus had given them would bring them to Hawaii undetected. A small sorry as the son of Zeus had caused a lot of trouble in the family. At least Jason was still alive.

Annabeth stopped the car and turned to Percy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she grinned. A delicate kiss was shared.

A golden age was truly upon them.

The End

Ummm... I... I think this might be a poppin feature fic? I have still many ideas and many things could be fleshed out...? Help?

BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SUGGESTION DIL OMFG ILY!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #mel's little cookout #percabeth #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #tw: police #tw: violence #mel writes #the golden age

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

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u know what. i will give u all the lore u want. i’m 18, will be 19 decently soon so we are close to the same age. also the other band was r5. i have sent u asks about them and tde in the past. i followed you for atl content and got whiplash when u started posting about the first band i ever loved. i was like 10 when their first album dropped i have been around for entirely too long. i had a wattpad account and wrote r5 fanfic from the tender age of like 11-13. i discovered 5sos i don’t even remember how but i think the funniest part about it is that i never really got into their music?? i got into them as people by watching like interviews and compilations. and i mean at this point that was a While ago. SPEAKING OF FANFIC i did that like ao3 year in review thing like a month ago??? and you were my top author of the year so far. i read a lot of fic on ao3. your fics are very lovely and some of my favs. moving on. will not lie my music taste is kinda embarrassing and has barely changed since i was like 14 lmfao. been listening to a lot of waterparks lately. have been since their album dropped in may. i essentially go through phases of listening to solely one artist. or one playlist i made. most recently my taste has consisted of a lot of all time low, waterparks, paramore + hayley’s solo music (it really had to grow on me BUT now that it has it is very good), also been on a nostalgic r5 kick as well. hot take it has been quite difficult for me to get into tde’s music and i don’t really know why. some songs i absolutely adore (omg plz don’t come around is my fav by them. also scared of heights, feel you now, welcome to the end of your life are top songs too) but others i’m just. i have never liked preacher man and it’s the first song they released after they rebranded in like 2017. i love to see them finally free to do what they love music-wise but some of it is just. hard to listen to. i’m supposed to see them live in november (like 4 days before my birthday, kinda cool) and it’s the second time the show has been rescheduled so hopefully it happens. i’ve seen them live before but not since they rebranded. they’re dropping an album in october that i will have like a month to learn so it better be a fucking banger. now i’m just rambling about tde because i love ross and rocky with my entire being. rydel is annoying these days tho. also she named her baby fucking SUPER what kind of name is that why would you do that to a child. anyways. you ever need useless random r5 lore, i’m the person to ask. it’s the effect of being around to like a band for like 8 years. in conclusion my music taste? terrible. a cluster fuck. i will listen to luke’s solo album next time i’m focusing on a task because i like listening to new music when i’m concentrating on something. there’s some other bella lore for the day. - other bella

OH ALSO yeah idk. i’m currently on mobile. when i looked at your blog on mobile the first time last night it was blue. but now it’s pink. i have yet to see it on desktop but when i do i am sure it will be equally as pretty. - other bella again

hell YES some other bella lore. let's dig in

oooooh how soon? whens your birthday? 👀👀👀

ahhh yes i do remember the r5 asks !!!! that was a fun little era of clumsyclifford content huh. dont worry i wrote 1d fic on wattpad from ages 11-13 as well sooo same hat. that is super funny tho actually that you never bothered to listen to their music u really were staying loyal to r5 good for you

ao3 year in review???????????? say more?????? what is this?????????? thats very flattering regardless omg im going to ask you what your favorites are because im a leo just kidding its because i crave validation and im curious what ones you read/have read. also thank you for reading my fics lol

oh yeah theres a new parx album!! i dont listen actively to them but i really like all the parx music i know. im scared to get really into them because im genuinely afraid to fall in love with awsten knight. like im not joking thats the reason. i have to listen to more of their music tho cos i really enjoy what i know so...if you have recs...👀 i'm listening

mm thats a good lineup of music to listen to!! paramore is another band i never got super into, i meant to and then i listened to all of riot and then i learned that hayley williams is like pretty christian and that a few paramore songs are more christian than i anticipated and now i'm like. on the fence about it all. but i wanna listen to after laughter i just havent gotten around to it yet. and i did like riot. i like paramore. i like dead horse by hayley, i didnt like the other single she released, and i didnt listen to her solo music because i didnt like the first single so im not sure if i would actually like it? i am accepting vibe checks in that category though i dont really know what kinda music it is. actually now that im thinking about it doesnt she have two albums now???? i feel like the answer is yes. anyway. moving on

that is very fair the thing abt the tde stuff is that it's all so interesting and so different from every other tde song like they really just do something unique in each song which i think is awesome but also makes it hard to like every song bc it's not like one universal vibe you kinda have to decide for each song if you're enjoying it or not. i do LOVEEEE tde though, im very jealous that you're seeing them perform. although i dont know why im not, just looked it up and theyre gonna be in new york on november 24th which is a sunday so i miiiight.....be able to go.......maybe...........their website says the 25th which is a monday so maybe i was under the impression the show was on a monday?? but the ticket site says sunday. 👀 we will just...have to see......what we see.............

ANYWAY

RIGHT im so excited for their album i was mistakenly thinking it was coming out the same night as luke's but it was just the new single which i really liked on a first listen but have to listen to again cos ive only heard it the one time. but i hope it fucks. they announced that the album is called girlfriend which personally i think is really fun so i have high hopes

SHE NAMED HER CHILD FUCKIN WHAT NOW???????????????

wait eight years thats a long time but also thats roughly how long ive been around 1d wtf........insane. madness. and in fairness probably roughly how long ive been around 5sos but i took a hiatus from both of those bands during high school so im not sure how much i can count all of those years. ive been around all time low for six years though, that's pretty good. anywayyyy i hope you like luke's album but no pressure man listen whenever you feel like it. LOVE YOU

#whew #we got through it #we did it boys #guys my friend is picking me up at TEN in the morning tomorrow #we're going out on a day road trip #going to her aunt's farm to meet some goats #etc #it's gonna be really fun we're just gonna listen to taylor swift and atl i'm really looking forward to it #but also tho.....i will have to be up and ready to go at TENNNNNNN #thats a horrible time #i mean like #better than camp time but still ugh #early #she said 9:20-9:30 and i was like omg thats. so early #ask #anonymous #cubs anon

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calumcest · 4 years

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hello i don't have time to answer your messages today bc i have to go watch umbrella academy with my dad now i'm very sorry but i heard soulmate au drabbles & i need them. i miss luke being bitchy so much it's insane (not that i'm not loving all the britpop content but soulmate lashton are my life) okay so i can't decide between 'it's freezing in here' & 'i don't want to talk about it' so please write whatever you want with either of those just please make it soulmate lashton -spoiler twin

omg i hope u enjoyed umbrella academy! also dont worry about it omg no stress get to it when u get to it theres never any pressure from me god knows itd be hypocritical anyway given how terrible i am at responding to messages but i get it no pressure x

Of course, it stands to reason that the first time Clifford goes missing is while Luke’s in London with Ashton.

He’s not even sure how it happens. One minute Clifford’s in Luke’s line of vision, barking happily as he chases a squirrel and then changes his mind and chases his own tail instead, and then Ashton’s calling Luke, making Luke turn around on instinct, only to see Ashton tapping his watch to indicate they need to get going if they’re going to make it to their next interview with the researchers, and when he turns back, Clifford’s gone.

It doesn’t immediately register, because Clifford bounds about like a fucking madman anyway, so Luke just searches the area a little lazily, eyes flicking from tree to bush to path to tree, but when he’s covered about three-quarters of the patch of grass in front of them, he’s frowning, stepping forward as he twists left to right, panic rising in his chest as he realises shit, shit, Clifford’s not there.

“Shit,” he mutters, and looks over to the tree Clifford had been playing near, just in case he’d somehow managed to miss him, but the only dog there is a huge Samoyed ambling lazily around its base.

“Luke,” Ashton calls again, and Luke feels a sudden stab of anger so strong that it makes his vision blur, mixing with the panic to create a hot mixture of fury that tries to claw its way up his throat and onto his tongue. God, if Ashton hadn’t called his name just to tell him they need to leave, this wouldn’t have happened. He couldn’t’ve just fucking said Luke, we need to go like a normal person, could he? No, the fucking narcissist needed Luke to be looking at him, needed to be the centre of Luke’s attention. Fucking hell.

Luke grits his teeth as he jogs past the tree the Samoyed’s sniffing around, not even catching its attention as he passes, and looks wildly around the open, empty space on the other side. There’s a couple walking their Labrador to his left, three children playing football on his right, a mother exasperatedly dragging her screaming child away from a puddle he clearly wants to play in, but no tiny, yappy dog bounding around, chasing birds or squirrels or other dogs.

Shit.

He can’t have lost Clifford. He can’t have. Not in London, especially, thousands and thousands of miles from home and Michael and Calum with only Ashton for company. God, he’d rather be alone, he thinks, as he turns back around and looks back over at the tree a little desperately, like his memory of Clifford trotting around it will make him re-materialise there, somehow. It doesn’t, though, unless Clifford re-materialises as a huge, fluffy white dog, and Luke swears under his breath as his heart hammers in his chest, fists clenching and unclenching at his side as his gaze flits from left to right and back again, hazy around the edges with panic.

He doesn’t even know how to look for a missing dog. Posters, sure, but where? London’s huge, and Clifford could be fucking anywhere by now, full of endless energy and curiosity and an insatiable desire to explore streets he’s never been down before. He’s far too friendly for his own good, too, always yaps at Ashton’s feet in that way that means I want to be picked up right now and by you specifically, fuck the guy who buys me food and toys and cuddles me at night, and a vision of Clifford sat at someone else’s feet at dinner, blinking up at them beseechingly while they shovel chicken into their mouth hits Luke so hard it almost gives him whiplash, makes him swallow back bile.

What’s he going to say to Ashton? I lost my dog in the three seconds I looked away from him? Ashton’s had Spot for years, had Ralph and Evie before her, too, and he’s never lost any of his dogs. Luke’s going to look completely incompetent, fucking hell. It doesn’t matter, though, really, he tells himself - at least, not yet, won’t matter until Clifford’s back with him and safe again.

He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists again, inhales deeply and exhales heavily, trying to let the desire to throttle Ashton leave with the air in his lungs, and then marches stiffly back around the tree, rehearsing what he’s going to say to Ashton. You cunt, Clifford ran away while you were- no, too angry. Clifford’s run awa- no, too matter-of-fact, makes it sound like it’s a common occurrence. I need to find Clifford, maybe? That’s vague enough, isn’t it? Yeah, that’ll do; he can send Ashton off to the interview and let him make their excuses while he combs the park looking for Clifford. After all, it’s Ashton’s fucking fault Clifford’s got lost, isn’t it? The least the fucker can do is come up with an excuse for Luke’s absence.

Luke takes another deep breath, rounds the corner and plays the words over and over again in his head, trying to make sure they’re practiced enough to sound real, eyes searching for Ashton. He spots him waiting by the gate leading out of the park, looking aimlessly around as he stands lazily, shifting from foot to foot, arms at his side, dog between his legs-

Dog between his legs.

Clifford’s right there, nestled happily between Ashton’s legs, gazing aimlessly around the park with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging. He looks serene, that calm happiness that he usually only gets with Luke, and it makes Luke furious for some reason, makes him jog over to Ashton with an expression that makes Ashton frown at him as soon as he sees him coming.

“What?” Ashton asks, puzzled, brows drawn over hazel eyes. Luke swallows, trying not to think about the way Ashton’s lashes are casting tiny shadows on the smooth skin of his cheekbones. He still wants to throttle him.

“Nothing,” he says tightly, and yanks Clifford’s lead out of Ashton’s hand without so much as a thank you, relief flooding his veins so fast and hard that he barely even notices the way his fingers tingle as they make contact with Ashton’s skin.

“What happened?” Ashton sounds genuinely concerned, like maybe Luke had been mugged while he’d been running wildly around the field - Jesus, Luke thinks, with a tiny grimace; he must have looked fucking insane to Ashton.

“Nothing,” Luke snaps, and winds Clifford’s lead around his hand a few times, making sure he can’t stray further than a foot from Luke’s heels. Clifford glares up at him, like he knows what Luke’s doing and resents him for restricting his freedom, but doesn’t bark about it, which is something.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks, and his voice is a little softer now, tinged with the sort of gentle concern that Luke only ever hears from Calum to Michael. It makes Luke’s stomach lurch, somehow, the way he associates that tone with Calum and Michael, and he nods curtly, and looks away from Ashton.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke says, letting all the anger and frustration leak into his voice to hide the slight edge of fear, and Ashton bites his lip but nods, and steps away.

“Alright,” he says, and that’s it. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t nudge, he doesn’t wheedle, he doesn’t force it out of Luke, he just steps back, steps away, and respects Luke’s space. A wave of guilt washes over Luke at that - it hadn’t really been Ashton’s fault, had it? - but he stares steadfastly ahead of him as he reaches for the gate and pulls it open with a little more force than strictly necessary. Ashton lets him go through first, lets him tug on Clifford’s lead and pull him through too, before walking behind him, closing the gate and falling into step a metre or two away from Luke, giving him the space he needs.

They walk in silence for a while, Ashton ambling alongside Luke as he tries to focus on his ebbing anger, trying to dredge it back to the forefront of his heart so he won’t have to think about the guilt that’s quietly but insistently making a home in it. Loath though he is to admit it to himself, Luke has to concede that it wouldn’t have been Ashton’s fault if Clifford had run away. And it’s not Ashton’s fault that Clifford had run to him instead of Luke, that he’s happy and calm with him in the same way he is with Luke, but it doesn’t stop the tired anger spiking in Luke’s veins a little when he thinks about it, furious at the idea that Clifford could possibly like Ashton. But it’s not Ashton’s fault.

Luke doesn’t say anything, can’t bring himself to apologise for his bad mood and his unwarranted snappiness, but by the time they arrive at the interview, still not having spoken a word, he realises that the gap between himself and Ashton has narrowed to all of a few centimetres, his hand brushing against Ashton’s every so often as they walk, and he can’t remember whether it had been him or Ashton who had closed the gap.

(It doesn’t really matter, though, he realises with a jolt, because either way, he’d allowed it to happen.)

#lashton #soulmate au #is that my tag for it #no idea but it is now #drabbles #spoiler twin #again this is like a full on fic in its own right but we know what im like #Anonymous #helen answers

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frasier-crane-style · 4 years

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Again, Trank came to Slater with a skeleton idea: His Fantastic Four would be the opposite of every other franchise kickoff. “The end of the Fantastic Four was going to very organically set up the adventure and the weirdness and the fun. That would be the wish fulfillment of the sequel. Because obviously, the sequel would be, ‘OK, now we are [superpowered] forever and it’s weird and funny and there’s adventure lurking around every corner.’ But the first movie was going to basically be the filmic version of how I saw myself all the time: the metaphor of these characters crawling out of hell.”

Developing the script was a similar clamber. Slater was a badge-carrying nerd ready to convert comic book lore into bombastic, CG-ready set-pieces. Trank was the opposite, having seen a few episodes of the Fantastic Four cartoon from the mid-’90s and having a general distaste for comic book movies. “The first Avengers movie had recently come out, and I kept saying, ‘That should be our template, that’s what audiences want to see!” Slater said. “And Josh just fucking hated every second of it.”

“The trials of developing Fantastic Four had everything to do with tone,” Trank said. “You could take the most ‘comic booky’ things, as far as just names and faces and identities and backstories, and synthesize it into a tone. And the tone that [Slater] was interested in was not a tone that I felt I had anything in common with.”

In an effort to creatively engage his director by any means necessary, Slater loaded Trank up with comics from his personal collection — the greatest Doctor Doom stories, his favorite Ben Grimm moments — but nothing sparked. Trank was more interested in the early moments, digging into Reed Richards’ character development and traumatic arc. The screenwriting pair would try to find common ground, watching movies for inspiration. What was the Inception version of Fantastic Four? The Saving Private Ryan version? The Cronenberg body horror version? Once the team got its powers, that’s where it started losing Trank. Galactus, Annihilus, Herbie the Robot, time travel, multiple dimensions, old teams fighting young teams — everything was on the table, and any sequence or character could get tossed out at a moment’s notice. “It didn’t matter if they were fighting robots in Latveria or aliens in the Negative Zone or Mole Monsters in downtown Manhattan; Josh just did not give a shit.”

“I feel like I get Mole Man,” Trank said in his defense. “He’s angry and undermined by the system.”

[...] Trank faced immense pressure as he worked on the script, storyboards, previsualized set-pieces, and casting, and much of it was born from his own anxieties. The director came from behind with Chronicle, and was suddenly in charge of something that everyone expected to be a huge success. “That requires a degree of experience that we often underestimate,” one source close to the production said. Trank took bold swings where he could. Early on, he insisted to Fox that Chronicle star Michael B. Jordan was the guy to play Johnny Storm, a character traditionally depicted as white. “For the world I grew up in, a racially intense Los Angeles where we were used to seeing white superheroes, some of my friends who were black should have seen a black superhero [...] so I felt that while being in a position of power, I could change the system a little bit.” Miles Teller (Whiplash), Jamie Bell (Jumper), and Kate Mara (Shooter), as Johnny’s adopted sister, rounded out the cast.

So you want to make a movie about a black superhero and you hate Fantastic Four comics--naturally, that makes you the best choice to do a Fantastic Four movie.

ETA:

It didn’t help that throughout the making of Fantastic Four, Trank had a second job. A few months before production, Kinberg, who, on top of producing superhero movies for Fox, was a consultant at Lucasfilm, asked Trank if he wanted to make a Star Wars movie. Kinberg knew that Trank had met with Kiri Hart of the Lucasfilm story group after Chronicle, and now the company was interested in hearing his pitch for a spinoff movie.

At the time, Trank rented a house in Benedict Canyon just a few blocks from where George Lucas lived with his editor and wife Marcia Lucas when he wrote the first draft of Star Wars. With a few days to mull over Kinberg’s offer, Trank walked up to the Lucas house and basked in its glow. He called it one of the most surreal moments of his life. “The visions that I had in that moment were just out of this world,” he said. He walked back to his home with a three-act pitch for a Boba Fett movie.

Trank presented the idea to Hart, Lucasfilm president Kathleen Kennedy, and Disney chairman Alan Horn. Up until that point, only J.J. Abrams had been approved to play in the Star Wars sandbox, and granting permission for a filmmaker to forever impact the moneymaking mythos was a monthslong process. But the guy who made his name with a lightsaber-themed viral video came out the other end with a Star Wars movie deal.

The next June, in the middle of production on Fantastic Four, Lucasfilm announced the director as part of the family. “He is such an incredible talent and has a great imagination and sense of innovation,” Kennedy said. “That makes him perfectly suited to Star Wars.” Nearly a year later, Trank would bow out of the movie. “I quit because I knew I was going to be fired if I didn’t quit.”

Hearing how this guy is kinda a pretentious idiot with no friends, it makes a lot more sense that he’d get hired to make a Star Wars movie.

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gra-sonas · 4 years

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I dont know if its the same for every show but I find it so weird Vlamis saying that they the actors dont know how a scene will turn out because they shoot it so many different ways It kind of makes sense why alot of Interviews with this cast fully contradict what we see on screen they shoot it so many different ways they themselves dont know what the tone will be and what will be cut 😶 surely Carina should let them see a final edit before they talk i dont know how it works

TV shows these days have the (somewhat annoying) habit to cut back and forth multiple times and from multiple angles between characters when they’re talking. Which yes, nice for close-ups, but sometimes exhausting to watch because for the viewer it can feel like getting whiplash. (I’M OLD™, I STRUGGLE WITH THAT KIND OF SHIT :P)

That’s why they have to film scenes multiple times to get all the camera angles right (since there aren’t 3 or 4 cameras on set to record an entire scene all at once from various angles).

I would imagine that the actors usually come to the set with an idea how a scene’s supposed to go (having talked it through during the table read with writers and the director etc), but when it’s a complex or highly emotional scene, there’s probably still room for changes and adjustments. And sometimes they’re trying different things to see what works best. Like Vlamis mentioned in the Shipping Room Podcast interview, they filmed one version of his 2x05 monologue to Max where he ended up lying on Max’s chest, sobbing. That take didn’t make the cut, though.

We’ll probably never know how exactly that 2x06 scene came to pass, but from what I understand, any kind of sexual scenes are strictly choreographed, there’s no room for improv. And since they’re filming in an actual Airstream trailer, there isn’t much room to navigate with actors and the camera present, so things will get technical real fast (like where to put limbs, how to get up/sit down, who’s moving when etc.).

Now imagine they film several takes, multiple angles etc, it must’ve taken them hours to film it all. I don’t know how much of the intent of a scene is still on their minds while they’re filming yet another close-up from a different angle, and the director’s saying stuff like “put your left hand higher on his chest or it’s out of shot” (or something like that, I’m paraphrasing from having watched tons of behind the scenes footage from other productions).

Once they’ve finished filming all footage will be sent to and editor, and they’ll edit a rough cut which will then be sent to the people making the ultimate decision what will be put in the episode. I think in case of RNM it’s the episode’s director, but also CAM who makes those final decisions (she’s posted about watching rough cuts for episodes in her stories sometimes).

Apparently Heather got to see the final cut of the scene (she said so in this audio interview) with Carina present before the episode aired, and Heather loved it. Seems like for her the scene on screen was what she’d envisioned when they filmed it.

I don’t know whether the same is true for Tyler and Vlamis tho, and if they also got to see the episode before it aired.

#nonnie asks #rnm 2x06 #rnm speculation

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betaadmin · 5 years

Text

STEPS. “Do you speak Zemnian?”

The man’s shoulders tense, his eyebrows curve upwards and there’s the slightest tilt to his head. The floor can only be so interesting, after all. Now the wall… much more enticing.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” (tw torture, descriptions of violence)

The soldiers of the Aurora Watch surround the man like a swarm, whisk him away through the dark streets or Rosohna with the silence of a well-practiced exit. The Mighty Nein witness it all, following the prisoner to the dungeons on request of the Shadowhand.

It does not take long for Caleb Widogast to figure out why.

They’re just outside the entrance when Essek turns to face them, raising a hand to ask for silence and attention. He does a once over of the group, and then his gaze settles on the wizard, all sooty fingers and palms covered in components.

“You spoke of your ties with their inner circles, yes? And of your training. ” Caleb nods, with far less conviction than he should have. “I have something to ask of you. Come along, Caleb Widogast.”

There’s no waiting for a reply— Essek turns without making a sound, and glides his way through the heavy set doors of the Dungeon on Penance. Six of the Mighty Nein tentatively step forward, the epitomy of a not-so-well oiled machine after the events of the last couple days, but Caleb’s grip is tight on Nott’s hand and she ends up yanked backwards instead. He looks so conflicted that she thinks his eyebrows would fall off if he were to relax his expression.

“Nein, I—“ he clears his throat, “He asked for me alone, so I’ll… go alone. Let’s not test their patience.”

There’s a pensive hum from Fjord as Caleb walks past him, and grunt of acknowledgement from Beau, who leaves him with a be careful so quiet that he almost misses it, and then the door creaks and locks and he’s in here and they’re out there, and he can’t help but feel the coil tighten around his lungs as he wordlessly follows the guard that had so kindly been waiting for him.

It takes them 7 minutes to be allowed to the farthest section of the dungeon, passing through gates and doors where guards would inquire the human’s business, and Caleb would just straighten his back to shine light on the emblem on his chest and stride past without a word.

Essek is waiting for him in front of a door, tense and pensive, with an ear carefully turned to catch any whispers escaping the room— but it is dead quiet. The Shadowhand looks right through him, and Caleb knows, oh he knows what’s about to happen. Essek had shown Caleb how he worked his magic… and it was Caleb’s turn to return the favour.

They stand there in silence 1, 5, 10, 20 minutes, during which Caleb just breathes and counts, thinks about his friends outside who are hopefully on their way home already, as far away as possible from whatever was going to be asked of him. He fears he might not be able to comply. Not like this, not out of nowhere. Proving loyalties hadn’t ended so well for him last time.

There’s a thud from the room, and the metal door slides open and closes with a shriek. The drow man who steps out is a bundle of nerves, tense and frustrated with a jaw clenched so tightly that it might crack. He sharply turns to Essek, and hisses a curse.

“It’s like his head’s on lockdown. It’s not a spell, we’ve checked. The little insect doesn’t even react.”

Essek nods, waves the other man away as he turns to face Caleb.

“I was thinking perhaps you could shine some light on this… resilience of his.”

When he steps into the cold tiled room, the prisoner’s eyes are glued to the floor, to the particularly interesting spot between between his bare feet. He does not look up when Caleb walks around the room, the clack of the hard heels of boots pleasantly filling the air. The redhead hums in contemplation— he doesn’t need to try casting to know that magic is suppressed in this room. Charming someone… would not work. This really was a back to basics kind of challenge.

As he walks, Caleb takes his sweet time to think. The man’s hands are tightly bound, his lush coat and possession removed to leave him only in his shirt and breeches. His hair is light, curled in a pleasant wave that frames a face so fresh that it’s all roses and dewdrops— but he knows better. There’s a line of perpetual frown between the man’s brows, hands too soft and new to belong to anyone who gets their hands dirty, with fingernails filed too short for comfort.

It rings some bells.

Bells about etiquette in a place where presentation is half the fight to be acknowledged.

Another hum, this time followed by a drawn out sigh. The scrape of the other chair against the tiles is deafening in the quiet chamber, but Caleb sits as if he had no cares in the world. He foregoes Common without a second thought.

“Do you speak Zemnian?”

The man’s shoulders tense, his eyebrows curve upwards and there’s the slightest tilt to his head. The floor can only be so interesting, after all. Now the wall… much more enticing.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.”

His accent is thick in his Common, and it serves its purpose well— the prisoner’s eyes finally dart in Caleb’s direction, with the intent of stealing a passing glance at whatever krick spoke the tongue of the Zemni Fields, only to end up absolutely glued on the figure sitting in front of him instead.

In all his grimy glory, a human in faded breeches and a shirt so worn that it just could not have been white in the past, with a halo of frazzled copper hair that really needed a wash to complete the questionable contact look that Caleb was clearly, absolutely, obviously aiming for when he followed Essek into the dungeon 42 minutes ago.

They stay there for another while, and Caleb counts the seconds it takes for the prisoner to go back to the oh so interesting wall. He stands up at 382, and the eyes follow him.

He can’t help it, the disgustingly dreamy smile that comes with knowing he’s being watched, a predator circling its prey with the pressure of someone who’s got all the time in the world. He’s in no rush. He’s learning, and it takes him five walks around the chamber to finally catch something.

“You know, I’ve been wondering— why, instead of someone more seasoned, they sent… you? Such a fresh face… accomplished in your studies, I’m sure. They cherry pick with the utmost diligence back in Rexxentrum, after all. But still… so young.”

Caleb stands to the back of him, hands gingerly placed on his shoulders. He can feel the tension under his thumbs, every shift in his posture and every shuddering exhale. The man’s bindings look so terribly tight, don’t they?

It’s a reaction more than anything else, bending forward, and now his lips are against the shell of the prisoner’s ear and it’s as if he were back in the marble floored basement, sharing his own secrets with people who had just spilled everything in return.

“The ropes are like a breeze compared to the stitches, aren’t they.”

The man’s face visibly tilts upwards, and the clack of the boots as Caleb steps away does nothing to break the silent tension that emanates from the prisoner.

Caleb counts the steps he takes as he waits for any lingering doubts and questions to settle. It’s a long shot, or maybe it’s not a long shot at all, but he dreams about them too often to forget what your skin turns to when it’s stretched and etched with things that don’t belong.

“I know you’re good at this, I’m sure. He thinks so too, for you to be here.”

He circles back to the chair, and he sits down and sighs again, feels the weight of the man’s gaze on him.

Good, perfect, even— poor little prisoner, looking right at you inquirer as he rolls up his grimy sleeves, his icy glare catching your own inquisitive eyes that now widen with realization and fear.

And Caleb, Caleb smiles.

“I want you to know I’m good at this too.”

One hour later, the silence has upgraded to whimpers.

The captive’s hands are unbound, now, clasped tightly in his lap, poised and proper and tensing every time Caleb’s ghostly touch traces the clean faded scars. He has just finished recalling a particularly bad day, when a shard had buried so deep into his flesh that he had passed out from the pain as they tried to remove it.

“A real problem here is that there’s so much hassle with regenerating limbs. Has he ever asked you to rip yourself out of restraints?”

The whiplash of the bloody mental image paired with the feather-light touched on his skin make the man shudder, and he shoots another look in the hopes of catching something in Caleb’s face, something that would dispel the terrifying buildup of torture methods that have been relayed to him throughout the interview, in the hopes of washing them off as bluffing. Caleb just sighs in disappointment.

“Denial can only help you for so long, my friend. And it will make things so much worse, you know that. Come on. You know that.”

Caleb leans forward, and their foreheads touch. His voice is a whisper, intimate, laced with the kindness of someone you want to trust, because they will get you out of here if you just help them out first. A far away voice rings with laugher in the back of his head, and the crystal clear memory bubbles up in all its light hearted mockery.

Oh, Bren, you’re playing too nice today.

He welcomes it with a smile.

“Tell me. Do you remember a time when you were scared for your life? The strain as you tried to resist, do you remember?”

There’s just the slightest of nods in acknowledgement. Caleb takes it and rolls with it, unfolds his own fears in return for knowing the other’s. He feels his eyes sting with unshed tears, and he has to keep himself from grimacing— he hates how good he is at this.

“When I woke up and didn’t remember, I thought it was a blessing.”

The prisoner’s lips are shut in a tight thin line, and it would be so easy, so easy to just start snapping fingers to get them to open, but Caleb knows, Caleb knows it won’t work, that this is a matter of patience and exhaustion as he peels off the layers that keep this pawn grounded. In a different time, with the recklessness of youth, he wouldn’t have been so keen on waiting.

“Not remembering the pain is a privilege, makes the next challenges easier to face. It takes away the fear.”

His hands cup the man’s face, all kindness and empathy, with the slightest glimmer of hope in his glossy blue eyes as his shoulders slump with a wave of sadness, and gods forgive him, he loves how good he is at this.

“There’s no forgetting what I’ll do if you don’t start talking.”

#critical role #caleb widogast #critical role fanfiction #wrote this RIGHT after Scourgers Confirmed and since then...ive been thinking...caleb widogast Interrogate One PLE A SE #torture tw #like kinda???#vanni arts #again...unedited....just...wouldve remained unposted if not for Recent Events #djhfgdfjkhgd

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

Text

A Premonition of Love-Chapter 7

Hey Loves! Here is our chapter, just in time for @dirtystyles bday-I’m glad I included her faves, like loud moaning and dry humping on bunk beds, or something like that! Tripod writing forever! Special thanks, again, to @emulateharry for the quick beta!

Himitsu No!

Last Time!

"Yeah, I got that now." And his hand went up to her face, she expected a soft touch on her jaw, but he cupped the back of her neck, and brought her forward like she was gonna be flung back, whiplash.

He tasted like sunshine on her lakebed, when the sun beat down on her shoulders after the cool of the car air conditioning.

His head slanted to the right, and she heard her own response. When her mouth opened to the glide of his tongue, her hands moved from his waist up to cross over his back. Get him and his smell closer. His shoulders were wider than her, and the height difference, those inches suddenly made a difference. Except at their hips, those notched together perfectly.

He tasted like coffee and coconut. Like sunny days layin out in LA.

His hand was in her hair, and it was messy and a little desperate. Inevitable.

Action.

"Action!" Sounded in Harry's head. Suddenly he was the director and the actor. He'd never been so forward. Well, maybe in 2013, but that was something of a lost year for him.

Harry remembered lots of it, but it felt like he was watching somebody else play another version of him. And none of that had been with somebody special, inevitable. There were no feelings involved, at least not on his side. He liked to believe not on their side. How could they have like him, they'd only just met him. That was his mantra, that they were fucking the idea of him, liked the idea, loved the idea. It was how he rationalized it.

Until his mom had sat him down and boxed his ears and asked where her son was? Because her son wouldn't take advantage of girls overcome by their inflated feelings for him. Feelings. His mom insisted the groupies, god that word, had feelings for him, or believed they did. It may have been just an idea of him, but he was still taking advantage she had insisted. He didn't want to hurt anybody. He'd calmed down a lot after that, and then things got dramatic, and then he had feelings for Xander and they hid in plain sight. When he had feelings he supposed he was blunt about them. He had impulse control when the impulse was to love.

He was definitely feeling something now. He was feeling all of it, everything that had sounded in his mind when he'd been hungover and clumsy when he had met her for real. All the things from before that, when he'd first seen her image, and his mind had run with possibilities. The time since, where he watched her work, serious and in charge, and when she laughed, buoyant and like light- moving in waves. It was all mixing with the literal feelings of her in his hands. His hopes for them had been shelved in the library of his mind because he was trying not to get hurt, downplay his interest and not freak her out with the long term plans he had unconsciously made. For them. All of the hopes he'd had were now intertwining with the reality of her, of this feeling, and it was was all over his brain, lighting up and activating long term memory.

He wanted to remember this forever, the feeling of her forever.

Boy had he been right about her mouth. He'd gotten a lot of compliments on his lips from lovers. It was something he brought to the table.

But, Ada Scott, she ran that table.

Her mouth was revolutionary. She filled in the space between his lips like a washer between a screw and object. Nice and snug, protective. But soft, god she was soft and her hips filled out his hands like her heart did his cracks.

Alright, he was writing fucking lyrics. Time to focus on the moment. His attention leg to action, inevitably. Her hips became her ass and the wall behind her was a sturdy surface to support them and kept him from taking her down to the metal grating on the floor.

What was that sound?

Oh shit! That was him, he'd lost all his faculties and was moaning loudly. He would have reined it in, but Ada had one hand in his hair and another was undoing his shirt and he couldn't. He wasn't sure he'd ever been with somebody this incendiary.

Now they were moaning in tandem.

Her voice sounded better than a songbird, a lark.

He wanted to hear her. He could listen to that sound, be carried by its current, every morning, noon and night for the rest of his life.

He's in a rush, a wave to her finish, when she lifted her thigh to his hip and ground against his insistence he could see the shore. A few more regressions and advances and they'd find the beginning of land and end of their tsumanmic ride.

"Harry!" Ada moaned.

"Harri!" Yuki called.

Harry had to come up to the surface to recognize the outside command. Ada's commands were what he would rather follow. What her voice was asking of him he couldn't do with another coming closer and getting louder.

Harry coasted his thumb over Ada's thigh, gave one last squeeze, and placed it down, pulled back to see her swollen lips, wet enough to dive into, and more inviting than a tropical pool on the first truly hot day, and her blinking eyes.

"Just one. More." He whispered and offered her a peck that she leaned into. Their noses notched together and around. Her hair went smoothly back when he smoothed it and he immediately wondered how unruly his looked.

"How's mine?" He could feel his giant dimples. This was the best day of his life. His tresses were tangled and messy, his fingers told him when his curious pointer finger became a concerted effort to comb out damage.

"Oh, fuck!" The knock sounded around the small wall just after she had said it. "Your hair is fucked! We are fucked!" Her voice didn't elevate, but her stress was evident.

"No, I'll just look distressed," he schooled his face into frown and pulled his lip, "see. And you look flustered."

Her hands slapped at the air above her waist and then down on her hips. "I am flustered!"

He pushed a lock behind her ear. "I know, just pretend it's at me."

"Who's pretending." And she lead the way out after she squared her shoulders. He caught the motion as she wiped his kiss, or the evidence, off her mouth. She was muttering, she looked a little pissed, definitely affected. He liked affecting her.

He found himself laughing as she walked around the wall with a square set to her jaw, like all the groaning that had just been going on was him being beat about the head and ego rather than the libido. He needed to wipe the silly smirk off his face. Though it was rather at home there.

He knew, he'd know since her first saw her. Maybe from her films and interviews, but definitely the moment their eyes connected. He'd known.

He'd lost faith.

Harry usually trusted his feelings about people. But he rarely let himself off the hook. Ada didn't seem like a grudge holder exactly, but she did not take shit. That was clear.

And he had been shit.

If you didn't get a second chance at a first impression, he was fucked as then he'd sucked. The situation had felt hopeless, unrequited, until just last week.

But it was better, he was gonna smash this scene now. He had lots to work with. Though he still planned to use his idea for the kiss rather than what had just gone down. That was just for him and Ada.

He thought of Henry and Akio as a slow burn, a smolder. He'd give them a kiss fit for hot coals.

He and Ada had a flare up. Once given the proper fuel, a little oxygen- they were burning.

He put his hands in his hair and looked distraught as he approached the area side stage. Ayae was biting her lip when they made eye contact.

"Alright Harry?" Oh, they were selling it. Ada was frowning, fuming, she looked actually pissed. And Ayae looked concerned for him.

"Can you fix my hair? I think I fucked it up." He collapsed in the chair, coming loose like a cheap hem. "I've gotta do this right on the next take!" he huffed.

"You will Harry. You're so charming, and Henry is the sweetest character. And you and Yuki have great chemistry- just relax into it. You do so much better when you relax." Her eyes were on his hair, but she was skating, them down and biting her lip. "Maybe think about someone you want to kiss badly, if that is not Yuki....."

"The person I want to kiss," he looked at Ada mournfully. "Doesn't wanna kiss me right now."

He hoped that wasn't true.

Ada was fuming, at herself . She could not believe she had let that happen on set, wanted it to happen more on set! What was she thinking! "Goddamn you Styles!" She muttered it. But out loud. Didn't matter who heard, it would go with their act, The 'I cannot stand you and your dumb ass' act. He was pouting with all his might in the chair in front of Ayae. That was good, sympathy inducing.

Except she didn't want too much sympathy to go against her. Harry was already sympathetic enough.

Oh great- bitch rep. Again. She hurt little Harry!

She'd like to put a hurting on him.

In the short amount of time Ada had begun to re-entertain thoughts of kissing Harry on that mouth, she did not expect it to go like that. She'd seen him go full rockstar on that little stage, but she really figured that was some alter ego, something he put on that wouldn't come out without wardrobe or a microphone.

She told herself if anything happened, which she was still totally denying the possibility of, she'd have to instigate and lead.

It was a bit of a hold up for her, honestly. It was another reason she had given herself to stay away after their flirtation. She'd been pounding her treadmill thinking of why she wouldn't do. Knew better than to do. Exhibit A had just happened. Though she thought it would be way easier to avoid, because she could control her urges. Before he took over control of her urges. Damn him.

Another reason she had postulated was that he was so sweet and a bit insecure, in her experience, she figured that would extend into his romantic moments. His sweet little gifts only confirmed that for her. His stare downs yesterday made more sense now. He wanted approval, assurance, so she thought he would be a little timid.

She was Wrong!

Another piece of the Harry Styles puzzle. Insecure in unfamiliar or new intense circumstances and a badass elsewise.

Maybe he was the kind that took a while to cope with nerves and then got better.

He must be very sure of his mouth and its abilities. Wow! Ada wondered if that would extend to other intimacy? More naked nudity.

Ada hated leading in the bedroom. She liked being the boss everywhere else. She wanted to be bossed there, relinquish her beloved control and feel love flow into her wildly.

If that kiss was anything to go on, she was going to be handled. She loved being handled.

She had to shift on her seat, and wondered where her water bottle got to. For once the sound stage was a little too warm for her.

"Ms. Scott!" Her DP said.

"Ada!" Julie nudged her arm.

"Huh? Yes?" They were they all looking at her.

"Can we start?"

Shit, this was gonna be a distraction. He was a distraction. Harry was already in place, she'd only glanced at him once and was kinda avoiding looking at him as much as possible. He was flushed and his mouth was a little red. Did they put something on him, that green shit? The stuff that worked with your pH and gave a ovely pink.

Oh, no, it was her. She gripped her pant leg to stop from wiping her mouth. She had worn Fenty Uncuffed, only a bit should have smeared. It was set.

She wanted to test out its bounds on him. How many kisses, when? Where? How long after application, could she kiss or suck it all off? Leave smudges of another lovely pink, unlike his bath water or his natural blush.

Harry bit his lip and blinked at her. What the fuck? Sexy cow blinks? Was this a Greek story?

No! This was her story. Their story.

"Let's roll!" She gave the command, and meant it for herself more than anybody else.

The first take was slightly uncomfortable, but this time because Yuki had lost the moment.

"Sorry boss, I need to shake it off." He had directed at her.

"You need a min!" Harry laughed "What did you eat while I was getting reamed?"

Reamed? What? Oh, no, that was rimmed.

"I had a snack!" Yuki grabbed mint out of his pocket. "You should take one too, you taste like matcha. Grassy!"

Oh shit!

"Do I?" Harry smiled big! "Want more!" And he went in to kiss his co-star like it was an attack.

"Roll!" She said. They were cute already, she wanted it on film, she might get some use. It was a good moment to capture.

Once the puppy play slowed down, and Harry and Yuki let the moment become Akio and Henry's, the pace became languid. Harry's hand came up, slow, and cupped Yuki's jaw.

Her prince pulled back, giving her a shot at pulling this off as a first kiss. His smile was small, just enough to pop a dimple. And Yuki was pulling off dazed, or was dazed. The small fit of Harry's full lips into this kiss was snug as a warm blanket. Not the fire of their embrace, or laughs of the start of this one, less than one, more than the other.

Harry upped the ante, gave the camera goodness to devour, capture like so much attention. An ascension of the kiss, to a new place, a moment like Jake Ryan over the flames. His large hand splayed over Yuki's jaw and his thumb caressed his cheekbone.

Ada could feel it.

So could the cast and crew. Everybody was silent. You could hear the lip smacks and yummy noises alone among the collectively held breath.

Ada let it continue, at least she thought it was intentional, run to the end.

The caress fell, and the lip lock ended, slowly. When Harry smiled and laid his forehead on his companion's and his dimple punctuated the scene, Ada squealed "Cut!"

And applause went up. That was the second ovation worthy kiss he'd given today. And it was so different from hers. This boy was so many things. He was insecure, she'd seen it. He was cocky, she'd felt it, and he was damn good, they all lauded it. She might fall for each Harry by turns. She wanted to seize each in any case.

"Amazing! Excellent work!" She clapped along. "Now let's get coverage and other angles! We may need to pull epic shots on that one!" That could go on billboards, even in still, the moment would translate, move.

She caught Harry's eye and nodded, nearly choked when he winked, but recovered enough to bit her lip and shake her head. When he was on, he was on.

This could be so fun! The flirt under everybodies noses, the danger was intoxicating.

Until she realized Julie was watching. Her friend raised her eyebrows, flared her nostrils and nodded a little.

Ada furrowed her brow and hoped it came off as confusion.

They needed rules. They had a lot of movie to finish. She needed the respect of her crew. Ada needed to put her feelings elsewhere. It was hard though, because he deserved all the praise. The rest of the day he earned it again and again, kissed multiple times, lots of ways, and each time she had to keep her cool.

To varying effect, and ability.

By 7 o'clock they'd got the shots done and set up for tomorrow. Their timeline accelerating as Harry found his feet and took off running, like her god-daughter who skipped crawling all together, went from being carried about to running the show, literally.

There was a metaphor there.

Ada was still tired at day's end, despite how well everything had gone. She was emotionally worn out from over analyzing the kiss, physically worn out from suppressing her body's response to watching Harry kiss Yuki, stomping down the same response to their kiss, and mentally tired from coming up with reasons she should stop flirting with him, or hide flirting with him.

She had no idea what this was. And she'd been weird with Harry all afternoon. She knew it. His batting average stayed high through her change up pitches.

What did they do now? They'd flirted publicly, kissed on set, and then what?

She fucked her star like all those male directors?

Dammit, she thought it was just easy for co-stars to get involved. All that time together and mimicry of feelings, someone was bound to fall in love. She guessed that was true of directors too.

But this wasn't love. Maybe something like it, a precursor of love. Seedling.

Did she water it?

In any case, she was tired and wanted another matcha. But if she had one now, she'd be up late, thinking, with nobody to talk to. Maybe she'd go back to the hotel and have a couple glasses of wine.

She smiled to herself. Maybe she would do both.....

Harry felt exhilarated, like he did after the Graham Norton performance, when he did it right! He'd acted good. Just like Jeff said. And he'd pleased Ada.

He thought he had. He certainly had early in the day.

She'd gotten a little cagey at the end of day, but he figures she was just gun shy, he'd have to coach her through this. Business and pleasure -- he was a mixologist at. He could show her the ropes.

If she was interested. Her kiss said yes, and he was getting better at reading her. So did her freaking out.

"Hmmmm, what's this?" He asked the air when he reached the steps of his trailer and an iced coffee was waiting. He hadn't asked for one, he wouldn't be sleeping if he drank it.

The cup said, 'Ada.' Huh?

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Thirsty?"

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #a premonition of love #apol #chapter 7 #himitsu no

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ratherashleigh · 5 years

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STUFF I LOVED ABOUT SUPERGIRL 417 -- a list by me

THAT’S RIGHT, A LIST OF STUFF I LOVED. BENCHES, MY SHOW IS BACK AND I MISSED IT SO MUCH.

lions and tigers and bears, i mean lena and alex and kara supergirl, OH MY.

this is the show i want to watch for the rest of my life.

jesus i’m crying at how much i needed this episode for lena and kara and my poor poor heart. they did everything right. kara backed off and didn’t force her help onto lena. they remembered lena and alex should damn well be friends by now, and of course alex trusts lena even if she maybe shouldn’t.

okay sidebar. i’m seriously torn over whether i think lena was wrong to help lex, because it’s been very unclear about whether or not she knew it was even slightly possible that he could end up with powers. everything this season has been blunt object to the face levels of “lena wants to cure cancer!” and the powers thing was a hypothetical discussion over drinks and thanksgiving dinner. but she didn’t know he had broken out of prison, she thought he was technically still in custody. why wasn’t he entitled to her help? disregarding that it was all bullshit, because again, lena didn’t know. this is actually a really pressing issue in relation to the criminal justice system: what level of medical care should prisoners be entitled to access? at worst she’s guilty of being gullible as fuck, but besides that, as far as she knew she was saving the life of a dying man she was legally in contact with, and i’m deeply curious to find out how they plan to play that out given the interviews with katie that were released over the weekend. because if she knew he was going to become superpowered, then, girl, you an idiot. if not, i mean, she’s still an idiot, but for very different reasons.

AND THEN THEY ACTUALLY TALKED, AND YALL I CRIED.

“this is how lex had powers. is that a part of your research, too?”

“this is why i didn’t want to work with you. because every time i think things are getting better with us, you display an inherent distrust of my intentions. what is so wrong about helping humans protect themselves?”

“because someone like lex could get a hold of the technology and use it for evil. which is exactly what happened.”

“you look past all of the good we’ve done and see red whenever you feel vulnerable.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this. this is why it’s so important to me that they clear up whether lena’s actual intention was to give people powers because this is the justification for doing dangerous things. the dangerous thing itself can never be the justification for its own happening.

“lena saved argo with this. she rescued sam. she cured bitie’s cancer and she saved james’ life.”

and then in comes alex to make me feel every ounce of how much i ship the fuck out of agentcorp, right in the middle of a supercorpfest. my multishipping haaaaaaart.

“you’re right.”

lena and alex: SAY WHAT NOW?

“you’re right. if you hadn’t made harun-el, james wouldn’t be alive. you saved him, in a way i couldn’t. i do see red, sometimes. and it’s not an ego thing, or allegiance or anything like that. i feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. and since superman left and lex has been free, it feels a lot heavier. if my enemies are strengthened, if i’m weakened in the slightest bit, i could lose and i just can’t. i can’t lose. i’m sorry, lena.”

I JUST. AN HONEST CONVERSATION LAYING OUT EXACTLY WHERE THE TWO OF THEM ARE REALLY, HONESTLY COMING FROM. THAT’S ALL I FUCKING AS FROM FICTION SOMETIMES, AND WHEN I GET IT IDK WHAT TO DO WITH IT OTHER THAN WEEP.

“bygones?” “bygones.”

THIS WAS AN ALLY MCBEAL REFERENCE.

and then lena made a bomb on the fly. i’m scared and aroused.

anyway, i want to watch these three solve crime together every week, the end.

some other stuff that happened, all of which i loved wtf:

alex tenderly touching lena’s face, i mean checking she’s alive, i mean idk what i mean except i’m gay.

“kal left me here to protect earth.” kara, this is the saddest thing you’ve ever said, and you say a lot of really sad things.

“everything lex does now is because i failed.” however, someone really needs to explain the concept of causation to kara.

james my lovely son, i love when you are a cliched idiot and then you show up at your sister’s door and cry and ask for help.

kara setting off the DEO alarm.

“i come offering donuts. and my help.”

hayley taking supergirl’s peace offering donuts.

every second of jesse rath’s face when brainy got his ring back.

j’onn cosplaying as a quidditch player with his nimbus 5000.

i’m sorry i actually had severe whiplash from everything to do with j’onn this episode. that was like watching some completely unknown character and it was jarring as hell.

CARL LUMBLY.

LENA IN THE HOSPITAL.

LENA IS A SOFT RED FLANNEL SHIRT IN A HOSPITAL BED.

LENA’S HOSPITAL BLANKET BEING FLUNG LIKE A CAPE FOR THE SCENE TRANSITION.

LENA SHOWING UP TO SEE LILLIAN DRESSED LIKE THAT.

i can’t. that jacket. those pants. those shoes.

poor bb lena being prone to migraines, why would you tell us this i hate it.

hearts are overrated organs romanticised by poets and simpering women LILLIAN OH MY GOD WHO HURT YOU, WOMAN?

anyway so not to harp on a dead horse, but i really really need them to clarify what exactly lena thought was going to happen with the harun-el. especially because, okay, bear with me. if she didn’t know about the powers, at this point they have in fact manipulated kara and lena into the exact same position as each other: they’re both keeping secrets that aren’t actually bad things to have done, except by virtue of them being kept secret. because lillian isn’t exactly wrong when she suggests lena’s friends will abandon her, but her reasoning is flawed. it’s the secret, not the act. but how can they play that out without it coming into direct conflict with kara’s secret keeping. yall, this is delicious and i love it, and i hope this is where it’s going and not that lena is just a reckless fool who literally didn’t care that she was possibly handing over superpowers to a megalomaniac.

the way alex said “i came to ask for your help, lena.” oh my god my heart.

also, i’m sorry, alex stopped to change into her dumbass catsuit and lena just what exactly? stood outside the bathroom door?

“crazy lex-girlfriend.” kara danvers.

“can never turn down cake-- she’s lying her heart’s as fast as a hummingbird’s.” i... love kara. i love her so much.

and then the way she talked bitsie down from trying to break her knife on kara’s fist. i am made of hearteyes and so was lena.

speaking of karas that i love: “i speak english better than you.” ily katya zorelski.

kelly olsen my love, giving recommendations for professional help and not trying to be the professional help herself SOME GOOD SENSE.

eve’s password being ILoveLex is pretty fucking funny, but lena guessing it is hysterical.

filed under things i didn’t love: kara’s outfit when she showed up to talk to james.

eve’s total inability to make the image inducer work right at the moment she’s on tv is… convenient.

meanwhile, back at prison: LENA IN A VEST AND SKIRT AND LKDHJSKDS.

was lena actually full of shit here? i feel like my ability to read mustache twirling villainy is off lately, so i literally cannot tell if she was playing lillian or not.

AND THEN EVERYTHING WENT TO HELL.

“i have nothing to do with lex luthor.” uh huh, sure you didn’t buddy. this is the most realistic “i’m not a nazi i just want everyone different from me dead” thing this show has managed to insert here.

“oh poo…. enjoy the show.” i want eve to stay forever.

and then katya zorelski murdered a pack of senators, but inconveniently didn’t kill lockwood. annoying.

and then alex and lena were having a very gay slumber party at lena’s and i died.

AND NOW WE HAVE A FOUR WEEK HIATUS BECAUSE WE CANNOT HAVE NICE THINGS.

#supergirl spoilers #stuff in a list by me

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kcwcommentary · 5 years

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VLD7x08 – “The Last Stand Part 2”

7x08 – “The Last Stand Part 2”

This episode is so frustrating for so many reasons. Killing Adam is offensive because Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery explicitly used Adam and their announcement that he was gay and had been romantically involved with Shiro in order to bait people into watching this season, and then they kill him, having since said that they did so because they needed to kill a notable character to make the Galra feel threatening; in other words, they built Adam up as gay (because that is all that he is in this show) and then killed him; they specifically killed him because he was gay.

This episode also continues to act like Sam is right about everything and Sanda is wrong about everything. This time, the show doesn’t even pretend to care about writing realistically. Sanda is an admiral. Sam’s and Iverson’s insubordination would not be tolerated in an actual military. It makes this show seem like its creative team have a huge disdain and disrespect for the military. At the very least, it makes the creative team seem completely ignorant of how solid the command structure is in the military. Sanda ends up just letting Sam and Iverson do whatever they want, and that would not happen.

Sam continues to benefit from Perfect Pidge plot armor, and his obnoxious constantly being right about everything makes me really not like his character.

The Veronica “death” and reveal to still be alive a few minutes later has little-to-no emotional impact. It mostly just gives me narrative whiplash.

This episode really needs some help.

The episode starts with Sendak leading the invasion. The last time Sendak seemed interesting to me was 1x11 “Crystal Venom,” and that was because of how much his disembodied voice messed with Shiro psychologically. He has never felt more threatening than he did in the scenes in that episode, scenes in which he did nothing but have some taunting dialog while being unconscious.

The music continues to be really nice.

Sendak orders the Galra fleet to fire upon various cities on Earth. Only the Galaxy Garrison has any defense, with its forcefield blocking blasts. Sanda orders a military response, surface-to-air blasters and a wave of fighters with a second wave ordered to prep for launch. Sam – I am so tired of him – objects to her “us[ing] the standard defenses.” If everything is as dire as Sam has told everyone, then they need to use literally everything they have, including “standard defenses.” Sam wants to use the MFE pilots. Yeah, that’s fine and good, but there are only four of them, right? James Griffin, Rizavi, Kinkade, and Leifsdottir. The four of them are nowhere near enough to handle a planetary invasion. Sam tries to juxtapose the four MFE pilots with the Paladins of Voltron, and that is annoying on multiple levels. One, the Paladins are flying battleships, not fighters, and the technology of the Lions are way more advanced than the MFE fighters. Two, his comparing the two groups of characters seems like it’s part of how this invasion and occupation story was the attempt to prove a spinoff viable, but this just reminds me of how this is setting the show’s main characters aside in order to introduce a bunch of new characters, none of whom are as interesting as the actual main characters of the show.

Iverson is hesitant to follow Sanda’s orders. This is a failure of military discipline and a demonstration of the EPs’ and writers’ ignorance about how the military functions. Iverson says to Sanda, “I know you have wartime authorization, but maybe we should listen to—” Forget “wartime authorization,” how about the fact that Admiral Sanda outranks Commander Iverson. If Sanda wasn’t busy trying to initiate a defense of the planet, she’d have every right to have Iverson charged with insubordination. I really don’t like that this continues pushing the idea that Sam is right and Sanda is wrong. I don’t necessarily reject the idea that the MFEs and the new fighters should be involved, but the idea that four of them are exponentially better than a broader force is absurd.

Oh look, it’s Adam. Joaquim Dos Santos said that they just had to kill Adam here because “we knew seeing a familiar face bravely make the sacrifice along with the squadron he led (and countless others) would help get across the gravity of this invasion” (quoted from JDS’s post season seven apology letter that he posted on his social media). The only way Adam is a “familiar face” is because of how much he was used to promote the season. He has not been seen since his brief scene in 7x01 “A Little Adventure.” Despite what JDS said in his letter, if you’re going by just the episodes themselves and not any of the promotional work, then Adam is NOT a “familiar face.” It feels like this part of JDS’s attempt to justify killing Adam is built on a lie.

Sam says to Sanda, “You just doomed those men and women.” This is more of Sam benefiting from this show’s use of Perfect Pidge. The premise the show is using in Sam’s argument is absolutely absurd, but the show makes Sam right because he’s Sam. It just amazes me that this show thinks that they’re demonstrating how much better Sam is than everyone, but because the show is basing Sam’s argument on something unrealistic – that the four MFE fighters are superior to the entirety of the rest of the military – it has the opposite effect for me. The show wants the audience to think Sam is being shown to be smarter and wiser than everyone else, but I end up disliking Sam more and more. I am really hesitant to ever use the term Mary Sue, but Sam is really close to being one.

The Galra destroy the ground-to-air blasters. The fighters’ missiles do nothing to the Galra ships. Some of what this battle does is try to present the idea that the Galra are so superior to Earth technologically, but that’s so obvious that it shouldn’t need to be said. We know from interviews that JDS and LM thought killing Adam was necessary to prove that the Galra were a threat. Having the protagonist side of the battle have zero success, like here in having the missiles impact the Galra ship but do no damage, does not make the Galra look formidable, it makes them look unrealistic. I do think Earth would be thoroughly outclassed by the Galra in a battle, but demonstrating the futility of Earth’s attempt at defense does not require the Galra to be undamageable.

There’s either an animation, direction, or editing error during this battle. Track this sequence of shots: ONE, the Galra shoot a blast at Adam and the other fighters, TWO, the first-generation fighters that they’re using dodge the blast, THREE, Adam comments that their weapons had no effect on the Galra, FOUR, the Galra shoot multiple smaller blasters from the side of their ship, FIVE, second-generation fighters dodge the Galra attack and one of them is blown up.

Given that the whole manufactured contention between Sam and Sanda right now is that Sanda is using the first-generation fighters instead of the MFEs and the second-generation fighters, to have the animation show second-generation fighters (which aren’t even supposed to be in the air) being shot at and one destroyed totally undermines Sam’s argument. Let me add some visuals.

Here is a shot of the first-generation fighters from 7x07 “The Invasion Part 1.”

Here’s a shot of the first-generation fighters at this moment here in 7x08 “The Invasion Part 2” where they’re about to dodge Galra blasts (shot TWO in my list above).

Here is a shot of the second-generation fighters from 7x07 “The Invasion Part 1.”

And here’s a shot of the animation/direction/editing error from 7x08 “The Invasion Part 2” of second-generation fighters being shot at during Adam’s attack mission. This is shot FIVE referenced above.

In addition to killing Adam to supposedly demonstrate how threatening the Galra are, this sequence is supposed to be about proving Sam right. It’s a fundamental element to the story of this sequence. I understand that sometimes weird animation errors happen. I’m far more forgiving of something like accidentally coloring the bayard pink in 7x03 “The Way Forward,” for example. But this animation is directly tied to the show’s own argument for Sam and against Sanda. This error makes it seem like the creative team were so Sam-is-right that they ran on autopilot during the production of this sequence. It also suggests a flaw in the design work for the two generations of fightercraft that the animators could apparently so easily mistake the two designs.

The battle shifts to the command room and the main display in the room shows most of the pilots sent in the first wave are gone. Back to the air, the last few Earth fighters are blown up.

Adam is the last fighter. The last we get to see of him is him screaming as he is blown up.

If I did not know who Adam was through all the promotion of the season that was reliant upon their having shown 7x01 “A Little Adventure” and Lauren Montgomery having tweeted about Adam being Shiro’s “significant other” and all the interviews that JDS and LM did about the revelation that Shiro was gay and Adam had been his boyfriend, if I had not had Adam’s significance inflated far more outside the show than it was in the show, then Adam’s death here would not have meant anything. If JDS and LM had not purposefully used the promise of queer representation in the show, had not used the single, short scene of Shiro and Adam’s breakup as promotional bait, then I would not have been attached to Adam. I don’t think that I would have recognized him in this episode as having been the guy who broke up with Shiro seven episodes ago.

JDS thought killing Adam would show us the stakes of the battle. Adam, whose entire presence in the show until now was one scene in which he broke up with Shiro, was a character who only had one single dimension: Shiro’s boyfriend. In other words, Adam was nothing more than gay. If, as JDS has said, killing Adam was about showing the stakes – an idea that a story has to kill characters that the audience have become attached to in order to show how much a threat the plot is – then the only reason the audience was attached to Adam was because he was gay and Shiro’s flashback boyfriend. Adam had zero other connections in the story, zero other connections to any characters. Yes, I’m fully accusing JDS and LM of killing Adam explicitly because he was gay. They can say that their intention wasn’t to use the bury-your-gays trope all they want to. Whether either of them have the self-awareness to realize this or not, whether they ultimately care or not, their decision to kill Adam is based on him being gay.

And they were surprised the audience would be upset about this. At least, they pretended they were surprised. It really says something that I’m even debating with myself whether JDS and LM were genuinely surprised that people were upset that they introduced a gay character specifically to kill him, or whether they callously did it and faked surprised to try to deflect blame for their having done it. I don’t know which is worse: that they were so socially inept that they didn’t anticipate the audience being offended or that they just didn’t care to begin with and baited people with the promotion that Adam was gay in order to increase the number of viewers for season seven.

I could probably rant about this all day.

Sendak broadcasts that he’s come for the Voltron Lions. Shouldn’t he be able to scan Earth and tell that they’re not there? Sanda replies, telling Sendak that they do not have the Lions, nor do they know where they are.

Finally, hidden in the middle of this scene’s dialog, the show finally informs us of some of the structure of the Galaxy Garrison. Sam says, “Tell all Garrison bases to call back fighters.” So, there is more than just one Garrison location. Though the Galaxy Garrison has always had some military element to it, it has been presented as an organization that conducted space exploration missions. Now, the Galaxy Garrison seems to be some kind of unified, worldwide military. I don’t know if this is the show having failed to properly define the parameters of the organization or if it’s a retcon. All Garrison bases have been attacked and are flying defense missions.

The one base Sanda and Sam are at is the only one that has forcefields for defense. It kind of makes the Garrison’s focus on developing fightercraft, since it seems they did so to the detriment of any other systems development, seem pointless. It makes me feel like the struggle of the previous episode is invalidated. I know the show would counter that the whole point is that last episode gave us four MFE pilots and the second-generation of fighters. Last episode’s position within the narrative makes it need to be about the broader totality of preparation for attack by the Galra, not just introducing four characters and their four fighter jets.

Sam tells Iverson to launch the MFEs and power up a fusion cannon. (They have a fusion cannon? This is literally the first mention of it.) Sanda threatens to court martial if any commands are given against her orders. This feels like the show is expressing a fundamental disdain for the military. Sam, despite having a supposed rank, does not at all behave like he’s progressed through a military program. Iverson too is now being written to disregard all military protocol. It is not in any way realistic for them, if this is actually supposed to be a military organization, to disregard the command of an Admiral like this. Every time Sam is pushed by the narrative to be right and Sanda to be wrong, it feels like the show is attacking the entire concept of the military. Either that, or those who wrote and produced these episodes are vastly ignorant of what the military is like.

Sam and Iverson pretty much throw the command structure in the trash. The four MFEs launch in their second-generation fighters. (I still can’t get over the animation error earlier). It’s still absurd that four fighters would ever be enough. The Galra fire on the particle barrier, which repels the attack easily.

James says, “Okay team, we’ve trained for this. We know their maneuvers and have the firepower to knock them out.” This doesn’t make any sense. How do they know Galra maneuvers since this is the first time they’ve fought them? Were there supposed to be files about Galra battle tactics in the bunch of files Sam had on his device? Wouldn’t all of the Garrison fighter pilots have trained to “know their maneuvers” then? Is the show really trying to say that only these four MFE pilots were properly trained? This is absurd. And how can James say they have “the firepower to knock them out,” when Sanda said that they hadn’t properly tested the second-generation fighters? I assume that these fighters have specific weapons systems that the first-generation did not? We only ever saw the first-generation launch one single salvo of missiles at the Galra ships, even though the first-generation fighters have a massive cannon on the underside of their nose, a cannon that looks identical to the one under the nose of the second-generation fighters. The MFEs and their fighters are feeling more and more contrived.

The fusion cannon at the Garrison base has come online, and Sam orders it to fire. Sanda just stands there. This is bafflingly badly written. This is more of the writers having already arrived at where they want the story to go with the characters rather than writing the story to develop to that point. And I continue to think that either the creatives on this show are offensively disdainful of the military, or they’re just totally ignorant. Sam has effectively successfully executed a mutiny, and I just don’t see how everyone under Sanda’s command would be so willing to go along with this.

Not that this show probably bothered to actually craft a command structure for the Galaxy Garrison, but since we’ve had both Commander and Admiral ranks used, let’s compare it to the United States Navy. Sanda is an Admiral, whereas Sam and Iverson have both been called Commander, though I question whether Sam is a ranked Commander or if he was just the Mission Commander in an astronaut sense and not in a military sense. If it is indeed that he was just a Mission Commander, then that makes his actions against Sanda even more egregious. In the US Navy, the rank of Admiral is five ranks above that of Commander. What Sam and Iverson are doing in acting against Sanda is so wrong.

The fusion cannon destroys one Galra ship. Sendak orders his fleet to attack vulnerable targets rather than this one base. The MFE pilots in their second-generation fighters didn’t really do much.

Sam says that the “rest of the globe […] need[s] to evacuate to safe zones immediately.” There are safe zones? Sanda says, “We should go after them.” She is the clear commanding officer, except for the Sam-Iverson mutiny, having her speak like this makes it sound like she’s trying to convince an officer who outranks her of a course of action. She’s an admiral, she should not be having to convince anyone here of anything. Sam got exactly what he wanted, the MFEs were put into use. And now that he has what he wanted, he no longer wants it.

The Galra are tearing up Earth. Sendak’s subordinate tells him that there’s no sign of Voltron. Since Voltron has participated in battles far bigger than this, the idea that Sendak would think Voltron was hiding here somewhere is absurd. His subordinate asks, “Should we continue the occupation, sir?” The Galra haven’t started an occupation yet. This is still the invasion. This is simple writing to get correct and the fact that this show can’t even write something this simple correctly is a sign of a seriously malfunctioning writing process.

At the GG base, Veronica says, “Commander, we are no longer receiving responses on any channels. What are your orders?” The camera focuses on Sanda, like Veronica was addressing her, but if she was, why would Veronica have addressed Sanda as Commander instead of Admiral? The show has this be a moment that’s supposed to show how incompetent Sanda is, how she’s supposed to be obviously a bad leader, and Sam steps forward to give the heroic, commander speech. It just all seems so wrong to me.

Sam effectively taking command away from Sanda makes me think of Keith taking Black Paladin away from Shiro. In both cases, the show does not properly write any sort of transition that makes sense. It’s nothing but executive decree. It’s what the EPs want to happen, so it happens. They don’t really care that it makes no sense or is very poorly developed. Sanda says, “When this is all said and done, I’m going to have you stripped of your rank and thrown in the brig for defying my orders.” Why are they even still here? I cannot imagine an Admiral actually tolerating two Commanders undermining her authority like this. They should have already been arrested.

Sanda asks, “We don’t have the Lions. Why is Sendak still invading.” Sam says, “You don’t understand the Galra.” The implication is that Sam does. I can’t stand how much arrogance that Sam is written to have, and I know that the EPs and writers don’t even realize that they wrote Sam to be so extremely arrogant.

There’s a small meeting. Food supplies are limited and there aren’t the necessary supplies to finish building the Atlas. Veronica points out there’s an abandoned supply location not too far away. There’s apparently an underground tunnel system from World War III. There was a WWIII and the show is only just now in the seventh season mentioning this? I know we haven’t been on Earth for most of this show, so maybe that excuses what feels like really late world-building. This really does make this feel like the start of a totally different show.

Veronica says the Galra are using “what looks like random patrol patterns.” If it’s random, then it’s not a pattern. How did this get written? I mean, maybe, in a first draft I could see this being written, but it should have been fixed in a script revision.

The MFE pilots are going on this supply grab mission. Why are the four supposed best pilots in the world doing anything other than being near their fighters in case they’re needed? This is absolutely absurd. Really, they’re going because they’re the main characters now, not because it makes any operational sense for them to be going. This show seems to have no sense of what division of labor is, which is baffling since in order to get an animated show made, you have to use division of labor. Veronica is going with them, and I can understand her being part of this mission.

Veronica introduces herself to the MFEs, saying, “I’m an analyst and your handler.” James replies, “We don’t need a handler.” What does this show mean by the word “handler?” Is Veronica supposed to be in command of this mission? If so, then it’s more insubordination for James to reject her authority. It’s like this show seems to think that the military would work better if every lower ranked officer defied their superior officers.

Veronica asks James if he knows how to get to the depot, he says he doesn’t, that he’ll just use a guidance system. Veronica says that the guidance system uses a network that these tunnels block. So, James and the MFEs were being sent on a mission without any kind of mission briefing? This show has no clue whatsoever how anything in any organization works does it? I guess the dysfunctional ways organizations in this show are presented should be seen as a representation of how dysfunctional this show’s production organization was.

How is Kinkade kneeling on top of the vehicle they’re using and not being thrown off it? They get to the depot where both the supplies and the train are located. They load the train and start to repair it. As time passes, James spots two Galra sentries walking down the tunnel. He, Leifsdottir, and Kinkade fire on them, but their weapons have no effect. Veronica has a suitcase sized, Gatling gun style weapon. She says she’ll hold them off. It takes a lot of shots, but she’s able to eventually bring down the two sentries only for more to come walking down the tunnel. The MFEs board the train, Leifsdottir helping Rizavi, James and Kinkade continuing to try to use their rifles. Veronica tells them to go, but James says they’re not going to leave her. There’s a huge explosion, the tunnel collapses, though the train begins its journey.

We’re supposed to be sad, thinking Veronica is dead. Maybe I would feel more about her supposed death if she had an established character. That’s a huge part of the problem with these episodes. The show wants the emotion of these events, but the characters haven’t been built enough to produce the desired emotional impact. Rizavi asks if anyone knows how to get back. Again, it’s absurd that these four were going on this mission but had apparently almost zero preparation for the mission. How to get back is not a question that anyone would need to ask if this had been written properly. Leifsdottir memorized the path on the way in, so they get back.

Veronica’s “death,” especially knowing that it’s a narrative fakeout, feels like a disrespectful manipulation of the audience. Sam says, “We have a chance now” that they have the supplies. James rants, “A chance for what? We just bought ourselves time. What is that going to do for us?” Uh, yeah, buying time was the mission. Why are these characters written this ignorantly? Sam says, “Voltron will come.” He also wants to use the bought time to finish working on the Atlas.

Sendak orders the Galra to destroy Earth’s communication network. I thought it was already not working, but okay. It seems weird that the Galra have left it functioning until now. Sendak says if Voltron knows things are bad on Earth, they’ll be cautious, but if they don’t hear anything from Earth, they’ll come with “haste.” Whatever.

There’s a montage of time passing. Work on the Atlas. The Galra are building weird partial domes over areas. Sanda asks Sam if the Atlas will be able to defend the Earth, Sam says, “It’s just one ship, and an untested one at that.” I remember a bit earlier in this episode when Sanda objected to the use of the second-generation fighters because they were untested, but Sam didn’t care about that then. It’s so inconsistent for him to care about ships being untested now.

I remember the first time I watched this episode, I was really confused about how much time had passed. I know the show used a montage, and montages imply time passing, but this episode doesn’t say how much time passed during that montage. Sam is called to the hangar. There, he sees Veronica has returned. She has a bunch of other humans with her. She says she was saved by and has been working with “an underground resistance network.” The montage is not enough to produce a sense of time passing that Veronica’s return feels like some hopeful development. There is only three minutes and 49 seconds between the tunnel collapsing and Veronica being shown to be alive. She hasn’t been “dead” for enough screen time yet for her return to feel triumphant. Since her return is in the same episode she died, it makes her death even more blatantly manipulative than if she had returned in a later episode.

Veronica says this resistance group’s intel “led [her] to [her] family.” It would help to know where this Galaxy Garrison base is. I thought it was in the southwest of the US, but if that’s where they were, then how was Veronica able to get her family from Cuba? Yeah, Veronica is Lance’s sister, but the show hasn’t bothered to state that explicitly until right now. I am baffled why. Knowing she was Lance’s sister while going through all the threat of this episode would have made the tension of that threat and the emotion of her fakeout “death” actually have more impact. By keeping her relationship with Lance unstated until now, the episode deprived itself of the necessary connection to the main characters that this episode really needed.

Veronica reports that the Galra have been putting humans into work camps and using them to build Galra installations around the planet. This isn’t really a report of anything new since this was part of the montage.

Sam declares they need to get “one last message out to Voltron.” They suddenly have a big rocket that they’re launching into space. The launch animation made me unintentionally laugh because the booster rockets separate from the main rocket, which they would do once they had finished burning their fuel boosting the main rocket, but the problem is that the boosters after separation while they’re falling away from the main rocket, those booster rockets were still producing visible thrust exhaust, so there’s no reason they would have separated yet. Sometimes like this, even the animation looks like no one bothered to do even basic research.

Sendak orders the rocket destroyed, and the Galra seemingly blow it up, until somehow a bunch of smaller satellites or something are flying all over the place. Sam says, “He fell for it.” It’s so confusing. This show does this a lot. Something is depicted visually with no explanation, and it makes you go, what just happened, and then a bit after it happened a character explains it. It’s a storytelling style that I just find disorienting. Apparently, the missile, despite being blown up, distributed “micro transmitters, millions of them, spreading throughout the sector.” Really, “throughout the sector?” They’re only shown being around Earth.

Unsurprisingly, they’re broadcasting the message Sam sent and Voltron received at the start of last episode.

Cut to who knows how much time later. Sam is giving a big speech like he’s the leader of everyone, Sanda, despite significantly outranking Sam stands quiet, obediently behind her subordinate. Sam’s speech is supposed to be inspirational, but because I don’t buy into Sam as a leader because of the absurdity of how he’s assumed this position, it just frustrates me. He says they have resources left only for one last stand.

Then cut to back millions of light-years outside the Milky Way, Voltron there, and the third time Keith has piloted Voltron forward.

Like I said about rewatching last episode, this one also does not hold up well under my increased scrutiny of this rewatch. I’m still furious about the show killing Adam and JDS’s and LM’s pathetic attempts to defend that decision. This rewatch, I was more baffled by the, at best, ignorant way military command was written.

Like most of this show, this episode really needs help.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld season 7 #vld 7x08 #commentary

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heatherrosebabcock · 5 years

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Beer and Blood: The Birth of the Public Enemy

THREE DETROIT GANGSTERS MASSACRED: DEAD VICTIMS STILL HOLD CIGARS THEY SMOKED WHEN GUNS SPOKE, screamed a rather poetic real life Globe newspaper headline on September 17th, 1931.

Prohibition, now over a decade old, had transformed ordinary citizens into lawbreakers and everyday hoodlums into wealthy, bloodthirsty demigods. 1931 could arguably be summed up as “the year of the gangster”: the newspapers were full of ‘em – stories of “bloody bootleg rackets” and “bootlegger bandit death trysts” dominated the headlines and, thanks to the Warner Brothers studio, the silver screen as well. The studio, which only a few years earlier had revolutionized the industry by ushering in sound (or “talkies”) with 1927’s The Jazz Singer, began 1931 with a bang when they released Little Caesar.

“Be somebody,” Rico, Little Caesar’s ambitious thug, played by the incomparable Edward G. Robinson, enthuses at the start of the film. To “be somebody” is to be rich but as Rico warns “Money’s all right but it ain’t everything. Be somebody. Look hard at a bunch of guys and know that they’ll do anything you tell ‘em. Have your own way or nothin’.”

In other words, to “be somebody” is to live the American Dream and in an America caught in the double fisted grip of Prohibition and the Great Depression, it was a dream gone dangerously delirious - a dream fueled by buckets of bathtub gin; a dream which could be poisonous if taken straight.

Little Caesar was a massive hit – so much so that theaters had to keep it running twenty-four hours a day just to satisfy audience demand; they had done the same thing almost four years earlier with Underworld, Josef von Sternberg’s 1927 gangland epic for Paramount Pictures. Underworld, a film dripping with both beauty and brutality, is considered by many to be the first successful gangster picture – the Grand Daddy of all gangster movies if you will – but it was a silent film; it wasn’t until the gangsters began to talk when the genre truly secured its choke-hold on the public’s imagination. It is a testament to the power and influence of the movies that when we picture Prohibition-era gangsters today it is not the real-life criminals, such as Al Capone or Jack “Legs” Diamond, who immediately come to mind but rather Edward G. Robinson, a cigar anchored between his lips, or James Cagney, shooting his words out quicker than bullets from a Tommy gun.

Riding the wave of gunfire, Warner Brothers followed Little Caesar with The Public Enemy, released in April of that same year. In The Public Enemy, James Cagney stars as the nasty break-your-word-and-I’ll-break-your-face bootlegger Tom Powers. One wonders if we would still be discussing this film eighty-seven years later if it were not for Cagney. I say that not to lessen the talent of the movie’s other stars, but there has never been any question that The Public Enemy is Cagney’s picture. Originally Edward Woods was signed on to play Tom Powers, with Cagney as his side-kick Matt. However when director William “Wild Bill” Wellman was viewing the early footage he realized that it was Cagney, and not the handsome but reticent Woods, who crackled with an almost frightening intensity. Wellman switched the actors’ roles and both a classic movie and a star were born.

He was beloved by both cast and crew as the nicest guy on the lot but onscreen Cagney could be as terrifying as he was captivating. Watch closely his movements in The Public Enemy – particularly his hands – his gestures are as sharp as a boxer’s jab yet as graceful as a ballet dancer’s pirouette. Indeed, the street smart Cagney had been both a boxer and a dancer. In his own words, from his 1976 autobiography Cagney by Cagney:

“I learned how to dance from learning how to fight. It was feint, duck, quick dance around your opponent on your toes mostly, then shoot out the arm like a bullet.”

Cagney ignores the rules of the early talkies – to speak slowly and to enunciate clearly – instead he spits words out at breakneck speed in his proud Lower East Side New York accent. As we follow Tom Powers’ rise from a young roller-skate snatcher to a vicious bootlegger, we can’t keep our eyes off of him. That is, until Jean Harlow shows up. There is a very good reason why Warner Brothers borrowed her from Hughes for The Public Enemy and for why she shares top billing with Cagney even though she has less than half of his screen time: in the 1930s, studios catered to a female audience and they undoubtedly knew that women would be more likely to buy a ticket to see a gangster flick if Jean Harlow, the original Platinum Blonde and most influential 1930s style and beauty icon, was in it. Just one year later, Harlow would come into her own both as an actress and a comedian: she would make them laugh in Red-Headed Woman (1932) and cry in Red Dust (1932). But her early acting, particularly in The Public Enemy, has always inspired negative criticism and cruel mocking. I for one though appreciate the glitter and grit that Harlow brings to the role of Gwen, Tom’s trophy moll. In Harlow’s hands, Gwen is not a society dame but a dame who craves society – like Tom and Rico she wants to “be somebody”. Working class audiences, the audience that Warner Brothers proudly catered to, adored Jean Harlow. Whiplash may be a viewer side-effect of watching Cagney and Harlow together on screen – it feels as though we are watching a game of ping pong but the ball is their fire. Make no mistake though – the passions that they unleash are at each other, not for each other; Gwen and Tom are not a couple mating but rather individuals fighting for their own place in the world. Their one love scene together is the only time in the film when Cagney appears truly vulnerable but when Harlow says to him “You don’t give – you take,” she could easily be talking about herself. That love scene goes unconsummated, ending with a frustrated Harlow smashing a champagne glass against the wall as Tom carelessly walks out with his friend Matt. Cagney didn’t do romance and The Public Enemy isn’t a romantic film – nor is it really a movie about guns and bootleggers. The Public Enemy is a film about family. The script was adapted from Kubec Glasmon and John Bright’s novel Beer and Blood and that title sums up all of Tom’s world: his “beer” family of bootleggers and his “blood” family, played here by Beryl Mercer as his naïve, loving mother and Donald Cook as his conservative big brother Mike.

The relationship between brothers Tom and Mike is interesting. It is complicated and intense in the way that relationships between real-life siblings often are. Tom Powers may thumb his nose at Mike’s responsible lifestyle (“He’s too busy going to school – he’s learning how to be poor”) but the hard-core gangster, who can literally shoot a man in the back before calling his moll for a date, doesn’t defend himself when his disapproving brother gives him a sock in the jaw (and the punch was reportedly real – Cook hit Cagney so hard that Cagney cracked a tooth). In one of the film’s best scenes, Mike picks up a keg and throws it across their mother’s kitchen, angrily accusing Tom that “there’s not only beer in that keg – there’s beer and blood!” Tom replies that Mike, who has just returned home from the War and is incidentally shell shocked, is a hypocrite. “You didn’t get them medals from holding hands with them Germans,” he sneers. “You killed and you liked it!” He is projecting in the way that siblings often do – for of course it is Tom, not Mike, who “kills and likes it.”

In the early 1930s, gangster movies used real bullets but the most explosive scene in The Public Enemy doesn't involve gun fire at all – yes folks, it's time to talk about the Grapefruit. The film's most notorious moment happens as Tom sits down to breakfast with his moll Kitty, played by the lovely Mae Clarke. They have obviously just had sex and Tom is acting more than a little cold and distracted. Kitty, looking fabulous in a pair of silk lounging pajamas, asks him if he has met someone he likes better. Cagney’s sneer curls up like a fist as he picks up a half grapefruit and smashes it in Mae’s face. It is a cruel scene which still shocks today and it confirms our suspicion that Tom Powers is a sociopath.

It seems that almost every man who had a hand in making the film has their own story of how this scene came to be shot; the most commonly accepted theory is also the most condescending - the belief that the scene was improvised by Cagney and Wellman, without Clarke's knowledge or consent and that her response was thus genuine. This assumption irritates me as it is dismissive of Clarke's admirable acting talents and relegates her to little more than a prop. Well, Clarke was no prop and she sure as hell wasn't a hack either: in 1931, in addition to the Public Enemy, she delivered strong performances in three important films: Waterloo Bridge, Frankenstein and The Front Page. As for that grapefruit, I'm going to go with Mae's version of the story, both because I trust her talent and because I like her better than all those other mugs: in a 1983 interview with American Classic Screen, Mae said that the script originally called for Cagney throwing the grapefruit at her and then storming out. Wellman and Cagney however felt that this wasn’t quite working so they took Mae aside and asked if she would be okay with Cagney pushing the grapefruit in her face. Mae didn’t like the idea but agreed to do it on the condition that the scene be shot once and with no retakes. Still, according to her close friends, Mae always hated the “grapefruit scene”. Viewers today may honor her talent by watching this great actress in the powerful role for which she would undoubtedly prefer to be remembered – as chorus girl turned prostitute Myra in James Whale’s Waterloo Bridge. Mae Clarke was much more than just “the dame who gets the grapefruit facial". The most criminal thing about the Public Enemy is that she did not even receive a screen credit.

Like the grapefruit scene, the film’s ending also packs a wallop with rival gang members tossing Cagney’s mummified corpse through his mother’s living room door. It is Cook’s nuanced performance though that makes this scene truly haunting – his slow, stunned lurch towards the camera to the tune of a broken phonograph record. Will Mike avenge his brother’s death, we wonder? Or will this be the final straw that breaks him? And how will he tell Ma that her baby is finally home but not in the way that she hoped?

Like other gangster films from this period, The Public Enemy is book ended by title cards warning of the dangers of a gangster lifestyle. Audiences accepted these admonishments as broccoli to the film’s ice cream dessert. “(Gangster pictures) are intended to point out the lesson that crime does not pay,” insisted Harry Warner and you can almost see Tom Powers sneer in response. “Crime doesn’t pay, does it?” I picture him saying. “Baby, these days it’s the only thing that pays.” The popularity of films like The Public Enemy is indicative of how most Americans really felt about Prohibition. Eighty-five years later the film’s heat remains as unquenchable as a forest fire. Who needs CGI when you’ve got James Cagney?

#the public enemy #thepublicenemy #james Cagney #mae clarke #jean harlow #james whale #william wellman #1930s movies #gangster movies #pre-code #the great depression #prohibition #classic film review

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